Comments on: Ab Ovo; or, How Not To Begin a Story http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/ Just another WordPress weblog Tue, 07 Sep 2010 01:43:00 -0700 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0.1 By: Begin at the Beginning: Thoughts on autobiographical material and story structure « Write Livelihood http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-351 Begin at the Beginning: Thoughts on autobiographical material and story structure « Write Livelihood Thu, 17 Sep 2009 04:20:45 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-351 [...] article, “Ab Ovo, or, How Not to Begin a Story,” is worth reading in full. Rachel has an interesting perspective on the personal-writing topic, [...] [...] article, “Ab Ovo, or, How Not to Begin a Story,” is worth reading in full. Rachel has an interesting perspective on the personal-writing topic, [...]

]]> By: Rachel Hile http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-323 Rachel Hile Mon, 07 Sep 2009 02:13:57 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-323 Rachel B.: You wrote "It's most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn't the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it?" In your narrative, the triumph and shame go together, don't they? The triumph is public, and the shame is private. I just spent half an hour looking for that letter---that letter, along with another thing I wrote on a piece of lavender paper at around the same time, have both stuck in my memory as important, but they seem to be truly lost, unfortunately. When I first read your comment, I thought, "Cool girl? Huh? Is there a cool girl in the room?" But that was in fact the possibility I foresaw, that there might come a point in the near future when I would start fitting in and being like everybody else. I suppose that if that had actually happened (I stopped waiting for it a while ago), probably nothing I could have written to myself would have breached the gulf that there would be between those two selves---so you see, here I come back to the idea of a consistent self.<br><br>Eric, thanks. Of course, Horace is being somewhat descriptive in his prescriptiveness, by giving the example of Homer, but yeah, it definitely stuck as a rule, not a suggestion. But I loved your question about another culture that would value a different way of beginning a story, because it makes me think of the Hebrew Scriptures and the Gospel of Matthew. You can't really start more at the beginning than Genesis, and then Matthew starts his book with Abraham, and with both of those specific examples, there's such a sense of using narrative to create identity. Rachel B.: You wrote “It's most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn't the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it?” In your narrative, the triumph and shame go together, don't they? The triumph is public, and the shame is private. I just spent half an hour looking for that letter—that letter, along with another thing I wrote on a piece of lavender paper at around the same time, have both stuck in my memory as important, but they seem to be truly lost, unfortunately. When I first read your comment, I thought, “Cool girl? Huh? Is there a cool girl in the room?” But that was in fact the possibility I foresaw, that there might come a point in the near future when I would start fitting in and being like everybody else. I suppose that if that had actually happened (I stopped waiting for it a while ago), probably nothing I could have written to myself would have breached the gulf that there would be between those two selves—so you see, here I come back to the idea of a consistent self.

Eric, thanks. Of course, Horace is being somewhat descriptive in his prescriptiveness, by giving the example of Homer, but yeah, it definitely stuck as a rule, not a suggestion. But I loved your question about another culture that would value a different way of beginning a story, because it makes me think of the Hebrew Scriptures and the Gospel of Matthew. You can't really start more at the beginning than Genesis, and then Matthew starts his book with Abraham, and with both of those specific examples, there's such a sense of using narrative to create identity.

]]> By: Rachel Hile http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-477 Rachel Hile Mon, 07 Sep 2009 02:13:57 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-477 Rachel B.: You wrote "It's most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn't the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it?" In your narrative, the triumph and shame go together, don't they? The triumph is public, and the shame is private. I just spent half an hour looking for that letter---that letter, along with another thing I wrote on a piece of lavender paper at around the same time, have both stuck in my memory as important, but they seem to be truly lost, unfortunately. When I first read your comment, I thought, "Cool girl? Huh? Is there a cool girl in the room?" But that was in fact the possibility I foresaw, that there might come a point in the near future when I would start fitting in and being like everybody else. I suppose that if that had actually happened (I stopped waiting for it a while ago), probably nothing I could have written to myself would have breached the gulf that there would be between those two selves---so you see, here I come back to the idea of a consistent self.<br><br>Eric, thanks. Of course, Horace is being somewhat descriptive in his prescriptiveness, by giving the example of Homer, but yeah, it definitely stuck as a rule, not a suggestion. But I loved your question about another culture that would value a different way of beginning a story, because it makes me think of the Hebrew Scriptures and the Gospel of Matthew. You can't really start more at the beginning than Genesis, and then Matthew starts his book with Abraham, and with both of those specific examples, there's such a sense of using narrative to create identity. Rachel B.: You wrote “It's most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn't the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it?” In your narrative, the triumph and shame go together, don't they? The triumph is public, and the shame is private. I just spent half an hour looking for that letter—that letter, along with another thing I wrote on a piece of lavender paper at around the same time, have both stuck in my memory as important, but they seem to be truly lost, unfortunately. When I first read your comment, I thought, “Cool girl? Huh? Is there a cool girl in the room?” But that was in fact the possibility I foresaw, that there might come a point in the near future when I would start fitting in and being like everybody else. I suppose that if that had actually happened (I stopped waiting for it a while ago), probably nothing I could have written to myself would have breached the gulf that there would be between those two selves—so you see, here I come back to the idea of a consistent self.

