D&D Character: Da’at Ne’eman

Posted on January 17, 2024 by darrellwolfe

D&D Stat Sheet

Da’at Ne’eman’s Character Sheet – D&D Beyond (dndbeyond.com)

Character: Da’at Ne’eman

Da’at Ne’eman
Son of Ne’eman Sefer
Of the Shamayim Tribe which is of the Ioun Cult of Knowledge
But he left for the Madda’kishuf cult
Of the deity Or’Neshamah

Followers of Or-Neshamah seek to honor the deity through the pursuit of knowledge, the practice of magic, and the cultivation of their souls.
An Air Genasi, Male
Descended from Father’s Side; Grandfather was a Genie, Grandmother a Human

Names

• Name: Da’at Ne’eman
• Da’at (דעת): “Knowledge” or “Wisdom,” highlighting the character’s insightful or intellectual nature.
• Ne’eman (נאמן): “Faithful” or “Scholar,” suggesting a character who is trustworthy, dedicated, or scholarly.
• Parentage: Son of Ne’eman Sefer
• Ne’eman (נאמן): Repeating “Faithful” or “Scholar,” which could imply a family legacy of wisdom and learning.
• Sefer (ספר): “Book” or “Scroll,” suggesting a lineage deeply rooted in knowledge, wisdom, or the preservation of lore.
• Tribe: Shamayim
• Shamayim (שמים): “Heavens” or “Sky,” aligning perfectly with the Air Genasi’s elemental affinity and possibly indicating a tribe that is spiritually or literally connected to the sky or the heavens.

Introduction to Da’at Ne’aman

Snow fell, in a soft but constant accumulation, attaching itself to every tree in the forests just outside of the exotic mountain monastery. The Shamayim Tribe had long held a position in one of the many monasteries of Ioun (N), Goddess of Knowledge. Tucked away in a plateau at one of the highest peaks of the mountains, where the cosmos as the earth kiss and whispers of ancient secrets carry their tales of forgotten magic, Da’at Ne’eman, son of Ne’eman Sefer, a minor noble of the Shamayim Tribe had grown discontent with his studies.
Looking back at the snowless village, fertile with magic, he took a deep breath, and sighed. Once he stepped outside of this place, he would be embarking on a journey unlike any he had known. All previous excursions from this village had been with groups and mentors, but this time he was on his own. Ioun herself had guided him to the thread he was now pulling, and the tapestry had led him to this trail.
The moonlight’s reflection on the snow danced on his pale blue-pink skin, and as it created a white cowl over his light blue hair. The silver in his eyes wet with tears, as he was about to leave his people and his own behind. He cinched his dimensionless bag, full of his library, potions, and trinkets, he began his journey.
Keeping to the paths, his 6’5” frame avoiding the branches, he began his long descent into the world of Humankind. Upon reaching a proper clearing, where he could catch a clear vision of the lights at the foot of the mountains, Da’at allowed his weight to lighten, then he caught the wind, floating up into the air, and then falling like a leaf, floating slowly to the towns and villages 1,000s of feet below.
As he descended to the world of Humankind, Elfs, Dwarves, Dragonborn, and the other species of middle earth, he ruminated on the events that led him to leave.
Da’at Ne’eman, once an acolyte in the cloistered halls of the Ioun, the Goddess of Knowledge, found himself at odds with the stagnation and corruption festering within. The Acolytes of Ioun had become ruthlessly isolationist in the centuries building up to this day. His soul, restless and unfulfilled, yearned for a deeper truth, a truth that lay beyond the dogma and ritual of his now former faith. It was in the ancient, arcane whispers of the Madda’kishuf cult that Da’at discovered his true calling – a path that embraced the sanctity of the soul and the boundless potential of the magical and the mundane. Ioun herself lamented at what had become of the Shamayim Tribe in her absence, but remaining neutral, she did not intervene. For Da’at; however, who sought her wisdom on how to handle things, she led him to her celestial counterpart, Or’Neshamah. His Tribe called the discovered text Heresy, and they sought to destroy it, forcing Da’at to leave under the cover of night.
Soon, far from the lofty abodes of the Shamayim Tribe, Da’at will ventures through strange lands and among even stranger companions. A scholar at heart, yet naive in the ways of the world, he navigates his new reality with an air of dignified inexperience, his upbringing among the temple’s elite a stark contrast to the rough and untamed frontiers of his journey. With ideals that champion change and a bond to a sacred text under threat, Da’at’s quest is as much about self-discovery as it is about preserving the ancient knowledge he holds dear.
Yet, for all his wisdom and learning, Da’at’s greatest flaw lies in his obsession. Once a goal takes root in his mind, it consumes him, blinding him to all else – a trait that will lead him down many a perilous path and into the company of unlikely allies. But in these alliances, forged in the crucible of necessity and mutual respect for knowledge and curiosity, Da’at Ne’eman finds not only the strength to confront his enemies but also the opportunity to grow beyond the confines of his former life.
In his pursuit of deeper truths, Da’at practices the sacred rituals of his faith, seeking to connect with the Or’Neshamah through study, deep meditation, and reflection. He dwells in a world where the boundaries between science and sorcery blur, where each discovery is a step closer to the divine, and where every spell cast is a prayer to Or’Neshamah, illuminating the path to understanding and the depths of magic.
Da’at Ne’eman, a wanderer between worlds, a seeker of the sacred in the mundane, and a cultivator of the soul’s wonders, continues his odyssey across the stars, his story a tapestry woven from the threads of knowledge, faith, and an unyielding desire to uncover the secrets of the cosmos and of his own soul.
 

