Who's Story Is It?

Yesterday I wrote the words "[n]icely written. Your words gave me your experience" as a comment to a post on hedysblog.blogspot.com. Stiff. Inarticulate. Here's what I meant to say.

You may think I'm wrong; but, reading is better than watching a story. Hedy wrote about going to breakfast at a diner last Saturday with her husband. In her post, she took me with them.

I've been to diners. After the fact, thinking about what I saw, smelled and tasted in them is one story. Reading someone else's description, results in a different story, one I helped to "write."

When I was in college, I saw a performance of Shakespeare's The Tempest. They did it wrong. I know they did because I had read, and in the process, cast, staged and directed the play, in my head. As the performance unfolded, I felt I and Shakespeare were being badly wronged. Bill had created a wonderful world that I could populate while reading. Those people on the stage had done it differently.

Without belaboring differences in art and craft, good writing engages your imagination. Even the best stage or film production does little to ignite your imagination.

When I went to the diner with Hedy and her husband the "narrow green doorway" was on the right of the building as you faced it. The "seven stools at the curvy counter" were along the back wall, in front of the grill. The "maybe ten tables, tops" were along the front wall. Kathy, the proprietor, "with her salt and pepper hair [and] warm smiling eyes" was wearing a red sweater. Hedy by her descriptions, gave me the basics with which to cast and stage the play.

Had I not read Hedy's story, and gone to see her or someone else's production of it, their interpretation would be limiting. They might put the door on the left, the counter could be on the side wall and Kathy could be wearing an apron. I'm then stuck with their interpretation whether good or bad. I could like it, or not. In either case, I can't participate. Reading good writing trumps watching even the best play or movie.