The Storyteller

I was once reading a story about the writers who have lived before my time; Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Emerson, etc. And I was following along just perfectly, imagining the scenery and the voices.

Now, imagine with me a situation where all of these people had dinner together.

Can you imagine the conversation?

The way writers view the world is a lot different than the way scientists view the world.

Can you imagine having Fitzgerald telling you about his day, and what he had done?

While it might seem like a petty conversation, I’m sure they all did it. I mean, writing doesn’t take up every minute of every single day.

Can you imagine them talking about the weather, or what they read in the newspaper?

Believer it or not, Edgar Allen Poe didn’t lead a very exciting life like the masses are pushed to believe in the movie “Raven” starring John Cusak – which was a really awful movie in my opinion.

Everyone thinks he’s this dark, mysterious person who – I don’t know – did opium and had a secret lab. He didn’t! He was so straight edge he didn’t even drink!

I guess I’m just looking for the human aspect of them. I want to know that their lives were just as boring as mine; that not everyday a famous work of art was written.

I want to see their rough drafts, and hear their frustrations. I want to see the passion in their eyes, and in their heart that they knew they were writing something amazing.

I want to know what it’s like to be their friend.

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