Eric, thanks. Of course, Horace is being somewhat descriptive in his prescriptiveness, by giving the example of Homer, but yeah, it definitely stuck as a rule, not a suggestion. But I loved your question about another culture that would value a different way of beginning a story, because it makes me think of the Hebrew Scriptures and the Gospel of Matthew. You can't really start more at the beginning than Genesis, and then Matthew starts his book with Abraham, and with both of those specific examples, there's such a sense of using narrative to create identity.

]]> By: Rachel Hile http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-538 Rachel Hile Mon, 07 Sep 2009 02:13:57 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-538 Rachel B.: You wrote "It's most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn't the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it?" In your narrative, the triumph and shame go together, don't they? The triumph is public, and the shame is private. I just spent half an hour looking for that letter---that letter, along with another thing I wrote on a piece of lavender paper at around the same time, have both stuck in my memory as important, but they seem to be truly lost, unfortunately. When I first read your comment, I thought, "Cool girl? Huh? Is there a cool girl in the room?" But that was in fact the possibility I foresaw, that there might come a point in the near future when I would start fitting in and being like everybody else. I suppose that if that had actually happened (I stopped waiting for it a while ago), probably nothing I could have written to myself would have breached the gulf that there would be between those two selves---so you see, here I come back to the idea of a consistent self.<br><br>Eric, thanks. Of course, Horace is being somewhat descriptive in his prescriptiveness, by giving the example of Homer, but yeah, it definitely stuck as a rule, not a suggestion. But I loved your question about another culture that would value a different way of beginning a story, because it makes me think of the Hebrew Scriptures and the Gospel of Matthew. You can't really start more at the beginning than Genesis, and then Matthew starts his book with Abraham, and with both of those specific examples, there's such a sense of using narrative to create identity. Rachel B.: You wrote “It's most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn't the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it?” In your narrative, the triumph and shame go together, don't they? The triumph is public, and the shame is private. I just spent half an hour looking for that letter—that letter, along with another thing I wrote on a piece of lavender paper at around the same time, have both stuck in my memory as important, but they seem to be truly lost, unfortunately. When I first read your comment, I thought, “Cool girl? Huh? Is there a cool girl in the room?” But that was in fact the possibility I foresaw, that there might come a point in the near future when I would start fitting in and being like everybody else. I suppose that if that had actually happened (I stopped waiting for it a while ago), probably nothing I could have written to myself would have breached the gulf that there would be between those two selves—so you see, here I come back to the idea of a consistent self.

Eric, thanks. Of course, Horace is being somewhat descriptive in his prescriptiveness, by giving the example of Homer, but yeah, it definitely stuck as a rule, not a suggestion. But I loved your question about another culture that would value a different way of beginning a story, because it makes me think of the Hebrew Scriptures and the Gospel of Matthew. You can't really start more at the beginning than Genesis, and then Matthew starts his book with Abraham, and with both of those specific examples, there's such a sense of using narrative to create identity.

