I need to tell you a story, a tale of fate and emergence.
The Rough Beast snorted. __ou don__ get it at all, buddy. It__ not about wrestling. It__ about stories. We__e storytellers.__aperton studied him. __omebody at my job just said that.___t__ true! You have to be able to tell the story to get people on board for anything. A soft drink, a suck sesh, elective surgery, gardening, even your thing--public space? I prefer private space, but that__ cool. Anyway, nobody cares about anything if there isn__ a story attached. Ask the team that wrote the Bible. Ask Vincent Allan Poe.___ut doesn__ it seem kind of creepy?_ Caperton said. __ll of us just going around calling ourselves storytellers?__he Rough Beast shrugged. __ell, you can be negative. That__ the easy way out.
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The Rough Beast snorted. __ou don__ get it at all, buddy. It__ not about wrestling. It__ about stories. We__e storytellers.__aperton studied him. __omebody at my job just said that.___t__ true! You have to be able to tell the story to get people on board for anything. A soft drink, a suck sesh, elective surgery, gardening, even your thing--public space? I prefer private space, but that__ cool. Anyway, nobody cares about anything if there isn__ a story attached. Ask the team that wrote the Bible. Ask Vincent Allan Poe.___ut doesn__ it seem kind of creepy?_ Caperton said. __ll of us just going around calling ourselves storytellers?__he Rough Beast shrugged. __ell, you can be negative. That__ the easy way out.
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Grappling with fate is like meeting an expert wrestler: to escape, you have to accept the fall when you are thrown. The only thing that counts is whether you get back up.
He prefers his adventures second hand.
It's in The Lord of the Rings, I think, where one of the characters says that "way leads on to way"; that you could start at a path leading nowhere more fantastic than from your own front steps to the sidewalk, and from there you could go . . . well, anywhere at all. It's the same way with stories. One leads to the next, to the next, and to the next; maybe they go in the direction you wanted to go, but maybe they don't. Maybe in the end it's the voice that tells the stories more than the stories themselves that matters.
No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time.
Sophisticated readers understand that writers work out their anger, their conflicts, their endless grief and rolling list of loss, through their stories. That however mean-spirited or diabolical, it's only a story. That the darkness in the soul is shaped into type and lies there, brooding and inert, black on the page, and active, dangerous, only in the reader's mind. Actually, harmless. I am not harmless.