Starting Something Not So New
As I launch out into a new series, countless ideas threaten me with their enticing possibilities. Should I start a series of short stories to compliment my series on poems? Should I start writing a novel just for my blog, a sort of ongoing story like a webcomic? Is that even “a thing” here in America? Should I share some life stories? The list goes on, and they all excite, but what suits the needs of my present circumstances? What matches or slightly extends my level of competence at this present moment? What would draw people, excite them in turn, and invite them into my world?
You may wonder why I’m even putting so much thought into this. “It’s your blog, Rayanne, you can do whatever, right?” Well, you see, for all the excitement that goes along with starting something, I derive far greater pleasure from things that I also finish well. It’s really the rewards I’m looking for, not just the fun of starting something, so whatever I start should be a likely producer from the beginning, right?
“Well, what are you going to do?! Stop keeping us in suspense!” you may be screaming by now. As I pretend to hide my maniacal grin, I admit that I have decided to do what may be considered the most stereotypical option available to blogs such as mine: I’m going to write a series on how to write.
Now before you write me off, let me tell you why my series will be different.
First, it will be short. I am not going to spend the rest of my blogging days telling people about things that, ultimately, they will only be able to use if they put an end to reading blogs and simply sit down to practice themselves. I will offer pointers, my perspective, and eagerly and regularly invite people to try writing themselves, because as far as I’m concerned, there are few things as fun, and that’s the main reason I want to talk about it.
Second, this series will be specifically about how I myself write, not necessarily on how it should be done. I do not pretend to be an expert here. I claim only the privilege of being slightly more experienced than someone who has not yet decided to make stories their legacy.
Third, this series will be organized based on the timeline of my writing process, from idea to publishing and marketing. Essentially, this series, in and of itself, will be a story about how my stories are born.
With that out of the way, let’s get started.
Digging up Seeds
An incredibly common question that gets thrown around the writing community goes as follows: “How do you get your ideas?” In response to this question, writers will often talk about observation, taking copious notes, making two seemingly separate things work together, and so on. But before digging into such detail, I would prefer to answer with a question of my own: “What is your definition of ‘ideas’?”
You see, in my experience, everyone has ideas, all the time, from every source imaginable. Go on a walk. What do you see? Tell me everything. Are there flowers the size of pinheads, pinecones big as your head, and rusty red gravel or gray earth or white sand along twisting paths? Are there towering pines, aspens, and cottonwoods, or overhanging oaks, palms, and bougainvillea? Are there squirrels in the trees, birds in the air, and bugs on every flower? Are there people with their heads bent near each other, a couple pouring over a map, children playing near a creek, or a man with his dog on a leisurely stroll?
Tell me what you don’t see. Men in black creeping through the bushes? Dinosaurs gnawing on the trees’ upmost branches? The secrets people keep behind their smiles? A purple sky? Hills with eyes, flowers with ears, and pathways with mouths? Dogs taking children for walks, cats sitting on people’s heads to protect them, and birds teaching men to speak? Crowds of people in the forest, or completely empty cities? People standing on each other’s shoulders to reach fruit in winter, or public school being taught in parks and beaches?
These are ideas. Each one may be used separately or they may work with all the others to create the root of your story, but everything you see, everything you can’t see, everything within you, everything around you, and everything that was, is, will, may or may not be is an idea. No one lacks for ideas. What people lack is the experience of taking ideas and turning them into stories.
So, try it. Pick an idea, and make it the main character of a little story. Pick another idea, and make it the theme. Pick another, and make it the world, or the rule within the world. Pick another, and make it the villain. Treat stories like a Mad Libs game; they can be anything you want, so let your imagination and creativity run wild.
Ideas Do Not Equal Stories
“But how do ideas become a story?” Well, see, you’re missing a few pieces. Ultimately, stories are built with ideas, questions and emotions. “Ok, ideas I’ve got now, but what kind of questions?”
Let’s take the idea “purple sky” as our starting point. Now ask a question. “Why is the sky purple?” Say I answer, “because someone made it that way.” The natural follow up would be, “Who?” and “To what end?” to which one might reply, “A villian”, and “To keep people from leaving”. To which one might respond, “Why did people want to leave?” or “How does that work?”. And so on, and so forth.
Here’s another example. Idea: Pinecones as big as your head. We could ask, “Why are they that big.” From here, one could answer, “Because a particular kind of tree grows here”, at which point your line of inquiry may lead you to discover all that this world’s knowledge has to offer about pine trees, local flora, or nature-based crafts. Or you could step away from reality and answer the question with something like, “Because everything is bigger here”. The line of inquiry can lead anywhere, but it will always lead to a story if you’re looking for one.
“But what’s this about emotions?” Well, if you want a reader to listen to a story, you must make it easy for them to connect to it. The best way to make it easy to connect is to make it relatable. And the foremost way to make a story relatable is to make it emotional. Not everyone uses the same terms for the same experience, but emotion itself is a universal language. When you read about someone losing a family member you are reminded of similar experiences and the emotions you felt at the time, and then you ascribe those same emotions to the characters you’re reading about. That’s the act of relating to a story. This is a very simple example, however. I plan to really get into the emotional elements of a story in a later post.
