I have no work/life balance. And thank god. My days and nights revolve around the pulsing universe of storytelling.
Okay, that sounds a little dramatic now, doesn’t it?
Well . . . that’s the point.
How often do you read a story about something that happens at 3:04 am? This is a story about a human (me) who was pushed out of bed at an ungodly hour by the force of Possibility.
Possibility with a capital “P”.
I think you know what I’m talking about, because we all have them. Those moments in the twilight zone where you’ve just had a dream, or you’re just drifting off to sleep, or you just woke up—and there in the spotlight of our mind is a shiny, twinkling idea. And without the dull fog of daily consciousness and duty clouding the horizon of your view, this idea sparkles at you with crystalline Possibility.
It could be an idea for a business, a solution to a recurring problem, the next chapter in the novel you’ve been moonlighting, an intuitive answer to a chronic health problem, a trip you know you need to take, or a person you need to connect with.
It’s that magic, liminal space between the sleeping and waking world where your neurons are quietly shining, like a pack of shimmering atoms in the sky of your perception, and suddenly, one of them breaks free and shoots across the frame of your attention like a wild star—begging you to follow its path.
Yeah.
That’s why I’m sitting here in front of my computer at (now) 3:38 am, having followed one of those shooting embers to this word-making-tool. Apparently I needed to write down the following words:
I’m alive to help bring stories about human Possibility to light.
And if the story gods tell me to get up and write something down, I must obey. And happily I do. Even when they don’t tell me what it is that must be written until moments before it lands on the page, and I get to look at it with the same fresh eyes and surprise as you.
You see the story gods want us all to worship at the altar of story. Stories are the hidden thread of all that is sacred, magical, divine. Stories call forth our spirit and keep us afloat in the sea of the mundane.
The beauty of stories, however, is that they live in the most ordinary moments of our lives. Learning to catch the story-music that is playing in the background of our daily circumstances and activity is a skill that can be developed. Those who refine the capacity for this and share what they can hear provide an essential service to our humanity. That’s my vision for Storyteller’s Academy is that we practice this art together.
It’s 4:30 am and the story gods want me to conclude, and publish!
What? Wait! I wasn’t expecting this from high command. I haven’t even showed this article to those few trusted friends who can point out the typos, inconsistencies, confusing sentences, and conflated ideas that always hide from my view and jump out at my readers.
What’s more, this was written out of a half-sleep, almost dream state. What kind of author would hit the publish button at this hour, knowing they’re very likely to wake up, read this in the light of day, and mutter to themselves. . . . “What the heck was I thinking?”
So what’s the takeaway?
I think the purpose of this communication is to remind and encourage you to live as a published storyteller.
That doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re writing articles at 3 am, but that you’re willing to share the freshness of your life experience with other human beings, to express it generously and openly, and trust that sharing the details of your farm-to-table experience will provide needed sustenance to us all.
If I need to be the silly-looking sacrifice of someone who tells a half-shaped story in the wee hours of the morning, publishes it, and survives—so be it.
What’s the worst that can happen? I ruin my reputation? You unsubscribe? You ignore everything else I have to say from this day forward?
Perhaps.
But what’s the best that can happen?
Maybe you’ll be inspired to throw caution to the wind and share a story that comes from your heart today with another human being. Or write it down for the world and share it before you think it’s ready.
Go ahead.
You’ll make the story gods happy.
"I think the purpose of this communication is to remind and encourage you to live as a published storyteller." As writers, we forget that no good writing comes without living. Thanks, Rick!