by Heather Hein —
Greetings, Loyal Votarists!
I’m glad you’ve come back to learn new spells. Last time I wrote about story seeds—little grains of ideas that germinate into a story or a novel or maybe even a magnificent ten-volume epic saga, if tended carefully. So, by now I hope you have a little file or notebook filled with glorious ideas and new ways to terrify your devoted readers.
But what good is that?
I’m so glad you asked. Now that you have your list, the next step is to turn that pool of festering things into something you can work with. Those ideas that won’t stop running around in your head like a cracked-out hamster on a wheel, the ones you ruminate on as you try to go to sleep, the ones that divert your attention when you’re driving. That’s what you’re looking for!
When I’m considering which idea to fiddle with, the biggest question I ask myself is: Which one’s screaming the loudest? The answer is usually clear. So, I scoop that one that’s in my mind out of the fermentation vessel with a ladle. It’s grimy, funky, and suspicious at best. I rinse the clinging muck off under fresh literary water to remove sand and grit, exposing its possibilities while I examine its shape, its pliability, its surface tension—then I brave a look inside.
First, a sniff. Can I smell the world from which it came? Is there a bouquet of spring lilacs or perhaps musty rot? How does it feel? Is it pliable and unformed? Or are its edges sharp, its boundaries firm and clear? Are the voices coming from within murmurs from the next room? Or do they clang inside of it like the bells of Saint Mary’s, desperate to come forth and be born?
When I have an idea in my hands that seems to be a solid thing, that’s the one I want. Perhaps it may become my next magnum opus. Now that I have it, the fun part starts. Dissection.
Unspooling the threads inside that lump of ideas, I lay them out next to each other in long lines with the premise at the forefront. I look for the characters. They may not have all their limbs attached and their personalities might be lacking depth.
I like to have a little conversation. Do these folks have anything interesting to say? Are they cool enough to hang out with for an hour and have a beer? A conversation at the bar is long enough to share a single vignette—perfect for a snack-size short story.
If I find myself wanting to schedule another date, it could be that they’re my next novella-worthy character. And if I like them enough to spend a couple of years hanging out (or hate them enough that I want to kill them over and over) I have a novel on my hands.
I keep the ones who catch my interest and toss the rest back into the primordial soup. I don’t put them down the disposal—at least not yet. I let them macerate a while, allowing their creative juices to comingle in the hopes that they may emerge with a more complex flavor later.
Now that I know who these people are, it’s time to put them in a physical place. It doesn’t have to be a well-known place of fashion and high society. LA and New York are great, but creepiness is everywhere—even in someone’s tiny-town backyard. If it invokes fear or discomfort, then I have my setting and I’m one step closer to a real story.
Then there’s the plot. This may seem like the most important part of the story, and for those more interested in plot-driven stories, perhaps that’s true. But I’d like to postulate that if no one cares about the characters you’re writing about, no one’s going to care what happens to them. The plot doesn’t need all its beats presented right away in a pretty little chorus line; if I know my characters and premise, the plot will follow.
Now I have a framework that I can stick on the wall and contemplate further as I prepare for the next step: putting words on the page. Talk about fear!
Until next time!
Your Friendly Neighborhood Spell Caster, Heather Hein
HWA Colorado 