https://erinruffin.com Erin Ruffin Fri, 20 Nov 2020 19:43:05 +0000 https://erinruffin.com en https://erinruffin.com/Running-Through-the-Land-of-Little-Rain Wed, 18 Nov 2020 19:45:13 +0000 Erin Ruffin https://erinruffin.com/Running-Through-the-Land-of-Little-Rain Images 001 <img width="1920" height="1280" width_o="1920" height_o="1280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8b0b401b785878b96591e1b7cc34cddb3081249616ca35c52dbc2b19bdee7175/yDCYlJcg.jpeg" data-mid="89547470" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8b0b401b785878b96591e1b7cc34cddb3081249616ca35c52dbc2b19bdee7175/yDCYlJcg.jpeg" /> <img width="1920" height="1280" width_o="1920" height_o="1280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0db34acf526e1e302e971d0fdca8b7ba0fd394b61c0728b4d8a010725cdb4dc5/AI1V2pyw.jpeg" data-mid="89547463" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0db34acf526e1e302e971d0fdca8b7ba0fd394b61c0728b4d8a010725cdb4dc5/AI1V2pyw.jpeg" /><img width="1920" height="1280" width_o="1920" height_o="1280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/82f3478d96910281402561febaf678fc6f6d641ffbf256b1dc24b01fc3f32b2e/TN1hD-yA.jpeg" data-mid="89547469" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/82f3478d96910281402561febaf678fc6f6d641ffbf256b1dc24b01fc3f32b2e/TN1hD-yA.jpeg" /><img width="1920" height="1280" width_o="1920" height_o="1280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f31914a54ff775ef0477860d1b100a4278a5c2b6c75063cd7df843f5e15aa9f2/mFdz_69g.jpeg" data-mid="89547466" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f31914a54ff775ef0477860d1b100a4278a5c2b6c75063cd7df843f5e15aa9f2/mFdz_69g.jpeg" /><img width="720" height="721" width_o="720" height_o="721" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e6fd8b78281c22c8c61233f3359d94c5b2db6c6bf445aec0e2289950bfd55b6d/mBhVRGew.jpeg" data-mid="89547465" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/720/i/e6fd8b78281c22c8c61233f3359d94c5b2db6c6bf445aec0e2289950bfd55b6d/mBhVRGew.jpeg" /><img width="1920" height="1280" width_o="1920" height_o="1280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8cfa5521f8db5f6ebedd4789b4f50d99d06b1daf3a4cefc000f2dadf241634f1/YmfiBcIA.jpeg" data-mid="89547471" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8cfa5521f8db5f6ebedd4789b4f50d99d06b1daf3a4cefc000f2dadf241634f1/YmfiBcIA.jpeg" /><img width="720" height="721" width_o="720" height_o="721" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0c1671292e485ee4ca8e1a335320bc7554ab4f7594e7090c8e84b56ceb5e9bef/p16Sw2ow.jpeg" data-mid="89547467" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/720/i/0c1671292e485ee4ca8e1a335320bc7554ab4f7594e7090c8e84b56ceb5e9bef/p16Sw2ow.jpeg" />Notes This essay was published by Pirelli World MagazineMilan, Italy, 20181 Mount Whitney is the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States rising 14,505 feet in the Sierra Nevada.2 Los Angeles applied for water rights on the Owens River in the eastern Sierra Nevada, 250 miles away, in 1905. After years of water wars, the 233-mile aqueduct was completed in 1913. Los Angeles’ water supply quadrupled with the new aqueduct, which allowed swift expansion of the city and population.&nbsp; 3 “If one is inclined to wonder at first how so many dwellers came to be in the lonliest land that ever came out of God’s hands, what they do here and why stay, one does not wonder so much after having lived there. None other than this long brown land lays such a hold on the affections. The rainbow hills, the tender bluish mists, the luminous radiance of the spring, have the lotus charm. They trick the sense of time, so that once inhabiting there you always mean to go away without quite realizing that you have not done it.” - Mary Hunter Austin, from her book The Land of Little Rain, 1903Running Through the Land of Little Rain~ Erin Ruffin My alarm goes off at 5am on the days I run. It yanks me from dream back into body, which today is sprawled on a cheap motel bed in my running clothes, ready. I smooth my socks out over my toes and slip them into trail shoes careful not to make any creases. I pull my hair back into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and acknowledge my face in the mirror, the face of an insane person about to run more than 20 miles through one of the deepest valleys in the United States – alone. It will be hot&nbsp;today,&nbsp;I can&nbsp;already&nbsp;feel&nbsp;it on my skin.