Another day, another story!
I have witnesses. Let’s establish that fact. Most of my major oh no moments have had someone in the wings to say no. She did that. She really did. This woman is obviously not me. But I don’t have a photo of the day that I blew part of my hair off from lighting a gas oven after I had let the gas build up a litttttle to long while talk to my sister. We were telling important stories. She was listening until she heard an explosion and a scream and then. Silence. I was living in Pensacola attending the University of West Florida and studying Theatre. It was the morning for Dr. Yolanda Reed's Playwriting class which always made things more interesting. My sons were so young they weren't in school yet. They hung out with their gypsy mom and went to rehearsals with me and went to daycare when I was in class and when I was studying for midterms or finals they went to Panama City to hang out with Nana and Pawpaw at the creek. They ate a lot of Ramen Noodles and PBJ's. To their credit, they rolled with it.
And they got to witness on more than one occasion their Mom doing dumb things. Every family has it's stories. I've given them material for a lifetime long after I'm gone.
My sister and I can not have conversations that are a result of both of us being to tired to speak and our plates too full. We've gotten pretty primal with it. Down to a few grunts that we understand. A shorthand for communication. We understand one another. But back in the day we had looooonggg conversations on the phone catching up and telling stories. In detail. When I lived in Kansas City we once talked through an entire episode of some mini-series - for three hours. This was back when there were such a thing as long-distance charges. Then our Daddy got the bill. My younger sister was still living at home and the phone bill of course was still a Daddy thing. Then he went through the roof. But we took our storytelling time seriously. Which was really just us having a nice, long visit. Frequently. Catching up. With what had happened just the day before. In detail. Now when I hear Mama telling me a story that includes all the - And he said, and then she said, and then he told her and she said - I think - and people ask me where I got inspiration as a writer. We are made up of story. Completely. I find it odd when I get stuck somewhere and people are actually managing to have a conversation that doesn't include a story about something.
And on this day I was in the middle of a story when I started the gas on the stove to light the oven and since the pilot light was out I had to strike a match and stick it into the oven where the little flames would ignite. Only being in the mid stream of a story I kept talking after I turned on the gas. And, talking. And, talking. Then I lit the match and opened the door. This is where my sister heard the explosion, my scream, and the sound of the phone flying across the room and hitting the wall.
It's a few minutes before she hears anything else, she keeps calling me, yelling hello, wondering if she needs to call 911 and I pick up the phone and in an exasperated voice say - my hair.
FORGET ABOUT YOUR HAIR!! Are you burned? Are you alright???? She was screaming at me in that kind of frustrated I just thought my sister was dead but she is just complaining about her hair kind of voice.
Yes, I was ok. No, unbelievably I was not burned. But I did have a new-do. The distinct smell of singed hair all around my face. I had bangs where I didn't have bangs a moment ago. A shag where I'd been unlayered.
It was just a stupid thing. A human error caught up in a story kind of thing. No loss of life or limb or eyesight. But there had been a moment.
I"m just fine," I told her. The hair continued falling around my shoulders.
"Jesus, sister. Just, Jesus," she said.
Yes, I inspire people to pray. But not always for reasons you might imagine.
I went on to class, made it almost on time, and declared I blew up my hair. The smell alone as a witness.
My advice for the day - Don't stick your head in gas filled ovens - with or without a match.
It's most important that you keep living your story. And that you survive to tell it.
For months now I've had an itch, an inkling, a constant whisper that I needed to just offer a pop-up creative class for writers and other artists. For those who might not be familiar with the term 'pop-up' it's simply a short handed way of saying it wasn't there and now it is. Seemingly overnight, inspiration hits, the muse speaks, and we all benefit.
I was invited in what seemed like a spur of the moment flourish to speak at 'pop-up' secret group of creatives in the Nashville area. Secret because you had to be a member of the closed group and maybe nominated or added by someone who knew you. Then and only then could you receive last minute invitations to a party, dinner, gathering of like minded cool creatives from all corners of Nashville. So overnight - there is this guy - who sends out an invite and oh, about 40-200 million people show up the next night. POP-up. My invite - I showed up not certain of the group because hey - they could have been strange in all the wrong ways… except I really trusted the person who suggested me and was going. Turns out - they are AMAZING people from all walks of life. Scriptwriters, movie distributors, directors, film-makers (ok, so it's a little wonderfully movie/TV heavy), storytellers, writers, and PR people.
On the drive home I thought - yep, the pop-up has its place. At least for me it means I can guide a class without spending a year planning it.
THE LOW DOWN
Between shootings in Paris, bombings, and threats of nuclear attack from North Korea, ping-pong news about talks about war and peace around the world - ships on the move from Russia, Fleets getting ready - hmmm, this heating up of crazy - I've never been more convinced that the creativity of good people is more needed or in demand. I've never been more certain that storytelling is our lifeblood, and that partnering with the divine in that telling is a sacred act.
All that being said: What is it that would help you get to the next level in the writing of your script, novel, song, or story? What would it take for you to go home and actually pick up your paint brush, get out your easel? Turn off your phone? Who needs to tell you that you don't have to wait for the perfect day, hour, life to embrace that sacred space inside you?
If you are a professional who has hit a wall in your creative thinking - this is for you.
If you just want to add a little jazz to the great work your already doing - this is for you.
If you are at the end of your rope and feel like you are going to just die if you don't simply begin somewhere - this is for you.
It has been my experience in traveling, creating, writing and speaking for more than 20 years now that it is conversation that make people bloom.
Often the Q&A after speeches provide the greatest opportunity for learning and creative growth. The reason being those Q&A's and conversations is a two way street, and the room becomes a roundtable.
One week from today I'll be hosting a gathering for those who would like to take part in a new series:
The Sacred Art of Storytelling.
Teaching and Creative Conversation:
Where: Capitol Coffee Company - Bellevue, TN
When: Friday, April 28
To claim your spot email Tomi Wiley at firstname.lastname@example.org -
Leave it All Behind. Renew Your Muse
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