Writing Stories

The Making of The Storyteller

Trust what is in you

CJ Scott-Copyright 2002©

The conversation began as normal conversations do:

"Call yourself The Storyteller," He said.

"I can’t," I replied.

Call yourself The Storyteller," He asked.

"I can't," I insisted. "People will think I am stupid, weird, or both!"

"Call yourself The Storyteller," He gently coaxed.

"Okay," I sighed.

Arguing with God can be such a pain. He always wins. But, that afternoon’s ‘conversation’ changed my life. I had been struggling with calling myself a writer for years. I had always been in love with words and they seemed to love me back. Yet, making the choice to be identified as a writer was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

Before that time, I could sheepishly shrug when folks commended me on my writing. "It’s not me", I would say. "It’s a gift from God." Ah, the old ‘gift’ bit. I am certain I irritated God on more occasions than not with that one. I don’t know why us humans have such a tough time accepting awesome truths about ourselves. It is much easier to ascribe greatness to the other guy, the smarter guy...the nicer guy. Yet, for some amazing reason, God picked that afternoon to make me the other guy.

For weeks, I had been toiling to birth the words that were buried deep in my spirit. I felt pregnant. I felt important. I felt impotent. All those things a woman feels before giving birth to new life. My living room became my waiting room. Back and forth I paced, waiting for my babe to be born. "How long now, Lord?" I asked. No reply but those four words. Like a cheerleader rooting on His team, He asked me to trust what was in my heart.

The labor was intense. Many times I wondered if it was worth it. Why should I open my heart to ridicule, speculation and rejection? What was the payoff? WAS there a payoff? The words inside my heart said yes. The fears that had accompanied me all my life said no. The Master Storyteller, Himself weighed in on my side. I, it appeared, would cast the deciding vote….

"Call yourself The Storyteller," He said.

"I’m afraid," I replied.

"Call yourself The Storyteller," He asked.

"I’m afraid," I insisted. "People will reject my words, me, or both!"

"Call yourself The Storyteller," He gently coaxed.

"Okay," I sighed.