&nbsp;If I hit the trail soon&nbsp;enough&nbsp;I’ll&nbsp;run through the&nbsp;split in the air&nbsp;that happens on mornings like this&nbsp;when&nbsp;the cold of night still clings to the ground&nbsp;around&nbsp;my legs,&nbsp;while&nbsp;the top half of my body&nbsp;stays&nbsp;warm&nbsp;from sleep.&nbsp;I love that feeling,&nbsp;of being in&nbsp;the physical space between night and day,&nbsp;my&nbsp;reward for getting out of bed. Air is its densest right next to the earth, dense with dust, pollen and exhaustion from finding its way around rocks, roots and vegetation. We don’t imagine air moving through an obstacle course but it is, all the time. This is the “friction layer,” down near the ground, where air moves too slow to circulate what little the sun has had time to warm up. Lay on the ground on a windy day and you’ll know what I mean. That delicious stillness is there, so close to the dirt, only because of the presence of adversity, which is essentially the definition of trail running and also kind of the definition of the desert. The valley I am running through, the Owens Valley, wasn’t always a desert as Mary Austin writes about in “The Land of Little Rain” (1903) when she fought, alone, for the region’s water rights. It is a desert now, though, because she lost and Los Angeles took all of its water.&nbsp;I’ve come to know this corridor on my drives north to Mammoth and Yosemite, by reading Austin’s books over and over again, and lately by running through it.&nbsp; Running through this landscape is not easy but as the friction layer and some life experience has taught me, difficulty can provide extraordinary peace. When you’re actually on a mountain, you stop thinking about molehills. You have to slow down, focus. What isn’t absolutely necessary loses its grip. &nbsp; Though I seem to have been born with an ache for the mountains—and the desert is exactly what mountains are not—these swathes of arid land whose name “desert” literally means “forsaken, uninhabitable” are where I have learned about slowing down and being present. An artist friend of mine who lives in New Mexico once told me if I can learn to love the desert for what it isn’t, I will have grasped its essence. It is the necessary negative space to life’s complicated focal points, and it has only been able to remain that way because of how extreme it is in its nothingness, which is of course something.&nbsp; "Void of life it never is, however dry&nbsp;and villainous the soil…One&nbsp;even finds butterflies&nbsp;about these high, sharp regions which might be called desolate, but will not by me who love them." – Mary Austin The Owens Valley unfolds between the towns of Bishop and Lone Pine and includes some of the sharpest relief stretches you can find in the country. The valley runs along a thrust fault that raised California’s highest peak, Mount Whitney, to 14,505-feet and threw the eastern Sierras’ sharp vertical walls into their dramatic resting places like kings and queens overlooking the valley.&nbsp; This is the backdrop I run towards and up into today. I take only what I absolutely need: the clothes I’m wearing, one extra layer, pocket-warmers, my phone with a satellite map, water, electrolytes, and a little high-calorie food. Trail running demands a lot of attention, a rock the size of your thumbnail can turn your ankle if you’re not careful, and everything your body does is in compensation for the unevenness of the land. The shorter strides, critical importance of your arms, and tricks to keep your lungs expanded especially at elevation can feel awkward at first. Keep running and it begins to feel fluid and natural, you find the path of least resistance with less focus. Your body becomes lighter on the ground, slipping through the landscape like attention in a dream, there but not there. That’s when the stillness creeps in, even as your lungs struggle to pull oxygen as deep as you want and your muscles ache. Something about running in the wild feels exactly like coming home, pain and all. Today I listen to music for the first few miles to get my pace down, which is slow in anticipation of the elevation gain, but I feel strong. As I climb into the Sierras&nbsp;I can feel the temperature drop every 15 minutes or so which can be tough after starting in the hot desert – sweat turns cold and can slow you down at best, give you hypothermia at worst. I have to add a layer and take in some calories earlier than I expected. Over the course of my run the temperature drops by 42-degrees, and climbs all the way back up as I descend again.