Writers in the Storm

A blog about writing

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Thoughts on "Originality" in Fiction

Turning Whine Into Gold
by Kathryn Craft

 

Earlier this year I ran across a social media post by Lauren Vaknine that evokes a concern so common among writers I thought we might discuss it here (used with permission):

“I watched the film Goodbye Christopher Robin last night, and seeing the adoration [A.A. Milne] got from creating Winnie-the-Pooh, it made me upset to live in a time when writers will never really be fully original. Yes, we can tell stories from a different perspective, but doesn’t it feel sometimes as if everything has been done and that same excitement for new stories, ones that excited people, unraveled new ways of thinking and in some cases, changed the world, will never happen again?”

Let’s lay some reality track: the glut in the market is real. The twitchiness among publishers, in these times of unstable political and social change, is real. Trends are real.

So where can we find the hope on which to hang our creative efforts?

First, let’s step back for a clearer historical perspective. We can use Winnie-the-Pooh as an example. The big step forward Milne made was to anthropomorphize stuffed animals, right? Hmm, maybe not. Stories have been attributing human characteristics to animals and objects since before written history. Examples can be found in almost every ancient culture, such as those featuring the trickster characters of Anansi the spider from west Africa and Br’er Rabbit of south and central Africa.

A timeline of select titles shows that Winnie-the-Pooh was doing nothing new.

300 BCE: The Panchatantra, an ancient Indian collection of interrelated animal fables in Sanskirt verse and prose.

100 CE: Aesop’s Fables embedded the notion of the “wily” fox and the “proud” lion.

~interlude while we wait for development of the printing press~

1865: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
1883: The Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi
1894: The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling
1901: The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter
1908: The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
1922: The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
1923: Bambi, a Life in the Woods by Felix Salten
1926: Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne

Did this rich history make Winnie-the Pooh feel like a knock-off? Instead, maybe it set a stage: George Orwell’s Animal Farm (1945)—an adult political novel featuring anthropomorphized animals—was named in 2005 by Time magazine as one of the 100 best English-language novels.

Think of your own experience: was the Velveteen Rabbit any less moving because 39 years earlier, Pinocchio had also longed to become real? Did this timeline of predecessors drain the emotional power from E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web, which didn’t arrive until 1952?

It would seem that one’s perception of originality aligns with one’s chronological frame of reference.

If you suffer from despair born of the perception that there is nothing new under the sun, here are some contributing factors you may not have thought about.

1. The social media bubble.

If your Facebook friends are mostly writers, you are living in a rarified bubble that Facebook works to reinforce. If it seems that everyone you know is writing, it’s because they may very well be! But your survey sample is similar to going to an AA meeting and finding that everyone is an alcoholic. While social media may seem like your world, many people still exist who have never met a writer. Many non-writers aren’t on social media. Guess why? They don’t like to write. But they may be looking to read a story just like yours.

2. Zeitgeist.

We can’t always explain the timing of contagious ideas, although the fact that titles with words derived from the word “liar” may not be too surprising at present. Who knows why multiple historical novels about Zelda Fitzgerald or the Spanish flu come out at the same time—but it happens. Many artists have said that an idea was in the air and they grabbed it—Elizabeth Gilbert writes of her experience with this in Big Magic—but even when more than one hung on, each can’t help but give it their own spin.

3. Inexperience.

We tend to reach within the easy boundaries of our life experience for our early novels, since a storytelling education is such a huge learning curve in itself. Eventually we will have to cast further afield for story material. Take more risks to amuse ourselves.

Maybe originality is a destination, not a starting point. That jives with the publishing reality. Truly original work requires a huge gamble, since the publisher won’t be sure how to market it. They may be more likely to take this risk with a known bestselling novelist (= loyal readership) who’s stretching, as opposed to a debut author.

4. Reading on trend.

Trends help the industry because readers want another book they liked as much as the last. If you don’t want to reinforce trends, stop reading in them. If you write women’s fiction, read just enough to know what’s selling and then read science fiction, a thriller, a young adult love story, and then creative nonfiction on a topic of interest. Read a poem. You’ll be supporting original work with your dollars, and the cross-fertilization will help your brain arc in new, exciting ways. Your comp will look less like “Bridget Jones meets the Nanny Diaries” and more like Bambi Meets Godzilla. (I loved that short!)