]]> By: Eric Eicher http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-308 Eric Eicher Fri, 04 Sep 2009 02:25:07 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-308 There is much to be struck by here, but what jumped out the furthest for me tonight was this: "In his Ars Poetica, the first-century BCE poet Horace emphasizes the importance of starting a story in medias res—in the middle of things..."<br><br>It's a little stunning how things like this happen--that a specific artistic dictate just hit centuries ago, stuck (sometimes for no completely discernible reason), and became not just another idea on a given aesthetic topic, but the default artistic practice of multiple cultures across giant stretches of time. Given that only such a small percentage of ancient thought even survives, you have to wonder if there weren't predecessors or contemporaries of Horace who had completely different ideas about how to start a story, whose ideas might have accidentally become the de facto template instead of Horace's, had their writing somehow survived instead of--or in addition to--his. Thank you for reminding me of this piece of weirdness, not to mention for the rest of this interesting essay. There is much to be struck by here, but what jumped out the furthest for me tonight was this: “In his Ars Poetica, the first-century BCE poet Horace emphasizes the importance of starting a story in medias res—in the middle of things…”

It's a little stunning how things like this happen–that a specific artistic dictate just hit centuries ago, stuck (sometimes for no completely discernible reason), and became not just another idea on a given aesthetic topic, but the default artistic practice of multiple cultures across giant stretches of time. Given that only such a small percentage of ancient thought even survives, you have to wonder if there weren't predecessors or contemporaries of Horace who had completely different ideas about how to start a story, whose ideas might have accidentally become the de facto template instead of Horace's, had their writing somehow survived instead of–or in addition to–his. Thank you for reminding me of this piece of weirdness, not to mention for the rest of this interesting essay.

]]> By: Eric Eicher http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-476 Eric Eicher Fri, 04 Sep 2009 02:25:07 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-476 There is much to be struck by here, but what jumped out the furthest for me tonight was this: "In his Ars Poetica, the first-century BCE poet Horace emphasizes the importance of starting a story in medias res—in the middle of things..."<br><br>It's a little stunning how things like this happen--that a specific artistic dictate just hit centuries ago, stuck (arguably for no completely discernible reason), and became not just another idea on a given aesthetic topic, but the default artistic practice of multiple cultures across giant stretches of time. Given that only such a small percentage of ancient thought even survives, you have to wonder if there weren't predecessors or contemporaries of Horace who had completely different ideas about how to start a story, whose ideas might have accidentally become the de facto template instead of Horace's, had their writing somehow survived instead of--or in addition to--his. Thank you for reminding me of this piece of weirdness, not to mention for the rest of this interesting essay. There is much to be struck by here, but what jumped out the furthest for me tonight was this: “In his Ars Poetica, the first-century BCE poet Horace emphasizes the importance of starting a story in medias res—in the middle of things…”

It's a little stunning how things like this happen–that a specific artistic dictate just hit centuries ago, stuck (arguably for no completely discernible reason), and became not just another idea on a given aesthetic topic, but the default artistic practice of multiple cultures across giant stretches of time. Given that only such a small percentage of ancient thought even survives, you have to wonder if there weren't predecessors or contemporaries of Horace who had completely different ideas about how to start a story, whose ideas might have accidentally become the de facto template instead of Horace's, had their writing somehow survived instead of–or in addition to–his. Thank you for reminding me of this piece of weirdness, not to mention for the rest of this interesting essay.

]]> By: Eric Eicher http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-537 Eric Eicher Fri, 04 Sep 2009 02:25:07 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-537 There is much to be struck by here, but what jumped out the furthest for me tonight was this: "In his Ars Poetica, the first-century BCE poet Horace emphasizes the importance of starting a story in medias res—in the middle of things..."<br><br>It's a little stunning how things like this happen--that a specific artistic dictate just hit centuries ago, stuck (arguably for no completely discernible reason), and became not just another idea on a given aesthetic topic, but the default artistic practice of multiple cultures across giant stretches of time. Given that only such a small percentage of ancient thought even survives, you have to wonder if there weren't predecessors or contemporaries of Horace who had completely different ideas about how to start a story, whose ideas might have accidentally become the de facto template instead of Horace's, had their writing somehow survived instead of--or in addition to--his. Thank you for reminding me of this piece of weirdness, not to mention for the rest of this interesting essay. There is much to be struck by here, but what jumped out the furthest for me tonight was this: “In his Ars Poetica, the first-century BCE poet Horace emphasizes the importance of starting a story in medias res—in the middle of things…”

It's a little stunning how things like this happen–that a specific artistic dictate just hit centuries ago, stuck (arguably for no completely discernible reason), and became not just another idea on a given aesthetic topic, but the default artistic practice of multiple cultures across giant stretches of time. Given that only such a small percentage of ancient thought even survives, you have to wonder if there weren't predecessors or contemporaries of Horace who had completely different ideas about how to start a story, whose ideas might have accidentally become the de facto template instead of Horace's, had their writing somehow survived instead of–or in addition to–his. Thank you for reminding me of this piece of weirdness, not to mention for the rest of this interesting essay.

