I tell stories almost everyday. If I hadn’t told a story that day, I probably spent too much time reading, although most of those days I can’t wait to tell someone what I’ve read and why I liked (or disliked) it so much.
Like Matthew Dicks, I try to find stories in my everyday life, although I haven’t gotten to the point of saving them in a daily spreadsheet.
When people find out I’m from Alaska, they often ask me about the famous syntax salad Hockey mom that can see Russia from her front door. But I know nothing of her, so I steer the conversations to my adventures in ice fog (moose head in my windshield). Or the time I was in the car when we hit a moose (used a paperback book to protect myself). Or of my last ever fishing trip pulling a pre-historic burbot out of a creek, the horror. Or of my long wet, cold days tied to a tree to keep me from falling into the deadly glacier-fed water while my father dip netted to help us survive the Alaskan winters with full bellies.
I also collect amazing stories from my travels. Last spring, I went on an 18 day cruise with my grandparents from Florida to Southampton, UK. When I start telling the “Four
Stories” as I call them, I like to tease the audience with the hook, “they all involve beer, but one has hookers.” The last one, of course, has the hookers.
I have to admit, my stories can be a little on PG side, and I struggle sometimes to come up with all ages stories when the opportunity presents itself.
We have some kids in the library that help with doing library stuff because:
a. They have free time
b. They need volunteer hours for National Honors Society
c. Library stuff is fun
When we are doing backroom stuff (library secrets of weeding books… if you don’t know, you don’t need to know), they have asked me to tell them stories about my high school days. I keep it 100% G rated, but I can still conjure up some interesting stories from 25 years ago. Like the time the entire senior class held a sit-in for a most loved, administratively wronged teacher and we all got a fun saturday suspension. Or the time my theatre teacher put me in charge of dropping snow on the holiday choir and we threw down three bags of plastic snow, choking the poor singers. Look, she didn’t give me any instructions just the bags.
While I love to write, I’d rather be writing fiction and telling real stories, so if you see me sometime, let’s have a beer (or coffee) and catch up. I’ll tell you a few stories, definitely that one with the hookers, it’s a doozy.