I'm not the kind of guy who pulls up a chair and tells a story.
Seriously. That's so not me.
No, I'm the kind of guy who sits quietly off to the side, watching and listening, until I'm certain that I have something witty, something intelligent to say. Then I step up and say it. And then, I'll do my damnedest to become the center of attention. Ahem. Because I'm sort of like that.
But I've never considered myself a storyteller, not in the classic sense. And I find that rather odd, since I've ended up as a (so far unpublished) writer of fiction. A storyteller, so to speak.
Don't get me wrong. I have a million stories jostling around inside of me, just dying to get out. Some are pretty good, some are pretty wild and some are, well, some are probably best left where they are, if you catch my drift.
So, I am a storyteller. But I'm an enigma -- a storyteller who doesn't really like to tell stories, because that involves personal interaction. And that, as we all know, kinda sucks. I mean, sometimes. You know?
So do I write because I'm a creative person? Hmmm. Maybe. Although I'm not artistic in the sense that I would need to paint or sculpt or anything if I couldn't write. I'm not the sensitive, frustrated artiste. That's just not me.
But for some reason, something inside of me burns with a desire to write my stories and have people read them. And enjoy them. And get them. I can't think of anything more satisfying than having someone love something I've written. I don't know why, but that's been true in my life since I became a newspaper writer at the tender age of 22.
Writing is such a personal thing for me. When I put my writing out there for the world to see, I feel as though I'm strolling naked through the mall. I mean, I'm totally cool unless someone laughs, you know? Then I want to crawl away somewhere and just die.
So why do you write? Are you a natural born storyteller? An artist who needs to unload your vision, or die? Or is it something deeper, something more primal?
I suspect my reason is closer to the latter. I would wager that my burning desire to foist my words, my very own version of a story, on the world is a way to demand respect. To demand that I be taken seriously. To know that I count, that my thoughts have meaning.
Or not. Who knows? All I know is, I have to write. Period. I seem to have no choice in the matter. I could no more not write than I could not breathe.
So I'm interested in hearing how you came to be a writer. And more importantly, why do you write?
AND SPEAKING OF WRITING: I knocked off slightly more than a thousand words today. The new political novel is still gushing from my brain, not unlike that unfortunate oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. This baby is very intricately plotted, so much so that I worry about it becoming a formulaic plot-driven potboiler. Consequently, I've worked very hard to get the characters to simply pop from the page. In fact, I've already filled two legal pads with notes and charts and graphs and doodles -- all kinds of weird things. I think I'm becoming totally obsessed with this book.
And I don't even have a title for it yet.
Seriously. That's so not me.
No, I'm the kind of guy who sits quietly off to the side, watching and listening, until I'm certain that I have something witty, something intelligent to say. Then I step up and say it. And then, I'll do my damnedest to become the center of attention. Ahem. Because I'm sort of like that.
But I've never considered myself a storyteller, not in the classic sense. And I find that rather odd, since I've ended up as a (so far unpublished) writer of fiction. A storyteller, so to speak.
Don't get me wrong. I have a million stories jostling around inside of me, just dying to get out. Some are pretty good, some are pretty wild and some are, well, some are probably best left where they are, if you catch my drift.
So, I am a storyteller. But I'm an enigma -- a storyteller who doesn't really like to tell stories, because that involves personal interaction. And that, as we all know, kinda sucks. I mean, sometimes. You know?
So do I write because I'm a creative person? Hmmm. Maybe. Although I'm not artistic in the sense that I would need to paint or sculpt or anything if I couldn't write. I'm not the sensitive, frustrated artiste. That's just not me.
But for some reason, something inside of me burns with a desire to write my stories and have people read them. And enjoy them. And get them. I can't think of anything more satisfying than having someone love something I've written. I don't know why, but that's been true in my life since I became a newspaper writer at the tender age of 22.
Writing is such a personal thing for me. When I put my writing out there for the world to see, I feel as though I'm strolling naked through the mall. I mean, I'm totally cool unless someone laughs, you know? Then I want to crawl away somewhere and just die.
So why do you write? Are you a natural born storyteller? An artist who needs to unload your vision, or die? Or is it something deeper, something more primal?
I suspect my reason is closer to the latter. I would wager that my burning desire to foist my words, my very own version of a story, on the world is a way to demand respect. To demand that I be taken seriously. To know that I count, that my thoughts have meaning.
Or not. Who knows? All I know is, I have to write. Period. I seem to have no choice in the matter. I could no more not write than I could not breathe.
So I'm interested in hearing how you came to be a writer. And more importantly, why do you write?
AND SPEAKING OF WRITING: I knocked off slightly more than a thousand words today. The new political novel is still gushing from my brain, not unlike that unfortunate oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. This baby is very intricately plotted, so much so that I worry about it becoming a formulaic plot-driven potboiler. Consequently, I've worked very hard to get the characters to simply pop from the page. In fact, I've already filled two legal pads with notes and charts and graphs and doodles -- all kinds of weird things. I think I'm becoming totally obsessed with this book.
And I don't even have a title for it yet.