Description

Hair: Light Blue
Skin: Pale with pink and blue tints
Eyes: Light Blue/Silver
Height: 6’5”
Weight: 190 Lbs
Age (Years): 3,007
Gender: Male
Personality traits: I’ve spent so long in the temple that i have little practical experience dealing with people in the outside world. I’ve enjoyed fine food, drink, and high society among my temple’s elite. Rough living grates on me.
Ideals: Change. We must help bring about the changes the gods are constantly working in the world. (chaotic)
Bonds: I seek to preserve a sacred text that my enemies consider heretical and seek to destroy.
Flaws: Once i pick a goal, i become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life.
Cult: Madda’kishuf cult of the deity Or’Neshamah
Allies: Any who value curiosity and learning
Enemies: Any who value tradition over curiosity
Backstory: Da’at Ne’eman, Son of Ne’eman Sefer, Of the Shamayim Tribe, An acolyte of the Madda’kishuf cult of the deity Or’Neshamah, pursuer of knowledge, practitioner of magic, and cultivator of the wonders of the soul. Da’at looks for the sacred inside the mundane, the magical inside the ordinary. He was so preoccupied with his own learning; however, that he failed to see the corruption in the practitioners of his religion of origin. While his family had long served knowledge, they had lost the magic many generations ago. Departing from his origin cult, Ioun (N) – Goddess of Knowledge, he discovered the cult of Or’Neshamah in his studies. He left his home among the clouds and mountains, to seek link minded fellows among the other races. He has been on his journey just long enough now to realize, he will need to make unlikely friends and unnatural alliances if he is to cope in his new world. 
Religion: Madda’kishuf is the cult of deity Or’Neshamah
Core Beliefs:
• Harmony of Knowledge and Magic: This religion believes in the harmonious blend of scientific knowledge (“Madda”) and magical practices (“Kishuf”). It teaches that true understanding comes from the synthesis of empirical learning and mystical experience.
• Sanctity of the Soul: The soul, or “Neshamah,” is central to their beliefs. The soul is seen as the breath of life, an ethereal essence that bridges the material and magical realms.
• Pursuit of Enlightenment: Followers seek enlightenment through the study of the natural world, magical practices, and introspection to understand the deeper truths of the soul.
Practices:
• Scholarly Study: Devotees engage in the study of various sciences, seeing this as a way to appreciate the intricacies of the world and the laws that govern it.
• Magical Rituals: They practice sorcery not as a means of power, but as a way to connect with the mystical forces of the universe and to explore the depths of the soul.
• Meditation and Reflection: Deep contemplation and meditation are used to connect with the Neshamah and to achieve inner harmony.
Structure:
• The religion may have temples that double as libraries and schools of magic, with priests who are also scholars and sorcerers.
Deity: Or-Neshamah
Nature:
• Or-Neshamah (Light of the Soul) is a deity who embodies the unity of science and magic, and the divine essence of the soul.
Domains:
• Knowledge: As a deity of understanding and enlightenment.
• Arcana: Representing the magical aspect and the mysteries of the universe.
• Life: Emphasizing the soul’s vital role in life and the cosmos.
Characteristics:
• Or-Neshamah is seen as a guiding light, a source of wisdom that illuminates the path of knowledge and the depths of magic.
• The deity is often depicted as a figure surrounded by symbols of science (like stars, atoms) and magic (runes, a staff), with a radiant soul at the center.
Worship:
• Followers of Or-Neshamah seek to honor the deity through the pursuit of knowledge, the practice of magic, and the cultivation of their souls.
• They might celebrate festivals that align with astronomical events, reflecting the union of the cosmic and mystical.

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Shalom: Live Long and Prosper!

Darrell Wolfe (DG Wolfe)

Storyteller | Writer | Thinker | Consultant @ DarrellWolfe.com

Clifton StrengthsFinder: Intellection, Learner, Ideation, Achiever, Input
16Personalities (Myers-Briggs Type): INFJ

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Preface

A friend recently reminded me of my own words from long ago, “Stop telling me what you are against, or don’t want, what are you FOR?” 

With that in mind, I had a long brainstorming session with ChatGPT-4, and I created a fictitious political party platform to set up as a conversation starter. I intend to change this many times in the future as I continue to ponder it. 

If I could wave my magic wand, getting rid of the current paradigms: The American Right and American Left, the Republicans, Democrats, Socialists, Capitalists, Libertarians… and start from a blank slate, what would I be FOR? 

I’ve spent a considerable amount of time meditating on the Ancient Near East, and the Hebrew biblical author’s worldviews (which are almost nothing like medieval theologians or modern Churchianity). 

What might that mean for designing a new system… enough about what I’m not for, let’s talk about what I am for…

The Way – A Ficticous Political Party

Our Vision

The Way is a political movement rooted in the belief that the natural order of the world is entropy and chaos, but humankind was gifted with the ability to cultivate our good world and bring about pockets of life. We believe a society thrives when individual rights are respected and when individuals take responsibility for their fellow human beings in a healthy safe community. We envision a society that is just, compassionate, and forward-thinking. We envision a future where the rights of the individual are harmoniously woven into the fabric of a supportive community, where every person’s potential can be realized, and where the health of our planet is seen as integral to our prosperity. As the ancient Hebrew wisdom writers would say, humankind was placed on earth to be its caretakers and be pockets of Eden in “God’s good world”. We believe that even if you are an atheist, you can get behind that vision.

Our Core Values

• Compassionate Responsibility: Upholding a sacred duty to support the marginalized and vulnerable, honoring the age-old wisdom that guides us to care for the least among us.
• Equality of Opportunity: Championing a society where the circumstances of one’s birth do not determine their destiny, and where each individual is afforded the tools and resources to succeed.
• Balanced Stewardship: Advocating for the guardianship of our environment, pledging to enact policies that safeguard and enrich our planet for the countless generations to come.
• Innovative and Adaptive Governance: Embracing the best of what history has taught us while fostering innovation, we aim for governance that is responsive, transparent, and accountable. We refuse labels and seek to constantly evolve and grow into better and more innovative methods.
• Economic Pragmatism: We seek a Third Way, that is neither runaway unregulated capitalism nor all-encompassing oppressive socialism—a way of promoting a fair and sustainable economy that encourages enterprise while ensuring a safety net for ALL, and all means all.
• Education and Healthcare for All: We are committed to ensuring universal access to high-quality education and healthcare, recognizing these as the cornerstones of a society where every individual can thrive. We understand that one-size-fits-all solutions rarely work out, so we would like to see what innovative ways we could combine private non-profit enterprises with government-backed solutions. We do; however, resist the idea of for-profit healthcare. We would support any move that reduces or eliminates profit motive from all aspects of the education, food commodities, and healthcare fields; choosing instead non-profit, government, and private but not-for-profit solutions.
• Community and Individuality: We celebrate the individual within the collective, understanding that personal freedoms are most meaningful when they contribute to the common good.

Our Platform

• Economic Innovation: Foster an economic landscape ripe for entrepreneurship, emphasizing ethical business practices, corporate responsibility, and equitable wealth distribution.
• Robust Social Welfare: Guarantee comprehensive social protection that addresses the basic needs of food, shelter, and a life of dignity for every person.
• Accessible Education: Ensure education is a lifelong journey, accessible to all ages and socioeconomic backgrounds, and adaptable to the evolving demands of our world. Education should be made available for free to all students through the Master’s Degree level.
• Universal Healthcare: Advocate for a healthcare system that is holistic, preventive, and universally accessible, treating healthcare as a fundamental human right. While we would not deny individuals from choosing private plans, we believe basic access to healthcare should be free to all individuals in society.
• Environmental Policy: Lead the charge in sustainable development, green technology, and urban planning, transitioning to renewable energy and preserving the diversity of life on Earth.
• Civic Engagement: Strengthen democracy by empowering citizens to actively participate in a transparent and inclusive governance process.
• Justice and Equality: Reform the justice system to ensure it serves everyone equitably, focusing on rehabilitation, restorative justice, and addressing systemic inequalities.

