When we submit to fiction–whether in novels, songs, or films—we allow ourselves to be invaded by storytellers who seize control of us cognitively and emotionally. from The Storytelling Animal: A Conversation with Jonathan Gottschall | Literally Psyched, Scientific American Blog Network. (via Metafilter)
I’ve just had the strangest feeling. Was looking for photos for this yoke so was searching in folders on the ‘puter and on impulse decided to look in my writing folder. Why, I don’t know, I’d never have stuck a photo there. Nevertheless I started to poke around and came across a whole chapter I (Read More)
“They’re out there.”
She was really starting to get on my nerves. I knew they were out there. I’d seen them, I’d been chased by them, legging it down the road screaming in terror as hordes followed me. I didn’t need her to tell me they were out there.
In the continuing, on off, saga of fiction prompted by Luna Nina’s Unconscious Mutterings: Brink
Carl says “write“. Challenge issued; a story in one hundred words. But– and here’s the problem– no repetition allowed. So let us begin… Fingers strike keys. Hesitate. Erase. Start again… More difficult than it first sounded. Quick, fumble for that thesaurus, what’s another way of saying happy? Content? Blissful? Jovial? Exultant? Maybe “on cloud nine”?? (Read More)