When I was a kid, my chorus was, "Daddy, tell me a story." (Note that it wasn't, "Give me a lecture.") As a man and a writer I have come to believe in the power of story. Stories bind us as families, as ethnic groups, as nationalities--they tell us what it means to be a Blevins, a Welshman, an American; more important, they tell us what it means to be fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, friends, neighbors, workers, lovers, and so bind us together as a human community.      

        Stories enable us to heal ourselves. Stories give us a chance to do high play in fantasy. Most of all stories help us simply to see richly--to embrace this oddity, wonder, and miracle called life with our eyes, our minds, our imaginations, and our spirits. What I love about story is not what it means but what it is. How the tale swings forth, how its characters do their dance, how its world looks and feels. (Give me some moves in the telling, please.)

       Critics say they want novels to have something serious to say. I ask, Why not something beguiling, scintillating, sexy, scary, and enthralling? I like stories that speak not only to the intellect but to the senses, the emotions, the imagination, and the spirit. What I like most is the pure, delightful illusion of being in the author's imaginary world. I hope my stories give these pleasures. I also hope I'm able to tell stories that offer healing in our cynical, despairing, even nihilistic time; that offer joy in an era of paralysis by analysis; that offer Spirit in the era that has declared God dead.

     I wear proudly a tee shirt that says on the front, MEMBER OF THE WORLD'S OLDEST PROFESSION, and on the back, STORYTELLER.

© 2001-2002 win blevins