Technological Harmony and Ecological Flourishing

• Innovative Stewardship: Borrowing from Transhumanism and Solarpunk, we envision using cutting-edge technology and verdant greenery to foster human flourishing. We aim to create environments where technology serves humanity and the biosphere, helping all life on Earth to thrive and multiply.
• Sustainable Habitats: Promote urban and rural landscapes that are designed to be self-sustaining and integrated with nature, harnessing the principles of ecological balance.
• Green Technology: Invest in technologies that reduce waste and pollution, increase efficiency, and make clean energy accessible to all, ensuring that our progress as a society does not come at the cost of our planet’s health.

Join The Way

The Way is a call to those who envision a society that values every person and the Earth we share. It is an invitation to embark on a path of holistic prosperity, where progress is measured not just in economic terms, but in the health and vitality of all forms of life. Join us on this journey to nurture a world where everyone has the opportunity to live with dignity, in harmony with nature, and in a community that supports one another. Together, let’s find The Way.

---

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Shalom: Live Long and Prosper!

Darrell Wolfe (DG Wolfe)

Storyteller | Writer | Thinker | Consultant @ DarrellWolfe.com

Clifton StrengthsFinder: Intellection, Learner, Ideation, Achiever, Input
16Personalities (Myers-Briggs Type): INFJ

Read more →

Grounded Cafe (take four) - #WhiteNoise #Distortion

Ice raced down Ash’s spine, an old familiar call to attention. He turned his head toward movement in his peripheral, was that two hostiles across the street? Through the undusted window of the Grounded Cafe, Ash caught sight of two shadowy figures creeping across the cracked asphalt. Fog clung to the air like a white parka, casting the figures in a blurry haze. 

Approximately 11 meters, two potential hostiles, he couldn’t make out weapons, but the way they moved indicated non-casual presence.

As he turned his full attention to the two figures creeping along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road, they turned their heads toward him, then dashed behind a parked blue minivan. One peeked out from the van, pointing something his direction.

Was that a gun?

A ghostly whisper of danger, the scent of death hung in the air — tangy copper mixed with the dryness of dust. It was a taste Ash had grown accustomed to during his time overseas. 

His right arm shot to the Glock 10mm at his side, cold steal against his palm.

Sucking in a breath to steady himself, he took a second look— 

They were gone. 

Black mist poured out from under the minivan and evaporated into the early morning air. 

Shaking his head, Ash closed his eyes, counting to ten, silently as he released his breath slowly, letting it pass over tight lips.

Ash released the grip on his sidearm, which he now realized was a tape measure and not a Glock. Ash hadn’t carried a weapon regularly since he left the service (for this very reason, for safety, to ensure the danger was real before he engaged). 

Really, Ash, come on, what danger could there possibly be in Moon-Wolf Hollow, Idaho? He thought. A random teenager shoplifting is the worst case of crime we’ve had in a whole year.

These days, he kept his weapons close, but locked in a case, with the ammunition stored separately, until he was at the firing range or doing a demonstrations, as he occasionally did for local organizations. In some other state, he probably wouldn’t own any, but he lived in one of the last remaining hold-outs of freedom in the USA.

Ash noted that his arm was still holding the tape measure stiffly, he let his arm fall to his side, and wiped the sweat from his hands on his pant leg. Reality settled back onto his shoulders. A glimpse of himself in the glass window revealed a strong gray overtaking the sideburns. Other than a few wrinkles, he hadn’t aged that badly. Some might even say he was still young.

“Hello!” Oh yeah, Mrs. Maverick had been asking him a question, what was it? What was she asking?

“Hello,” She called again. “Ash? Is everything… Okay?”

Ash slowly turned toward, trying to look casual. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Maverick,” Ash said, trying to force an awkward smile into his tense jaw. “I thought I saw- “ what was he going to say that wouldn’t sound crazy? “Nevermind, what was your question again?” 

“I was asking-” her lips tightened, and her nostrils flared, then she pulled at the edges of her bright yellow and orange wool blazer. “Would you be willing to do such a large custom project? Do you have the availability for that in your schedule?” 

Ash pulled a tattered leather notebook from his messenger bag, and flipped through his notes. 

“Honestly,” he replied. I don’t know if I do at this moment. I have several other projects ahead for this next season already. But I might. Let me run some calculations back at my shop, and I’ll get back to you.” Ash forced another smile. 

“Very well.” She nodded curtly, and walked to a table at the other end of the cafe, then sat with a small gaggle of other wealthy bored women. Mrs Maverick was one of many such retired house wive’s that had moved to small town Idaho from some other city.

For the last 50-years or more, the town had a consistent population of 450, give or take a teenager moving away. But the last five years had seen significant growth in the larger towns in the area, and it had spread into Moon-Wolf Hollow, Idaho now. Last estimate was closer to 950, and counting.

Ash turned from his vendor table, against the window in the cafe, and checked to see if anyone else had noticed his momentary lapse of lucidity. 

Jenny was selling her soaps and candles at the table next to him, she was busy wrapped up in conversation with a customer, a little old lady who loved her scents.

James was pretending to organize his ironwork, for the sixtieth time that day, probably to avoid snoring in his camping chair, like he did last weekend.

Craig trimmed his pot-plants at the table on the other side, which was allowed now that Idaho finally caught up with the 21st century and realized it was supposed to be the state of Freedom and not a state where personal morals were shoved down people’s throats. A lot of money on policing and jails was saved by foregoing the persecution of victim-less crimes, and that money was poured into increasing the availability of mental health facilities throughout the state. It was a move Ash had reservations about, but he could see the logic. And it didn’t hurt in his case, as a new facility had opened in town just a few years ago, not that it was staffed at the moment. But, that was a normal small town problem. Craig had given Ash a few pointers on growing himself. He developed a unique selling pitch, by treating them as a form of Bonsai, except you could use the trimming, so to speak.

There weren’t many customer’s this time of day, but it was one of the last opportunities of the season, before the town buttoned up the hatches for the long winter ahead.

Handfuls of folks lingered, a tourist family staying at the motel next door eyed some crochet stuffies made to look similar to famous movie and cartoon characters, most of which Ash didn’t recognize. He never had kids, and wasn’t much of a kid himself in his youth.

A young man with a hoodie typed furiously at a keyboard. 

A woman jabbered away on the phone, failing to pacify the toddler in the stroller to her side. 

Two men spoke in hushed tones at a table not far from Ash. 

A purple and white haze turned Ash’s attention back to the sidewalk outside, a woman in a purple hoodie walked by just outside the window, head buried in her smartphone. She bumped into Hank, the town’s crazy old homeless man who was headed the other direction, into the foggy evening. She didn’t appear to notice him. He gave her a dirty look and kept walking the other way, mumbling to himself as usual. 

The woman sat down at a table just outside the farthest window of the Cafe, he couldn’t make out her face, possibly one of the towns last tourists before the few stores left went into hibernation. 

An orange Maple leaf lazily floated down to the table in front her. She brushed it aside, and it fell inside a pumpkin whose top had been kicked off. The leaf caught on fire from the candle, and slowly embered away. She didn’t take notice of that either. A purple and white vapor swaddled her like a blanket, as she leaned over an open book of some kind. 

