A question I'm frequently asked.....
I
was asked a question the other day “How do you write a story, do you write it
down beforehand as a note?”
My
answer was simple….”No” I
write as I think of the story line.
Anyone
can write a story if you have a good imagination, the only thing I jot down on
paper for reference is the characters otherwise the story comes straight from
my imagination as it flows. I know in my mind how the story starts and how the
story is going to end the two key factors as the rest (fill in) flows as the
story progresses.
To
write a story the key elements are feeling and description.
(FEELING)
This can be emotions how a person is feeling whether sad or happy, anxiety or
afraid ECT.
If
you can put to type or paper the elements that go with this emotion you can
achieve the desired effect for the reader. We all know the feeling of being
nauseated or afraid, we know how it feels to cry, laugh or become angry. It’s
the very essence that makes us human so if you can bring those emotions to the
surface of the reader your half way there the same goes for cold or warm giving
the reader the ability to bring out those memories of childhood when you went
out into the snow.
(Example)
I went out into the snow all toasty warm with my hat, coat and mitts on, my
hands felt like they were enveloped in a freshly heated blanket and my legs
felt comfortable as I could feel my thermals against my skin. My breath gave
out a plume of smoke as I breathed out but I could feel the bitter cold sting
against my bare cheeks as my eyes began to water and my nose began to run.
Not
wanting to remove my gloves exposing my hands to the bitter cold I simply
rubbed my gloved hand across my nose wiping the snot away feeling disgusted at
the shiny streak across the index finger of my glove. “Disgusting!” I cursed then
continued to play.
After
an hour of frolicking in the snow making a snowman my mitts became soaking wet
chilling my fingers to the bone to the point they were paining through the cold
material, a chilly wind began to blow causing much discomfort as I began to
feel chilled throughout my body.
“Time
to come in before you catch your death” My Mom shouted from the half open door
the cold air taking her breath away.
I
made my way slowly through the deep snow towards the door my boots had become
wet as the snow had fallen into them soaking my socks much like my mitts, my
toes cold like my fingers and my feet squelching with the cold wetness between
my toes inside the soles of my boots.
Shivering
and exhausted I stepped through the door into the warmth of the porch and
removed my mitts and boots, as my digits began to warm up I could feel the
stinging pain and the pins and needles as my blood began to flow again warming
my fingers and toes then my nose began to flow. Mom handed me a fluffy towel to
dry myself as I took the towel from her it felt soft and warm like a duvet then
I wiped my chilled face slyly wiping my nose on the towel…
(Description)
This is important as it allows the
reader to visualize the scene you’re describing, some people say you can be over
descriptive but I disagree. The whole point of description is to give the
reader the ability to see in their own mind the scene your writing. You can
under describe a scene and that’s fine but it can confuse the reader into
visualizing the scene in a totally different way that would possibly distort
the story line and make no sense of it.
The
detective pushes the discolored door as it creaks on its hinges rusted from
years of neglect, the door stopped abruptly ajar. As he runs his hand across
the flaky paint towards the edge of the door to give himself more leverage he
puts his shoulder against the door to force the door open.
Looking
through the crack into the pitch black room he squint’s his eyes trying to make
sense of anything inside the room but nothing is visible. He puts his weight
behind the door and forces the door open wide allowing the light from a
flickering neon strip light from the musky corridor to enter the room revealing
chipped blue painted walls a bare wooden floor covered with dust and two set of
footprints in a confused state as if they had been in disorganized dance.
An
old wooden table sat in the middle of the room gathering dust with an old
newspaper partially opened then he saw an upturned wooden chair on the floor.
There
is a window on the far side of the room with its Orange 60’s style contemporary
curtains drawn the light unable to penetrate the filthy cloth as they hung
there concealing the secret within the room.
Carefully
the detective enters the room walking around the footprints as not to disturb
any evidence imprinting his own in the dusty floor, he made his way around the
wooden table as his footsteps echoed throughout the room then he took a hold of
the dusty curtain with his left hand grasping the material in his clenched fist
pulling it down hard as the curtain pole and curtains fell away to the floor
allowing daylight to flood the room through the dirty window, dust lingered in
the air making the detective cough and splutter. Once he regained his composure
a sickly aroma filled his nostrils making him gag then the secret was revealed
as he looked back towards the door.
On
the floor behind the door was a corpse in a contorted position with a
bloodstain revealing a head wound from a single high caliber shot to the
forehead. The detective removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and
covered his nose and mouth feeling nauseated at the sight that lay before him.
“So
that’s the reason the door wasn’t easy to open” He muttered as he studied the
body noting maggots and bluebottle flies. “This guy’s been dead at least a few
days” He concluded.
These
are two examples of writing a novel as you can see if you have the imagination
anyone can write.
I
first started writing a book 28 years ago but I never finished it as far as I
know it’s probably still gathering dust somewhere.
It
takes time to write a novel and I hear some authors use dictators or write it
down on paper (note taking) I write from the head and it just flows from there.
“Do
you get writers block?” I’ve been asked and quite honestly “Sometimes” But I
take a break then it all starts flowing again.
“Do
I have any regrets?”
“Yes”
I wish I had written 28 years ago and continued BUT it’s never too late J
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