Rural Wisdome

After graduating from the University of Miami with a double major in Motion Pictures and English Creative Writing, I moved to Ozark, IL (population 620). Instead of loading 16mm cameras and writing screenplays, I began training horses and teaching riding lessons.

Although the change of pace was abrupt, I have come to appreciate many things about country life. And, despite what many would assume, living in a farming community on the edges of the Shawnee National Forest has actually helped me improve my writing skills and style.

My town, Ozark, has several public meetings places. The Baptist Church is packed on Sundays, the feed store is buzzing on Fridays, and the Ozark General Store runs out of seating every morning starting at 6am. Recently, the Ozark General Store was the host for a moment that flipped on my mental light bulb and reminded me why I write.

Three weeks ago, the Ozark Men were holding court around a small table dressed up with a plastic flower print table cloth and a few hunting magazines. These men, ages 50 and up, all held coffee cups and wore baseball caps. As usual, I was in a hurry to buy some gas and get going, but also as usual, I decided to linger a moment and listen to their animated conversation.

Most days, the Ozark Men attempt to solve the world's major problems in under ten minutes and two cups of coffee, but today was different. They were discussing a new romantic comedy film. Since I joined the debate in the middle, I only guessed that many of the men had been forced to see this movie with their wives.

"It wasn't that bad," one of the men said. He sighed. They must have been talking about this for awhile now.

"Yeah, it was a little boring, but I guess it was supposed to be one of those feel-good movies," another chimed in.

"There was a funny part or two," the man proudly wearing waders and a fishing vest observed.

The oldest and most vocal of the men chimed right in. "Maybe you're all right. And maybe that's why Hollywood is still open. But what was the point?" His question lingered with the constant smell of BBQ pork that permeated the air.

The men hummed "Hmm" in unison, nodded, and went back to their coffee. Case closed.

I finished paying for my gas and literally skipped out to my car. The world was not a soulless, mundane, and trite collection of vapid people. These rural old-timers recognized something that many professional writer's miss. The Ozark Men, who could spin yarns for hours, were better students of story structure than most Creative Writing majors.

No matter how lyrical and well-written a piece may be, it has to have a reason for its existence. It has to have a point. In writing terms, a compelling story must have a main character that inspires sympathy and a story that encourages audience engagement. It is so obvious, but it took a group of curmudgeons to remind me of the First Commandment of Storytelling.

"Thine story shalt have a point."

Now, to get that smell of BBQ out of my clothing.