&nbsp; It’s been said about running that “the blessing comes just outside of your comfort zone” and today that is my mantra, the longest single run I’ve done this year. Step after step, mile after mile: “blessing…outside…comfort zone.” In Austin’s “Land of Little Rain” she says, "For all the toil that the desert takes of a man, it gives compensations, deep breaths, deep sleep and the communion of the stars.”&nbsp;Maybe these blessings are&nbsp;clearer to see when set against the backdrop of utter challenge. Today I’m thinking about rationing out the fuel I packed for this&nbsp;run, not my emails or the international&nbsp;flight I have in a few days.&nbsp;I’m&nbsp;thinking&nbsp;about the tiny lizards that race across the trail at my feet&nbsp;who I don’t want to step on, the two red-tailed hawks that follow&nbsp;me&nbsp;overhead for hours, the&nbsp;desert&nbsp;senna&nbsp;bushes that are&nbsp;blooming&nbsp;glorious yellow and vibrating with bees.&nbsp;I’m thinking about the words&nbsp;Mary Austin left for me here: “As I walk, as I walk / the universe is walking with me / beautifully, it walks before me / beautifully, on every side / as I walk, I walk with beauty.” The natural legacy of this valley was forever transformed by water diversion. The Los Angeles aqueduct allowed a megalopolis – the one that I live in – to be built and&nbsp;inhabited by nearly 20 million people. When I turn on the tap in my Los Angeles home, water from the Sierras comes out if it. My city has helped to catapult this state to the world’s&nbsp;fifth largest economy,&nbsp;but it has come at an indelible cost to the valley I’m running through –&nbsp;sacred&nbsp;Shoshone land, biologically diverse with&nbsp;its own separate microclimate. Now a concrete aqueduct cuts an&nbsp;angular, pale scar through it and I can’t scoff&nbsp;because I need it, but I do wonder what would be growing at my feet if it had never been built.&nbsp;“Trust Indians not to miss any virtues of the plant world," Austin says, but that plant world was changed at a basic level,&nbsp;H2O,&nbsp;and the Native Americans were forced out. My run started at my car near Lone Pine, wound up and into the mountains toward the glory of Mount Whitney, and looped back down to Lone Pine again. I reach my car just as I take in the last of my water and right before my legs refuse another step. After being worried I had underdressed for the lowest temperatures, I’m back in the indifferent heat of the desert. It feels heavier than air, draped over my skin like a blanket. As I stretch and change out of my running clothes, a cool breeze barely slips through the heat like a whisper. After 26-miles, I can’t believe how relaxed I am. I pack all the gear up, stretch my body, eat everything I can find in the car, and point myself back towards home. Stopping every 30 or 40 miles to walk and stretch again, the drive takes forever and only gets worse the closer I get to the city. “Man is not himself only; he is all that he sees, all that flows into him from a thousand sources,” Austin wrote, “He is the land, the lift of its mountain lines, the reach of its valleys.” Which – along with fatigue, some weird bug bites, and a spike in my mileage log – I take with me all the way back to Los Angeles, a new mantra: I am the land…the lift of its mountain lines…the reach of its valleys.&nbsp; And I start planning my next run. https://erinruffin.com/Moby Wed, 18 Nov 2020 19:45:14 +0000 Erin Ruffin https://erinruffin.com/Moby Images 001 <img width="1200" height="1800" width_o="1200" height_o="1800" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/45252ba3de4026e1480034fdc579c511114cf4d380449f00fad545cb93ee1277/MOBY-BOAT_2014-3357.jpg" data-mid="89576976" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/45252ba3de4026e1480034fdc579c511114cf4d380449f00fad545cb93ee1277/MOBY-BOAT_2014-3357.jpg" /> <img width="1800" height="1200" width_o="1800" height_o="1200" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/450694af40f9b2c5252e72899c7c07c29611211f319f518decc7e61890f77ca8/MOBY-BOAT_2014-7801.jpg" data-mid="89576977" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/450694af40f9b2c5252e72899c7c07c29611211f319f518decc7e61890f77ca8/MOBY-BOAT_2014-7801.jpg" /><img