My sweetie and I have been playing with an image lately about the stories we tell ourselves. It started because of something we joked about feeling like we each had a newsroom in our head.
Remember those wonderful old Rosalind Russell/Cary Grant movies where they play reporters? You hear the typewriters and tickertapes clicking and clacking in the background. The dialogue is staccato, rapid-fire. The picture is filmy.
What if you do have a newsroom in your head?
In the newsroom sit as many different typewriters as you tell yourself different stories about any given thing. Let’s try an example. You get a scary health diagnosis.
Which typewriter do you choose?
Do you sit down at the one which tells you that a diagnosis is not a prognosis?
Do you sit at the one which tells you your parent died of the same thing?
Do you sit down at the one which tells you friends are praying for you?
Do you sit at the one which tells you a nightmare story about another person’s
You get my drift. Here’s the bottom line:
You are the proud owner of two major kinds of typewriter.
The better one touts love.
The lesser one touts fear.
Which tells the story of your life?
P. S. Remember that it’s your personal newsroom. Think carefully, and choose before you sit down to type!