Old Hank stared at her from the corner of the building. A small green frog sat on his shoulder. The bottom half of the frog was a mist that disappeared into Hank’s spine. The frog’s red eyes stared at her, then at Ash, and it cocked its head to one side. Then it was gone, in a whisp of grey-green fog that continued to waft around Hank as he walked away out of sight.

Ash didn’t see these creatures on every person, every time, but almost everyone had a mist cloak. Though some people’s mists were more pronounced, while others were barely visible

The town psychic, Genevieve, called it an “aura”, when he explained it to her in a rather desperate confidence one day. “Some of them must have a stronger aura,” she suggested. She was a bit of a quack but he was willing to try everything to at least understand it if he couldn’t get rid of it. 

He’d been to quite a few doctors, and that having born no fruit, he went to pastors, priests, the town psychic, a passing faith-healer, and even a local Rabbi from a larger town nearby. Each of them had their opinions and suggestions. While non of them offered any real relief, the Rabbi was the most gentle and inquisitive of the bunch, more often asking honest and curious questions, and offering few if any answers. But at least Ash felt heard and understood with the Rabbi, who had nothing to sell but time, and a good chat over coffee.

Generally, the creatures came from within a person and would go back into them, like human genie bottles. Not everyone had a creature, but people sometimes did. The Creatures weren’t all alike, either. There were repeats of similar versions, but each seemed unique to the person.

“You don’t fit the profile for Schizoaffective Disorder, as your life and thinking are otherwise quite normative. I would call this Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with Psychotic Features. This is rare, but can happen with serious abuse or trauma, then again, we could have a traumatic brain injury affecting the visual cortex. The mind is still a mystery to us in many ways…”, his latest doctor had offered this explanation before he left the clinic without a town shrink six months ago.

The VA docs tried giving him a mountain of drugs to help him sleep and keep the delusions at a minimum. Nothing really helped, most made it worse. 

When the Federal government forced legalized medicinal THC on all the states as a human right, and Idaho finally gave up on the failed war on drugs and allowed doctors and people to choose their own path in life, his Idaho VA doctor said to try pot, as it was clinically shown to have better results for some people that anti-psychotics. Ash didn’t bother telling the VA doc that he’d already been growing it on his property for several years now. 

The magical medical folks at Big Pharma managed to create a pill form with less hallucinogenic properties and twice the pain killing properties, but it cost too much and his VA insurance didn’t cover it yet, although the decision was before the Senate hearing committee, thanks to PTSD Health advocates. If the Fed would just finish eliminating for-profit medicine, he could try that someday. The only thing he hated more than big government was big pharma and big corporations. 

He liked living in one of the last small towns where people left people alone to be themselves.

For now, Ash started growing it himself a few years ago, his sleep was more regular but the delusions came and went. He could still hear the original diagnosis in his mind.

“As long as you are not a harm to yourself or others, you should be just fine. Think of it as an amusing distraction,” the doctor advised. 

— Ash heard his name.

“Ash-”, Derek the Barist’ called his attention to the present, standing in front of his table with a frosty blending drink, and green whip cream. “Here you go, man. Extra large Java-Chip, almond milk, six shots, with peppermint and crème de menthe. I even through a few extra candied coffee beans on there for you.” 

Derek’s mists swirled around in deep blue and a streaks of orange. Ash couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Derek get angry, even when some tourist was giving him a tongue lashing for being too slow.

“Thanks, Derek”, Ash said as he took the drink gratefully. 

“Always my friend,” Derek said. “How’s business been today?”

“I haven’t sold much, but it’s nice to get out of the house a few more times before the snow makes it hard to leave the property.” Ash took a sip, the cold creamy mint made his mouth tingle, “… this is really good.” 

He set it down. “I mean… I can get the tractor and snow blower out and punch my way down the road when I have to. But 110 acres is a lot to manage, and my house isn’t exactly off the main road.” 

“I get. I don’t know how you guys live that far out of town, my hats off to you for the effort. But I do appreciate how nice it is. Should we have another meeting up there before the roads become impassable?”

“I think we can do that — “ Ash stopped when he noticed Sam walk in, and waved him over to join them. 

“Sam,” Derek gave him a bear hug, “We should have the next Kairos meeting at Ash’s house, before the road become impassable. I can help him get it ready for guests.”

Sam smiled, but he gave Ash a sideways glance. “How are you feeling about this idea? Is it too much? Are you okay, you looked a little tense earlier, through the window.”

Ash felt his gut tighten, Sam had noticed. If anyone would notice, it was Sam. He squinted at Sam, he felt the question scroll across his face, but couldn’t gather the words to ask it without sounding crazy.

“I was in the jeep,” Sam offered.

“Ah,” Ash replied. “I’m alright, I think it would be good for me.”

“Okay,” Sam shrugged. “You bring food, and I’ll bring drinks?” 

Derek squinted at Sam, “As long as you don’t bring that piss water you brought last time!” 

Sam grinned, “I’ll behave and bring something a distinguished gentleman like you would approve of.”

“Then I accept,” Derek shook Sam’s hand, then Ash’s, and then headed back to his coffee machines.

Ash wasn’t sure about all the Bible stuff, but he enjoyed having a crew around him, it reminded him of his team in the service. So he put up with the religious part for the sake of comradery, besides, most of the time they just talked about town stuff, news, or sports.

“Hey,” Sam turned his full attention to Ash. “Did you hear the news?” 

Ash picked up one of his popular Sasquatch figurines, wiggling it in front of Sam, “They finally found Big Foot?” Ash noted that it felt good to smile, he didn’t do that enough lately.

“No, still looking I’m afraid-“ Sam still laughed at his jokes, like when they were kids. “They found a new doctor for the clinic. He just came into town last week, he’s staying at the hotel until his rental cabin is set up. His moving truck comes in tomorrow and he’s bringing some new equipment to town. He said he’ll be ready to start seeing clients by the end of week.”

“That’s good, especially with Old Hank hanging around again.” Ash nodded to Old Hank still outside the window, but now barely noticeable from the corner of the building, peeping at all the people in the shop.

“Yeah, but,” Sam replied, and used an over exaggerated nod back to Ash. “I think this guy might be able to help you.”

“What’s this guy got that the last fifty hasn’t?” Ash asked. 

“This guy is a bid deal or something. I’m not sure where they picked him up, He says he’s here to enjoy a semi-retirement or something. He’s a PhD out of Harvard or Yale or one of those big stuffy places with smart people.”

“Hmm —“ Ash started to form a reply, but lost it. The fog outside was creeping into his head. It had been a longer week than he planned, more sales than he hoped, which was great, but exhausting. “I guess we’ll see. I’ll check in with him after the Oktoberfest this weekend.”

Subscribe Now - Pursue a No Hiding Lifestyle 

Shalom: Live Long and Prosper!

