I used to pretend I was Kurt Vonnegut Jr.’s love-child. In a spiritual-literary sense, I still dream that it’s true.
Here’s a lecture he gave about the Shape of Stories. In his sublime simplicity and humor, he explains all of storytelling with a simple graph. It applies, as well, to the stories we tell ourselves.
“We don’t know enough about Life
to know what the good news is and what the bad news is.”
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
“If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.’s Uncle
The question arose: If I wish to be the literary love-child of Vonnegut, then who would I like my spiritual-literary momma to be?
My heart told me, “Anais Nin. “
And the rest of me said, “Yes.”
“We write to taste Life twice.”
Soon, I’ll write the story that’s been in me since 1999. (Hmm, twenty years. Delayed due to gestation more than procrastination.)
It’s called “The Blue Hands of Anais Nin.”
“Flow, always the flow.”
Anais Nin, when discussing D. H. Lawrence
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