width="1800" height="1200" width_o="1800" height_o="1200" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6afa1f34d2e8229e9f7ba525ded6e2174aa3f818eeaa2fbc30d2ae5b64f0cd1c/MOBY-BOAT_2014-7859.jpg" data-mid="89576978" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/6afa1f34d2e8229e9f7ba525ded6e2174aa3f818eeaa2fbc30d2ae5b64f0cd1c/MOBY-BOAT_2014-7859.jpg" /><img width="1800" height="1200" width_o="1800" height_o="1200" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a4ed569baf7ac3a31e2d23606ab85e236072d72499d49b8b6af765c7d80baa69/MOBY-BOAT_2014-7773.jpg" data-mid="89576992" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a4ed569baf7ac3a31e2d23606ab85e236072d72499d49b8b6af765c7d80baa69/MOBY-BOAT_2014-7773.jpg" />Photos by G L Askew II NotesPublished in Boat Magazine Issue 08: Los Angeles1 Tip the world over on its side and everything loose will land in Los Angeles. – Frank Lloyd Wright 2&nbsp;I think if cities were dogs, New York would be some tough but self-contained Malamute-type that probably won’t bite you but if it did, it would go very wrong. London would be like a drunk Jack Russell. But when I think of LA, I think of this sloppy drooling dog from a shelter that is friends with everyone, even though no one really wants him around. He kind of turns up everywhere like, “Hey guys! What’s up?”&nbsp;- Moby Moby’s Place in the World~ by Erin RuffinIn 1965 on 148th Street in Harlem, Richard Melville Hall was born. A distant relation to Herman Melville, he was nicknamed Moby, a pseudonym that would stick and become synonymous around the world with electronic music, veganism, and activism. Moby is often credited for bringing electronic music to the masses, a genre limited in reach at that time mostly to big European cities, and I can attest to this. As a teenager growing up in Iowa, when&nbsp;Play&nbsp;was released in 1999, reaching us, realistically, a year later, the album was an alien to me. The best-selling albums of the time&nbsp;were NAS’&nbsp;I Am…, Britney’s&nbsp;Baby One More Time, TLC’s&nbsp;Fanmail, Backstreet Boys’&nbsp;Millennium,&nbsp;The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill,&nbsp;Californication,&nbsp;Life and Times of S. Carter,&nbsp;My Love is Your Love&nbsp;– it was a big year for big albums and for the most part they were my soundtrack.&nbsp; Enter Moby’s Play.&nbsp;A&nbsp;soulful, emotional album of part electronica, part pop that took music for my friends and me into new directions. We could dance, pine for first loves, and face our inevitable entry into adulthood all at once. We could put its haunting layers of synth and gospel voices and dance grooves at the center of our roiling adolescence, or let it play out in the background. The world connected to Play&nbsp;in a way even music industry giants could never have imagined; it became a phenomenon, and eventual target, for its gradual success and licensing strategy. It was the first album to license every track for use in films, TV shows, and commercials and after slow sales at the start (only 6,000 copies sold in the first week) it has gone on to sell 12 million copies worldwide. Heralded by Rolling Stone as one of the 500 greatest albums of all time,&nbsp;Play&nbsp;changed the game and surprised a lot of people, Moby included.&nbsp; “After Play&nbsp;I was a crazy narcissistic entitled drunk who just wanted to be drunk, high, promiscuous, and on the receiving end of as much attention as I could possibly get. Same with the next couple albums. I was constantly&nbsp;touring,&nbsp;at one point I had an assistant whose only job was to throw parties. I had fun, but the consequences were terrible: debilitating hangovers, failed relationships and ultimately a lot of unhappiness, fear, anxiety, anger, depression. At some point I realized the efforts I was making to control my personal and professional life weren’t yielding results that I liked – artistically and personally I became someone I didn’t like very much.” A native New Yorker, the city is a part of Moby’s DNA. He talks about&nbsp;New York&nbsp;like you&nbsp;might&nbsp;talk about a&nbsp;board game you&nbsp;played a million times as a kid –&nbsp;something&nbsp;conquerable, something completely knowable. And yet our&nbsp;connection&nbsp;to home,&nbsp;and&nbsp;certainly&nbsp;to&nbsp;urban environments, is&nbsp;never static.&nbsp;It’s&nbsp;a guarantee: things will change. Sometimes&nbsp;it’s easy and natural, and sometimes&nbsp;there’s a good&nbsp;bit of pain involved.