(This is the third in a series, leading writers through the stages from ideas to drafting to a finished, published tale. For context read Writing Rhythm Issues 44 & 45 before this post.)
Okay. I liked what I had so far, but there was so much I didn’t know yet about the mysteries of my own mystery. It was definitely:
Does someone drown in the bayou? Does someone—or something—fall in the bayou? Does John discover a body in there? While we’re at it, did I want to emphasize the age-related infirmity I’d dreamed up in my original backstory sentences, the better for it to slow him down from even getting to the bayou, never mind solving the case?
The answers, I thought, should be yes to all the above. But this only led to more questions:
How would the case connect with the next-door neighbors I added to the backstory? How would the poetry-writing angle connect with the case or the story? What would this case be, anyway? Would I need to revise the backstory again and rethink it all?
I had no choice but to put the project aside and wait for inspiration. It wouldn’t arrive until much later, in the form of an epiphany—or an aha moment. By the time it came, I hadn’t even thought of the old detective John or his backstory in years.
One day I was idly perusing a trove of reports detailing true-life incidents of “messages-in-a-bottle” (yes, I mean when letters and notes are sealed into bottles and thrown in the ocean, occasionally reaching people in other lands years later). As I read through this, something clicked, and I thought of my story again. What if John sees someone dropping not a bottle, but a letter into his bayou? I immediately pictured another character: a little girl I could add in as the daughter of his next-door neighbors, the La Fortes.
What if John was writing a poem on his porch, witnesses this strange event, and thus gets lured into a mystery, because, he’d think: why would a kid be “mailing” a letter into a bayou?
I loved this scenario. Like that, the long stalled-out story started to put itself together. I was energized by this epiphany. If I were a pantser, I’d have jumped onboard the inspiration train that minute and started writing. But since I like a bit of structure, I took this new insight and added the backstory and the questions I’d answered.
I also used those photos I’d saved. As mentioned, I like to embed illustrations in my Scrivener program alongside the text to give me visuals as I write (see examples and further explanation of this in Writing Rhythm Issue #35). Storyboarding in fiction-writing has become quite popular, and can truly help the creator visualize the outline and components of their tale.
Then I brainstormed. And soon, I had a short storyline (and a title I liked). Here’s the beginning of the treatment:
I kept my summary down to a page and a half, because, hey, I’m not that much of a plotter. Then I paused, because before I actually got up and running, I had a logistical issue to address—which we’ll handle as:
Q: How can you tell when a story should be a novel vs. a short story?
A: It’s a matter of how much there is to tell. You don’t want to pad a novel, nor have much more to the plot than you can share in a short story. In Writing Rhythm Issue #20 I discuss length, which is a consideration to face near the beginning of your labors. In the case of “A Letter for the Bayou,” and considering what I’d developed as a storyline, I felt that a short story length was most suitable.
And…as long as we’re on formatting decisions, let’s touch on another.
Point of View?
A traditional point of view—which we’ll discuss in-depth in a future post—is generally first person, inside one character’s head, using “I.” This perspective seemed right to me for the tale I planned.
In Issue #47 we’ll look at before and after drafts for the first pages—then in Issue #48, I’ll show you the entire story, which was published in print and online in Mystery Weekly Magazine.
In the meantime, I’m feeling more inspiration strike (…no, sorry. I was just thinking of this issue’s word).
What is an epiphany?
Note that the definition you want is not always the first one a dictionary offers. Although you definitely get a feel for the word with the initial definitions here in Merriam-Webster, not until “3B” do we see what we really want.
Action Plan
I’d like to recommend Richard Donnally’s Substack “Bookish,” which presents writerly concerns from the prospective of one who knows—always sprinkled with humor. Give it a try for free…
Next Up
The beginning of our story, showing the contrast between the first and last draft.
Issue #47, The First…and Last Draft of the Beginning, Putting Meat on the Bones 4. See you in two weeks!
Craig
As a storyteller, I let the story tell me what needs to be told. Too much thinkin otherwise : )