Stories

  • 300. Realistic Narrative

    September 30, 2017

    Reality is not able to conform to a neat narrative, but it is no harm being reminded in that ever so often. But the surprises we have from living reality may often be combined into new narratives that make sense, when the old ones are gone or hard to see. All it takes is a little flexibility of mind and ... lots of work.
  • 247. The Beauty of Seeking

    August 9, 2017

    There is an urge in us to search for the 'real', the single Cause, the Explanation. But is it a 'bad' urge? To seek the 'real'? The 'true'? Etc. ... even though the real world so often turns out to be marvelously more complex? I think it can be in so many situations - just open the news. But ... there is also something beautiful in wanting to seek the real, the truth about a story or an event. Perhaps that urge is not mine alone. To seek the 'true', the 'real', the 'first cause'. It definitely is not. And yes, it can be perverted and warped, esp. among closed-minded fanatics of all sorts, with or without gods. But in this case ... it feels right. Even if the truth turns out to be that the book of Robinson Crusoe shaped the story of Alex Selkirk and not the other way around.
  • 222. The Inside That I Carve

    July 15, 2017

    Aside from acts of God and other knocks that life can give, such as health problems, I should still strive to create a system which earns me - by delivering something valuable to many people - and which I control. Otherwise I will still be swept away by everything that happens around me. That goal is the single most important from now on.
  • 162. In the Storm

    May 16, 2017

    Time makes stories visible out of chaos. That is my firm belief. And experience until now. Why should the birth of our son be any different?
  • 151. Point of Divergence

    May 5, 2017

    I feel ... really good about this story, and that it is finished now. I feel quickened (reference intended) in a way I haven't felt for many years.
  • 133. Breathing

    April 17, 2017

    I should tell stories first and foremost because I have to. Like I should breathe because I have to.
  • 128. Connection to the Beautiful

    April 12, 2017

    I've written a few in my time, variations of the same character I suppose, but Mary is SO angry. So much more than many of my previous 'outcasts'. I know it sounds pretentious to talk about her as if she was real and kind of deciding things in the story, but in all honesty I started with her just as a cipher and then she has, yes, grown as I wrote the story, kind of dictated more and more that it's about her. All about her feelings. About her isolation. About her loneliness. As much as a romp through dimensions and feeble attempts at homages. I wonder how may others have come to feel the same way about characters they have written, started with just as an idea, maybe just a name and nothing more? When? Under what circumstances? What story were they telling? This is one of the things to think about that makes me feel connected with someone I'll never see in a way that's very beautiful.
  • 106. Constant Discovery

    March 21, 2017

    Both paths have merit - the path where you know you also write about yourself, or the path where you just write and don't think more about it. And that is what is so wonderful about writing, and don't I forget it.
  • 104. Let Me Not Forget

    March 19, 2017

    I have to tell stories to feel alive, it is that simple, and I know it and I am deeply regretful about the periods when I have forgotten it, for all sorts of 'good reasons'. Or when I have doubted my ability to do it, to ever bring my storytelling out into the world in any meaningful form and therefore have stalled. I have to keep fighting that and so the only way that makes sense is to do it one fight at a time, a few hundred words here and there - but regularly. Please let me not forget.
  • 55. What That Space Feels Like

    January 29, 2017

    "She didn't try to repair it. She didn't even pretend she could. She knew that even if she had been able to communicate - through angels - or whatever with her sister in the other dimension, the sister would be lost, disconnected, from her life. Always. It would at the very least be like having a sister living across the Atlantic. You could only Skype, but never visit. She was gone. And in her place was the doubt about where she had gone. If anywhere. If there was anything left but the ghostly space in the heart. But the space could be owned. If she made the choice. It could be inhabited. So the girl knew the only way to live with it was to carry it with her: The space."
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