]]> By: Elizabeth http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-272 Elizabeth Tue, 01 Sep 2009 23:24:28 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-272 Perfect! Thank you for sharing this! Perfect! Thank you for sharing this!

]]> By: Liznwyrk http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-475 Liznwyrk Tue, 01 Sep 2009 23:24:28 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-475 Perfect! Thank you for sharing this! Perfect! Thank you for sharing this!

]]> By: Liznwyrk http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-536 Liznwyrk Tue, 01 Sep 2009 23:24:28 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-536 Perfect! Thank you for sharing this! Perfect! Thank you for sharing this!

]]> By: Michael Bennett Cohn http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-239 Michael Bennett Cohn Sat, 29 Aug 2009 02:04:27 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-239 RH: Actually, the 'sacrificial lamb' thing is fascinating, because as I'm sure you know, many primitive cultures rationalize(d) that sacrificial animals were volunteers who simply weren't able to articulate their wishes directly. However, your prenatal instructions could also be more metaphorical, e.g. you are someone who is sympathetic to sacrifical lambs, or perhaps you are the person doing the sacrificing. RH: Actually, the ‘sacrificial lamb’ thing is fascinating, because as I’m sure you know, many primitive cultures rationalize(d) that sacrificial animals were volunteers who simply weren’t able to articulate their wishes directly. However, your prenatal instructions could also be more metaphorical, e.g. you are someone who is sympathetic to sacrifical lambs, or perhaps you are the person doing the sacrificing.

]]> By: Becky Carleton http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-238 Becky Carleton Fri, 28 Aug 2009 21:45:04 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-238 "It also demonstrates in a way that time is not linear: our origins are always living in our present." - Oh, that just blew my mind. :) “It also demonstrates in a way that time is not linear: our origins are always living in our present.” – Oh, that just blew my mind. :)

]]> By: Rachel B. http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-237 Rachel B. Fri, 28 Aug 2009 16:48:59 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-237 I am totally fascinated by the idea of writing the apologetic letter to your future self--apologizing for being a nerd, etc. It's most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn't the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it? That letter is a testament to the way that a contemplation of origins plays into your life. It also demonstrates in a way that time is not linear: our origins are always living in our present. I am totally fascinated by the idea of writing the apologetic letter to your future self–apologizing for being a nerd, etc. It’s most interesting that you anticipated the shame would carry, rather than dissipate and be replaced by triumph. After all, isn’t the story that the cool girl always forgets where she came from/tries to bury it?

That letter is a testament to the way that a contemplation of origins plays into your life. It also demonstrates in a way that time is not linear: our origins are always living in our present.

]]> By: Becky Carleton http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-233 Becky Carleton Fri, 28 Aug 2009 04:06:34 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-233 What a beautiful homage to the personal essay and to the history of the birth of a personal self. Just as the great old feminists made the personal political, you have made the personal essay historical. Wow. Just wow. What a beautiful homage to the personal essay and to the history of the birth of a personal self. Just as the great old feminists made the personal political, you have made the personal essay historical. Wow. Just wow.

