Today is the blog hop for the DIY PR course I wrote about last week—here’s the link for the course details: http://thecraftychica.blogspot.com/2011/05/online-class-diy-publicity-for-indie.html. As I had already discussed last week (“So, how did I get here?”), it was a worthwhile venture for me even though I have nothing currently to “sell.” Right now I’m all about connection and interconnectedness. Other classmates have had success with increasing their visibility as well as finding new venues for themselves and it’s been exciting to watch. As a kind of parting assignment for class, or theme for the hop, we were asked to write about what we wanted or expected to get out of this—I’d have to say that starting a blog was the top item on my list—I know I didn’t need to take a course to do that, but I really needed a push and some sort of platform to gain momentum. Perhaps, just a little bit of hand-holding as well. Besides, being the perpetual student that I am the course sounded interesting to me and Kathy’s great (The Crafty Chica).
The next item would be to start experimenting with stories. I’ve started with the coffee-klatch kind of stories as a comfortable place to be and I’ll eventually branch out into sharing other stories, both real and fictional. My hope is that if someone has a story to share they’d feel free to do it here or if there’s a story that needs some framing, I’d be happy to help with that as well. I have so many stories that people have shared with me over the years—many of which were unsolicited. I find fascinating what people choose to share and what they leave unspoken, as well as when/where this all erupts. Think back to your own childhood and see how much you really know of your family—what was shared and what was verboten? What stories or people have become fish tales or legends and who or what is ignored?
(Future storyteller--little man, happy as a clam.)
My father was a teller of tall tales but in the end he has left us with very little actual family history and a lot stories that we must now piece together in order to find the truths relevant to us. Perhaps part of this piecemeal business came from his parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles all of whom spoke German—for the “adult” topics when the children were around—so the children wouldn’t completely understand what was being said. He received information and stories in fragments and knew to leave the room when German was spoken.
My dad kept himself very comfortable with his stories—which were always based on some bit of truth which skirted around the meatiest part of the main truth. Point blank questions weren’t really a part of our family dialogue, feelings and truths were hidden neatly away because they are too messy and impolite to verbalize. Besides, once it (whatever “it” may be) is spoken—it’s out there and real, unleashed on the world. That was just too much for my parents. Feelings are raw and messy and unspoken. So, I think that stories stood in lieu of speaking of feelings or articulating them for my parents, but especially for my father. He loved to spin a good yarn and was good at it. I find it interesting that my older son has my father’s flair for dramatic “re-enactments” and gestures and my younger son has his flair for storytelling. My father got to know my older son and my younger son shares a name with him (my father’s first name is my son’s middle name).
Storytelling can be a bird’s eye view of your own history—which, sometimes, is seen only by the littlest bird in a shrub. It’s not the whole picture but often a good snapshot of one aspect. Storytelling also connects, sometimes in ways deeper than we can imagine. So, here is a place for all kinds of storytelling and sharing. My wish is that my stories may resonant with you or help you dig deeper into your own.
Thanks for stopping by!
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