Just because sales and marketing departments love a trend doesn’t mean that fresh-seeming novels aren’t being written. I just (finally, I know) read Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife (2003) and I’ve never read anything like it. I adored Bryn Greenwood’s All the Ugly and Wonderful Things (2016), along with each one of her 16 points of view. No doubt about it, novels are out there making fresh tracks.

Let’s agree that we can take the word “original” off the table. How are you ensuring that your novel will be a fresh take? What novels have you read lately whose creativity really knocked your socks off? Who here has read more than one novel on a single historic event and can compare original elements?

 

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About Kathryn

Kathryn Craft  is the award-winning author of two novels from Sourcebooks, The Art of Falling and The Far End of Happy, and a developmental editor at Writing-Partner.com, specializing in storytelling structure and writing craft. Her chapter “A Drop of Imitation: Learn from the Masters” was included in the writing guide Author in Progress, from Writers Digest Books. Janice Gable Bashman’s interview with her, “How Structure Supports Meaning,” originally published in the 2017 Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market, has been reprinted in The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing, both from Writer’s Digest Books.

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5 Tips on Writing a Trauma Backstory

Life is hard and as writers, we aren’t doing our jobs unless our characters struggle. Am I right? Good fiction isn’t borne out in the comfortable and easy living we might dream about, but in the tension and conflict between characters and/or their own desires. Giving a character a backstory that includes trauma (part of their backstory at any rate, because no one wants to be defined by that one awful thing that happened or they witnessed) is a great device to create inner tension, and often leads to conflict. When writing in Deep POV (point of view), the intent is to be as authentic and real as possible. It’s a personal observation that trauma backstory either irreparably cripples a character (think Lisbeth Salander from The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest) or doesn’t seem to affect them at all (think any of the principle characters from Criminal Minds – I mean, how much trauma can you witness and still not have it affect outside relationships?). And sure, there are outliers who struggle with severe PTSD and some who seem able to brush anything off, but for the majority of us the reality of a past (or backstory) with trauma is somewhere in the middle. The power of Deep POV is the ability to layer emotion and create realistic reactions.

5 Truths About A Traumatic Past Writers Need To Remember

Trauma Requires Writing Secondary Emotions
Traumatic events, current or historical, are the equivalent of an emotional tsunami. Primary emotions are the raw, knee-jerk emotional reactions to stimuli we all experience and are the most common emotions given to characters. Some primary emotions that could be triggered by trauma would be: fear, frustration, guilt, self-doubt, hopelessness, loss (physical or psychological), powerlessness, loathing, denial, sad, etc. When someone is hit by a tidal wave of primary emotions like that, secondary emotions are triggered. Secondary emotions are emotions are caused by one or more powerful primary emotion and include things like: anger, anxiety, and shame. Some of the secondary emotions that could be triggered because of trauma might be: anger, shame, anxiety, bitterness, resentment, numbness, and grief. Don’t be lazy. As a writer, you need to dive deep into these secondary emotions and layer the primary emotions so the reader can experience the loss, anxiety and trauma with your character. Writers Helping Writers has a great entry on overcoming abuse that walks through trauma and character motivation. Historical Trauma Needs Authenticity In the Present For someone who’s experienced past trauma, (emotional, physical, sexual, verbal) each time the anxiety is triggered doesn’t mean that the actual events are recalled with any amount of detail except in severe cases (like with combat veterans). For someone with PTSD, unless it’s severe, their body reacts to the past trauma as though it’s happening all over again but they don’t actively recall the event. They’re more likely to avoid thinking of it at all unless they’ve gone to counseling or there’s some other explanation for that level of self-awareness. Writers need to treat this carefully when using trauma as backstory. Physiological symptoms are one way to signal to a reader that the character (or at least their body) is reliving a traumatic event even if they won’t think about it. A woman who was abused as a child will not want to relive the abuse in her mind every time a man larger than her walks into a room. Who would want to live like that? Those who can’t not relive that event often turn to something to numb the memory whether it’s a substance or some other addiction. However, this woman might notice her heart rate accelerate, she might begin to sweat or blush for what feels like no reason. She may maneuver herself to make sure she can make a quick exit if needed or insist on sitting at the end of the row or table. These are all symptoms of anxiety. By providing this evidence of what this woman is experiencing, the reader can draw the conclusion that she’s struggling with something from her past.
With backstory, you want to answer one question and leave the reader with two more.
Past Trauma Has Three Main Lasting Reactions: Fight, Flight or Freeze Most people have heard of the fight or flight survival instinct humans are typically born with. Victims of trauma (or perceived trauma) when the primary emotions from that trauma are triggered, experience the one of three (or an overlap of) survival instincts: fight, flight or freeze. If they choose flight they’ll look to escape the situation or the possibility of a similar situation (numbness, isolation, withdraw from society). Fight usually comes out as anger or rage either directed at themselves or other people. If they choose freeze, they’ll stay when they should run, refuse to acknowledge the effect of the trauma, catatonic, constantly overwhelmed, no energy, etc. Read more about Fight, Flight or Freeze and how they overlap here. Emotional Triggers Caused By Past Trauma Have A Desire At Their Foundation When anxiety is triggered, there’s an immediate flood of primary emotions and secondary emotions that come to the front almost instantly. That’s why much of the time, we aren’t aware of the primary emotions causing the secondary emotion. However, at the base of the emotional trigger is a vow, a promise they’ve made to themselves, or some kind of motivation. Examples of these desires or motivations might be:

