Why Do People Write? Why Do People Read?

I was just sitting here thinking abut stories. Why do people tell stories? Why do some people write stories? Why do some people enjoy reading stories?

Anywhere you go you will most likely find people telling stories. Life is full of story opportunities. "I was walking down the street when this guy came running out of the bank waving a gun, jumped in a blue van and sped off." Well, they might not all be as dramatic as that, they might be as mundane as, "I'd just put fresh sheets on the bed and the cat hacked up a hairball on them!" It's how we talk to one another. We talk in brief stories. There is back and forth routine conversation between us in order to communicate wants and needs or exchange information, but then, while sitting around after dinner, or at a family get together, or while having a few drinks with friends...what do people do? They tell stories.

Stores are what connect us. We can relate to them. Our stories may vary a little, but we share universal experiences by telling our stories.

What is social media? It's a big storytelling engine that allows people to tell their stories to a larger audience than they have in their own immediate real life social circle. When scrolling through the hundreds of posts appearing daily as if by magic, I often find video clips, articles, long posts about something that's happened that someone wants to share...they're all stories. People telling stories.

Some of us are compelled to make up stories- we write fiction. Why? To entertain ourselves and other people. I thoroughly enjoy telling stories in print. I like to throw open a door and invite people into my imagination. I like to give them a little escape from the ordinary and the mundane. I like to make people laugh and feel good. Sometimes I give the reader a little scare, a chilly little thrill...whatever. I make up stories in my head all the time. I used to tell myself stories when I was a kid lying in bed trying to fall asleep. I still do that. My mind is constantly full of stuff buzzing around...so to quiet the buzz, I pull a thread of a story and start knitting it like a scarf of words- just concentrating on that one story. I can see it taking shape in my mind. Some nights I have to keep swatting other stories back into the maelstrom swirling in my brain...on nights like that I sometimes get up and pace until exhaustion sends me back to bed and the stories sigh and go quiet. I imagine my muse, finger to his lips shushing the clamoring stories so I can get some sleep. (Do you see? There s a story right there!)

Some people like to read. I like to read. I've been an avid reader all my life. Why do I read? I read to lose myself in another world. I read to meet new characters and watch their lives unfold. I read to escape the stress of my real life. I read for enjoyment and entertainment. I read to "hear" the stories in my head. I really don't like to watch TV because it goes too fast. I like to savor a story and really experience it. When I watch TV I feel like I'm being assaulted by too much, too fast. I want to look at the background scenery, the objects behind the actors, the wallpaper, the woodwork, the books in the bookcase. I get frustrated  when the camera angle constantly shifts back and forth- I lose focus, get annoyed and walk away in disgust. I prefer British TV because the pace is slower. They talk slower and don't shout at one another. I remember when John picked out the new TV. I sat across the long length of the living room and tried to watch a program, but my eyes didn't know where to look- I couldn't look at the whole screen because I felt like  was missing something somewhere. I don't know what to look at, what to focus on. In print there are nowhere near as many fast moving images barraging my brain.

Well, that's just me. TV and even movies generally disappoint me. I can play video games because I can control how fast I move. I can stop and look all around whatever world I'm in. I'm a visual person. I absorb the scenery. It infuriates me when my husband plays an action/adventure game. He steams full speed ahead and never stops to look around. Game designers build whole worlds and he runs headlong through it at a blur. I like to wander around and admire what they've constructed.

Then it's back to the story.

Anyway, back to the point- we're hearing stories every day whether we're waiting at the bus stop, watching the news or a sports, waiting in line at the supermarket or takeout place...everyone has a story to tell. I came home last night with the story of another accident at the end of the road at the underpass- flashing lights, ambulance, two flatbed wreckers, silver SUV, small blue sedan...that was last night's dinner story. Kelly told about something that happened at work. John told about a job interview he had. We shared stories from our lives.

Then I sat down and wrote fiction.

Maybe someone will read it one day.

The Hanging Man is Done!

I proofread and corrected what I had previously written of The Hanging Man, a ghost/supernatural/horror last night and this morning, finishing that chore this evening. Then I wrote the final four pages. I'm done writing at 9511 words.

I think, overall, this is the story I wanted to write. It might still need a tweak here or there. I had to go back and fill in a detail that never got written when I had started the story. I think I need to fill in one other detail to make it all gel...otherwise there might be some confusion in regards to the final paragraphs (the conclusion).

Passing it into the hands of volunteer beta readers now, and then it will be included in the new anthology of ghost stories and supernatural stories. I hope to have the new book out in February.