&nbsp; “If you do something in public someone is going to hate you for it, that’s just a given,” Moby says. “The Village Voice wrote this review and the opening line was: ‘Before seeing his concert I knew that everyone hated Moby, after seeing the concert I understand why.’ And I’m not looking for pity – I’m just saying there was so much negative, really truly vitriolic press directed towards me. It actually got to the point where I would play concerts and they wouldn’t be listed. The real turning point was when someone sent me a link to a Gawker or a Gothamist piece and, fine, it was snarky (because everything they write is snarky) but one of the comments was someone writing a murder fantasy about me. It was very graphic, about stabbing me to death and watching me bleed in the street.” So what the hell happened? There are many explanations to Moby’s rise to fame and so-called fall from grace.&nbsp; In Pitchfork’s review of Play&nbsp;the journalist insists, “Moby's flaw is that he comes across as too genuine – too&nbsp;wholesome.”&nbsp;Crowds shift and change, and musical taste can be an easy-to-gain form of social currency. New York simply went off of Moby; his “cultural capital,” as Carl Wilson calls it, became thin, too cheap for New York. It happens to most artists who rise to his level of visibility. New York will always move on, but when New York is your hometown the&nbsp;affects&nbsp;of this run a bit deeper. When your own home decides its social status is tied to how seriously it can slate you, it might be time to leave. “I simply started thinking, ‘Am I really that much of a masochist that I want to live in a place where so many people hate me?’” Moby started asking himself, “The irony being that this is the city where I was born… but life is short, why spend it with people who hate you?” And so, a few years ago, Moby moved to Los Angeles. He renovated a gorgeous castle-like house in the Hollywood Hills, and he gets on with his life. His music studio in New York, he tells me, was a small bedroom full of equipment. In Los Angeles his studio is a small bedroom full of equipment. He still loves to work, he’s published a book of his photography which he exhibited this year, and his tour schedule, mostly DJing, is still jam-packed but he does all of&nbsp;it sober now. There’s an&nbsp;ease to Moby, which&nbsp;at times is hard to believe, given the road his career has taken, a career where success is based so much in popularity. As easy as it would be to say there’s a grasping or nervousness to Moby and his&nbsp;belief in&nbsp;his own work, I certainly didn’t see it. He seems really, truly happy. “You’ll never find someone aggressively saying that LA is the greatest city in the world,” Moby says. “What you might find is a bunch of people saying that they’re happy living here, that they like it. There’s an urban humility to LA where other cities are so convinced of their own supremacy. I&nbsp;like living a place where people just get on with what they’re doing.” Our innate subjectivity is possibly strongest when applied to our sense of home and place in the world. It’s impossible to view a new place without evaluating it with criteria deeply rooted in our own past experiences. People who move to LA from New York or London love to talk about the lack of public transportation systems here, but that’s not an issue for people who have moved from Missouri. The fact is, New York wasn’t easy on Moby, and that experience (along with other factors, Moby says) leaves a bruise, and perhaps the best medicine is a strong dose of positivity and optimism, both of which Los Angeles provides continually and in bulk. &nbsp; “It’s standard for people to malign and denigrate LA, but the funny thing is - we love everyone,” Moby says. “San Francisco hates LA; we love San Francisco. New Yorkers malign LA; we still love New York. London talks shit on LA; we lovvve&nbsp;London. We don’t know enough to dislike anyone. We’re like the goofy, happy fat kid that just doesn’t understand his place in the world.” Moby says the general happiness here makes it a great place to do things, and a great place to never do anything. Moby is currently working on his next album, a memoir about his time in New York from 1989-99, more photography, some film and TV projects, even some restaurant ideas. But he insists he doesn’t care if any of them ever happen, much less if they end up successful. When I ask him how he’s gotten to that point, how he’s gotten past the desire to win New York back over, he tells me he’s learned a lot from his own mistakes, from his own success and failure, and from the success and failure of people around him.