Why do we, the published and unpublished writers sit alone, spinning a tale, over and over, combating frustration, doubt, and fear? What is it about the idea of story that compels us beyond reality and into the realm of fiction, where anything can happen? Are we driven because of some need to rewrite our lives in a way? To control the uncontrollable? Is it ego, hubris, or a touch of madness that keeps us going, draft after draft, rejection after rejection?
And what is it for the reader, the audience, the other participant in the dance? Do we sink into the story, in all its many forms and expressions, to escape our reality? Do we admire, feel inspired, and learn beyond the boundaries through storytelling? How else would we enrich and enliven our lives that, too often, sink into the metronome of routine?
Storytelling-the myths, legends, fables, epic adventures, and magical tales are what binds us together and keeps our humanity safe. Think back at the movie that blew your mind (Yes, Ang Lee, it was Life of Pi), or the book that touched your heart and changed you in profound ways, or the painting that expressed everything that is beyond words….
What choice do we have, but to delve deep, hone our skills, and attempt to create the story? What choice does the reader have but to go for the ride?