Mark Twain gave a piece of advice that many pundits consider the essence of the author’s craft: “Write what you know.” A lot of new writers take this to mean physical objects or places or skills. I know a lot of things. I know how to change a tire. I know how to bake a soufflé. I know the scientific names of beings animalculous. While I know that subjects like these make interesting articles, I also know things like this won’t make a very interesting story on their own. Here’s an example:
I was on my way to pick up Jenny for our first date when I felt the tire go flat. Pulling off the highway, I turned the engine off and ran to the back of the car. I pulled all the stuff out of the trunk because the spare tire and jack were on the bottom. I assembled the jack, stuck it under the frame, and started to lift the car. When the tire was completely off the ground, I grabbed the lug wrench. It took me four tries to find the right side to use. After that, it didn’t take long to loosen the nuts and take the flat off the hub.
Boring!
My favorite writing teacher has many credits as a screenwriter. For cartoons. I highly doubt that he personally knows any giant, drum-playing sharks, teenaged secret agents, or tiny blue-skinned people. However, he did know how people act and feel in given situations. He says that Mr. Twain really meant “write from experience.”
How did it feel to fall in love for the first time? How did it feel to lose that love? How did the death of a family member or pet affect you? How did you feel the first time you rode a bike without training wheels? All the experiences you have you can use for your characters.
Combine what you know with what you’ve experienced, and you can create highly believable scenes. Dig down and try to relive the experience on paper. What thoughts were going through your mind? Were there any particular sounds or scents that you remember? Now, combine the experience (which provides the scenario) with something you know about (which provides action) and see what happens. I’ll rewrite the scene above, adding what I thought, what I felt and what my senses told me:
I felt, rather than heard, the thump-ta-thump of the flat tire, and pulled off to the side of the highway. “Why did this have to happen NOW?” I asked myself. Already fifteen minutes late to pick up Jenny for our first date, I quickly shut off the engine and raced around the car. Pulling out all the stuff from the trunk, I grabbed the jack and spare from the compartment on the bottom. “Why did I pick white jeans to wear? I can’t mess these up or she’s going to think I’m a slob. One that can’t tell time, besides.” The fumes from the diesel trucks rumbling by made me sick to my stomach as I tried to lever the jack under the car without getting my clothes dirty. “This is going to take forever. We’ll never make it to the show on time. She’ll never want to see me again. Once this gets around, I’ll never get another date with anyone. EVER!”
It is left as an interesting exercise for the reader to complete this novel.
(Extra credit: Rewrite it as a 3rd person narrative)
So, draw upon your experiences to set the stage to allow characters to act. “Sure,” you say. “I’ve never experienced losing a power pod outside the orbit of Pluto with no chance of getting to a refueling station. How can I write about that?” The fun thing about your experiences is that they’re adaptable. Ever find yourself driving with the needle on “E” in the middle of nowhere with the nearest filling station fifty miles away? Yeah, same thing.
So, to sum things up. Things you know provide action. Things you’ve experienced provide the scenario. Combine the two and you’ve got the makings of highly believable scenes in your stories.
Author Frank M. Longo, Jr.’s, short story, “Cold as Ice”, wll appear in Xchyler Publishing’s Mind Games anthology, slated for release July 31, 2013.