Darrell Wolfe (DG Wolfe)

Storyteller | Writer | Thinker | Consultant @ DarrellWolfe.com

Clifton StrengthsFinder: Intellection, Learner, Ideation, Achiever, Input
16Personalities (Myers-Briggs Type): INFJ

Read more →

Grounded Cafe (take four) - #WhiteNoise #Distortion

As I begin writing again, seriously, for the first time since I started my widower journey, I will be posting various rough drafts here. Feel free to consider this an Alpha read...

Ice raced down Ash’s spine, an old familiar call to attention. He turned his head toward movement in his peripheral, was that two hostiles across the street? Through the undusted window of the Grounded Cafe, Ash caught sight of two shadowy figures creeping across the cracked asphalt. Fog clung to the air like a white parka, casting the figures in a blurry haze.

Approximately 11 meters, two potential hostiles, he couldn’t make out weapons, but the way they moved indicated non-casual presence.

As he turned his full attention to the two figures creeping along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road, they turned their heads toward him, then dashed behind a parked blue minivan. One peeked out from the van, pointing something his direction.

Was that a gun?

A ghostly whisper of danger, the scent of death hung in the air — tangy copper mixed with the dryness of dust. It was a taste Ash had grown accustomed to during his time overseas.

His right arm shot to the Glock 10mm at his side, cold steal against his palm.

Sucking in a breath to steady himself, he took a second look—

They were gone.

Black mist poured out from under the minivan and evaporated into the early morning air.

Shaking his head, Ash closed his eyes, counting to ten, silently as he released his breath slowly, letting it pass over tight lips.

Ash released the grip on his sidearm, which he now realized was a tape measure and not a Glock. Ash hadn’t carried a weapon regularly since he left the service (for this very reason, for safety, to ensure the danger was real before he engaged).

Really, Ash, come on, what danger could there possibly be in Moon-Wolf Hollow, Idaho? He thought. A random teenager shoplifting is the worst case of crime we’ve had in a whole year.

These days, he kept his weapons close, but locked in a case, with the ammunition stored separately, until he was at the firing range or doing a demonstrations, as he occasionally did for local organizations. In some other state, he probably wouldn’t own any, but he lived in one of the last remaining hold-outs of freedom in the USA.

Ash noted that his arm was still holding the tape measure stiffly, he let his arm fall to his side, and wiped the sweat from his hands on his pant leg. Reality settled back onto his shoulders. A glimpse of himself in the glass window revealed a strong gray overtaking the sideburns. Other than a few wrinkles, he hadn’t aged that badly. Some might even say he was still young.

“Hello!” Oh yeah, Mrs. Maverick had been asking him a question, what was it? What was she asking?

“Hello,” She called again. “Ash? Is everything… Okay?”

Ash slowly turned toward, trying to look casual. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Maverick,” Ash said, trying to force an awkward smile into his tense jaw. “I thought I saw- “ what was he going to say that wouldn’t sound crazy? “Nevermind, what was your question again?”

“I was asking-” her lips tightened, and her nostrils flared, then she pulled at the edges of her bright yellow and orange wool blazer. “Would you be willing to do such a large custom project? Do you have the availability for that in your schedule?”

Ash pulled a tattered leather notebook from his messenger bag, and flipped through his notes.

“Honestly,” he replied. I don’t know if I do at this moment. I have several other projects ahead for this next season already. But I might. Let me run some calculations back at my shop, and I’ll get back to you.” Ash forced another smile.

“Very well.” She nodded curtly, and walked to a table at the other end of the cafe, then sat with a small gaggle of other wealthy bored women. Mrs Maverick was one of many such retired house wive’s that had moved to small town Idaho from some other city.

For the last 50-years or more, the town had a consistent population of 450, give or take a teenager moving away. But the last five years had seen significant growth in the larger towns in the area, and it had spread into Moon-Wolf Hollow, Idaho now. Last estimate was closer to 950, and counting.

Ash turned from his vendor table, against the window in the cafe, and checked to see if anyone else had noticed his momentary lapse of lucidity.

Jenny was selling her soaps and candles at the table next to him, she was busy wrapped up in conversation with a customer, a little old lady who loved her scents.

James was pretending to organize his ironwork, for the sixtieth time that day, probably to avoid snoring in his camping chair, like he did last weekend.

Craig trimmed his pot-plants at the table on the other side, which was allowed now that Idaho finally caught up with the 21st century and realized it was supposed to be the state of Freedom and not a state where personal morals were shoved down people’s throats. A lot of money on policing and jails was saved by foregoing the persecution of victim-less crimes, and that money was poured into increasing the availability of mental health facilities throughout the state. It was a move Ash had reservations about, but he could see the logic. And it didn’t hurt in his case, as a new facility had opened in town just a few years ago, not that it was staffed at the moment. But, that was a normal small town problem. Craig had given Ash a few pointers on growing himself. He developed a unique selling pitch, by treating them as a form of Bonsai, except you could use the trimming, so to speak.

There weren’t many customer’s this time of day, but it was one of the last opportunities of the season, before the town buttoned up the hatches for the long winter ahead.

Handfuls of folks lingered, a tourist family staying at the motel next door eyed some crochet stuffies made to look similar to famous movie and cartoon characters, most of which Ash didn’t recognize. He never had kids, and wasn’t much of a kid himself in his youth.

A young man with a hoodie typed furiously at a keyboard.

A woman jabbered away on the phone, failing to pacify the toddler in the stroller to her side.

Two men spoke in hushed tones at a table not far from Ash.

A purple and white haze turned Ash’s attention back to the sidewalk outside, a woman in a purple hoodie walked by just outside the window, head buried in her smartphone. She bumped into Hank, the town’s crazy old homeless man who was headed the other direction, into the foggy evening. She didn’t appear to notice him. He gave her a dirty look and kept walking the other way, mumbling to himself as usual.

The woman sat down at a table just outside the farthest window of the Cafe, he couldn’t make out her face, possibly one of the towns last tourists before the few stores left went into hibernation.

An orange Maple leaf lazily floated down to the table in front her. She brushed it aside, and it fell inside a pumpkin whose top had been kicked off. The leaf caught on fire from the candle, and slowly embered away. She didn’t take notice of that either. A purple and white vapor swaddled her like a blanket, as she leaned over an open book of some kind.

Old Hank stared at her from the corner of the building. A small green frog sat on his shoulder. The bottom half of the frog was a mist that disappeared into Hank’s spine. The frog’s red eyes stared at her, then at Ash, and it cocked its head to one side. Then it was gone, in a whisp of grey-green fog that continued to waft around Hank as he walked away out of sight.

Ash didn’t see these creatures on every person, every time, but almost everyone had a mist cloak. Though some people’s mists were more pronounced, while others were barely visible

The town psychic, Genevieve, called it an “aura”, when he explained it to her in a rather desperate confidence one day. “Some of them must have a stronger aura,” she suggested. She was a bit of a quack but he was willing to try everything to at least understand it if he couldn’t get rid of it.

