The best stories are the ones that are never told. Or so they say.
Usually, those stories go untold because they are so emotionally charged, they are physically difficult to speak.
As difficult as they are to tell, they are even more difficult to make up. So, we try and find a middle ground. Craft a tale around a hint or suggestion.
Or, perhaps we defuse the explosive nature of the story with a joke at the end.
I was caring for an elderly neighbour. Searching for something in his drawer, I found a rack of medals.
"You never told me you were in the war," I said.
"I don't like to talk about it," he replied.
So far, so cliche. Right?
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because I had a great war," he told me. "Three meals a day? I never had that before. But people don't want to hear about that!"
Which is a nice twist. But it brings a whole new level of sadness.
Think about what you can't say.
Think about who can't say it.
Think about why they can't.
Think about other ways of expressing something than saying it.
What can be said now that couldn't then?
Maybe be a voice for the voiceless.
Say the thing you always needed to.
We touched on this in a couple of the pieces read out in the group today, but as a theme it can be explored again and again, deeper and deeper.
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