Path of a Storyteller

Posted on May 10, 2018     Leave a Comment

My journey as a storyteller started as my journey as a person… well, more like as a miserable teenager, but all teenagers are filled with angst, bouts of depression and euphoria, and a general disdain for sunlight. Funny thing, I never really grew out of that. Rather, my issues became more pronounced and a single question lingered over my head as a raincloud, much like that of Joe Btfsplk in Li’l Abner, “Why am I so miserable?” So, I did what any self-respecting, willful creature does: I went to therapy. Since I am an all or nothing sort of creature to boot, therapy wasn’t enough, and I got a degree in psychology and social work.

A big part of who I am is somebody that isn’t afraid to take risks, sacrifice the immediate for the future, and give my all under the labor of an idea, or ideal. I took myself as a person, from the fundamentals of my spiritual beliefs, to things as shallow as whether or not I actually like the color pink, and demolished myself. I razed the entire architectural structure that, up until that point, was “me”, and cleared the ground, which I then tilled.

It was time to rebuild. Completely.

I investigated everything. I dove down the most absurd rabbit holes in the vein of actually figuring out who I am as a person. No matter the thought, stance, opinion, or perspective, I trashed everything and asked myself honestly, “What do I actually think or feel about this?” I found out numerous things about myself I never would have known otherwise. I actually DO like the color pink, but grey is my favorite. I am in love with sushi and most Asian food, and Asian culture in general is fascinating. Horror is my favorite genre. I love a tantalizing social mind game. I’m super glad I didn’t get my ears pierced. And I absolutely love to curse as often and as colorfully as possible.

Well, this is all just fabulous. I’m sure the universe is very happy for me. But what does this have to do with being a storyteller? It’s simple, really. Once I finally figured out who I actually was, I could create anything beyond her. It’s like sorting through a house filled with stuff; you don’t know until you go through it all that there are actually some super interesting pieces amongst the rubble and rubbish. After getting rid of the noise of fear, doubt, and insecurity, and replacing it with peace, confidence, and perspective, the floor opened up and a stage manifested. I could hear and see the creative part of me that was getting smothered by all the other junk. Now, I finally have free reign to go anywhere my creative beast wants to drag me.

I wasn’t afraid of the cold honest truth. I asked myself the hard questions and made myself go through the pain, awkwardness, and fear of being critical of every position I could take. I do not fear failure. I learn from every mistake. Doing so has given me the platform on which to stand and be ready to take on the same risks as a creator. Criticism is my greatest ally, whether it comes from within or without.

This is just the bee’s knees and all, but what does this gobbledygook have to do with being a storyteller? Well, see, one of the most interesting bits about having done all that work on myself, clearing out the cobwebs and such, is that a funny little change came over me. It is said most people think in either words or pictures. Others think in terms of colors, music, or board games (though the latter sort are the types you do NOT want to play monopoly with, just a word of warning). I, however, fundamentally think in cinematic. Now what in odd bodkins does that mean? Basically, when I write a story, poem, or other tiddly-bit, I do so in a way of a visual story. I watch it all play out in my mind’s eye, and I think of it in every aspect of a moving picture, including composition, lighting, color, mood, speed, action, and you get what I’m on about. Of course, I don’t literally have every single detail on that mental film; I do both consciously and subconsciously try to leave some wiggle room for tweaking after the fact, but for the most part, everything has been visually decided.

This new quirk, as unconventional as it may be, has come into service for another special something that I have discovered about myself. Now that I am no longer acting like an angry teenager stuck in the Fidelity phase according to Erikson, creating has become an integral part of my life. I liken it to breathing; I can get away without it for a little while if I must, but after a certain point of continuing not to do so, it becomes fatal. Obviously, I won’t keel over from my comfy chair and physically die from being unable to be creative, but a certain part of me definitely begins to shrivel and threatens to let out a death rattle. Avoiding that ergle-gurgle at all possible costs I have found an infinite, well not actually infinite but a stonking great many, number of ways to keep the creative creature within me happy and productive. Whether it be writing something old, new, odd, or amusing, tinkering on my computer, watching classic movies or shows (I have a well-documented soft spot for anything Hitchcock or classic horror), or helping someone else with any sort of dilemma (self-created or otherwise), I feel happy, fulfilled, and energized. In the next great creative mystery or problem that comes my way, be it one of my own creation or someone else’s foible, I am happily along for the journey. Not everyone will share my penchant for narrative, but everyone wants to be their best at something. Life doesn’t always, or usually, make pursuit of that ideal easy. There are countless cracks, crashes, and herds of unconscious cattle chewing the cud inconveniently placed on the path to self-improvement. Everyone needs help sometimes. The help I received during my fledgling pursuit and am still graced with in the most unconventional ways even now, forever helped shape me into the person I am today and the person I shall be tomorrow. I want to be the lighthouse for someone trapped in the darkness on the roughest seas and then show them how to be their own beacon of light. I want to fulfill whatever void within the process they require regardless of how unglamorous, tedious, or unfun it may be. Every position is important and purposeful. Everything is possible with patience, perspective, work, and a little bit of imagination and a lot of pluck.

Though this pursuit of passion takes the form of my raison d’être, I understand that great dedication and sacrifice, manifesting in the form of time away from other pleasures, such as family, friends, hobbies, leisure and so on, will absolutely be at the forefront of my consciousness. This pursuit of excellence comes at an immense cost, the currency of which is time, focus, and effort. The days shall be long, the work intense, the frustration palpable, and the longing for a break absolutely soul-crushing. But the reward for these immense sacrifices and dedication will come in the form of a project completed and sent out into the nether to fulfill its purpose. The reward is seeing all the time, energy, effort, and sacrifice come to fruition, be it one’s own baby, or someone else’s opus. I imagine it is like casting a child out into the world to fulfill their destiny, letting go and allowing them to follow their own path, and watching with pride, satisfaction, and serenity knowing that you have played your part. While merely a cog within the machine, it takes every mechanism in complete subservience to the greater picture to produce the magic of film.