So those three element (Ideas, Questions, and Emotions) are the magic sauce of communication. If you can accurately hit all three, you will never fail to reach an audience.
What does a Seed become?
“Ok, Rayanne,” someone may say, “All things are ideas and any idea can be a story, but what is a story?” Well, I’ll give you the short answer, and then the real one.
Think three parts. Think beginning, middle and end. Think what was, is, and will be. Think what is, and what should be, and how one might get from A to B. Think what is, what’s worse, and how one might end up there or how to avoid it. Think about what happened, what lead up to it, and how it resolved.
However, for better or worse, this is just a guideline. I once heard it said that the shortest story may be as short as a single word. That particular teacher then immediately gave this example: “Baby Shoes for Sale, Unused”. This is more than one word, but you get the point. The point being that often what you imply in a story carries far more weight than what you actually said. The point being that not every story has to have an obvious or tangible three act structure. The point being that stories are made up of what you tell and how you tell it, but there isn’t a singular “right way” to do so.
Now, admittedly, some techniques or approaches will work better, on average, than others, perhaps even in the majority of circumstances, but nothing is wrong so long as it’s intentional and effective. As for me, I like threes; Three acts, three points, and three examples. Three perspectives, three themes, and three plotlines. Three main characters, three known cultures, and three… you get the point. If you’ve read anything I’ve written, you’re probably laughing over how obviously I depend upon threes, yet even I take this as a loose guideline.
“Does this mean that right from the beginning when you get an idea you have three points to go along with it, or the three-act structure is already formed?” you may be asking. No, I certainly do not. If anything, what I need in order for a story to really get started, in order to find the seed that is certain to germinate into a beautiful flower of a story, is an idea, a question, and an emotion.
“Yeah, yeah, you said that, Rayanne, but how exactly does it all fit together?” Here’s a recent example: Idea – “I just spotted the littlest pinecone I’ve ever seen”. Question – How would a sentient pinecone feel about its life? Emotion – Impatience, longing, confusion. That is a story being born.
Here’s another example I experienced even more recently: Idea – The most effective agreement is a mutually beneficial one. Question – How are agreements formed? Emotion – Curiosity and frustration. This combination, what I often call “the seed” then leads to a line of inquiry, which is given ample time for exploration.
In the latter example, I had yet to decided that I wanted to tell this story through anthropomorphic animals, I hadn’t even considered what sort of tone the story would have, and I had no idea how far I would explore the idea of “agreements”, or how this might connect to such related themes as “persuasion”, “relationships” and “commitment”. But the combination of these three elements clicked in my mind and I immediately started pursuing the story I knew would come of it. Only later did I begin forming an outline, which is where the three parts really becomes important. But that’s a discussion for next time.
Now before I move on, I want to point out one crucial fact: The more frequently I look for stories, the more numerous the available ideas become. What do I mean by this? Put simply, when I write all the time (for me, this amounts to somewhere between 4 and 10 hours weekly), it becomes natural to regularly brainstorm throughout the week about the stories I’m currently writing, exercising my “writing brain” and making idea production a comfortable place. More than this, when I write often, I finish stories often, and then enjoy great motivation to find the next idea. The faster this process happens, the more attuned I become to the orbits of ideas, questions, and emotions, and those special moments when all three intersect.
My point? If you really want ideas… write. There’s a reason journaling, freewriting, and experimental writing are the most common recommendations to people short on inspiration. The act of writing itself warms up the part of the brain that understands stories, making it receptive to the ideas when they come.
Where Are You Going with This?
For now, what I want you to walk away with is the idea that A) Everyone has ideas, B) Any idea can become a story if you ask the right questions, and C) the most basic foundation of a story may be found in the combination of an idea, a question, and an emotional response.
It should be noted that these three may not always come to you in this order. Maybe it’s the question that comes first, then a surprising answer pops into mind which inspires a reaction. Perhaps you are experiencing an emotion, which brings up all sorts of questions, and it’s the answers which begin to grow inside you until, lo and behold, a bloom bursts open.
It should also be noted that this process does not necessarily have to happen consciously. By the time you sit down to write, the seed may have been sitting in the back of your mind for years, growing in twists and tumbles in the shady places you don’t often rummage through, and all you’ll need to do is start digging around and pulling things into the light and onto the page. For me, it’s a conscious but automatic experience, perhaps because I’ve done it so many times. I see something, feel something, or ask something and then, POP, I have all three elements and I begin hunting down the story like a wounded animal. It’s an exciting experience, a thrill I never seem to tire of, and I hope you get to experience it.
To reiterate, we all have ideas, and so long as it’s something that stands out to you, it can stand out to your readers if presented effectively. Creating a story is a treasure hunt, and adventure, and a battle. For the course of this series, I hope to serve as your humble guide, your fearless companion, and your trusty sword. As the Japanese would say, これからもよろしくお願いします! *
*(kore kara yoroshiku onegaishimasu) = “From here on, please look kindly on me” (which is about as close as they get to saying “I look forward to working with you”)
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