I’ve been struggling to write lately. I’ve been struggling with a lot of things. Odd for a person who is pulling things from old notebooks. Nothing seems right in those books. So today I may get a little more personal than usual. I’ve been feeling braver lately.
We are the stories we tell. Stories make it sound like I’m talking about fiction, tall tales, and lies. But I’m talking about the dialog, the conversations, that we have about what is happening in our lives. We don’t write letters anymore. We ‘tweet’ life in 140 character bits. As a whole, the tweets sometimes form a story. Sometimes they link to the whole story on another site…if anyone bothers to click on through. Facebook is better at telling the stories of our lives but even there status updates are being replaced by sharing ‘memes’. Sharing a picture with a quote on it does not ell much about your own life. Status updates have limited writing space. Blogs were designed for writing copious amounts. I’ve read lots of good stories on blogs and everyone of them makes me think I should be writing more.
The stories of my life seem like nothing. I read about people who were political prisoners in Tehran, who helped other women in Afghanistan, and my life seems so small, insignificant and boring. Have I done anything with my life? It doesn’t seem like it but maybe that’s not for me to decide. Perhaps the real trick is to just tell the stories and let the readers, all three of them, decide if my life has an interest to them.
©2014 Nancy Sparks