editor’s note: Rise
Keep Telling Stories
For the last twenty years, in deeply shadowed dive bars, around campfires and in rooms full of people, I have watched my friend Hunter pull stories from his chest. With his hands before him, he would reach back to memory and drift words into the room. Sliding images from left to right hand, his eye brows would furrow and lift, his head nodding, his eyes would close and images appear. Stories rumble from a deep and sacred place, reawakening for the souls before him.
In Hunter’s company, I have been places of wonder; up the flanks of Denali, on a motorcycle across the border to Mexico and wandering crowded streets of India. Through tales of youthful folly, I have born witness to the makings of a man. I have been drawn into the lives of strangers and mourned the loss of souls unknown to me.
When I completed my Master’s degree, Hunter, a blacksmith by trade and passion, gifted me a hand forged butter knife, the heft of which lies in stark contrast to the delicateness of its intended task. Along the blade, he engraved “keep telling stories.”
Where in his storyteller’s heart did he know my own words would fade under the rigor of my new career? Did he know my flame would be stifled, snuffed out by stress and the daily grind?
I continued to use the butter knife daily, but its true purpose was lost to me. Notebooks lived on shelves, gathering dust. A dampness in my soul birthed a gossipy bitterness. As the inevitable heartbreaks of life accumulated around me, I found myself sitting in the backyard of my house and wishing it would burn. Wishing the clarification of fire, I dreamt of a day I would be relieved of possessions, my soul freed to wander.
To burn, we must first ignite. And my spark returned with a month long road trip across the vast open prairie of North Dakota. Pen hit paper and the resulting essay found publication in Project Upland. And ultimately ignited what you are experiencing today,
Raconteur Magazine, Handcrafted Storytelling, Rooted in Landscape and Experience.
This first issue follows the theme of “The Rise.”
The rise of a flame, an idea, of a story. And in the gorgeous cover art by painter Alan Rasmussen, the rise of a covey before a fine birddog. We will also wander with poet Erin Kalpin from prairie to marsh to forest.
In “Big Magic” writer Jordan Wilcher allows us to accompany him into a treasured memory and poems by author Jennifer White give words to the thoughts we don’t voice. Fly fishing isn’t always waiting for a trout to rise as we see in Chloe Nostrant’s “Vignettes on the Clearwater.”
“Rodeo Dog,” a film by Rebecca Hynes, intimately reveals the tradition of rodeo from behind the bucking chutes, while Chloe Nostrant’s photo essay on shearing a herd of heritage Navajo Churro sheep in Montana cuts to a piece of long forgotten history. Simon Tiedge offers a mouthwatering take on preparing venison with inspiration from an unlikely source in his essay and recipe for venison lahmacun.
Over the next eight weeks, we will continue to explore The Rise with additional stories added bi-weekly. Subscribe to our newsletter to be the first to experience these works. And if you are so inclined, reach out to become a contributor. Because we must keep telling stories.
Katie Willis,
Founder/Executive Editor and Raconteur
