My younger brother turned 57 yesterday and the fact of it left me listless until I read Brenda's post where she mentions grandmothers and their potential value. Why have I told you this? Is there a story brewing? I suspect there is and it may or may not be one I wish to tell . . .stay posted.
Yesterday's exercises left me 'free'd up for some reason. I love poetry - I love to read it, hear it, and think about it, but I never really thought about why. As I heard the sonnets read aloud and listened to my classmates' discussion, I began to think about why I chose Thomas Caulfield Irwin's #5, A roadside on on a Summer Day. We did our class exercises and participated in 'conversation' about our story threads and then it hit me - Irwin is telling my story. Somehow, through words, I am in his story and he is in mine - our eyes see the same things but with different lenses.
Way back on page 36 in Tell me a Story, Schank writes about firsthand stories, saying 'the art of storytelling involves finding good ways to express one's experiences in a way appropriate to the listener.' For me, that is what Irwin accomplished in #5. How to translate that knowledge into my own work is the challenge.
1 comment:
Saundra, I wholly agree with the challenge that you face, and believe that it is faced by all. Cultures and experiences vary from street corner to corner. We all hear clattering carts, and have to strain to hear the fading cock. I believe that listening to the to gossip will give us more to say.
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