I love stories. I love hearing them, reading them, watching them, telling them and making them.
Stories are the one thing that we all have in common and when I meet you, I'll want to know yours. I genuinely will. I'm not nosy, just curious. I'll want to know where you grew up and how you got that small scar above your left eye. I'll want to know about your first car and your first real break up. I'll want to why you hate your hometown and yet, why you came back. I'll want to know where you learned to make such delicious lasagna (I bet it's a family recipe or maybe it's right off the box and though you followed the directions to a 't' you still managed to burn the top layer somehow the first time you made it). In essence, when I meet you, I'll want to hear the hundreds of stories that form the narrative of your life. If that seems a bit much, please forgive me. I'm kind of infatuated with stories.
I can't really explain it either. Perhaps it's something I inherited from my grandmother (Mammaw could spin a yarn with the best of em', often while spinning some yarn). Or maybe I'm infatuated with other people's stories because I don't see mine as that remarkable.
I was born into a super supportive family and raised in a small town that I appreciate more and more everyday. I've never really been an outsider or an insider, I've kind of just existed in the middle. I've had great friendships that have endured to this day and sadly I've lost a few too. I've fallen in love and I've had love fall on me.
Don't get me wrong, my life has been far from bland, but if someone were to write a biography about me, I doubt Lin-Manuel Miranda would turn it into a musical.
I was born into a super supportive family and raised in a small town that I appreciate more and more everyday. I've never really been an outsider or an insider, I've kind of just existed in the middle. I've had great friendships that have endured to this day and sadly I've lost a few too. I've fallen in love and I've had love fall on me.
Don't get me wrong, my life has been far from bland, but if someone were to write a biography about me, I doubt Lin-Manuel Miranda would turn it into a musical.
And that's just fine. I can't complain. I'm blessed.
Besides, I don't need to have a remarkable story, because you have one already and I thank you for that.
Now, as I near the end of this post, I have to make a confession of sorts.
I'm not just writing to you, the reader of this blog, but to the future characters that will someday populate the pages of my work. I have so much to learn from them.
I've met a few already and heard their stories. The first one was a Civil War soldier named John and we hung out for five years. I don't know if I'd be an author without him. He taught me a lot that I hope to pass on to you in my next post.
Until then, thanks for reading and if we ever meet in the real world, I look forward to hearing your story.
I've met a few already and heard their stories. The first one was a Civil War soldier named John and we hung out for five years. I don't know if I'd be an author without him. He taught me a lot that I hope to pass on to you in my next post.
Until then, thanks for reading and if we ever meet in the real world, I look forward to hearing your story.
Can't wait to read your work! I can only imagine what wonderful story you have dreamed and made a reality. You are an incredibly caring person and I'm glad that I had the privilege to go to school with you. And to be able to call you a friend during those years as well! Congratulations and keep up the great work! Christine (Shinn) Woodruff
ReplyDeleteThanks, Christine! The feeling is mutual!
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