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Is it Really Storytime?
I've said, I've written, I've thought. . . that I am searching for stories, for new stories, for meaningful stories. . .
But maybe it's time now to release not just my old stories but stories themselves, and storytelling as a way of life.
Maybe it's time to stop telling stories to myself and start planning and doing instead: to plan and engage in adventure instead of just dreaming about adventures; to act and become my desired self instead of just writing about a person I am convinced could never exist in this world.
There's more risk, of course -- but I may have finally come to the place in my life where I am ready to believe that it's only in risk that we grow. That I can grow.
I want to be more than I am.
There is nothing stopping me but me.
But maybe it's time now to release not just my old stories but stories themselves, and storytelling as a way of life.
Maybe it's time to stop telling stories to myself and start planning and doing instead: to plan and engage in adventure instead of just dreaming about adventures; to act and become my desired self instead of just writing about a person I am convinced could never exist in this world.
There's more risk, of course -- but I may have finally come to the place in my life where I am ready to believe that it's only in risk that we grow. That I can grow.
I want to be more than I am.
There is nothing stopping me but me.
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Writing this now, I'm wondering about putting my this-world ideal self into a more adventuresome story, rather than building a heroine who exists only in fantasy. . .