“We become what we behold.”
– William Blake, Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion
The nearer I get to the
publication of “Secret Tampa Bay: A Guide to the Weird, Wonderful and Obscure,”
the less certain, in some ways, I am of exactly what it is that I’ve created. Before I delve deeper into what I mean by that, I first need to explain the sort of
storyteller I’ve become. As a professional writer, I have focused on telling a
certain type of niche story over the past decade – specifically those stories which effect change
in the world. This falls into two primary categories: business proposals and
resumes.
Regarding the former, I craft
and assemble cohesive and (ideally) compelling stories from data, from bios,
from case studies, and weave a tale of why the particular firm I’m writing for
is best suited to conduct the type of work being sought. In my experience this
has ranged from performing Phase I – IV clinical research studies to uncovering and increasing operational efficiency to conducting audits and tax compliance and financial
advisory work. The desired outcome of these stories is that whatever company I’m
writing on behalf of is selected for the next competitive round, typically a
presentation or “bid defense” if you like. From this round usually a winner is
selected. The story I craft is unlikely to close the deal on its own,
but it is an essential step in reaching that eventual goal.
Regarding the latter, in developing
a resume for a client, I am similarly taking their experience and shaping it
towards where they wish to be next, in terms of their career. As with the proposals I create, the resume usually represents just the first of several hoops or gates that an
applicant or job seeker must pass through. Typically the next step is an
interview, or series of interviews, in which the final determination of
suitability will be made. I like to think that this makes me something of a “populist
spin doctor,” accessible to all and using the same language I’ve learned in the corporate world to the benefit of single parents, veterans, recent graduates
and others.
In both of these examples
though, my stories become a step toward making tangible change. They escape the
confines of their word documents or PowerPoint slide decks and drive
decision-making among corporate executives and hiring managers. And they
influence the fate of companies and individuals seeking to obtain new work.
With the book, I’ve now added a third
type of non-traditional storytelling style to my bag of tricks. Strange,
unusual and offbeat travel. But having over the last few years gathered a
book’s worth of such content, I’m finding that what I’ve created has more
layers to it than I first suspected. At the highest and most simple, obvious
level, it’s a collection of detailed descriptions of odd, wondrous, memorable
and sometimes hidden places that I’ve sought out so as to give residents and
visitors to the area something to experience beyond the standard, manufactured
vacation memories of the big theme parks and beaches (which is not to say that
there’s anything wrong with that type of travel or experience, only that some
may find themselves seeking something more substantive and less predictable).
Peeling back the metaphorical
onion skin reveals another level though. One that is much more personal. Even though I was careful to use the “business style of
writing” in which everything is presented in third person, there’s no escaping
that the collection of vignettes I’ve assembled is very much autobiographical.
These are the places that I have sought out and visited and researched. These are
the ones I chose to include over a great many others. And the underlying reason
as to why I have chosen some in favor of others, is also deeply subjective. Namely,
I searched for and wrote about and selected those places that seemed most
infused with the sort of awe and childhood magic that I shared with my
dear departed friend to whom the work is dedicated.
And now I find myself
wondering if there isn’t, perhaps, a deeper layer still. Just as the other
forms of storytelling have a tangible impact (however great or minuscule) on
the world, is it possible that my work in chasing, documenting, capturing and preserving the otherworldly and magical in a lingual display case also alters, if not the
world itself than at least our perception of it? Consider this – let’s say
there is a certain manhole cover in the road that you pass as you go on a walk
each day. Now, a manhole cover for most of us isn’t interesting in the least,
just a circular disk of metal that, quite sensibly, prevents one from
plummeting into the darkness and injuring themselves. But suppose I revealed to you that the manhole cover you scarcely notice as you walk past or over it, has a unique and amazing history. Maybe it was made of metal melted down from one of the cannons
aboard a ship belonging to none other than Edward Teach. Suddenly that
rather boring disk of metal is infused with meaning and history – connecting you
directly to one of the most infamous pirate captains of all time. And when you pass
by, you now take notice. Even though nothing about the physical object has
changed in any discernible way, what you now see when you look at it has been
forever altered by this new information you have become privy to… by a story.
If that is the
case, than is this book I’ve been working to bring forth really just a
collection of travel suggestions for curiosity seekers, or can it be viewed as
something else entirely? There’s a term for stories or phrases that change the
world around us (or our relationship to it). We call these invocations, incantations,
spells. And so, a compendium of such arcane and esoteric tidbits, can that really be called merely a quirky local travel guide?
Or would it be just as accurate to call it a grimoire?
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