Never the Twain Shall Meet?

 Writers write. Readers read. But if a writer writes what no readers read ... is that writer really a writer?

There is so much I've written that even *I* have not read, after editing. What is to become of it? What use is it?

I have grand plans to take my journals and put the handwritten pages in chronological order, in context with each other, to make sense of this life of mine. But for what? Who will care? More to the point, even if there are a handful (generously, a handful) of people who WOULD care, would they have the time, take the time, to read it? And if they did, what would they take away from such a compilation? I believe handwriting tells volumes about who I was at the time. I believe that the words, even typewritten or (gasp!) digitally created, tell even more. But who are they telling this story to? And, more to the point, what is the story they are telling?

I think about the ancestry family trees I'm compiling, about how every tiny fact that I collect about ancestors is hard-won and precious. They didn't leave behind volumes and archives of photos and possessions. We know almost nothing about them. Is it better that way? Are future generations better off living their own lives than looking back for understanding and meaning of those who came before?

Instead of a giant archive, is it better to have a giant bonfire?

Storytelling is not about writing EVERYTHING. It is about choosing what to write about, highlighting and bringing to life those things and people and places that are important to the story, and paring away the excess. Focus, in a word, is the key. And having in mind, always, The Whole.