He’d been to quite a few doctors, and that having born no fruit, he went to pastors, priests, the town psychic, a passing faith-healer, and even a local Rabbi from a larger town nearby. Each of them had their opinions and suggestions. While non of them offered any real relief, the Rabbi was the most gentle and inquisitive of the bunch, more often asking honest and curious questions, and offering few if any answers. But at least Ash felt heard and understood with the Rabbi, who had nothing to sell but time, and a good chat over coffee.

Generally, the creatures came from within a person and would go back into them, like human genie bottles. Not everyone had a creature, but people sometimes did. The Creatures weren’t all alike, either. There were repeats of similar versions, but each seemed unique to the person.

“You don’t fit the profile for Schizoaffective Disorder, as your life and thinking are otherwise quite normative. I would call this Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with Psychotic Features. This is rare, but can happen with serious abuse or trauma, then again, we could have a traumatic brain injury affecting the visual cortex. The mind is still a mystery to us in many ways…”, his latest doctor had offered this explanation before he left the clinic without a town shrink six months ago.

The VA docs tried giving him a mountain of drugs to help him sleep and keep the delusions at a minimum. Nothing really helped, most made it worse.

When the Federal government forced legalized medicinal THC on all the states as a human right, and Idaho finally gave up on the failed war on drugs and allowed doctors and people to choose their own path in life, his Idaho VA doctor said to try pot, as it was clinically shown to have better results for some people that anti-psychotics. Ash didn’t bother telling the VA doc that he’d already been growing it on his property for several years now.

The magical medical folks at Big Pharma managed to create a pill form with less hallucinogenic properties and twice the pain killing properties, but it cost too much and his VA insurance didn’t cover it yet, although the decision was before the Senate hearing committee, thanks to PTSD Health advocates. If the Fed would just finish eliminating for-profit medicine, he could try that someday. The only thing he hated more than big government was big pharma and big corporations.

He liked living in one of the last small towns where people left people alone to be themselves.

For now, Ash started growing it himself a few years ago, his sleep was more regular but the delusions came and went. He could still hear the original diagnosis in his mind.

“As long as you are not a harm to yourself or others, you should be just fine. Think of it as an amusing distraction,” the doctor advised.

— Ash heard his name.

“Ash-”, Derek the Barist’ called his attention to the present, standing in front of his table with a frosty blending drink, and green whip cream. “Here you go, man. Extra large Java-Chip, almond milk, six shots, with peppermint and crème de menthe. I even through a few extra candied coffee beans on there for you.”

Derek’s mists swirled around in deep blue and a streaks of orange. Ash couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Derek get angry, even when some tourist was giving him a tongue lashing for being too slow.

“Thanks, Derek”, Ash said as he took the drink gratefully.

“Always my friend,” Derek said. “How’s business been today?”

“I haven’t sold much, but it’s nice to get out of the house a few more times before the snow makes it hard to leave the property.” Ash took a sip, the cold creamy mint made his mouth tingle, “… this is really good.”

He set it down. “I mean… I can get the tractor and snow blower out and punch my way down the road when I have to. But 110 acres is a lot to manage, and my house isn’t exactly off the main road.”

“I get. I don’t know how you guys live that far out of town, my hats off to you for the effort. But I do appreciate how nice it is. Should we have another meeting up there before the roads become impassable?”

“I think we can do that — “ Ash stopped when he noticed Sam walk in, and waved him over to join them.

“Sam,” Derek gave him a bear hug, “We should have the next Kairos meeting at Ash’s house, before the road become impassable. I can help him get it ready for guests.”

Sam smiled, but he gave Ash a sideways glance. “How are you feeling about this idea? Is it too much? Are you okay, you looked a little tense earlier, through the window.”

Ash felt his gut tighten, Sam had noticed. If anyone would notice, it was Sam. He squinted at Sam, he felt the question scroll across his face, but couldn’t gather the words to ask it without sounding crazy.

“I was in the jeep,” Sam offered.

“Ah,” Ash replied. “I’m alright, I think it would be good for me.”

“Okay,” Sam shrugged. “You bring food, and I’ll bring drinks?”

Derek squinted at Sam, “As long as you don’t bring that piss water you brought last time!”

Sam grinned, “I’ll behave and bring something a distinguished gentleman like you would approve of.”

“Then I accept,” Derek shook Sam’s hand, then Ash’s, and then headed back to his coffee machines.

Ash wasn’t sure about all the Bible stuff, but he enjoyed having a crew around him, it reminded him of his team in the service. So he put up with the religious part for the sake of comradery, besides, most of the time they just talked about town stuff, news, or sports.

“Hey,” Sam turned his full attention to Ash. “Did you hear the news?”

Ash picked up one of his popular Sasquatch figurines, wiggling it in front of Sam, “They finally found Big Foot?” Ash noted that it felt good to smile, he didn’t do that enough lately.

“No, still looking I’m afraid-“ Sam still laughed at his jokes, like when they were kids. “They found a new doctor for the clinic. He just came into town last week, he’s staying at the hotel until his rental cabin is set up. His moving truck comes in tomorrow and he’s bringing some new equipment to town. He said he’ll be ready to start seeing clients by the end of week.”

“That’s good, especially with Old Hank hanging around again.” Ash nodded to Old Hank still outside the window, but now barely noticeable from the corner of the building, peeping at all the people in the shop.

“Yeah, but,” Sam replied, and used an over exaggerated nod back to Ash. “I think this guy might be able to help you.”

“What’s this guy got that the last fifty hasn’t?” Ash asked.

“This guy is a bid deal or something. I’m not sure where they picked him up, He says he’s here to enjoy a semi-retirement or something. He’s a PhD out of Harvard or Yale or one of those big stuffy places with smart people.”

“Hmm —“ Ash started to form a reply, but lost it. The fog outside was creeping into his head. It had been a longer week than he planned, more sales than he hoped, which was great, but exhausting. “I guess we’ll see. I’ll check in with him after the Oktoberfest this weekend.”

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Shalom: Live Long and Prosper!

Darrell Wolfe (DG Wolfe)

Storyteller | Writer | Thinker | Consultant @ DarrellWolfe.com

Clifton StrengthsFinder: Intellection, Learner, Ideation, Achiever, Input
16Personalities (Myers-Briggs Type): INFJ

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And thus, a new chapter begins, if you'll pardon the pun...

As 12/31/2023 rolls into 01/01/2024, I'm rebuilding my home website at DarrellWolfe.com.

I tried to import all my content, and the file was too large. Maybe I'll just start over? I don't know. For now, let this be my Hello, World post.

After further review, 01/06/2024, I have decided to start over. My older posts can be found at Start Here ~ Darrell Wolfe, Storyteller (darrellglenwolfe.blogspot.com). I may import old content at a later date, or bring forward individual articles. However, I have become an almost entirely new human in the last 5+ years, so I think I will just start over.  - 12/31/2023

**That didn't last long. I always think I'm going to like Word Press, I always end up hating it. Blogger.com for life! ***06/01/2024

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Shalom: Live Long and Prosper!

