I Want to Tell You a Story

Last updated on July 11, 2019

I may never have one of my books published. The competition is fierce, the odds against are long. But at the root of why I am doing what I am doing–trying to get a book published–is that I want to tell you a story.

I love stories, and always have: long novels, short stories, shaggy-dog jokes, plays, commentary–even a good yarn told by a retiree in an RV park. They are all stories, and they are wonderful. Only humans tell stories; it’s one of the things that sets our species apart.

A good story is one in which the author or narrator can tell it so smoothly, so effortlessly, that it seems that’s the only way the story can be told. The words seem to glide, and pages are turned with no thought, no recollection on the part of the reader. To write a good story, the author must commit completely to the reality of the fiction–that is, the characters, settings, and action must be manifested in the author’s mind. The author of fiction must delude himself or herself into believing the story’s components to be absolutely true. Only then, with the author’s 100% commitment, can the story come to life and dance off the pages for the reader. Only then can the reader be fully immersed, fully entertained. Only then does the reader feel genuine sorrow when s/he encounters “THE END.” Beautiful places, close friends, tense situations–all lost.

The reader grieves, for a time, over those losses. Then, a warm glow replaces the grief (unlike the unrelenting grief when a close friend or relative dies). The warm feeling is the joy of having shared the author’s vision, of having had a good friend along for a walk and talk on the beach, say. The reader is richer for the experience–and that is the author’s ultimate reward.