Our parents, for the most part, taught us at an early age to share with others. In those days, it was probably our toys, but that was what was important to us. The immediate things. Of course, as we grow older and respond to whatever our early life experiences are, sharing can sometimes be difficult.
For instance, if stability, or a lack of it, was something
that you had to contend with as a young person, then it might be likely that
fearing a lack of stability becomes an issue that means a lot to you as an
adult. This person might be very uncomfortable moving from house to house, or
even from one geographical area to another. Just supposing.
Or, if a person was uncomfortable exposing their innermost
dreams to others because, at an early age, they were forced to live with other
people’s ideas of suitable dreams, well, I could see where they might have
trouble opening up to others. In protecting their dreams from criticism, they
are protecting their heart from harm.
As an adult, it took me a good many years to get to the
point where I felt confident enough to say things to other people that I felt
might help them. It’s not like going up to an obese person and saying, “You
know, if you were to walk for ten minutes a day, you would feel better.” I
mean, come on. They know that. And, you want to know what else? They can’t wait
to get away from you and likely will remind themselves to run the next time
they see you. That’s human nature, and forcing your opinions, helpful or
otherwise, just isn’t all that productive.
However, there’s no rule against dropping a hint. I suppose
this is what the old parables were about.
As a writer, this is where you can have free rein in your
stories. Share all you want to.
Okay, here’s an idea. What if you had an old maid sort of
character? Others might see her as a lonely old woman with not much to do in
her day, but she has other ideas. She is the Johnny Appleseed of Helpful
Advice. JaHa for short. In fact, that could be her name. A play on words.
Jasmine Hastle. Only you, as the writer, know this inside secret, and you never
reveal it. Her nickname is JaHa, and nobody knows where it comes from. Except
you.
Her quirk is that she is psychic, but she doesn’t realize
it. To my way of thinking, everyone is psychic, but it usually gets learned out
of us at an early age. Nobody likes to hear a four-year-old kid saying that her
great-grandfather, gone all these years, has been visiting her. Especially, if
she says to her mother, “Mommy, Hugh is standing right behind you.” This little
girl does not know her grandfather's name was Hugh. But you do.
So, what happens in the story is that JaHa will go to the
bakery, or the park, or wherever, and talk to the people she meets. She might
know them, or they could be total strangers. She says something to them, and a
day later (while they can still remember the conversation), something happens
to them that was exactly what JaHa had said. I don’t know…like maybe JaHa said,
talking in the roundabout way she has, that it’s a bear when an insurance
company raises your rates. The next day, a letter arrives in the mail either to
the person she was talking to or for her. That’s the funny thing about psychic
stuff. It could apply to anybody in the audience.
Oh, here’s a funny twist. What if JaHa says that bit about
the insurance company raising their rates, and the reader is the one who gets
the letter the day after she read it in the book? Oh, actually, this sounds
more like it. I’m going to have to think about that, but hey, stranger things have
happened.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is that as a writer, you
are telling a story, but you are not telling about each and every thought that
went through JaHa’s head, or anybody else’s head, in the book. Just the high
points. Just the ones that you think are important and that drive your story.
Hey, if the story doesn’t seem finished, make it into a series.
You can share insights in your books. That’s okay. In fact,
maybe it’s like getting a toddler to eat her peas if you hide them in a
spoonful of mashed potatoes.
You know what I think is interesting? When you take the
lessons you learned, the ones that did not happen as a two-second ah-ha. One
comes to mind about a hot stove. It will only happen once, and you can bet you
will be careful around hot stoves the rest of your life, unless, of course, you
become a chef. But I’m talking about the lessons that took you 57 years to
learn. Those are good lessons. And they are never about one thing. It’s like
the veins that run through your body. You’ve got the big veins, and then you’ve
got all the tiny capillaries that run off to every part of your body. That was
the lesson, but each of those smaller capillaries? Those were the associated
lessons.
So, just some thoughts about writing and sharing the things
that have happened to you in your life, especially if you consider them simple
and yet difficult lessons at the same time.
Thanks for reading. I write on a bunch of other platforms.
The links are below.
🌺 Pauline
Evanosky
🌺My Links:
Talking
To Spirit — my website since 2001
Pauline
Evanosky on Medium
Talking
To Spirit on Substack
Pauline
Evanosky — my author’s website
My Table of Contents for Medium — Updated Monthly
My Table of Contents for Substack — Also Updated Monthly
Facebook for shorter pieces
Resources for psychic development from my website,
TalkingtoSpirit.com