]]> By: Rachel Hile http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-231 Rachel Hile Thu, 27 Aug 2009 21:28:46 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-231 Amy, I've long thought that there is a sort of window of time during which one will destroy the productions of an earlier self, and that if one waits long enough, those productions become far enough in the past that they no longer cause the present self shame. My example: I used to write stories when I was in grade school. Imagine me as a sixth grader---if I found a story I wrote in fifth grade, I'd be embarrassed at how awful it was, ashamed really, and would destroy it. On the other hand, if I had found a story written when I was in second or third grade, it would still be awful, even more awful, but I would be far enough away in time that I wouldn't feel ashamed about it. I suppose it was having that experience that led to my thoughts in seventh grade regarding how I would view that era in my future. But from your story, it sounds like you're pretty sure that no amount of time would have been enough to separate you enough from that arrogant girl that you could forgive her for it. And that, of course, makes me curious to read an example of the head-up-her-ass girl, which, alas, we shall never have :-) Janie, thanks for the comment about dreams, especially pregnancy dreams---yes. Certainly when I was a child, I was convinced there was something magical or spiritual about my mother's dream (and at some point in my adolescence, when everything was dramatic, I noted that Rachel means "sheep," Elizabeth means "consecrated to God," and thought, "Oh great, I'm a sacrificial lamb!" [What would Malidoma Some think of that, Michael and Ralph?]), but now I think that you're correct that the importance came from hearing it over and over again. Amy, I’ve long thought that there is a sort of window of time during which one will destroy the productions of an earlier self, and that if one waits long enough, those productions become far enough in the past that they no longer cause the present self shame. My example: I used to write stories when I was in grade school. Imagine me as a sixth grader—if I found a story I wrote in fifth grade, I’d be embarrassed at how awful it was, ashamed really, and would destroy it. On the other hand, if I had found a story written when I was in second or third grade, it would still be awful, even more awful, but I would be far enough away in time that I wouldn’t feel ashamed about it. I suppose it was having that experience that led to my thoughts in seventh grade regarding how I would view that era in my future. But from your story, it sounds like you’re pretty sure that no amount of time would have been enough to separate you enough from that arrogant girl that you could forgive her for it. And that, of course, makes me curious to read an example of the head-up-her-ass girl, which, alas, we shall never have :-)

Janie, thanks for the comment about dreams, especially pregnancy dreams—yes. Certainly when I was a child, I was convinced there was something magical or spiritual about my mother’s dream (and at some point in my adolescence, when everything was dramatic, I noted that Rachel means “sheep,” Elizabeth means “consecrated to God,” and thought, “Oh great, I’m a sacrificial lamb!” [What would Malidoma Some think of that, Michael and Ralph?]), but now I think that you’re correct that the importance came from hearing it over and over again.

]]> By: Amy Meckler http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-230 Amy Meckler Thu, 27 Aug 2009 19:58:36 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-230 I have kept a journal since freshman year of high school, all in those black and white composition notebooks. Two years ago, before I moved back to Brooklyn, the idea of lugging 23 years of journals with me felt overwhelming. I decided I might sell them on Ebay, as a lark, to have some strange and interesting way of getting rid of them. I chose one at random--the summer before I left for college. I began reading and I was do disgusted with the self-assured, head-up-her-ass girl that was writing, without thinking I tore it to shreds. I then destroyed the others journals; I began in 1985 and moved forward, tearing them up until they were only hard covers and string. Then I opened August 1993, the month I moved to New York City. It was amazing. Something had changed. I no longer knew everything. I knew nothing, and I knew that I knew nothing. There I read: "Things I wish for: 1) To be fluent in Sign Language 2) To be a professional interpreter 3) To live in the Village." I am a nationally certified interpreter and educator, fluent in ASL for years, and I've had three different apartments in the Village. All those wishes seemed easy, accomplished long ago. But I had such love for the woman who wished them. And she seemed still familiar, while the high school girl with all the big ideas did not. So I saved that journal, and all the journals I've written since moving to NYC. I have kept a journal since freshman year of high school, all in those black and white composition notebooks. Two years ago, before I moved back to Brooklyn, the idea of lugging 23 years of journals with me felt overwhelming. I decided I might sell them on Ebay, as a lark, to have some strange and interesting way of getting rid of them.
I chose one at random–the summer before I left for college. I began reading and I was do disgusted with the self-assured, head-up-her-ass girl that was writing, without thinking I tore it to shreds. I then destroyed the others journals; I began in 1985 and moved forward, tearing them up until they were only hard covers and string.
Then I opened August 1993, the month I moved to New York City. It was amazing. Something had changed. I no longer knew everything. I knew nothing, and I knew that I knew nothing.
There I read: “Things I wish for: 1) To be fluent in Sign Language 2) To be a professional interpreter 3) To live in the Village.”
I am a nationally certified interpreter and educator, fluent in ASL for years, and I’ve had three different apartments in the Village. All those wishes seemed easy, accomplished long ago. But I had such love for the woman who wished them. And she seemed still familiar, while the high school girl with all the big ideas did not.
So I saved that journal, and all the journals I’ve written since moving to NYC.

