Jonathan Fitzgerald muses over his use of anecdotes, how his writing falls into “the introductory anecdote, argument, and application” pattern that’s so-very Evangelical and not-so literary.
Do we tell the bare amount of a story to communicate a meaning? Or do we tell the full story, let the characters come as alive as they can, imbue the settings with a very real sense of atmosphere and depth, and try to make the reader feel the true turmoil of conflict?
These things are harder to do, which might be another reason that so many of us choose not to write this way. It’s easier to offer an anecdote, the illusion of a story, and move on to exposition. But if we were to tell stories the way they’re meant to be told, I believe, the reader’s sense of the meaning, not to mention his or her enjoyment, would increase.
It isn’t just about the reader’s enjoyment, it’s also about doing justice to the world through our words, through our wild and complex stories that can’t be easily packaged, named, categorized, or written.
I’m issuing a call back toward storytelling — slow, deep, descriptive storytelling.