Let me debunk one of the most hard-to-kill myths in existence: the oldest profession isn’t the one you’ve been told. As good and juicy a story that may be, it remains just that: a good story. Nay, believe you me: storytelling is the ancestor of all professions.
But as with all professions, this one has gotten corrupted as well. You see, storytelling, used to be an intimate affair. In fact, there used to be a real storyteller you could offer a pint in exchange for a slightly more jazzed-up ending or query about the opening claim that “…every word is as true as the fact I’m standing here, stark sober, before you tonight…”. That was then. Before publishers came with their story: that you should tell them only once and save a lot of breath. They’d then tell it to the whole world. Or so they said. They carefully omitted the part about the storyteller’s dwindling future pint revenues and – equally important – the part about the audience not having direct easy access to the storyteller.
To me it is therefore a pleasure to see this membrane between the two principal actors of storytelling become thin enough to peer through. Or – as in my case – disappear altogether. Thanks to the Internet.
Here’s where you can get the story behind my stories, the real true story (I swear!), the bad-ass ending and what happened to the hero’s brother while the hero was out doing heroics.
Mail: TMWords [at] gmail.com
I sometimes hang out on GoodReads.
Occasionally I pass by chez Amazon on my author page here (they also sends automated mails if you leave a note).
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