The Stories We Tell
|
Hello Friends, Humans are storytellers. Whether around fires at night, or in the village square, in books, streaming over the internet, over cups of tea, or via small clips posted to social media, stories are all around us. Stories are how we make sense of ourselves and the world. But this week, I'm wondering: where are we in those stories? Are we the central hero, larger than life? Do we skulk around the edges? Are we even present at all? I'm thinking about all of this because I'm revising my first published book, which I wrote over twenty years ago, and was surprised to notice all the ways in which I'd written myself out of that book. How many ideas and exercises did I not take credit for? So far, a lot. And I had no idea until I began looking at it with two decades distance. So of course I wrote an essay about it for my Patreon supporters. Here's a brief excerpt: How often do any of us write ourselves out of our own stories? What do we attribute to others that really comes from inside? And that can be both “good” things or “bad” things. How much are we projecting or deflecting? Where are we taking credit that is not ours? How often do we claim our truth? How often are we hiding something from the world? When is it time to claim something that is not just fragments, but closer to the totality? How will we write ourselves—truthfully— back into the stories we tell? You can read the full essay here: Writing Ourselves Back In What do you think? Are you part of your own story? How about the stories you share with the world? Best wishes — Thorn News:For the month of October, 50% of proceeds from ThornCoyleBooks will go to hurricane relief. That includes my oracle deck and ebooks. I'm part of a Cozy Mystery Sales Event with 92 cozy books for you, all in one spot! My urban fantasy, By Wind is free on Kobo today and tomorrow!
|
T. Thorn Coyle
Hello Friends, This cold November morning, I’m staring through the bare winter branches outside my window. The branches are festooned with rows of raindrops, hanging on like bright pale jewels. But what catches my attention is a hummingbird on a wire. It is so tiny, it is barely a dark spot on the slender line. Occasionally, it flies up, then quickly returns to its perch. As I paused in my watching to type these words, the hummingbird departed, a squirrel climbed a fence across the street,...
Hello Friends, Years ago, I used to boast that the only times I’d been to Las Vegas were while passing through en route to protest at the Nevada Nuclear Test Site. I can’t say that anymore. These days, I go to Vegas far more often than I ever wanted to, which was never. I don’t go to shows while there. I don’t gamble. And since my brain injury, I don’t even drink alcohol. Also, I’m an introvert who dislikes crowds and noise, cigarette smoke, and desert air. I know some people love it, but for...
Hello Friends, The day before the big US election, I went for a walk as usual. A flash caught my eye. It was a quartz crystal, resting on the sidewalk, autumn sun shining through it. The crystal cast a shadow that looked like a stretched out crescent moon. It was beautiful. After snapping a photo, I thanked the crystal—yes, I’m more than a bit of an animist—and settled it against a bit of moss, figuring it would be safer there. I keep thinking about that crystal. I keep thinking about how it...