It's Time to Open Up the Definition of "Story"

The classic definition of story: a narrative with a conflict and a resolution. A story has a beginning, middle, and an end. These days, we've lived ourselves into a broader definition of story, however. Now, we talk about "the stories we tell ourselves." This is about positive thinking and inner gremlins. It's the internal monologue that is either filled with lots of "you've got this" or "you suck."

As entrepreneurs and private practice owners, as creatives, as people trying to make a livelihood out of personal passion, that inner voice is often heavy with doubt and fear.

Let's see how we can shift that story.

My own doubt and fear is growing fat and scary because I'm overcommitted. I pledged too much creative energy when I said I would write a story every day. I committed more time than I had to give to conceiving, writing, designing, posting, and sharing a story and an image.

I'm toast. I've discovered that quantity over quality really is a losing proposition.

It's not time to quit #365StrongStories. Not yet. Not when I have so many dedicated guest storytellers involved. Not when I find out that people around town are talking about this crazy great undertaking of mine. I'm waiting until at least day 100 (today is #92) before I decide to make any great changes in the schedule.

So, in the meantime, I am going to tell a different sort of Strong Story. I'll be offering up a few powerful lines that I hope will stick in your head and help shift your mindset into something that sounds a whole lot like hope, confidence, and peace.

And so, today: my work is worthy.

This is what I tell myself when I stress over webinar sign ups and the size of my community. It is what I tell myself when I decide that I can be seen even if I'm not pulling off the mad feat of creating and posting every day.

Your work is worthy too. Let's make it our mantra today.

Storytelling Is About Relationships

Is this your fantasy too? You get to be the person with the space, the time, and the luxury to simply write. Uninterrupted days are lavished on your own ideas without a care for the reader or the marketplace.

Well, that is certainly my fantasy, but we all know I have an incurable addiction to words and sentences. Maybe your fantasy is that you'd never have to write another word again! Maybe you pray that you'll be able to build a solo business or practice without creating online content and telling your brand's story.

Whether your a born writer or you're someone who needs to be tied to the keyboard to get the blogging done, we all need a reality check:

Stories depend on relationships and relationships depends on story.

Next week, in the Connect with Readers & Clients: Discover the Story Triangle we're going to explore how stories build relationships and how stories depend on relationships.

We go a little in today's Facebook live video (below). Be sure to sign up for the free webinar to learn how to make these relationships work in your own writing. Save my seat!

Luis: A Study in Breath by Guest Storyteller Liz Hibala

It was a simple passing by most standards. A friend’s cat, Luis, died. I knew him in a cursory way.  He was an old fellow when I met him, an orange tabby with bowed front legs and a raspy smoker’s meow.  He had a remarkable, intentional presence even when he clumsily circled my lap looking for the precise place to lower his ancient bones. As if to make full contact, he kneaded my legs along the way, claws extended, completely unaware or unconcerned the pain this ritual brought. He was himself.

Here, then not here, totally dependent upon the absence of an inhaled breath.

We move through time and space on ephemeral wings of breath. Experience and emotion, relationships and solitude -  all dependent upon the repetitive motion of inhale and exhale. It is breath that maintains our presence here, it is breath that connects us to all life. At times intentional, mostly automatic, our breath is a constant companion. It moves with us through joy and struggle, triumph and heartbreak, with unwavering loyalty. With each breath, change. Each breath, a unique motion of its own. A microcosm of cosmic movement and eternal change.

I sit in the corner of my couch, writing. One of my cats lounges against my leg in a quiet, seemingly contented mood, drifting in and out of sleep. His long black fur gently rises and falls with each breath. I marvel at the simplicity of this scene and the simultaneous enormity that it holds. A quiet morning, a soft peacefulness, and the rhythmic movement of muscle directing air.

It’s all in the breath.

Liz Hibala is an emerging Crone, Reiki Master, and author living in the mountains of western Montana. Learn more about her book Óran Mór and her Reiki practice.

This is when you ask for help

I just made a cup of coffee without the cup. A great brown countertop and a smug looking Keurig machine didn’t photograph well so you’ll have to take my word for it. There’s no use weeping over spilled caffeine - I tossed some towels over it, firmly placed a cup beneath the spout, and asked the coffee gods to give me one more hit. Instead of collapsing into exhausted tears, I’m resorting to prayer.

Note that this coffee incident happened at noon during my first of two solid work days this week. There is no time to get on my knees or pull out a meditation cushion. All I can do is sit at the keyboard and say the prayer that a red-haired Celtic Mary Magdalen named Maeve has given us:

Help, I prayed, help.

(Help, help is one of the best prayers I know; you just have to be prepared for some bizarre responses.)

Another line from this fabulous Maeve creature: “A story is true if it’s well told.” That means that this character in Elizabeth’s Cunningham’s brilliantly told novels are a kind of truth we can tuck into our hearts and swirl into our coffee to get us through.

Ask for help and, somehow, the universe will send you what you need.

When I prayed and typed and clicked and sipped, I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of help I was asking for.

House cleaning. Toddler sleep training. Webinar advertising.

I’m willing to take help in any form it comes, really. Since you probably can’t come over to clean under the coffee pot and my kid won’t let anyone near her but me at 4 AM, I’ll ask you for help with the last one.

I’d be honored if you would share the news about Connect with Readers & Clients: Discover the Story Triangle webinar I am teaching on Tuesday, April 5 at 1 PM ET.

Will you please come too?

Save my seat!

Shared Passions and Outlandish Secrets

It’s rainy, cold, and Celtic as hell out there on this March afternoon in New York. If I ever mention the weather in my writing, you know it is exactly this kind of day. The heavy fog is the perfect screen for my imagination to play out its most fabulous, fantastical visions. This almost makes up for the loneliness, nostalgia, and “what would life be life if only I had…” thinking that soaks through me. I have a great library of memories and stories to wander through as I stare into the mist, tea cup clutched to my heart. But Outlander has been romancing the collective imagination lately, so it’s easiest for my daydreams to gallop off to join Claire and Jamie in the Highlands.

The Frasers belong to anyone willing to pay for premium cable now, so it’s no longer a private reverie. Back when I first discovered Diana Gabaldon’s first novel at 15, it felt like an unknown otherworld. Occasionally the books would find their way into conversation and it would be like finding a member of the underground “Je suis prest” sorority, but generally the series felt like a guilty pleasure you couldn’t really discuss in mixed company.

Now, I’ve gone and given copies to my mother-in-law and my stepmom. My husband is working his way through book 2 and I fully expect my dad to give it a try soon. The television gods have ushered these stories off the pages where we could only imagine the look in Jamie Fraser’s slanted green eyes. Outlander makes the cover of Entertainment Weekly and their whole world has emerged into the culture with such confidence and acclaim that I almost forget it contains a dozen scenes I’d rather die than discuss at a holiday dinner.

And yet, I find these are still secret stories. I can only write about the external phenomenon of sharing the books and watching the show, not the thoughts that swirl around me on a quiet gray day halfway around the world from Craigh na Dun. These visions are still mine, intimate as a reader alone with a book or a couple whispering together in the night.

Claire and Jamie belong to everyone now, but in the most important ways, they will always belong to me alone. If you knew and loved them once upon a time, they’ll always belong to you too.