I’ve written over 500, 55 word stories.
Most people I share this with,
look at me like I’m nuts.
I just keep writing them,
because I love to do it.
Yesterday, it dawned on me.
They have taught me how to craft a good paragraph.
That is a gift unlike any other for writing prose!
When we are young,
we play for the sake of it.
There’s no payment due or transactions made.
And what is the process, but the nurturing of narrative?
Needing nothing but a stick and a setting.
Everyone knows the conflict, and we all know our roles.
We writers still play, until we’re called for supper.
Photo of Children playing by Walter Rosenbaum, from the New York Public Library Public Domain Collection
My memories are small, like these stories.
To be more accurate they’re just little pieces of time.
Sewing them together, creating characters from all the voices in my head.
And planting them in other minds, tiny algorithms once freed, stay in motion.
Little thought experiments I hope continue like the light of long dead stars.
Hero is introduced.
Subtly, not ham handed.
He’s of humble origins and has an amazing power.
But, he’s reluctant to use it, wanting to be fair.
Then Storm Boy witnesses a horrible injustice and has no choice.
He saves the day, and women swoon.
But not the woman he loves, which sets up the sequel.
In the larger randomness that it all, finally, is.
We want so to find meaning and feel some measure
of control over the chaos.
When signs converge, there is a joy and affirmation
of our victory over the powerlessness.
It’s another fiction that we, animal architects of reliable narrative,
so happily weave.
Little stories are fractal insects.
Evolving symmetrically in all directions.
Part of our neural design, an intimate part of our physiology.
Even the human heart has fractal properties, both physical and meta-(physical).
Our obsessive facial recognition evolution makes us see faces everywhere.
Similarly, our story DNA forms narrative in even the tiniest fragments of song.
It would then speak from deep inside of
my heart and mind to you and yours.
We’’d share the narrative that we have always had together. One that transcends time, age, race, and gender
and tells our collective archetypal tale.
Like bards of old we would be made of
(Descendent Nutritive Algorithms)
True grit is the long game.
If you want success, then keep going.
There will be difficulty.
But, some things will work.
Pay attention to them and double down.
Continue to build on that.
Before you know it, you’ll have a victory.
And the seeds of your next campaign.
When the going gets tough, you’ve got to keep going.
Whatever it is you do, if you keep doing it and you’re open and willing to learn, then you’ll get better.
Writing is no exception.
Some days it’s hard and you may wonder what you’re doing and why you’re doing it.
We all have our reasons and if you commit to the process, you will be rewarded.