Hope for Rudy
I could tell a story about a boy and a girl. I could give them names like Rudy and Hope. I could make it a love story. I could set it in any big city. Rudy might own a hot dog cart and Hope could be attending a nearby university. Hope might walk by Rudy’s food cart every day on her way to school, smelling the delicious dogs cook, yet unable to try one what with tuition, and books, and living. Rudy might also have noticed Hope, in which case he would likely keep a hopeful eye out for her daily passes-by. It could be that he has learned at about what time she will show, and on which days. But how to get her attention? How to make her notice a lowly street cart vendor?
With those thoughts in mind he might begin to shout-out, mainly to her, but using the metropolitan throngs for a disguise. He could find the courage to hail the passers-by, grabbing for their attention with comedy and innuendo, but mostly with hopes of catching her notice;
”I see you lookin’, and I’m-still-a-cookin’!” He might sing out. Or,
”Right here is the biggest weenie you’ll find between two buns!” Or even,
”They don’t just smell delicious, they also satisfy your wishes!”
Rudy could begin to think of a new one every day, a new line to impress. He might practice these new lines before she arrives, testing their reactions on the passing strangers, only to find that the pickup lines do, indeed, work. He could begin to have so many customers gathered around his cart that he can no longer see Hope when she passes, for he has failed to keep his eye-out, those eyes finding themselves glued to a pickle jar cash register that is filling so fast he cannot take his eyes off of it.
The money in the jar grows so fast, in fact, that Rudy buys another cart, and another, and he pays people to run them all. He teaches them to sing out to the passers-by just as he used to do, and those people are also successful, and their pickle jars fill equally as fast, and he pays them commensurately, fulfilling their dreams as well as his own, yet still his life is incomplete.
And then one day Rudy is sitting on a park bench, listening to his newest employee attract customers when Hope passes on the sidewalk. He jumps to his feet, giving chase! He catches her, and explains how, because of her, he overcame his life-long shyness. How because of her and the hope she supplied him, his pickle jar overflowed, and how he owed that all to her. And he explained that, despite all of the carts he now had, and all of the money, he was still not happy, as there was no one to share his successes with. And he asked her then if she could find it in her heart to love a lowly street cart vendor?
And Hope might see how he loved her. She might be moved by his story. She might even love him back, but does that matter to the reader?
What matters is that it is a simple love story, simply told. A one in a million of love stories told since the dawn of time, no more alike than the others, and no more different. We do not know Rudy, and we cannot know Hope. We cannot know about their race, their culture, their ideals, or their religions. We cannot care about those things, if we are moved to care at all. And if we are moved, then we can only care that they are human, and that they have a story, and that if that story is told in the right way, then we will root for them both. But in truth, we will not even be rooting for them, but for love itself.
So, Donne was right when he said that, “No man is an island, entire of itself.” We are wired to care about mankind, regardless of situations. Knowing this, can diversity in stories matter a whit? No. Diversity is irrelevant. It is the people in the stories that matter, the humanity they express, and the emotion the writer applies to those people that reaches out from the page to touch our hearts.
Great ideas within a Lacking Skill
I first tried to write when I was in 6th grade.
But I didn't know how.
Ideas where just there, coming out randomly, exploding like fireworks we see during holidays.
It bugs me so much, I couldn't write the way I wanted it to.
And if I didn't write it on paper, it will go to my dreams.
I'll dream of it.
Their life, their way of talking, their habits, the meaning of their names, their struggles, their adventures, their hopes and dreams, until it came to an end.
The last page of their journey ended in my dreams in a couple of nights.
And just like that, It will fade out of my memory ever so slightly in the following days, months, and years to come.
And I'll forget the life that only existed in my dreams and imagination.
I felt the need to write it on paper. Even if the only reader who would dare read it is my own.
And so, I tried writing, and slowly, I could somehow write the words in broken sentences. I somehow could write a scene, almost an ending, of a story which I couldn't think of a way how to start it with. So I managed to write an ending.
And it grew into paragraphs to few pages of my A4 sized notebooks.
