I’ve been obsessing about story of late.
Mainly, I blame two things for this, although there are probably many more I could blame.
I don’t blame NaNoWriMo. I am too time-strapped and chicken to attempt to write a novel in 30 day’s time. I don’t blame the ever present stack of books beside my bed that I devour at varying speeds. I don’t blame the ritual of nightly stories with my 2-year-old son who is just becoming acquainted with his imagination. I don’t blame the fact that my days are spent tugging on the threads of business to find my clients’ stories and then trying to find the best audience to tell them to.
No, I blame my iPod and BackFencePDX.
A few months back I got one of the new iPods. Not the clippy one, the supersized postage stamp one. It was so much lighter and sleeker than the clunky old one that has become our home stereo. I became a podcast fiend. Suddenly every walk with the dog was the opportunity to listen. I started with the eat-your-veggie podcasts about technology and sustainability. Then I evolved to the voyeuristic pleasure of listening to interviews with local tech celebrities on StrangeLoveLive. But while I still enjoy learning-by-podcast, nothing transports me like a good story. I listen to This American Life while I toil up the hills to Mt. Tabor, I listen to The Moth while I shuffle to Stumptown for my morning coffee. I listen to writers talking about each other (in a good way) on the New Yorker Fiction podcast while I follow the dog around the neighborhood after dark. I can’t get enough.
Which brings me to my other scapegoat: BackFencePDX. The idea of standing up in front of people and telling them a story is terrifying and exhilarating. The experience of sitting in a crowd of rapt listeners and hanging on the words of someone I’ve never met and yet feel a random kinship with is transporting. It’s really just fun but it feels like something more. My brain works away, chewing on each story arc, reflecting on the pacing and intonation, noting the comic timing. My memory cycles back to something that happened last week, last year, when I was 20: What would my story be?
I want to get better at stories. I want to join the conversation. I want to have a voice that’s just mine. And yes, I’m impressed and inspired by Portland’s enormous blogging community — that includes you, Tyler — and ready to stop making excuses and join its ranks.
Let me say up front: I will make mistakes. I will go for long periods of time without updating. I will reveal the depth of my ignorance on any number of topics. But I will do my best to tell a good story or two. And I’d love it if you listened.