&nbsp; “Looking at my own life and the lives of those around me, focusing on the end result doesn’t seem to make anyone happy. You have all these finance people and studio heads having great success, but they are miserable,” Moby says. “I still like making things, but if I make a record and I put it out into the world and my criteria for evaluating its success is how complete strangers feel about it, it’s not very empowering. It’s handing wellbeing over to people you’ll never meet. I’d much rather have more manageable criteria for wellbeing and success. Why not make an effort to have a sense of self and an emotional life that is based on what’s actually in front of me?” Of course this is easier said than done, particularly in a financial sense, but the general focus on the process, and the journey through it, is something that seems totally acceptable in LA. This city accepts a lot of failure, it accepts unfinished projects (it’s home to millions of them), it accepts the loose ends, it accepts the dreamers, it accepts New York’s rejects, and it demands relatively very little in return. Maybe it’s a creative cop-out. Maybe it lacks an edge or leans towards comfort and away from that almighty creative struggle we’re meant to worship.&nbsp; “If I’m going to be a cliché, I’d much rather be an open-minded, healthy, Southern Californian cliché who goes hiking every day than a bitter, cynical drunk cliché who is hung over and mad at the world. I’ve spent a lot of time being that cliché,” Moby says. “Only a few decades.” For me, back in 1999, Play&nbsp;offered space within its layers to be introverted, to turn inwards at a time in my life when finding that delicate balance between holding on and letting go, between staying put and growing up, was totally of the essence. Talking with Moby it seems his personal challenge, and perhaps his inadvertent message, is exactly that – know what to hold on to, and most importantly what to let go of.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Robert Noyce, a Californian and co-founder of Intel, summed&nbsp;up the optimism that lives&nbsp;here quite happily:&nbsp;"Don't be encumbered by history. Go off and do something wonderful." And what’s so wrong with that? https://erinruffin.com/New-Rules-of-Storytelling Wed, 18 Nov 2020 19:45:15 +0000 Erin Ruffin https://erinruffin.com/New-Rules-of-Storytelling Images 003 <img width="2774" height="1530" width_o="2774" height_o="1530" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a7ffbe6903dec7553e09918a9e8beeef5db4e1c4ff336cc244b250f2f23e87d0/Screen-Shot-2020-11-21-at-12.jpg" data-mid="89627301" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a7ffbe6903dec7553e09918a9e8beeef5db4e1c4ff336cc244b250f2f23e87d0/Screen-Shot-2020-11-21-at-12.jpg" /> <img width="1200" height="1080" width_o="1200" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cb6ea788d838ead354a2fe204d130cacf34dac11f1dee65aef88c73ef0d13188/WP_the7rules-02b-02.png" data-mid="89626970" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cb6ea788d838ead354a2fe204d130cacf34dac11f1dee65aef88c73ef0d13188/WP_the7rules-02b-02.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1080" width_o="1200" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2fcdb44a5dd0754eccb247ad3018532859864277fbcaa809836dbdc9c8a94112/WP_the7rules-Character-04.png" data-mid="89626971" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2fcdb44a5dd0754eccb247ad3018532859864277fbcaa809836dbdc9c8a94112/WP_the7rules-Character-04.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1080" width_o="1200" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/fa958244043ee45417d040a9a2f2271e222b1cf1f90892c9a242101eb3a5f0c2/WP_the7rules-Theme-05-05.png" data-mid="89626972" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/fa958244043ee45417d040a9a2f2271e222b1cf1f90892c9a242101eb3a5f0c2/WP_the7rules-Theme-05-05.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1080" width_o="1200" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/853f07a5439e59b2ab39788aa267f2a959abc882fa842a94d3300ae70d5fc0b7/WP_the7rules-Theme-06-05.png" data-mid="89626973" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/853f07a5439e59b2ab39788aa267f2a959abc882fa842a94d3300ae70d5fc0b7/WP_the7rules-Theme-06-05.