The catalyst for this blog is a friend, almost sister, and mentor during the most formative academic years of my life. Walking back to the office one day, she told me to write my stories.
I have chosen not to include personal information in this blog. The simple reason for this is that I hate my own writing and feel intense anxiety when people I know read my work. The notion of losing these stories however is far more horrifying. So here it is, out in the universe, whether people read it or not.
During graduate school I taught a class together with my mentor, which she did as a favor to me. Like so many times before, she saved my ass. It was after one of these meetings that she told me that I would be a different type of academic, informing me that I am and always will be a storyteller. Noting my surprise, she made me aware of what she felt was my skill. I speak in story. Like the spider woman, I weave various threads of stories to construct a master narrative. If I were a fantasy character in one of her books, I would vomit stories whenever a problem presented itself.
I was unsure at first, oral tradition (in this case written) as my art of fixing. Experience = Theory? We’ll see…
No comments:
Post a Comment