Stories Untold

I am a very firm believer in the power of the written word.

Obviously.

I consider myself a writer, though I think anyone who likes to write can be considered a writer.  I hope to become an author someday. Which is different from a writer really only in the fact that someone else tells you that your writing is worth sharing with the world.

But that’s not my point.

My point is that I think some stories are better when told in person.

A few months ago, I went on an entertainingly horrid date. At the time, it was just torture. Afterwards, as I was recounting this date to a friend, I realized how ridiculous it must sound to someone who didn’t experience it first hand, and grew to appreciate it.

It’s known as the Invisible Notebook story. That first friend I recounted it to made me tell the entire lunch table at work that day and then every other person I met in her presence from there on out.  Some of my friends have heard it at least 5 times but are still somehow not sick of it.

I won’t lie, I enjoy telling it. There are so many absurd parts of it that even the Cliffnotes version gets a laugh or two.

One day I sat down and tried to write it out. I didn’t get very far before realizing that this wasn’t the kind of story you can accurately portray in words. Yes, I could tell you the story. I could quote this person, I could describe the scenery and the actions. But there would be something missing.  You wouldn’t be able to get the full effect of the Invisible Notebook story.

So, while I believe writing is a beautiful thing – I love getting lost in stories, I love learning about someone else’s world, I love expressing myself through my writing – some stories are best left as just that. Stories.

I mean, I bet Beowolf was way cooler when it was told in person…

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~ by Valerie Anne on 08/25/2011.

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