Magical Synchronicities | Arundhati Roy – Stories Select the Writers, not Writer’s Selecting the Stories

I had a series of magical moments after I had moved from a cafe to a waterfront area. I was looking over the Table of Contents (TOC) of this book I’m writing and realized several pages were not ‘recognized’. I was doing the quick and assured fix of formatting the title text and making sure there were page breaks, and this one page simply would not allow itself to be recognized. It would not appear in the TOC.

I had no choice but to look at the content more closely, having decided that I had completed this page, and then realized…

…that I  could subtly change the wording of this part of the title. And, oh, I see, it would be better to omit this and re-create this series of lines instead.

I had wanted to use the quick and obvious fix of reformatting the title, which functioned with other pages, but this one page would not allow me.

So, i don’t know about you, but I think that the book, via the computer, was not allowing me to hastily skip over this page, but insisted that i look at it more closely. This part of the story, did not want to be portrayed in that way.

I think it’s like magic, and I call this a synchronicity. Like a gut instinct or intuition.

sunflowerssunflowers to the left of me sunflowers to the right

 

I understand what Arundhati Roy means when she says that writers think they cull stories from the world, but in fact, the stories cull the writers.

“Writers imagine that they cull stories from the world. I’m beginning to believe that vanity makes them think so. That it’s actually the other way around. Stories cull writers from the world. Stories reveal themselves to us. The public narrative, the private narrative – they colonize us. They commission us. They insist on being told. Fiction and nonfiction are only different techniques of story telling. For reasons that I don’t fully understand, fiction dances out of me, and nonfiction is wrenched out by the aching, broken world I wake up to every morning.”

Here was the approaching back drop.

ducks the geese had already flown in two flocks to grass lawns

 

sunset september 6 in Providence, Rhode Island

 

sept 5th sky I had seen a green blue moon at sunset and later an orange pink crescent

About carolkeiter
Aspiring writer, artist, musician and composer who was born and raised in the United States and has resided in several European countries. Communication is my forte; both through using various tools and in approaching people of divers backgrounds to gather information. Speak conversational - advanced intermediate - French, German and Spanish. Love interacting with people in cultural centers as much as going to remote places to learn more about the different creatures that share our planet. Love of the outdoors and of a variety of outdoor sports. Driven to learn and expand my own consciousness and understanding through curiosity and love of life. Creative skills merge with analytical ones, leading to an interest in a myriad of topics; ranging from politics, economics, science to environmental. Motivated to use my art, music and writing to support and educate people towards humane practices that support and respect all of life, including practices supporting a healthy planet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: