Today my mood has been reflective. A new year sharpens my focus to establish goals and review the ones that fell by the wayside. Sure, there is more to the world around us with jobs to pay the bills, family, and friends, but for me, the act of writing centers me. I have been in a considerable review of where I stand with different projects I might cook up or complete for release into the world.
One of the things I've been pondering is my first memory of what hooked me to storytelling. In that derives my love of stories. Listening to them while seated at the foot of Grandma retelling family history as I helped her prepare the family Sunday dinner, reading the historical novels given away at school, or watching the plots play out in a TV show or movie, I have been thoroughly enraptured. The tales that thrilled me most involved adventures to strange worlds, daring people falling in love against the odds, and reluctant heroes learning to face the unknown and their shortcomings with courage.
The other thing is that the older I grew this fascination never waned. The media in which I became the conduit did for the voices living inside my head. In my rich imagination, I have been enslaved to the relentless will of these chatty people to come alive on a blank page. They show no sign of going away either.
Bottom line: it can be daunting being a storyteller. Those who want to be good at it put in the work necessary to improve. However, sometimes I want to quit and indulge in another activity that is less time-consuming. A hobby with a definite end would be outstanding.
The problem I encounter is that I can't renounce the calling. The need festers like a parasite attached to me. It's compulsive and involuntary. At two in the morning, I’ve been nagged to rise from my warm comfy bed. Until I cave and drag myself up to the computer where the magic happens, it won’t let me rest.
But when the story's finished? Oh, then the chatty people stop their antics. In their place, I hear the chorus of angels from heaven giving praise to the feat of finishing a story. The rush of relief is exhilarating to my entire being. No better satisfaction have I known before that's so lasting it sustains until the next story begins.
My bond with storytelling is longer than my marriage! It is a secret lover my husband knows he cannot fight and accepts as all spouses must when it becomes such a greedy presence in a writer's life. We are fortunate to find companions who understand us so well and are willing to yield to the irresistible force that is storytelling.
