Posts Tagged writing

Story: who needs it?

A need to tell and hear stories is essential to the species Homo sapiens–second in necessity apparently after nourishment and before love and shelter. Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence; the opposite of silence leads quickly to narrative, and the sound of story is the dominant sound of our lives, from the small accounts of our day’s events to the vast incommunicable constructs of psychopaths.
Reynolds Price

I began my day today with a blank sheet of paper. Having recently been inspired by the incredibly creative book What It Is by Lynda Barry, I wanted to try and explore my ideas of story using words and images. I knew it wouldn’t be elevated to the level of Art that Barry reaches, but it was my inspiration for the exercise. I worked hard to keep from thinking too much about any one thing,  I wanted this to be more of a stream of consciousness exercise, just letting words, phrases and images come without digging into the detail.

I stared at the page for a moment, then wrote, “What is ‘story’?” Since I had been thinking about “story” for a few days, there were already a few ideas of what it was floating around in my head; however, I wanted something fresh and more instinctive to come out on the page. To do this, I ignored my initial responses and traveled back in my mind to the youngest version of myself that I have access to– nine year old Paul. Nine year old Paul loved Star Wars, Micronauts, Legos and Speed Racer; he also loved to climb trees and to lay in the grass and watch the clouds float by  as they morphed constantly into fish, pirate ships and funny faces. If I was to ask nine year old Paul the same question about story that I ask myself today, his answer would be different… was different.

The younger version of myself responded to story in a much less technical way. He related to story by thinking about how he had experienced stories in his life. I wrote down the the first ideas that came to mind: a children’s book, a tall tale and an ancient adventure. When I paused for a moment to think about children’s books, I found that I didn’t imagine a specific book, I thought about the image of a parent sitting beside a child’s bed reading a book. I tried to remember my parents reading books as a child, It may have happened, but I had no memory of it. The image that I had , was a manufactured one, based on some ideal. So, I poked around in the dusty attic of my memory, trying to remember bedtime stories. An image of my dad at my bedside appeared, then suddenly, I remembered.

There was a little cat stuck in the gutter and it was scared and meowing… actually, its meows were words… “help me, help me,” it cried in a little cat voice. I know for a fact that the cat had a name, I don’t remember what it was, perhaps it changed over the years. Really, I don’t remember much about what happened in the story. I am pretty sure the story involved a young boy rescuing the cat, having to over come some obstacles, and I’m pretty sure that young boy had the same name as me. This is the first story I remember being told as a kid. Sure, I may have heard some Bible stories about Jesus, Moses or David and Goliath, but this is the first story I actually remember feeling something about. There was a little cat stuck in the gutter, there was a rain storm, the cat feared for its life and so did I.

What is 'story'?

My little exercise triggered a lot of thoughts and a bunch of memories. I followed along as they popped into my mind, recording those thoughts on the paper. Sometimes, it resulted in a little sketch, mostly as words, phases and questions. I remembered how some stories played a significant role in my life and others were just emotional memories, mostly feelings with a handful of details attached. Things came slowly at first, but soon the trickle became a steady stream. I raced to record them before they flowed away.

As my thoughts moved and I followed those distant memories, they progressed through the years following narratives that opened doors in my life, inspired me or ignited my imagination. One of the most curious discoveries of this exercise was that every thought and memory I have of ‘story’ is a positive one. Not that all the stories I’ve encountered in my life have been positive, but all the memories I have are tagged with positive labels. I don’t know what that means, but I think the contents of this legal pad are going to reveal something more significant as I explore this further.

I am aware of my deep personal need for stories. Perhaps they are tools I use to see something within myself that isn’t readily apparent, or maybe they help me process a complicated world in a way that I can relate to. I know that it is complicated, but it is something I have craved since my earliest memories as a child. What is it about about the little cat in the gutter that still resonates with me to this day? So many questions to ask– I look forward to discovering some answers.

So, what is the earliest story that you remember? What do you remember about it? And even more interestingly, why do you remember it?

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bloggerings…

I am sitting here wracking my brain, trying to think of some fun, witty or deep to write about, but my mind is tossed by a constant tempest and any safe harbor my mind finds, is quickly stirred again into frenzied sea. I can’t count how often I have an idea for a blog that never sees the light of day or is begun only to be bogged down by an excessive inclusion of detail and back-story. Often it is just an idea for a blog title that gets my mind thinking about writing, but lately… nothing has solidified into anything resembling a cohesive blog.

In some way, I think I need to exercise the demons of these ideas, so, they don’t continue to plague me. So, here will be my attempt at some micro-blogging– a blog title and a single paragraph of bloggering:

I Enjoy Being Missed…

Occasionally, my world is viewed from a very negative perspective, and often I see the things around me as a litany of things that can, and possibly will, go wrong. Today is not one of those days. Everyday, when I leave my job, I have to take a short walk through a nature path to get to the parking lot where my truck is parked. I often enjoy this walk, as the path is lined with trees and a manicured garden which often causes me to walk a little slower than normal in order to take in the beauty of the man-polished nature. On this particular day, I was walking and noticed a couple walking toward me, so, I shifted to my right in order to allow them to pass comfortably. This was a very lucky happenstance, for as fate would have it, just as I shifted to my right, I heard a series of large splashes to my immediate left. I turned quickly to witness the source of the splashes, as a very large bird-turd splattered the sidewalk beside me creating a fourth splash. As I considered how my day may have begun, had I been the target of those droppings, I couldn’t help but think, how much I enjoyed being missed.

Ok, that wasn’t that bad, it may not have been a true “micro-blog” but, for someone like myself, who is usually prone to writing epic blogs, that was pretty micro.

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