Stories are a fundamental aspect of human existence. This may be my sentimental mind talking about the stuff of my childhood, but I’ll never been embarrassed about my appreciation for them. Stories have never failed me, whether they’re garnished in literary craftsmanship, or simply laid out for me to uncover. I fell in love with them long ago.
Regardless of any consciousness I’ve come into through my creative and intellectual meanderings via literary criticism and philosophy, stories have always offered me the spaces that I had unknowingly always been searching for, a place where great thinkers were asking questions that I was perhaps too afraid to ask myself. I found a place where I could begin to ask these questions myself.
In the words of the unfathomably wise Madeleine L’Engle: “The stories I cared about, the stories I read and reread, were usually stories which dared to disturb the universe, which asked questions rather than gave answers.
“I turned to story, then, as now, looking for truth, for it is in story that we find glimpses of meaning, rather than in textbooks. But how apologetic many adults are when they are caught reading a book of fiction! They tend to hide it and tell you about the “How-To” book which is what they are really reading. Fortunately, nobody ever told me that stories were untrue, or should be outgrown, and then as now they nourished me and kept me willing to ask the unanswerable questions.”
Much like Philip Pullman confessed about his writing, “I’m in the Once upon a time business.” I write stories because they sprout in my mind like weeds and are simply impossible to uproot, their roots burrowing deep into the folds of my mind. The only remedy is to share them, because weeds are, after all, beautiful in their own right.
As of 2023 I’ve made the decision to put my freelance writing on pause and dive back into writing my first novel. I’ll try to keep this site updated with my process, but in the meantime it’s mostly going to stay under construction.
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