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I sit in the living room easy chair. Darkmode enabled on my phone. Coffee nearby, thinking of storytelling. Wanting to write stories, tell stories. A laptop will be purchased in the coming weeks for this, as virtual keyboards offer too many limitations to convey a thing well.

I think if a distant relative. His ability to tell great stories. Even uneventful occurrences on a fishing trip, he could spin it into an engaging, attention-grabbing story that was satisfying not for the details of the event therein, or the “points made”, but the enjoyment in how it was told. Like the storyTELLING, itself, was the thing to enjoy.

It made me a better writer, seeing him tell stories. Content and subject are mandatory, but how they are conveyed, the energy behind the words. And the intent from that energy, and those things influencing the next sentence written – before you know it, something very intenfully beautiful is in front of your eyes. Like the emotional/energetic ambiance has become the subject, itself. A “better-subject”.

So I try for this in journal entries. To make them stories, tales that I would like to read back, enjoy again and again. And also for any end-reader to enjoy, as well. A journal entry of events and thoughts, but put forward in a way where the emotional intent behind the words being the co-subject enjoyment of having written them.

××× ttyl