On being a storyteller

I changed my mind about machine quilting this blanket, but that's another story entirely.

 

I spent (not wasted) a lot of time this morning swapping out computer towers, monitors, and SIM cards. My usual machine running Ubuntu died a couple of days ago, thankfully I have a second PC, but their respective monitors weren't compatible, so.... I won't even get into the whole SIM card issue, other than to say I'm grateful to have old phones hanging around. And maybe you think, "What does all THAT have to do with storytelling?" And in part, you are absolutely right in throwing such a query my way. And my answer is, "Without a computer, I can't tell any tall tales." Although my cell phone really doesn't have much to do with it, just another wrench in this morning's system....

But I will say that being connected in most manners is important; the phone is how pictures end up on this blog. Other than that.... Ahem. But without a computer, I can't type out sentences, scenes, paragraphs, chapters.... You get the idea. This morning Wikipedia noted that H.G. Wells was born on this date one hundred fifty-six years ago. To be fair, I've not read any of his books, but I read about him, and somewhere in that fascinating article he was called a 'born storyteller', although G.K. Chesterton then stated that Wells had sold that birthright for a 'pot of message'. Nonetheless, Chesterton was spot-on with the storyteller, which reminded me that I too am a storyteller. And not only that, but I am ACHING to once again get on with the business of spinning yarns.

I will rephrase my previous sentence; I am ACHING to once again get on with the distinct pleasure, privilege and thrill of spinning yarns. The business part has been tripping me up as of late, wondering/worrying about publishing etc. What my focus needs to be is the simple action of sharing a plot or three, a few or many characters, maybe a theme tossed in for good measure or just a wheelbarrow full of drama for drama's sake. Don't forget comedy, pathos, poignancy and love. Add these liberally with clever prose and what more does this storyteller require? Oh my goodness I am so needing to sit for many mornings at a stretch, typing away, releasing not another novel but the essence of much of who I am. While I love to quilt and enjoy gardening, writing brings me enormous pleasure. More, I NEED to write. I have too many ideas currently, they've been backing up and another hit me this week. In the early days of my authorial tenure, I was churning out drafts left and right. Now much of that was merely for the practice of learning HOW to craft fiction. But I was never without some topic upon which to expound. Only after my mom died was I empty of ideas, which was FINE. I'd just finished The Hawk and had loads to process. But that was four years ago, and it's been over seven months since completing my current series. And it's going to be another few weeks until there's time for writing. But boy, once those days pass, regardless of which notion I choose, I CANNOT WAIT TO TELL ANOTHER STORY!

Acknowledging that puts so much into perspective, even the editing I'm currently doing on the next novel in my current series. There would be no current series if I hadn't sat my butt in a chair and written it in the first place. Why I am so compelled to write isn't up for debate; why do people do the things they love? Because it's set within each of us to have one or many favourite tasks that bring us joy. Yet at times issues cloud our visions, taking us off track or obscuring why we love doing those various hobbies, pastimes, whatever you want to call what makes your heart sing. I still have the photo of the Nesmith siblings to the right of my keyboard, but lately I've been talking out loud again, to myself, which means only one thing; I'm speaking in the voices of characters that are close to the surface, figuring out in their conversations elements of their personalities and at times chunks of plot lines. I haven't done that in a long while, a good sign that writing their stories is indeed drawing near. Writing for pleasure, for MYSELF, has to be the main consideration. Actually, the main consideration needs to be to drop all the assumptions and allow the words to just emerge. Granted there are notes to make, or at least have some loose threads dangling, but as National Novel Writing Month looms, perhaps I need to take a page from how I got started (albeit with a hefty dose of character detail written in longhand); just sit and write. Don't overthink it, don't ponder what will happen to it. Maybe nothing. Maybe publication. But nothing will occur unless I permit myself the freedom to lay down all the hindrances, then get my rear end back in a seat and write.

In the meantime, there's the above quilt to finish binding, hehehe....