never to be a victim again, never let someone hurt me again, not be made a fool of again, never let them see me cry, never let them see I’m hurting, never be hurt emotionally again, never trust a man again, etc.

These inner desires may be expressed through internal dialogue as a vow, but this kind of survival instinct could also be shown through other internal dialogue or choices. What these desires signal is that there’s a wound that’s still festering the character wants to keep covered up and hidden. What they need to do is expose that lie to the air and let it heal, work through the primary emotions causing it all. The Myers Briggs personality tests claims that a large majority of people are equipped with enough introspection to sort these things out, but some personalities do it better than others so it’s unrealistic to think that your character (barring some other obstacle such as psychopathy or narcissism) isn’t capable of this growth. Here’s a great article that talks more about those personalities and how they deal with introspection. There’s a lot of room in these situations for character arc. Let these characters learn as they go through the story. If they begin the story having already overcome the trauma, make sure there’s real justification for giving them the trauma to begin with. Don’t end the story with them as broken and floundering as when readers first meet them, they must grow somehow. Something has to give, right? No one repeatedly signs up to be beaten and abused by their past, either they get over it, they get even, or they find some way to forget about it/numb the pain. Causes of Historical Trauma The thing about PTSD and anxiety is that the effects and consequences are very individual. It’s usually a result of feeling powerless (having no voice), and hopelessness at being unable to change the situation or outcome. Two people can experience the exact same trauma and one person can walk away with PTSD and the other not, they both might, neither of them could have PTSD. They could both have PTSD to differing degrees or have different triggers. Read more about healing from emotional and psychological trauma here. Those feelings of powerlessness and hopelessness can be caused by a wide variety of situations that to some people may not seem all that traumatic at all, so personality can play a large part in this. Having surgery or intrusive medical procedure at a young age can leave someone with anxiety. Neglect, abuse, or simply an unsafe living environment can cause trauma. Loss or separation from a parent at a young age can cause trauma. Basically anything that forces a child to feel insecure can cause trauma.The younger a child is when this trauma is experienced, the more devastating the adulthood anxiety can be. As a writer, you don’t need your character to experience some kind of catastrophic attack (rape, kidnapping, torture) to experience anxiety. Being locked in a pitch-black room as a child just once can cause lifelong anxiety. The degree to which the adult allows this anxiety to define them, or shape their thinking (often trauma leads to shame), the more the consequences will become evident in day to day life. Remember that whatever sort of trauma is given to a character, to layer the emotions the event caused. Make sure to realistically portray how the character thinks or remembers the traumatic event. However, don’t be afraid to make that character uncomfortable, to throw them head first into whatever their worst fear is and let them become stronger because of it. Those are the characters readers cheer for!
What kind of historic trauma have you given your characters? What challenges have you encountered? Finally, if you've discovered any great resources for writing about trauma, please share them in the comments!
Announcement: Lisa is doing a free 5 Day Deep Point Of View Challenge on Facebook starting October 22. It'll be in a closed Facebook group. You can sign up for the waiting list here so you don't miss out.

