On the Importance of Stories
by barbie byrd
Our lives are inundated with narrative from our earliest childhood memories: fairy tales, picture books, nursery rhymes. At the most basic, we create a narrative for ourselves; plot points that move the stories of our lives, conflict and dénouement, action and romance. We seek out other stories that intrigue us, dialogue and setting that enhance our own. Some of us, perhaps the luckiest among us, have a plethora of stories swirling around our heads. I am viciously envious of those people. So, I read. As a child, I read voraciously and with an appetite for the new and the unusual. I cut my teeth on tales of dragons and found my personal monsters easier to slay. I followed characters through alien worlds, dystopian futures, epic adventures and then found the navigation of my daily routine was blissfully simple. Reading for me has never been about escape. It is about context. Stories have probably saved my life in dozens of ways. I have learned that villains don’t always have brooding eyes or wear black hats and that often the hero can be fragile and unsure. I know, from stories, that happy endings are rare, but that life has a certain symmetry that is just as satisfying. I understand that I can be more, be better, try harder. I also know when to walk away. I know that this is full of cliché, but so is reality. I am most assuredly not a writer. I don’t have fiction flying in my brain, to be butterfly-netted and pinned to the page, but I am a reader. I know the value and the power of stories. I know they resonate through minds, generations, cultures, and centuries. Other people’s stories rattle around in my head, teaching me lessons and keeping me awake at night. Never mind if I lose a little sleep. ____________________ “Artists use lies to tell the truth. Yes, I created a lie. But because you believed it, you found something true about yourself.” ––Alan Moore
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