Being In a Place

Every so often, I find myself feeling down, wondering where the magic that bound me to stories has gone, or forgetting about it completely. I get so caught up in analyzing, picking apart storywriting techniques, that I forget the most important reason stories are so powerful.

Stories transport you to another place, another time, another life. The lessons you learn, the experience you gain, the questions you mull over in your mind, all come from seeing through another person’s eyes, feeling their body, breathing the same air. You learn because they learn. You see because they see. You understand because they understand. This is the difference between a story and an essay. In other words, a story draws people into it when it feels real. If a book pulls this off really well, I find myself with the same uncertainty about the future as in real life, feeling that the rest of the book is not decided yet, and any of a few outcomes are equally possible. This illusion of reality is the hidden source of magic that gives stories such draw and keeps readers engrossed in them for hours at a time.

The big question is how we can give stories this power of illusion. I think the answer is not to force it, but allow it to come to you. I have heard writers speak of the creative process as listening while the stories come to them, as if already existing in the ether. It is as if the writer is not creating them, but only solidifying them onto the page. In fact, I have this experience myself every now and then. It is not random, but happens when you are in a certain frame of mind. For me, this is most often when I am doing a repetitive task that does not require mental activity, like walking. With practice, writers can get themselves into this frame of mind more easily.

When you do this, you may find that your characters are doing things that are not directly relevant to the story. For instance, if they are on a camping trip, you may find yourself describing the details about how the viewpoint character builds the fire, with the kindling in the middle and larger sticks in a teepee structure around it. You’ll find yourself describing how the earth feels beneath their feet, how the meat sizzles and smells good as it cooks. You’ll find yourself writing a conversation about this or that, like real people would have around a campfire. In other words, it will feel like a real night out. Just let it happen.