Narrators
The problem with being a narrator is that everyone assumes you're omniscient. I suppose it's because you're the first voice the reader hears when they begin the story. You trust the teller of a tale to know certain things about what is going to happen. You're one describing who is present, who is not, and what sorts of clothing and madness is lurking about those who are there.
But there's no training, no guild, no best-practices - it's why the first few stories you hear from a new narrator are always a bit scabby. The narrator hasn't learned to drop a few things, to skip a few details before they speak. Too, narrators are given the chance to be the voice of the story maker - but the narrators are hand-picked. That is to say, nothing external to the narrator tells the story maker that THIS is the best narrator they could have chosen.
Most story makers simply stick with the first one they pick. As a result, they're stuck with the inadequacies, ineptitude, and lack-of-vision of the narrator they selected.
But you, cautious reader, now know the truth. Narrators are not random, not equal - but your reader has chosen me. Woe unto you, story maker, for I am not omniscient, am not guaranteed to skip over the bits you'd like to ignore and include the bits you'd like to retain. I'm, as they say "human"; I make mistakes.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Out story began in the middle of the woods during a dark and stormy night during an explosion. The only creature who survived that explosion was a small fox - with bloody eyes and a broken jaw - but he crawled dutifully to his burrow to care for his loved kits. His kits were mostly unharmed but devastatingly hungry. He dutifully fed them the bits and pieces he had bought and then fell over, dead from exhaustion. The kits survived and are now in positions of power in the local forest government.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But there's no training, no guild, no best-practices - it's why the first few stories you hear from a new narrator are always a bit scabby. The narrator hasn't learned to drop a few things, to skip a few details before they speak. Too, narrators are given the chance to be the voice of the story maker - but the narrators are hand-picked. That is to say, nothing external to the narrator tells the story maker that THIS is the best narrator they could have chosen.
Most story makers simply stick with the first one they pick. As a result, they're stuck with the inadequacies, ineptitude, and lack-of-vision of the narrator they selected.
But you, cautious reader, now know the truth. Narrators are not random, not equal - but your reader has chosen me. Woe unto you, story maker, for I am not omniscient, am not guaranteed to skip over the bits you'd like to ignore and include the bits you'd like to retain. I'm, as they say "human"; I make mistakes.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Out story began in the middle of the woods during a dark and stormy night during an explosion. The only creature who survived that explosion was a small fox - with bloody eyes and a broken jaw - but he crawled dutifully to his burrow to care for his loved kits. His kits were mostly unharmed but devastatingly hungry. He dutifully fed them the bits and pieces he had bought and then fell over, dead from exhaustion. The kits survived and are now in positions of power in the local forest government.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
See what I mean? I didn't know there was going to be an explosion, or a fox, or that he would be a single father or that he'd die. I didn't know the forest had a government, or that foxes could participate in such an endeavor. I am an untrustworthy narrator.
But ... I love to tell stories. Perhaps that's the problem - I acknowledge there are others who could tell my stories better ... but I crave an audience. My stories are my voice.
For what is a narrator but an opportunity for a well-presented story to be heard? You can have a story without a narrator - but you cannot have a narrator without a story. What's an echo without a voice?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The twists and turns of the leaf on the midnight wind appeared as a kind of floral dance. Mad with delight, the leaf dipped and swayed - and all who watched felt the youth and passion of the performance deep within themselves. All were young, all were vibrant, all were one.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And so stories begin. Again, again, again, and as stories know, there is a fallow season of waiting.
Comments