It’s my belief, and I don’t know if many will follow this, that there is a vast well, a pool, an ocean, however one wants to describe it, that contains every possible idea that anyone has ever had, is having now, will have later, or could have had or will have at any given point in the history of the world we know, and beyond. It’s a vague idea, I get it, but it’s still something I happen to believe in, beyond anything else. As sentient beings we’ve become quite adept at telling stories and believing in those that we wish to use as our own personal justification for the existence we’re currently experiencing. The concept of humanity and the world we occupy, and everything in it, is OUR story, but it isn’t necessarily THE Story.
That concept is greater, grander, and more expansive than any one storyteller can possible take on, and whether one wants to attribute this story to God or to many gods, or to some unknown individual that’s writing the reality we perceive, the truth is that there is something beyond us, something, or someone, that grants us the ability to tell a tale, to take what we know, and what we don’t, to create one tale after another, one rendering of worlds beyond our own that may or may not exist depending on your definition of reality. It might be considered a type of madness to speak in such a way, but this is the madness that many writers gladly embrace to bring the Story, even a little bit of it, to those that either don’t comprehend, or don’t wish to look beyond that veil, a small example of what it means.
The Story simply is, and no, that’s not an incomplete statement. If you need a better explanation of what the Story encompasses, then you’ll have to find your own personal muse and figure out on your own time just what it means. The Story is, and that’s the truth. And as writers, it’s our job to bring those small pieces of what is to the world in our own way. Just write, and your portion of the Story will take care of itself.