Excerpt from The Hanging Man

His eyes shifted to the hanging man and he yelped again when he saw that the man’s mouth was no longer agape but had drawn itself up into a horrible rictus that mimicked a ghastly grin. He stumbled backwards out of the stall, grabbing the gate and slamming it shut before fleeing the barn, Daisy-dew bellowing in alarm in her stall.

The Hanging Man is a ghost story set in the mid-west around the turn of the century. It will be published in a new anthology of ghost stories and supernatural tales in mid-to-late February.

An Accumulation of Snowmen

My mother loved Lenox china, especially the holiday items. We ate Christmas dinner off Lenox china with a holiday pattern, and every year one or the other of us would add to her holiday dish set with serving pieces and additional place settings.

Mom loved to gift us with Lenox items- vases, ornaments, figurines, bowls, dishes...the truth of things was that I really never cared all that much for the creamy-colored china. However, she bought me a snowman figurine one Christmas and I liked it. It reminded me of my Dad who worked second shift in Connecticut. He would often work over time and get out of work at 3AM and pull into the yard at 4AM. If it had snowed, it didn't matter how tired he was, how eager he was to crawl into bed and crash...he would, in the dark, build us a snowman so that when we woke up in the morning and rolled up the shades, there was this crazy snowman waving at us from the front yard. Dad used all kinds of odd bits and pieces t make faces on his snowmen with- bits of rubber, spongy carrots, straw, twigs, bottle caps...whatever he could scrounge up to make faces. He'd tie his scarf around their neck, plop a baseball cap on their head, or sometime just jam a juice can...one of those tall ones they had in the 60's with Hi-C fruit punch in them...on its head making a top hat.

Mom started giving me snowmen every Christmas, then signed me up for the snowman of the year ornament from Lenox. Mom has been dead since 2000. Today another snowman ornament arrived in the mail- a carol singing snowman.

Somewhere in my basement I have cardboard cartons full of large Lenox snowmen figurines, and cartons full of snowman ornaments- there must be at least twenty-five of them. This is the seventeenth ornament since she passed away. They always arrive in January.

I'm not a fan of Lenox, but I do still have all the snowmen, and keep getting the snowman ornament of the year. I'm not sure I have any of the vases left- I think I gave them to my sister. My sister-in-law collected the Lenox cat figurines. My Mom loved these very nicely done angels and I had given her three of them before she passed. The three angels reside in a glass-windowed cabinet in my living room now. My brother and sister-in-law have Mom's Lenox holiday dishes. Kelly inherited a Lenox Santa Claus.

So, Lenox is still a part of my life although I don't really like it, and don't collect it anymore, except for the snowmen ornaments that keep coming annually. I'm just wondering tonight exactly how many snowmen ornaments there are stashed in my basement and in the cabinet under the china hutch in my dining rom- which is not used for dishes and glassware, but primarily for various collections.

I miss waking up to my Dad's snowmen. He continued to make snowmen for me, and then for a few years for Kelly, swinging by our house and building a little snowman on the back deck for her to find in the morning. And I'm sure, it Mom was still with us, she'd be devastated that her beloved Lenox store in Kittery, ME has been closed now for quite  a few years.

When I see a snowman- I think of my hidden snowman collection that will one day surprise me when I gather them all in one place, remove them from their original boxes, and see exactly what I have!

New Collection of Ghost Stories is Shaping Up

I need to finish The Hanged Man and then I will have enough ghost stories for a new anthology of ghost stories and supernatural tales. I guess I've been more productive than I thought I'd been recently!

Cleaning Out Old Stock

Tomorrow I will be moving cartons of old stock self published books out of my cellar where they have just been sitting because last year I gave them all new covers and updated the interiors to make them look better. I also fixed the minor errors that are in these older books. I need the space, so they're going with me tomorrow to Blue Umbrella Books, 2 Main Street, Westfield, MA between 3-5PM (Sat. Jan. 20th) where they will be FREE to anyone who wants them while they last. If you feel guilty about taking FREE books then kindly make a monetary donation in the amount of your choice to Blue Umbrella Books because the WhipCity Wordsmiths appreciate the shop's support of the Literary Arts in Westfield.

I won't have copies of all 40 something books at my house as some are out of stock, but there will be a good selection, including recent Halloween and Christmas books.

I am doing my spring cleaning early!

Version #3

I started to write a new novel. I got 26,900 words into it and trashed it. Restarted. Version #2 got to 50,000 words and was ding nothing to please me. On January 13th I scrapped it. Walked away. Took a breath. Started writing again on the afternoon of the thirteenth because the characters would not let go of my ear. Tonight I will be picking up Version #3 at 32,497 words.

As Kelly just said, "Would you like a side of psychiatrist with that obsession?"