Truth
Telling
“Writing
that carries truth uplifts us, teaches empathy, purpose, dignity. That means
taking out the lies and the boring parts, and especially the grandstanding
sections, which are probably the parts you love most…Leave the nuggets of life,
illuminating and compact, where the reader can taste a soupcon of truth, or
laugh and have to turn the page like a child.”
Anne
Lamott (Almost Everything: Notes on Hope, p.93, Riverhead Books, 2018)
Reading
Anne Lamott’s Almost Everything is a precious experience for me. Her
honesty is almost embarrassingly personal, and yet it is the story. I
don’t know any other writer who is as unvarnished and unpretentious as she is. She
makes me, and everyone else who tries to write, better.
In my
stories, I sometimes get the timing wrong; like yesterday, I told about
Christmas pageants we did in the 1990’s and then described one from the 80’s.
You may find, when you get older, that time is a slippery thing, hard to pin
down. My sons are forever correcting me. But the most important thing is telling
the story. Telling the truth to the best of your ability, doesn’t always mean
telling it with complete accuracy. The details I remember may not be the
details you would remember had you been there, and there may have been parts
that are important to the story that I don’t remember at all, but you do. My
cousin Sandy and I have this conversation often—she always remembers things from
our childhood that I do not. She’s good with details, and I am more concerned
with meanings. We simply must tell what we remember, as we remember it.
Storytelling
is as old at humanity. For many centuries, most people could not read; so, stories
were told around fires and in shelters in the woods. Old legends and
fairytales, told to teach and to terrify, were the equivalent of our favorite TV
shows today. Balladeers sang stories about tragedy and comedy, and traveling
storytellers brought welcomed news and new stories which were then adapted,
embellished, and retold. One of my favorite Bob Dylan songs is Lily, Rosemary
and the Jack of Hearts from the album, Blood on the Tracks—truly a
long story told to music. I think much of Rap is also storytelling in rhythmic
style. Telling our stories is the life blood of humanity. Like the root systems
of trees in a forest, our stories keep us connected to time and place, and to
each other.
This
will be an unusual Christmas. We will still be under restrictions because of
Covid-19, so there will be fewer in-person gatherings. If you plan to meet with
family members by zoom, be sure not to leave out the stories. I think that is
why we gather every year—for our annual infusion of family stories. Even if the
stories are sad, or mad, or dopey, they are like vitamins. They uplift us,
restore our root systems, and strengthen our connections. Start thinking about
your stories for this year. It’s been such a freaky year; you are bound to have
a collection of new tales to share. This may even be the year you begin writing
them down. Be sure to tell the truth. That’s what makes them good.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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