Dear friends,
I’m used to telling stories as a cycle tour guide and as someone who facilitates workshops. I’m told I can be good at it. Writing stories; fiction or otherwise is quite a different matter.
Here are my first attempts, more will follow:
1. The first example is, a Mysore View, posted in June 2019. You can read it here
2. The second, Magic Roundabout, was posted in July 2019 and can be found here
After some feedback I created a revised version of Magic Roundabout, you may wish to go straight here.
3. and here’s yet another one Looking for a home, who is it about?
4. Forever Together …. stars a certain beautiful, smiling woman
please provide feedback to help me learn to improve.
Improving my writing skills is a new challenge and a different way to connect. Learning proper English is a big enough challenge from a guy from Yorkshire! 😉
I want to relay Manjula’s story to a wider audience. It’s part of managing my new situation, keeping going on this rocky path and holding Manjula close to all our hearts.
To try and do Manjula and her story justice I’ll be completing some online training courses and so I invite readers to give critical feedback to help me improve.
Please do feel free to comment.
Thanks
Stephen
Mysore
July 2019
The following appeared elsewhere…..
“Storytelling is the oldest form of entertainment there is. From campfires and pictograms—the Lascaux cave paintings may be as much as twenty thousand years old— to tribal songs and epic ballads passed down from generation to generation, it is one of the most fundamental ways humans have of making sense of the world. No matter how much storytelling formats change, storytelling itself never gets old.
Stories bring us together. We can talk about them and bond over them. They are shared knowledge, shared legend, and shared history; often, they shape our shared future. Stories are so natural that we don’t notice how much they permeate our lives. And stories are on our side: they are meant to delight us, not deceive us—an ever-present form of entertainment.”
From New Yorker 6th July