When the best story in the world has already been written… why do I write?
Because writing is not a choice – and neither is telling stories.
Because stories are never finished.
Because the best stories in the world are written over and over again.
Because a story well-told depends on who you’re telling it to.
Because we all tell the same stories anyway, but that one little change, that one new interpretation can make the difference between touching someone or missing the mark.
But what IS the best story in the world?
I don’t know.
I do know they don’t have to be very elaborate to have impact:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
Ernest Hemingway
When someone, sometime, stumbled upon six words that can evoke so much… How can I NOT continue my own search for stories and the words to tell them?
P.S.: Credits to Jony Mitchell for writing the best song in the world.
P.P.S: Extra credits for singing the most heartfelt version even after suffering a stroke and having to relearn to talk and sing.
P.P.P.S.: Credits to The Tallest Man on Earth for showing that a new interpretation can make even the best song in the world reach new heights, and providing the inspiration for this post.
Unique value often lies in seemingly strange combinations.
The beekeeping lawyer.
The pro soccer player with an astrophysics degree.
The theologist waking up early every morning to go surfing.
The public servant spending their evenings performing at the local stand-up comedy bar.
The motorcycle repair shop owner writing philosophy books.
The chess champion with a Brazilian Ju-Jitsu black belt.
Societal pressure and expectations make such combinations unlikely. Out of the ordinary. Maybe even undesirable: an obstacle to conformity.
And if it’s undesirable, it becomes rare.
And here’s the twist: what’s rare usually becomes valuable.
Because there’s nothing incompatible about these combinations – in fact, the skills you practice may well complement each other in unique and valuable ways.
What could be an unexpected complement for your life?
Something you’re secretly interested in, but – according to society – doesn’t fit who you are (or who you’re supposed to be)?