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Writer's pictureTheWordIsMyOyster

𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤: 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕓𝕠 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕒 𝕗𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥

Updated: Nov 25



@hmcguirephoto, the Long Room at Trinity College library (Dublin, Ireland 2024)

I often wonder what the prerequisites are to consider yourself a writer (view prior post ‘What is impostor syndrome and what to do if you have it’). After having taken many many many (many) classes with some of the most prominent writers of our time, and having read countless books on the subject, I can now say that it’s not the publication that makes the writer, it’s the inner need to lay the words on the page and the discipline to do it daily. Check and check. I can’t imagine NOT writing, whether the content reaches the world or not is not the point. Publication is gravy, writing and creating to me is a need. 


Now that I’ve answered the question ‘what is a writer?’, I can fast forward to ‘what is a story?’.


As a person of words, I love to read, write, learn and understand them. I love to play word games, rhyme them, synonym and antonym them, think of their roots and often sing them aloud for no reason other than to narrate my daily life more lyrically. 


Don’t lie, I know I’m not the only one.


Recently, I have been reading ‘Story’ by Robert McKee, a classic on the principles of screenwriting. I’m not a screenwriter (my brother is), but it has priceless insights on story arch and character buildings, among other fabulous wisdoms of a successful and experienced writer and teacher. 


I was floored by a concept laid out in the very beginning. ‘Stories are equipment for living’ (gasp, wide-eyed emoji… I’ve decided as a word-person that my emojis will be word-ly described). McKee quoted Kenneth Burke, the 20th century American literary theorist, poet, essayist, and novelist.


‘Stories are equipment for living’… 


According to McKee, stories are ‘not only our most prolific form of art, but rivals all activities [...] Why is so much time spent inside stories?’ He goes on to say that stories are more than a way to escape reality, they have become ‘humanity’s prime source of inspiration’. 


To retreat behind the notion that the audience simply wants to dump its troubles at the door and escape reality is a cowardly abandonment of the artist’s responsibility. Story isn’t a flight from reality but a vehicle that carries us on our search for reality, our best effort to make sense out of the anarchy of existence.’


I’ve always preached for the importance of arts in the survival of humanity (see prior post ‘Is art a luxury or a necessity? View from a zombie apocalypse’), McKee put a word on it. Responsibility. 


Words have that power. Stories have such dimension.


Stories are one of humanity’s oldest traditions. Even before there were words, there were stories. Think cavemen accounts of hunting parties through drawings on walls, bards songs, and campfire spooky tales. Stories, not unlike dreams, allow us to test out feelings, scenarios, fears, personalities, or fantasies. Try them on for size. Do they speak to us? Do we relate? Why? Why not? Did we learn something about the world? About ourselves?


It’s a big wide world out there, with an infinite number of ways lives can go. Stories help us either decide what we like or dislike about it, what we could do to change it. They help us grow by showing us how we inherently feel about places, people, moments. They create reactions which allow us to form and formulate what we think about pretty much anything. 


Words have that power. Stories have such dimension. 


And watch me be all controversial for a minute, but in an age when book bans are making a concerning come back, I just want to throw out there (like fuel to a very needed fire) that having words (any word) available to us, having books (any book) that offer different perspectives, having stories  (any stories) in our lives that allow us to shape our own opinions, ideas, and widen our horizons is not a trivial momentary escape from reality. It is vital. 


Words… have… that… power. Stories… have… such… dimension.


Read. Write. Make your own mind.


H. McGuire





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