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1080" width_o="1200" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4b35b8b267a805e11ed75dd301dade359c99e575012d693c93c5bca330352769/WP-Rhytmn-06-06.png" data-mid="89626976" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4b35b8b267a805e11ed75dd301dade359c99e575012d693c93c5bca330352769/WP-Rhytmn-06-06.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1080" width_o="1200" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6917b832eff44c16597f803918363b929cd3517c71fc33037c191619e3e3d6c6/WP-Decor-07-07.png" data-mid="89626975" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/6917b832eff44c16597f803918363b929cd3517c71fc33037c191619e3e3d6c6/WP-Decor-07-07.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1080" width_o="1200" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/355a153329878b2b195c3a3c0d0bc8dfd9ceedb57187c978de388feb4723156f/WP-Spectacle-08-08.png" data-mid="89626977" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/355a153329878b2b195c3a3c0d0bc8dfd9ceedb57187c978de388feb4723156f/WP-Spectacle-08-08.png" /> NotesThis project was published by WePresent by Wetransfer Click on each section below to read the new rules. Interviews and edits by Erin Ruffin. Rule 1 Hiro Murai on Plot Rule 2 Cait Oppermann on Character Rule 3 Carmen Maria Machado on Theme Rule 4 Samin Nosrat on Dialogue Rule 5 Hrishikesh Hirway on Rhythm Rule 6 Olimpia Zagnoli on Decor Rule 7 Reshma Gajjar on Spectacle New Rules of Storytelling&nbsp;~ by Erin Ruffin Over 2000 years ago, Aristotle identified what you need to tell a good story, and today we are still following his instructions. High time for a refresh, I asked seven creatives ranging from the worlds of food and film, podcasts and photography, to rethink what makes a good story in today’s world.&nbsp; Aristotle is considered “the last man who knew everything” and so, despite the passing of so much time, his storytelling formula hasn’t really been tinkered with.  His seven elements – plot, theme, character, dialogue, décor, rhythm, and spectacle – still form the backbone of what we read, watch and listen to today.&nbsp; But the world is a completely different place thanks a lot to time and, mostly, to the internet. Today stories are told and consumed relentlessly, every minute of every day, from binge TV to political podcasts to video albums. We protest, celebrate and mourn by telling stories.&nbsp; And then there's the greatest stage of all, social media, where we play the lead character in a carefully constructed story of our own life with god-like control over all the elements – dialogue (comments), décor (succulents), spectacle (selfies in bikinis). You get the idea.&nbsp; Where storytelling was an event back in Aristotle’s time, now it’s a way of life. And so it seems we should reevaluate what it takes to tell a good one, and, while we’re at it, who gets to decide that. We know the quantity&nbsp;of stories in the world has changed, but have the rules? In asking some of today’s best storytellers to break down this ancient formula block-by-block, we set the stage to redefine what it takes to tell a good one.&nbsp; https://erinruffin.com/Branded-Content-Index Fri, 20 Nov 2020 19:43:05 +0000 Erin Ruffin https://erinruffin.com/Branded-Content-Index Erin Ruffin BRANDED WORKCREATIVE DIRECTIONBRAND STRATEGYBRANDED EDITORIALCOPYWRITINGPRODUCT MARKETING&nbsp; ★ &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;Branded Work ★ &nbsp; &nbsp; Editorial Work ︎&nbsp; &nbsp; About︎&nbsp; &nbsp; Instagram︎ (sustainability)2025 Annual Sustainability Report Califia Farms (health)Brand + Website CopyDr. Max(food)Brand + Website Copy Califia Farms (food)Brand + Product Copy Sol-ti (hospitality)Website CopySurfrider Hotel Malibu (film + TV)Kubo and the Two Strings Laika + Focus Features (hospitality)Website CopyHotel June Malibu (hospitality)AC HotelsMarriott International (film + TV)The Beatles: Eight Days a Week Ron Howard + Hulu (food)Secret Menu Magazine DoorDash (tech)Shot on an iPhone Apple (food)Chris&nbsp;Paul’s Plant-Based SnacksGood Eat’n (education)XQ InstituteApple + Laurene Powell Jobs (food)Pasta, The True Language of ItalyAll in the Family (film + TV)The DriverNascar + Hulu (beauty) This is Kate Kate Somerville (food)Comfort KitchenCalifia Farms + Chef Carla Hall (sustainability)2024&nbsp;Annual Sustainability Report Califia Farms