11 days into my challenge and I’m hitting that first little wall. I spent the past 2 days deep in a writing project, knocking out a story that absolutely consumed my free time. 6000 words deep and I haven’t finished yet.
It’s supposed to be a children’s story. A friend challenged me to write a kids tale on Day 9; I accepted, anticipating something short and sweet. I opened up a 3-noun writing prompt generator and clicked the “generate” button until it spat out three words that somewhat made sense:
“Passion bookshelf mouse”
Alright.
So I began to write a story about a mouse whose favorite thing to do was to sit in a bookshelf and watch a human author write books. It seemed like an easy enough way to tie those three words together, stringing through them a storyline that could be hung on the tree where I proudly display all of my little blog entries from the year 2023. Just a few quick pages, and then I would go to bed.
I forgot just how much I enjoy painting pictures.
Character development. To me, it’s the most important part of any story. A character doesn’t become relatable to me by simply existing. I don’t find myself interested or inspired by a two-dimensional protagonist who is simply plunked down in front of me with the context of, “this is who the story is all about, so you should root for them.”
No, I need to know more about that character before I can follow them on their journey. I have to know what kinds of expressions they have, what they dream about, where they spend most of their time, where they came from. It’s important to feel their emotions with them, to experience their movements as they meander their way from beginning to end. And once a character has me hooked, once I’ve come to know them on a deep and intimate level, I’m theirs. I’ll follow them right to the final page, waiting to see what comes next.
Armed with a love of words and a burning desire for complete characters, I found myself writing an entire family history for this little mouse and her ancestors. I found myself creating a world in which very special mice learned how to read, and what they did with this knowledge. Truth be told, I would love to devote pages and pages more towards creating a little world for these pleasant little library mice to live, but it’s meant to be a children’s story. Any more length, and even adults won’t want to read it.
I’ve set the scene, carried out the plot, and introduced characters all in rational order. Now, we come to the point where the real meat and potatoes comes in. It’s time for a conflict.
My friends, I’m feeling conflicted about conflict!
Why must it always be an integral part of a successful story?
Why can’t it just be happily ever after all the way through?
Well, I’m not entirely sure, but my suspicion is that it’s boring.
Still, it would be nice, if I could somehow make the story still sound interesting, for a little library mouse to simply live a peaceful little library life, enjoying quiet moments and making new friends in a house with a study and a garden.
I imagine there will be strife in the end, but not much of it. Any disagreements will be short lived, I hope. In a way, I suppose it’s not for me to decide. After all, as any writer can tell you, characters tend to have a mind of their own, and a story will always find a way to come out if it wants to.
I’m just here to facilitate and enjoy the ride.