Darrell Wolfe (DG Wolfe)

Storyteller | Writer | Thinker | Consultant @ DarrellWolfe.com

Clifton StrengthsFinder: Intellection, Learner, Ideation, Achiever, Input
16Personalities (Myers-Briggs Type): INFJ

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An Interview with Destiny "Dezi" Miller (female lead Protagonist) #WhiteNoise #Distortion #Fiction

A fictional interview with my female lead Protagonist for Distortion, book 1 of the White Noise series.

As with my other article "An Interview with Dr. Briar (Antagonist) #WhiteNoise #Distortion #Fiction", I am using ChatGPT-4 as the Interviewer, and I am using basic Improv techniques to role-play for my fictional character.

While I had a vague idea of Dezi's Want/Lie, Need/Truth that will help me set up her Character Arch, it was a vague idea. I wanted to flush out what does she really want, and why. 

I had to volunteer some information the interviewer wasn't asking for, because I started wondering myself, "why though?" And I  think we have a fairly well rounded "WHY". 

You will find that this interview is shorter, and the answers more targeted. I already have spent years investigating this character, backstory has changed a few times, and I know who she is in a general sense, I just needed to clarify her story


See more on this concept written by KM Weiland and her post on How to Write Character Arcs. Especially these sections:

PART 2: THE LIE YOUR CHARACTER BELIEVES

The Change Arc is all about the Lie Your Character Believes. His life may be horrible, or his life may seem pretty great. But festering under the surface is the Lie. 

PART 3: THE THING YOUR CHARACTER WANTS VS. THE THING YOUR CHARACTER NEEDS

The Lie plays out in your character’s life, and your story, through the conflict between the Thing He Needs (the Truth) and the Thing He Wants (the perceived cure for the symptoms of the Lie). 

PART 4: YOUR CHARACTER’S GHOST

If there’s one solid rule in fiction, it’s that every effect must have a cause. If your character is in need of undergoing a change arc, then one of your first tasks is figuring out why he needs to change. What happened to him to cause him to embrace this obviously damaging Lie?

So the following interview was to help me find Dezi's Want/Lie, Need/Truth.


Here is the interview thread:

***

To ChatGPT-4:

Prompt: You are an interviewer, I will improv play-act a character in my novel. Her name is Destiny Miller, goes by Dezi. She is tired of doing local fluff piece's and wants to do some real reporting on stories that matter. We're identifying her story arch, what is her Want vs Need, Lie vs Truth, why does she want to do "real" reporting so bad? Go>

ChatGPT 

All right, Darrell, let's dive into the character of Destiny "Dezi" Miller. I'll start by outlining some key concepts, and you can guide the direction further if you'd like more detail. 

Want vs. Need: Dezi's want is to transition from local fluff pieces to hard-hitting, impactful journalism. This desire likely stems from a need to prove her capabilities and make a significant impact in her field. However, her true need might be to find her own voice and understand what stories she genuinely values, not just what she thinks is "real" reporting. 

Lie vs. Truth: The lie Dezi might believe is that only serious, investigative journalism is worthy and that anything less is trivial. The truth could be that every story has its value and that her unique perspective, even on smaller stories, can make a significant impact. 

Motivation for "Real" Reporting: Dezi's drive for more serious reporting could stem from various factors. It might be a desire for recognition and respect in her profession, a personal connection to a larger issue, or a dissatisfaction with the superficial nature of her current assignments. Her motivation can be rooted in a past experience or a mentor who influenced her perception of journalism. 

Would you like to explore any of these points further, or should we delve into another aspect of Dezi's character?

I'll be her, you be an interviewer. 

Great, let's start the interview. I'll be the interviewer, and you'll respond as Dezi Miller.

Interviewer: "Good afternoon, Dezi. It's a pleasure to have you here. I've noticed you've been doing a lot of local stories lately, which have been well-received. But I hear you're looking to shift gears towards more hard-hitting journalism. Can you tell us what's driving this change in your career focus?"

I don’t know… It just seems like all I ever get assigned are silly stories about local shop openings, parades, town events, stuff like that. But I never get assigned anything serious, ya’ know? Like there’s all these big things happening around the area, school funds being misused, battles at the county, and our paper either covers one side of the story to the exclusion of the other, or they turn-down pieces I bring about hard hitting stuff with lame excuses, like, “We’ve covered that…”, but they really haven’t. 

Interviewer: "It sounds like you're feeling a bit frustrated with the limitations placed on your reporting. You're seeking depth and balance in your stories. In your view, what kind of impact do you think covering these more contentious, complex issues would have on your readers and the community?"

I think people really need to know what’s going on. They’re all busy with their lives, and church events, and high school basketball games. They don’t have time to sit in otherwise boring city council meetings, then loop multiple recent events together to see what’s really happening in the city. Many times I’ve heard people complain about how they wish they’d known something was happening after it was already too late.

Interviewer: "That's a very insightful perspective, Dezi. It seems like you're not just looking to report news, but to provide a service to the community by connecting the dots and uncovering the bigger picture. With this in mind, what do you think has been holding you back from pursuing these more in-depth stories? Is it just the editorial direction of your current publication, or is there something else?"

The County Press says they’ve already covered this things in the past, but when I look, I find they haven’t. I’m afraid they’re actually suppressing these stories on purpose because it’s bad for business, tourism, and local officials want it kept quiet.

Interviewer: "That's a serious concern, Dezi. It sounds like you're grappling with potential editorial bias and perhaps even censorship at your current publication. Given these challenges, how do you plan to navigate this situation? Do you see yourself trying to change the system from within, or are you considering other avenues to tell these important stories?"

Well that’s the issue, right? All I ever really wanted to do was to be a reporter. I finally landed a job with a real newspaper, and the only viable paper in this region. But now that I’m inside, it doesn’t look like they want real reporting. In fact, I think they’re actively against unbiased investigative reporting, especially the kind that inspired me to get into this in the first place.

Interviewer: "That's quite a predicament, Dezi. It's clear you have a passion for journalism and a strong desire to report the truth. Facing such constraints, have you considered alternative platforms or methods to pursue the kind of investigative reporting you're passionate about? Perhaps independent journalism, online platforms, or collaborations with other journalists who share your vision?"

I know other options are out there, but it feels like my voice doesn’t matter unless it comes from an authoritative space. Like, who cares what Dezi Miller from podunk Idaho thinks.

Interviewer: "That's a valid concern, Dezi. Building credibility and a following can be challenging, especially outside traditional media platforms. However, your unique voice and dedication to uncovering the truth are valuable assets. Have you thought about how you might leverage your current position to gradually introduce more in-depth stories, or perhaps use your platform to highlight the need for more comprehensive coverage in a way that aligns with your publication's interests?"