]]> By: Michael Bennett Cohn http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-229 Michael Bennett Cohn Thu, 27 Aug 2009 08:34:47 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-229 Ralph, nice to encounter another fan of MPS's work. The prenatal naming was important in that book, because it was his confidence in the power and truth of his prophetic name ("friend of the stranger/enemy") that gave the narrator/author the confidence to believe that each situation he encountered was just another obstacle on a journey of inevitability. I'm currently reading <em>Ritual</em>, by the same author, wherein there's discussion of how the child and the grandparent bond due to their mutual proximity to the spirit world; the child has just come from there, and the grandparent is about to go there. Meanwhile, the parent, caught up in dealing with day to day problems in the material world, is left out. And yet, here again we see multiple selves, all of them essentially the same person, at one time or another. Ralph, nice to encounter another fan of MPS’s work. The prenatal naming was important in that book, because it was his confidence in the power and truth of his prophetic name (“friend of the stranger/enemy”) that gave the narrator/author the confidence to believe that each situation he encountered was just another obstacle on a journey of inevitability.

I’m currently reading Ritual, by the same author, wherein there’s discussion of how the child and the grandparent bond due to their mutual proximity to the spirit world; the child has just come from there, and the grandparent is about to go there. Meanwhile, the parent, caught up in dealing with day to day problems in the material world, is left out. And yet, here again we see multiple selves, all of them essentially the same person, at one time or another.

]]> By: Rod McBride http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-228 Rod McBride Thu, 27 Aug 2009 03:30:17 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-228 I envy your complete record. My own journal keeping has been sporadic and I've lost track of everything by now. My blog is about the only journal I've kept up with, but since it's public, it's not always complete. Many times I've wished the various vintages of myself could communicate, though usually the wish is for the ability to warn my previous self, 'Don't marry her, don't buy that car, don't hire that guy, quit that job...' I still think stories are best started in action, but digression is what gives action a soul. I know Cormac McCarthy doesn't tell much of the 'why' his characters do what they do, but then when I read him I find myself filling in the blanks for myself, trying to figure out what happened to make Chiggurh or the Judge 'that way.' I envy your complete record. My own journal keeping has been sporadic and I’ve lost track of everything by now. My blog is about the only journal I’ve kept up with, but since it’s public, it’s not always complete.

Many times I’ve wished the various vintages of myself could communicate, though usually the wish is for the ability to warn my previous self, ‘Don’t marry her, don’t buy that car, don’t hire that guy, quit that job…’

I still think stories are best started in action, but digression is what gives action a soul. I know Cormac McCarthy doesn’t tell much of the ‘why’ his characters do what they do, but then when I read him I find myself filling in the blanks for myself, trying to figure out what happened to make Chiggurh or the Judge ‘that way.’

]]> By: Janie Epstein http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-227 Janie Epstein Thu, 27 Aug 2009 03:28:09 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-227 I found this intensely interesting. Your willingness to be frank demands a willingness to engage. I hope writing this has given you new insight. My own ideas have certainly morphed over my lifetime, but you seem to have travelled a long distance in relatively few years. I do think that there is communication between the physical and mental processes of our bodies that are little understood and therefore evoke explanations that draw on the supernatural. Because of some of my own experiences during pregnancy (surely a time of amazing physical process) I can imagine that your mother was on some level aware that she had become pregnant. Dreams involving images of the expected child are fairly common. When they occaisionally resemble the eventual real child they take on even stronger reality. I don't mean to diminish your or your mother's response to her dream. After all, if through no other means, the repetition of the dream has certainly had a real effect in your life. Thank you for a very thought provoking essay. I found this intensely interesting. Your willingness to be frank demands a willingness to engage. I hope writing this has given you new insight. My own ideas have certainly morphed over my lifetime, but you seem to have travelled a long distance in relatively few years.
I do think that there is communication between the physical and mental processes of our bodies that are little understood and therefore evoke explanations that draw on the supernatural. Because of some of my own experiences during pregnancy (surely a time of amazing physical process) I can imagine that your mother was on some level aware that she had become pregnant. Dreams involving images of the expected child are fairly common. When they occaisionally resemble the eventual real child they take on even stronger reality. I don’t mean to diminish your or your mother’s response to her dream. After all, if through no other means, the repetition of the dream has certainly had a real effect in your life.
Thank you for a very thought provoking essay.

