Writing Right with Dmitri: Experimenting with Thoughts
Created | Updated Jul 8, 2018
Writing Right with Dmitri: Experimenting with Thoughts
Did you ever start telling a child a bedtime story, only to find that things worked out differently from your expectations?
Malcolm: Once upon a time there was this young prince and he decided that he wanted to go for a drive. And, he got his driver and they started driving, driving, driving, driving a lot. And, they drove so much that he fell asleep. (beat) And, then he woke up, and he realized that they were still driving... This was a very long trip –
Cole: Dr. Crowe. You haven't told bedtime stories before?
Malcolm: Not too many, no.
Cole: Well, you have to add some twists and stuff.
Malcolm: 'k, some twists. Like what kind of twists? Give me an example.
Cole: Maybe they run out of gas.
Malcolm: They run out of gas. That's good, ‘cause they’re driving, right?
The Sixth Sense
Grownups want to fall asleep, that's the problem. But yeah, you have to add some twists and stuff.
Whether you're telling a bedtime story, relating an anecdote to some friends, or writing a blog, Guide Entry, or fictional tale, you still need a plot – an internal map for the story to follow. The map may not be obvious to the listener or reader. In fact, it probably shouldn't be, if you want them to stay awake. Some parts will be familiar and expected: you never want to be so unpredictable that they can't keep up with the action. But there'd better be some 'twists and stuff'. Thanks, Cole, that's a good thought.
The thing is, a story is a thought experiment. Whether it's a story about something that really happened, or one you just made up, you're experimenting in your mind when you tell it. You start from a premise or setup: one you chose, or maybe your teacher or editor did. Either way, you start there, you marshal your facts or fictions, and you set your story in motion. Where it goes may surprise even you. When that happens, it's all gravy. You may learn even more than your readers or listeners. All you have to do is approach your story material in the same spirit of interrogation and anticipation as your likely audience. This can be really rewarding.
A short while ago, I wrote a short story called 'The Planet of Happy Childhoods'. It's kind of obvious where I started. I was annoyed – and more than a little worried – by the fact that adults in western cultures seem so obsessed with indulging their 'inner children'. Films based on cartoons and comics sell better than anything else. In the United States, at least, junk food is really popular. Grown people will spend their holidays and disposable income in garish theme parks. In fact, it may not occur to them that there are alternatives. I don't think it's good for people to be like that. Heck, I didn't think that when I was a child. Admittedly, I was a weird kid. But back to the subject.
Once I had the premise of the story – planet full of wannabe kids – I needed to put in some 'twists and stuff'. So I thought: who are these pseudo-infants vulnerable to? The Grunians appeared. Those who live for wish fulfillment will often fall prey to charlatans and scam artists. The story wrote itself from there, and I let it. I threw in a few jokes and had fun composing a television ad to throw up on Youtube. That was easy, because the Internet Archive has lots of old television ads aimed at kids. They're popular because of 'nostalgia'. In fact, Netflix is currently running a series called 'The Toys That Made Us'. It's going into a second season. In other words, other people's nostalgia for childhood can be profitable.
The ending surprised me, though: I hadn't expected it to be so bleak. I'd really intended to turn what might have been a rant into a bit of a joke. Alas, the story pulled in another direction. When it was done, I sat back in astonishment. I'd learned something, which I hadn't really expected to do. (I can be obtuse sometimes.) The childhood-nostalgia business may, in fact, be more dangerous than it looks1.
That's the writer's bonus: you can learn from what you write. It's true for all artists, really: poets, painters, dancers, musicians all benefit most from what they're doing. They get the nuances. They went through the learning process. They get the fun of doing. So do you, whether you write a blog post in a journal, an entry for the Guide, or a story for the Post. If you open yourself up to the possibilities of your thought experiment, and share it with us, we can learn, too.
Now post a thread and tell me your ideas about childhood. I double-dog dare you. (And hope you will.)
Writing Right with Dmitri Archive