September Theme: The Stories We Carry
Big Question: Why do certain stories stay with us?
Week 3: The Stories We Tell Ourselves
What I wrote below is based on the following reflective writing prompt included in Saturday’s Writing Prompts that Navigate the Stories We Tell Ourselves post.
Prompt: The Soundtrack
If the story you tell yourself about your flaws had a musical genre, what would it sound like and when do you turn the volume up?
Why did I choose it?
I chose this prompt because I love music and how it affects us as humans and creators— how it affects our brains and bodies, our relationship to the world and ourselves and one another. But I also listen to all types of music… so I’m not sure I’ll be able to narrow the genre down to one…
How about you? Let me know your response in the comments or chat so we can discuss it.
My Response: The Story of My Flaws Sounds Like Death Metal to Me
If the story I told myself about my flaws had a musical genre, it would probably be death metal introduced by confusing jazz melodies I’d never be able to isolate or mimic with my own instrument. Essentially, it would sound like overwhelming chaos I had no control over. And honestly, I don’t think I’d ever turn up the volume or encourage anyone else to turn it up either.
I know death metal, ironically, calms a lot of people, even sets them at ease. But I am not one of those people. Instead of calming me, listening to death metal makes my pulse beat stronger and more erratically and makes me feel like I’m actively working against myself and my own best interest and judgement. In some instances, it even makes me feel like I’m not entirely myself, like I’m inhabiting an entirely different body. Which, I suppose, is exactly what telling a story focused entirely on my flaws should, and does, feel like. And unless my goal is to be some sort of masochist or perpetual complainer that revels in self-loathing, it’s not a story I want to play at top volume.
Listen, I know self-loathing is all the rage these days, or at least the performance of it online is. But I don’t like staying in that space for too long, or at all, as it never really ends up being all that enlightening or productive for me. Especially since it makes me feel like I’m not even fully myself. I don’t find it all that interesting either and prefer writing about things outside myself more often than not, so I don’t tend to focus my writing entirely on myself.
Even writing this reflective piece is making me feel a little weird, like I’m suddenly center stage… at a death metal concert with no instrument to play. Which means I’m probably already coming full circle in this reflection… landing on the realization that I don’t like writing about things that are entirely about me and only have a negative bent. It’s just not my jam, or something I want to write about, because it removes me from myself and distorts my own personal experience way too much.
I know I have flaws, by the way. Of course I do. We all do. But why would I tell stories about them to myself, on purpose, at a full chaotic volume, when I could spend that time actively reflecting on or writing about how I’m going to circumvent or handle those flaws head-on instead? And temper the melodies of those flaws, I guess you could say, to continue using all these musical metaphors.
I suppose what I’m saying is that writing and storytelling take a lot of energy, and I don’t want to waste that energy on something that isn’t moving a narrative forward in any way. Especially when that narrative pertains to me and my life.
Singing the same sad, chaotic song about my shortcomings while spinning in circles will eventually become stagnant and unnecessarily disorienting. To me, anyway, doing this is just a musical loop that goes nowhere, crashing against the same walls over and over, making me break my brain and feel untethered and removed from myself for no reason.
Besides, when I get stuck in that headspace of intense self-criticism, I’m not actually problem-solving or sharing something helpful with myself or anyone else. Instead, I just feel like I’m putting the problems I have with myself on repeat and full blast for everyone to hear. Then I inevitably start treating my weaknesses like unyielding, heavy anchors instead of roadblocks I need to investigate or navigate around via my writing. Which only leads to a bad life script with no real character development. A tragic life script I have zero interest in actively writing let alone casting myself in.
All in all, I think we underestimate how much our internal storytelling dictates our external movement and lifestyles, as well as our writing. Every time we retell the story of why we failed, or why we aren’t good enough, without shifting our focus to what we want and need to do next, we just burn energy idling away, going nowhere. But maintaining a steady writing momentum requires that we orient ourselves toward both honest self-reflection and what is possible. And by shifting our energy from analyzing our flaws to circumventing them, the entire tone of our internal conversation and what we’re capable of changes. It stops being chaotic noise, in other words, and starts becoming an intentional journey, an intentional melody we’re writing instead.
Ultimately, I want my writing, and my mindset, to have a sense of purpose and practicality that makes me feel more like myself. I can’t always be phenomenal, but I can’t always be that horrible either. So, I’d rather craft something raw and messy where I’m actively trying to figure things out than write a circular piece about why I’m stuck or unhappy with myself over and over again. We only get a finite amount of creative and emotional energy every day, and I’m choosing to spend mine on building bridges to the future, not romanticizing the ditches I encounter. And I’m not sure what soundtrack that involves, but I know it’s one in which I feel more like myself.
Join the Conversation
What’s your response to the question I answered in today’s post, or any of the other reflective journaling prompts in this week’s Writing Prompts that Navigate the Stories We Tell Ourselves post?
If the story you tell yourself about your flaws had a musical genre, what would it sound like and when do you turn the volume up?
Leave a comment or join the Drafters Workshop Chat or Dialoguers Chat, where we’ll be discussing the stories we tell ourselves for the rest of the week.
Whether you leave a comment or join one of the chats to share your responses, ask questions, or connect with other writers and support their work, I can’t wait to see what you contribute!
Please don’t forget to like and share this post with your network so others can see it too. Thanks in advance. I hope to see you in the comments or chat threads soon!
Continue Exploring September’s Theme, The Stories We Carry
This Week: The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Writing Prompts that Navigate the Stories We Tell Ourselves
Can you write great work without challenging your own beliefs?
Reading Notes: Interior Chinatown
Week 2: Memory and Storytelling
Writing Prompts About Memory and Storytelling
The Art of Autofiction: Memory, Markets, and the Modern Confessional
Week 1: The Books That Changed Us
Writing Prompts About Books That Changed Us
Can a book genuinely change who we are?
What My Favorite Books Say About Me
The Anatomy of Books That Have Changed Us
20 Banned Books That Have Changed Us
Go Deeper with Daily Drafters Exclusives
This month: The Stories We Carry Writing Collection
This collection offers a month of guided writing exercises, mini workshops, and creative writing experiments designed to take you beyond a single prompt and into a deeper creative practice. It gives you the creative spark and space you need to explore memory, identity, inheritance, perspective, voice, and the stories we tell ourselves and others. It will also encourage you to consider how those stories shape the work we create and the creative lives we lead.
Inside this collection, you’ll find 30 original writing prompts (designed as mini writing workshops) across five sections with focused themes, craft-focused exercises, curated reading suggestions, reflective questions, and three optional month-long writing challenges designed to help you develop your ideas, explore your personal material and stories, and build a consistent writing practice.
You can follow the prompts in order, choose the exercises that speak to you, or return to a section whenever you need a new way to explore your writing craft. As a paid subscriber, you will also be able to come back to the collection throughout the month or any other time you feel like exploring The Stories We Carry in the future.