Nice to have you back Ben! Must’ve been in the Piscean stars because just two weeks ago I, too, reunited for a long weekend with my three dearest friends from childhood-late teens. It’s been 30 years since we’ve all been together and our time was incredibly healing, teary, goofy, and as loving as we remembered we’d been. We also made a pact to reunite again every year from here on out. What’s funny about truth though is that everyone’s is different. So many stories shared where at least one of us said, That’s not how it happened! Or, I did what? I think truth isn’t so much a time-based phenomenon held in memory but something felt in the moment, bubbling up from the center of experience. I know my memoir wouldn’t dare claim fact, only a recounting of my own memories and others’ told to me. But the feelings evoked while writing it were truthful, and I suppose that’s as close as I’ll ever get.:)
Hey Kimberly! Thank you, it’s nice to be back. I think we’re both in that same stage of life to be reconnecting with our younger selves. I admired your memoir so much. I can’t imagine that level of truth telling even though I do agree, that truth is a relative and highly subjective term.
Truth is “something felt in the moment.” You’re probably right, Pisces. Both you and Ben have a way of pulling a reader very close to something elemental, something felt in the moment of a story.
The level! Such a fantastic analogy, Ben. I’ve been thinking a lot about taking leaps and risks in my writing of late. So this was an especially interesting listen. Thank you. 😊
I've enjoyed Same Walk, Different Shoes. I know you're busy, but is there any chance of bringing it back? Writing to someone else's prompt, based on their life experiences, really stretches us.
Hey Ben. Like you, I have been absent for a while, but what a nice piece to come back to...Fiction may be a mask for truth, but I doubt anyone would believe my stories without the cover of fiction. I look forward to reading every book you write and knowing each one is from that deep well of knowledge and imagination you hold dear.
Outstanding, Ben. Glad you are back. This flows with a phone call I had with an old friend about the gaps between conversations. Keeping the pilot light on is what he does and convinced me to do the same. If you think of them, tell them. Do not expect them to answer. If they never answer and there's no obituary notice, it's okay to keep the pilot light going.
This is such an interesting reflection, Ben. I had not thought of novels in this way but it makes total sense.
And I love your description of writing as an invitation to break all the rules, something Summer Brennan might call "writing dangerously." I continually need to remind myself that's what I want to do in my writing practice. When I hit those moments of internal discomfort, I know I'm on to something and I need to lean in more. It's definitely a practice!
Ben - welcome back! Glad I listened to your audio, felt like a visit with an old friend. I’m also glad you got to reconnect with your old friends.
Your analogy of the level is spot-on. I’m working on what feels like a wild risk for me to end the current chapter, following an urge, so the timing of this is perfect:
“the audience has already given you permission to break all the rules. In fact, if you play it safe, you’ve failed. They’ve come to be moved, to witness something they can’t in their job or marriage.“ Thank you!
Love this - it's so true and really resonates, and it's good to remember when the writing starts to feel a little too intense and vulnerable. I'm so glad you got to connect with old friends. And thanks for playing that show with me!!
I love this insight - “the truth-telling power of stories can be more effective—slip past the reader’s vigilant gatekeeper—when there’s the distraction of a speculative element.” This is probably why I’ve loved speculative fiction even before I knew what it was. I’m glad you write in this way.
Nice to have you back Ben! Must’ve been in the Piscean stars because just two weeks ago I, too, reunited for a long weekend with my three dearest friends from childhood-late teens. It’s been 30 years since we’ve all been together and our time was incredibly healing, teary, goofy, and as loving as we remembered we’d been. We also made a pact to reunite again every year from here on out. What’s funny about truth though is that everyone’s is different. So many stories shared where at least one of us said, That’s not how it happened! Or, I did what? I think truth isn’t so much a time-based phenomenon held in memory but something felt in the moment, bubbling up from the center of experience. I know my memoir wouldn’t dare claim fact, only a recounting of my own memories and others’ told to me. But the feelings evoked while writing it were truthful, and I suppose that’s as close as I’ll ever get.:)
Hey Kimberly! Thank you, it’s nice to be back. I think we’re both in that same stage of life to be reconnecting with our younger selves. I admired your memoir so much. I can’t imagine that level of truth telling even though I do agree, that truth is a relative and highly subjective term.
Truth is “something felt in the moment.” You’re probably right, Pisces. Both you and Ben have a way of pulling a reader very close to something elemental, something felt in the moment of a story.
Right back at you Sir Adam.
The level! Such a fantastic analogy, Ben. I’ve been thinking a lot about taking leaps and risks in my writing of late. So this was an especially interesting listen. Thank you. 😊
Thank you, Holly. It’s wonderful to see you opening up even more and taking new chances.
That analogy for me, too, Holly. The tap.
As you always do, Ben, you’ve given me something that resonates and makes me think. I’m so happy you and your friends reconnected.
Hi Sheri! Thank you. I'm so happy this piece resonated with you. It was wonderful to reconnect with my old friends.
I've enjoyed Same Walk, Different Shoes. I know you're busy, but is there any chance of bringing it back? Writing to someone else's prompt, based on their life experiences, really stretches us.
Anyway, keep up the good work.
Hey Ben. Like you, I have been absent for a while, but what a nice piece to come back to...Fiction may be a mask for truth, but I doubt anyone would believe my stories without the cover of fiction. I look forward to reading every book you write and knowing each one is from that deep well of knowledge and imagination you hold dear.
Hi Diane, you’re so kind. Thank you for being such wonderful reader and friend. You do have many amazing stories to tell, of that I’m sure.
Outstanding, Ben. Glad you are back. This flows with a phone call I had with an old friend about the gaps between conversations. Keeping the pilot light on is what he does and convinced me to do the same. If you think of them, tell them. Do not expect them to answer. If they never answer and there's no obituary notice, it's okay to keep the pilot light going.
Hi Georgia! Thanks for reading. I couldn't agree more on the pilot light approach. I don't regret keeping the light on.
This is such an interesting reflection, Ben. I had not thought of novels in this way but it makes total sense.
And I love your description of writing as an invitation to break all the rules, something Summer Brennan might call "writing dangerously." I continually need to remind myself that's what I want to do in my writing practice. When I hit those moments of internal discomfort, I know I'm on to something and I need to lean in more. It's definitely a practice!
Ben - welcome back! Glad I listened to your audio, felt like a visit with an old friend. I’m also glad you got to reconnect with your old friends.
Your analogy of the level is spot-on. I’m working on what feels like a wild risk for me to end the current chapter, following an urge, so the timing of this is perfect:
“the audience has already given you permission to break all the rules. In fact, if you play it safe, you’ve failed. They’ve come to be moved, to witness something they can’t in their job or marriage.“ Thank you!
Hi Julie, I’m glad this is what you needed to hear. Usually all it takes to do something is great is just giving yourself permission.
Love this - it's so true and really resonates, and it's good to remember when the writing starts to feel a little too intense and vulnerable. I'm so glad you got to connect with old friends. And thanks for playing that show with me!!
Thank you for dragging me out of semi-retirement. I really enjoyed catching up with you.
I love this insight - “the truth-telling power of stories can be more effective—slip past the reader’s vigilant gatekeeper—when there’s the distraction of a speculative element.” This is probably why I’ve loved speculative fiction even before I knew what it was. I’m glad you write in this way.