I have been told in no uncertain terms, that if I publish outside of my paper, I will be let go. And this is my only income right now. Without this, I’ll have to go back to waiting tables, or maybe I can get a job teaching English at the high school or something. But I worked for this my whole life, how can I walk away now?

Interviewer: "That's a tough spot to be in, Dezi. It's a delicate balance between maintaining your livelihood and pursuing your journalistic integrity. Have you considered ways to subtly shift the narrative within your current stories to include elements of deeper, more meaningful reporting, without overtly breaking your publication's rules? Sometimes, impactful change starts with small, strategic steps within existing boundaries."

I suppose, since The County Press is sending me to these fluff events, I could spend the time getting to know the people, the voices on the ground, get their concerns, add what I can into the pieces while gathering data for the ‘real’ stories I think need to be told? 

Interviewer: "Exactly, Dezi. That sounds like a practical and strategic approach. By using your current assignments to build relationships and gather insights, you're laying the groundwork for more substantial stories. This method also allows you to maintain your position while subtly pushing the boundaries of your reporting. How do you plan to navigate the potential risks involved in this approach, especially with your editors?"

I’ve had a full shouting match with my editor Jameson several times. I’ve threatened to quit on him at least twice. He really likes my writing, he says the press has had more interaction on the website and social media pages since I started. He wants me to accept that I’m doing good work. It’s just not enough. So we bicker about what level of serious I can have. 

It’s just… I was raised by my grandmother. My parents died when I was three. I just want it to mean something. 

Interviewer: "Your dedication and personal drive are truly commendable, Dezi. It sounds like you have a deep, personal connection to your work, stemming from your background and the values instilled by your grandmother. Given this, and your editor's appreciation of your writing and its impact, do you think there's room for negotiation with Jameson? Perhaps you could propose a trial for more in-depth pieces, leveraging the increased engagement your work has brought to the publication."

He’s said many times, “Bring me something I can publish, and I’ll run it.” But whenever I bring him anything “serious”, he turns it down. He claims he is willing to let me have some other stuff, but the only people who’s stories ever get run happen to also be good friends with the city and county elected officials.

Interviewer: "That's quite a challenging situation, Dezi. It seems like there might be external pressures influencing the editorial decisions at The County Press. In light of these challenges, have you thought about how you can craft stories that are both impactful and align with the publication's apparent constraints? Perhaps finding a way to report serious issues while maintaining a balance that satisfies your editor and the publication's network could be a key strategy."

Unfortunately, the real issues he won’t let published at all. And the remaining issues, his idea of balance is far off-center but with center sounding words. 

Interviewer: "It's clear that you're in a difficult position, Dezi, where the ideals of journalism you uphold are at odds with the realities of your workplace. Considering these constraints, it might be worth exploring creative approaches. Could you consider using your platform to spotlight the voices and stories that are often overlooked, even within the parameters of less controversial topics? This way, you're still bringing attention to underrepresented perspectives, while potentially paving the way for more substantial reporting in the future."

That’s the rock and a hard place I’m in. For now, I will play the game. Grandma Miller ain’t raised no fool. But I don’t know how long I can ride that line, I’ve never been known for my patience. 

Interviewer: "Navigating this path with patience and strategy is indeed challenging, Dezi. But it sounds like you have a strong foundation, thanks to your grandmother's influence. While you're 'playing the game,' as you put it, keep an eye out for opportunities to pivot towards the journalism you aspire to do. Remember, every great journalist has faced challenges and had to find their unique path. Your journey is just beginning, and your determination is clear. Stay true to your values and keep seeking those openings where you can make a difference, however small they may seem at first."

That’s what I’m hoping for. My parents died in a car crash. I was supposed to be in that car with them, but I was feeling sick, so they dropped me off with Grandma Miller that night. I should have been in that car, I should be gone. But I’m here. That has to mean something right? I didn’t get a stay of execution just to write about Hazel Daze parades, or the grand opening of yet another mediocre restaurant concept. It has to mean something, right? I need it to mean something… 

Interviewer: "Dezi, that's a profound and deeply personal motivation. Your survival and the path you've chosen in journalism—it's clear that you see this as more than just a career; it's a calling, a way to give meaning to your life and honor the memory of your parents. Your determination to make your work meaningful is not just commendable, it's inspiring. While the journey may be fraught with challenges and compromises, remember that every story you tell, no matter how small it seems, is a step towards that larger purpose you seek. And sometimes, the most significant impacts are made in ways we least expect. Keep holding onto that need for meaning—it's a powerful driving force."

I guess so… I mean. A business opening is meaningful to the person who is opening the business. They put their heart, passion, money, often their entire retirement or savings, into that business. They planned, often for years, and finally executed their dream. There is a story there, for sure. That’s the story I try to tell. The human story. But when I know there are such huge things happening, things that will have ramifications on the community for decades to come, and nobody is letting the people know… that is a burden I just don’t know if I can bear much longer. I may have to go solo, if only for those very people who are investing their lives into those bushiness that will be affected by these other things. The more I get to know those humans, the less comfortable I am waiting to tell the big stuff, because it affects them and they don’t know.

Interviewer: "Your empathy and understanding of the human element in every story, whether it's a small business opening or a larger community issue, is what sets you apart, Dezi. You're right, every story has its significance, and every decision, big or small, affects the community. It's a heavy burden to bear, knowing that there are larger stories out there, untold and potentially impacting the very people you write about in your current assignments. Going solo is a big step, but it could be the path that allows you to report on the stories you believe in, without the constraints you're currently facing. It's a risk, but sometimes, the biggest risks lead to the most rewarding outcomes. Whatever path you choose, it's clear that your commitment to truth and the people in your community will guide you."

Thanks George, you’ve always been a curious and wise monkey. I think I know what I need to do, I just have to set up the dominoes.

Interviewer: "It's been a pleasure talking with you, Dezi. Setting up those dominoes with careful thought and strategy is key. Remember, each step you take, no matter how small, is part of a larger journey towards the kind of journalism you're passionate about. Keep your values close, and trust in your ability to make a difference. I'm confident that with your determination and skill, you'll find the right path. Good luck, and I look forward to seeing the impactful stories you'll tell in the future."

***

I hope you enjoyed the interview,

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Shalom: Live Long and Prosper!

Darrell Wolfe (DG Wolfe)

Storyteller | Writer | Thinker | Consultant @ DarrellWolfe.com

Clifton StrengthsFinder: Intellection, Learner, Ideation, Achiever, Input
16Personalities (Myers-Briggs Type): INFJ

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My AI Avatar?

What AI thinks my author headshot should be:

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Shalom: Live Long and Prosper!

Darrell Wolfe (DG Wolfe)

Storyteller | Writer | Thinker | Consultant @ DarrellWolfe.com

Clifton StrengthsFinder: Intellection, Learner, Ideation, Achiever, Input
16Personalities (Myers-Briggs Type): INFJ

Read more →