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About Lisa

Lisa Hall-WilsonLisa Hall-Wilson was a national award-winning freelance journalist and author who loves mentoring writers. Fascinated by history, fantasy, romance, and faith, Lisa blends those passions into historical and historical-fantasy novels. Find Lisa’s blog, Beyond Basics for intermediate writers,  at www.lisahallwilson.com.
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The Bikini Wax Theory of Writing

Some people talk about writing like they are chasing butterflies along the pretty garden paths of their manuscripts. Like their words frolic with Disney characters. They speak of churning out pages like a high-end laser printer.

I am not one of those people.

A few times a year I have one of those idyllic days but, most of the time, writing is an uphill grind. A teeth-gnashing session filled with curse words, clock watching and questions like, "Are we there yet?"

But we're writers. Writers persevere. Even if it's only one page at a time--hell, one sentence at a time--we keep going. We are mighty beings formed of stubbornness, creativity and caffeine.

Currently, I'm deep in a memoir about my crazy high-risk pregnancy journey. Rather than a grind, this manuscript is an all-out pain-fest. Instead of making up story lines and black moments for fictional characters, I'm reliving my own.

The only thing getting me through this memoir is my Bikini Wax Theory of writing.

Let me explain...

A few decades back (when I still cared about creative ladyscaping), I'd go to those cutely-named wax joints with names like Pretty Kitty, The Lunch Box, The Sugar Shack. People in those places know their way around a bikini line.

But one day I was in a rush and I needed some emergency ladyscaping.

[Don't judge. You know you've been in a rush to get ready for a date at some point in your life.]

I was at the hair salon and they offered waxing and, well...time was the only thing I had in short supply that day. So, I found myself in a back room with a woman with fluttery hands who asked a lot of questions about how I was doing.

Are you comfortable?
Does that feel okay?
Is the wax too warm?

The people at the cute-name places never asked how I was doing.

They were like moms on a marathon to get the sandwiches done before the school bus arrived. They'd slap and smooth and rip like the pros they were. In the time it took my uber-polite fluttery girl to get ready, they'd have done a full Brazilian on a Sasquatch.

Finally, we got to the main waxing event. She smoothed on the warm wax, pressed her strip of linen over it. I sucked in the quick breath that goes along with having hair ripped out of your body and...

She paused.

That very sweet polite fluttery woman paused when she should have kept ripping. She didn't want to cause me pain. She was afraid she'd done something wrong. She wrung her hands and gushed out her story. The usual waxer was out sick. They'd pulled her over from pedicures.

She was sorry, sorry, so so sorry.

And meanwhile, a hardening strip of wax is hanging off me, my bikini line is on fire and I'm out of time.

I shrieked at her. "There's no pausing!"

More apologies.

I did the quick breathing of insane pain and gritted my teeth. "We can't stop halfway. We've still got to do this. Please, please, just get it over with."

Eventually, with much more pain than necessary, she got through the process. By dragging it out, she'd wrecked my timeline and my dignity. Plus, she caused enough bruising to make me call off the date. I needed to curl up with ice packs instead.

That sweet woman was an epic failure at waxing, but she taught me a very important lesson about writing. I think of her whenever my writing leaves me wrecked and sobbing. Whenever I don't want to finish a scene or a chapter because it hurts it hurts it hurts.

I'm only prolonging that pain by stopping halfway. It will still be waiting for me. It always is.

We all know the pain of the half-finished scene/chapter/novel. It hangs off us like hardening wax, ripping at us more deeply than if we'd just faced the page and gotten through it to the other side.

So, I'm here to remind all of you (and myself):

We're writers. Writers persevere. Even if it's only one page at a time--hell, one sentence at a time--we keep going. We are mighty beings formed of stubbornness, creativity and caffeine.

When in doubt, just keep going, y'all. You've got this. And you're my tribe, so I've got this too.

One last pro tip: If you feel the need for some lady(or man)scaping, especially if you're shooting for edgy mojo, pick the place with the cute naughty name. They've got the skills to get the job done fast.

What gets you through to the other side when "you don't wanna" [fill in the blank]? Share your motivation tips (and any juicy stories) with us down in the comments!

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About Jenny Hansen

By day, Jenny provides training and social media marketing for an accounting firm. By night she writes humor, memoir, women’s fiction and short stories. After 18 years as a corporate software trainer, she’s delighted to sit down while she works.

When she’s not at her personal blog, More Cowbell, Jenny can be found on Twitter at JennyHansenCA or here at Writers In The Storm.

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