Hi Everyone,
Last week I wrote about the curious common denominators in
my three favorite activities: riding, running, and writing. There is, however, one important difference: the
future.
Riding and running are of the moment. Whether I’m strapping
on the helmet or lacing up the sneakers, there’s the expectation of joy –
tangible, physical, sensory experience that lasts as long as the activity (with
lingering sense of achievement and a few muscle aches). Writing is equally a
tangible, physical, sensory experience, but it has a long-lasting virtue that
goes beyond my own individual involvement.
I was reminded of this aspect while reading a fascinating interview with Yngve Slyngstad, CEO of Norway’s sovereign wealth fund (the world's
largest). Explaining the three purposes for the fund’s existence, Mr. Slyngstad
went through the first two (stabilize oil revenues and maintain reserve
funding), but emphasized the third: Generational fund:
“That’s probably the most important part. We generally
believe—at least this is the construct—that there’s no one in our generation
who has any specific entitlement to the revenue stream of the North Sea just
because the revenue is coming in our generation. It is wealth that was there a
long time before this generation existed, and it’s wealth that we should
protect for our grandchildren and their grandchildren.”
Admittedly, a trillion dollars is stunningly tangible, but
Mr. Slyngstad’s words, I feel, also apply to creative endeavors in general and,
in my case, to writing novels and screenplays. Take, for example, the longevity
of stories told in the Bible and Greek mythology, or the still best-selling Tale
of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, and Harry
Potter by J.K. Rowling. And there is King Lear, a stage play William
Shakespeare wrote in 1606, which has been performed, viewed, and read by every
generation since then, most recently adapted for modern viewers in a 2018 film staring
Anthony Hopkins as the title character – which in a way makes our generation’s
most beloved actor 402 years old!
Clearly, people love good stories and keep telling them, one
generation to the next. Admittedly, reading books these days has taken a second
seat to watching actors on screens, fueled by the advent of limitless video
streaming of lifelike action. (At the same time, the technological revolution
also created a terrific market for electronic books, which endowed the joy of
reading with immediate delivery, quality ratings, and endless choices. My novels,
in fact, sell in e-book format 90% of the time.) The next phase, which is
already taking hold, allows for active viewer participation in stories weaved
into video games and virtual reality technology, which promises an ever-rising
sensory immersion and active participation.
Notwithstanding the medium of delivery, a good story (like a
good actor) will always find a passionate audience. That’s why I believe Mr.
Slyngstad’s words apply to all good stories – the classics and those written
today – as they are another form of “wealth that we should protect for our
grandchildren and their grandchildren.” Perhaps I’m being presumptuous, but this
idea motivates me to go on writing novels, empowered by the aspiration to
stimulate my current and future readers, viewers, players, and whatever new
medium comes around to reenergize the art and joy of storytelling for future
generations.
Have a great week,
Avi.
Avraham Azrieli
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