I’ve been thinking about stories.
The word has been appearing everywhere I look.
I can’t tell whether it appears because I’m looking or whether it has always been there. It seems loaded and significant, though I can’t articulate the reason to myself. My story. Her story. His story. History. Narrative. Shared imagination. Story-telling. The importance of voice. A blurring of the line between fiction and non-fiction. The subjectivity of truth.
It has been driving me slightly crazy.
There are strange intersections and I have been searching for a thread that weaves it all together. Trying to join the dots between words – and people – and stories – and media – and awareness –
Maybe story-telling is part of how we understand the world?
This is what I have heard but I don’t fully grasp the sentiment. To me, stories have always been definite rather than dynamic, works of fiction, rather than a way of writing out our truths. This might be where I’ve been going wrong. There is something in the interplay between life and story that I keep coming back to. An interaction that I have been trying to figure out –
I realised the other day that I tell stories backwards. Wait until the ending and then track back through the narrative. What would happen – I have been wondering – if I wrote the other way around. If “once upon a time” started today.
I read an article on guiding images and creative insight earlier this week. On the importance of a creative (and collective) imagination in moving societies forward and overcoming some of the challenges we face today.
The concept impressed me.
It means that the imagination and stories dance with life. That rather than waiting, passively, for the ending; we might be able to influence where the narrative goes. At first, the images live in the imagination, and then the story comes into life.
I am a little embarrassed by my black and white thinking. There are also some stories that I’ve been telling myself that I’d really like, at this point, to change.