]]> By: Ralph Hile http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-226 Ralph Hile Thu, 27 Aug 2009 03:22:19 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-226 Comes now the Hindu-wannabe, seeking audience. I probably would have been quite content to merely lurk, but Michael's comment about the Malidoma Some' book I found irresistible. I was similarly taken with the book, to the extent of sending money to his foundation. I must confess though that I don't recall the prenatal naming ritual. His story of cultural dissonance after his return to his village and the initiation process he underwent to heal the gap was awe-inspiring, to say the least. I once spoke with an acquaintance who was familiar with the work, comparing Some' to Carlos Castaneda. His response was, "Like Castaneda on STEROIDS!" Also, if you'll pardon my publicly praising your essay, Rachel, I just want to say, "Ya done good, kid!" A small quibble though—your depiction of disjunct selves perhaps does spring from a certain Buddhist orientation. We Vedantins see things quite differently. As a sidelight, one that Rachel chose to overlook, I too, had a dream about the then recently conceived (or maybe it was not that recent). It was a simple dream, merely to the effect that a smart little girl was soon to join our household, but it could be taken to be precognitive, certainly. Comes now the Hindu-wannabe, seeking audience.

I probably would have been quite content to merely lurk, but Michael’s comment about the Malidoma Some’ book I found irresistible. I was similarly taken with the book, to the extent of sending money to his foundation. I must confess though that I don’t recall the prenatal naming ritual. His story of cultural dissonance after his return to his village and the initiation process he underwent to heal the gap was awe-inspiring, to say the least. I once spoke with an acquaintance who was familiar with the work, comparing Some’ to Carlos Castaneda. His response was, “Like Castaneda on STEROIDS!”

Also, if you’ll pardon my publicly praising your essay, Rachel, I just want to say, “Ya done good, kid!” A small quibble though—your depiction of disjunct selves perhaps does spring from a certain Buddhist orientation. We Vedantins see things quite differently.

As a sidelight, one that Rachel chose to overlook, I too, had a dream about the then recently conceived (or maybe it was not that recent). It was a simple dream, merely to the effect that a smart little girl was soon to join our household, but it could be taken to be precognitive, certainly.

]]> By: Rachel Hile http://revolvingfloor.com/issues/1/ab-ovo-or-how-not-to-begin-a-story/comment-page-1/#comment-224 Rachel Hile Thu, 27 Aug 2009 01:49:49 +0000 http://revolvingfloor.com/?p=702#comment-224 Tara, thanks! Such interesting questions you ask, and ones that I hadn't thought about until you asked. I suppose I think a letter implies separation between writer and reader, whereas a diary/journal implies continuity. I think of using a diary to keep track of details, events, emotions, etc. in order to aid oneself in remembering. A letter is not a memory aid but serves instead to communicate some particular message; in that sense, I would say that it is more overtly rhetorical than a diary (though I'm not denying that diaries, especially to the extent that they imagine a more public audience, are rhetorical to some extent). So it's not so much the futurity of the reading situation that differs (they're both read after being written, of course), but the way that the writer conceives of, communicates with, and represents within the text the implied audience. And I guess I think of '85-Rachel and '95-Rachel as different selves for the simple reason that they wrote a letter---to me, that seems so assertive of discontinuity that it almost seems respectful to acknowledge discontinuity. Again, thanks for the thought-provoking questions. Tara, thanks! Such interesting questions you ask, and ones that I hadn’t thought about until you asked. I suppose I think a letter implies separation between writer and reader, whereas a diary/journal implies continuity. I think of using a diary to keep track of details, events, emotions, etc. in order to aid oneself in remembering. A letter is not a memory aid but serves instead to communicate some particular message; in that sense, I would say that it is more overtly rhetorical than a diary (though I’m not denying that diaries, especially to the extent that they imagine a more public audience, are rhetorical to some extent). So it’s not so much the futurity of the reading situation that differs (they’re both read after being written, of course), but the way that the writer conceives of, communicates with, and represents within the text the implied audience. And I guess I think of ’85-Rachel and ’95-Rachel as different selves for the simple reason that they wrote a letter—to me, that seems so assertive of discontinuity that it almost seems respectful to acknowledge discontinuity. Again, thanks for the thought-provoking questions.

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