Good Narrative Principles

A Prayer


An image like a magic incantation.

The gates our open. Light streams in as people flow in and out — carrying their wares, exchanging a joke, a recipe, a juicy bit of gossip.

The phone rings. It’s for Tim or Nick or Jonah. They are flying in and out of the house, their schedules a blur to me.

I am trying to squeeze in a quick goodbye. My bags are packed. I am on my way to LA or to the city. With a slender notebook or legal pad. A good solid pen and the script. We pour over the pages. I talk through the various choices I made and why I made them. We order in lunch. And around two we take a walk and stretch our legs.

Maybe the rolling Pacific is in view. Maybe we see kids going back to school in the West Village. The line of young children holding onto a rope threaded with large tear drop handles so that each little child can be kept in line as they toddle down the street.

Things are moving faster now. At home we arrange a dinner for all of us to exchange stories. John shows up or Alita or Nathan for Jonah.

We pour some wine. I indulge and have a little.

The gates are open. People want to come to this city we have here at 61 Briary. We are part of the larger world community. Swept in. The doorbell rings. The in-box is full of knocks at the door.

A script I’ve written gets shot, gets released, gets reviewed and goes into the world.

The sun streams in as the gates open on another day rich with chapters and good health.

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