Until I could write the summary of my stories.
I grew up reading a lot of random things.
My parents couldn't buy me books, so what I've read so far was hand down books or secondhand books.
Fables were the first ones that fascinated me then epic and myths, until a lot of what I've read leans to fantasy.
I didn't own a book, so I've read some excerpt stories on my textbooks. Especially my english textbook.
I could still remember a few of it like: 'The Lottery' by Shirley Jackson and 'The Cat' by Zygmunt Frankel (took me a while to remember the title so I ended up searching for it) or even an excerpt from 'Les Miserables' by Victor Hugo even a translated version of 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' in my language, I think I've also read two of Edgar Allan Poe's poem on my textbook. Shakespeare, you know one of the most popular work he had. 'Romeo and Juliet', which I had an honor for being a director, a scriptwriter, a designer, and a stage manager in a play we had in class (that's how hectic I was back then lol).
Then I got addicted to wattpad. I've read there a lot, stories in my language of course. That's what made me want to publish some of my works, which still lies in my drafts that never get to see the light of day. Then I got curious to western modern stories there. I mainly read dark fantasy, it got me into werewolves, vampires, and witchcraft (I don't currently read in wattpad nowadays). It get to the point where I borrow novels from my friend and relatives.
Then I started buying novels from a thrift shop for books. Started collecting books which I couldn't get to read lol and somewhere stopped doing it.
Until I discovered Ebooks which had a great contrast when reading a webnovel.
And I got influenced in their way of writing along the way.
Then I got interested in eastern literature. That's when things got mixed up.
Every books differ, like culture differs. The way a writer writes is influenced by what they've read, what kind of culture they had, and what kind of culture they were influenced with.
As of now, my writing style leans towards chinese literature (webnovel) and a minimalist korean literature.
The japanese literatures that I've read was influenced by western culture, so it didn't differ much except for mainly, the culture.
Eastern literature use a lot of metaphors, especially chinese. They had a lot of flowery words, an indirect way of writing something deep. Which made me do some research and it's historical relation.
Western literature had lots of slang or deeper words that I had to look up for their synonyms (In my experience).
The diversity driven culture made my way of writing, sometimes leaning to the former and sometimes the latter.
I've read books as an artist and as a writer.
Drawings doesn't have a lot of detailed writing, it's what you see in the drawings that hooks you in, so the details are in the drawings and the dynamic of angles combined with a good plot. Words had a lot of details to consider, to make your reader forget that they're reading, you had to make them see your words like a movie (That's where I actually struggles the most lol).
I somehow became the only reader, a proofreader, and an editor for my friend. And at some point, it became a habit to look into details and to feel the author.
It's like a skill every longtime reader acquired.
So what's the point of what I've been saying?
To sum it up,
In order to have a diversity in a storytelling, you have to read books in different perspectives. And learn along the process of the difference between the culture you have and the culture you're not familiar with.
The way I write in my own language had a different style than the way I write in english.
And the way I make a storyboard for my drawings differ from being a writer of words.
The way I write formally differs greatly when I'm informal. Writing an article differs from being a cartoonist. Even writing a study. Everything differs in every perspective you can encounter.
It's what you learn, that's why there's a diversity.
The diversity comes with experiencing the world around you and the universe you had in your mind.
I'm learning how to write.
I'm still learning how to tell a story in my own way.
Diversity in Storytelling
I took a course that covered this during my studies in Education, as part of the teacher training program. It is very important for me to understand my kids (—my own students)- to provide them with doors that open to their different multicultural backgrounds. Yes, it is a challenge to find a plethora of stories that cater to the right match or situation of a student I have/get, but it is my duty\job to find various characters, books, even people, that will be a role model for all my children (learners). To give them a moment where they know that they are not going through something all by themself, and that they can look forward to being the next role model for the next generation of aspiring young leaders. There is power in passing down powerful stories to encourage students to never give up hope! We definitely need more stories that have characters from every background. The way to go about this could also be to ignite students with the interest of storytelling, that way they learn how to share their own stories with the rest of the world.