How to Choose the Right Subject
I’m currently teaching an introductory creative writing class with students who are very new to the writing game. They are definitely picking up on the techniques I’m discussing in class, from vivid adjective choices to strong verbs, but there’s one thing they continue to struggle with. It’s something I find very difficult to teach; in fact, it’s something that might not be teachable at all. It’s the skill (or inborn talent, perhaps) of choosing the right subject.
It’s funny, but no matter how many times I tell my students that stories need conflict and some sort of drama, I still get stories about vacations, trips to the beach, or other perfectly pleasant situations. While the writing in these stories can often be quite sharp, the message doesn’t seem to be getting through that not all subjects and scenes are created equal. Not every premise is equally capable of becoming an engaging story; some are just too trouble-free. The easiest way to get the ball rolling in a story is to present us with some sort of problem, but it continues to be tempting (and not just to my students) to write about safety and normalcy. Why?
The dangerous power of the writer
My theory is that writers, particularly young writers, are very aware of the power of words. They know that words once said or written can do damage; they can break hearts, hurt feelings, start wars. Words and the power of imagination behind them can be very dangerous. When we’re creating something, we don’t want to presume that we’re worthy of describing large, dramatic events; putting a fictional character in danger is almost as bad as putting a real one there. Perhaps our impulse is to apologize for ourselves, and to write small and humbly. We’re left futzing with familiar, tame scenes, attracted by the security of them.
After the jump: how to choose the right subject.
Choosing the right subject for you
Of course, great drama can be wrought from small moments in life. But we need to draw out the tension in those small moments. When choosing your subject, don’t write about the Battle of the Bulge if that’s not what you’re interested in or comfortable with. Choose something that you feel you could probe from the inside out. At the same time, don’t choose something that is inherently benign. If the story is benign, or harmless, then the reader simply won’t care about it. Drama is what makes us care about a story, so start with a familiar setting, but give us a strong sense of tension. Always, always, introduce a problem. We don’t want to read about Eden before the Fall; we want to see the fruit getting eaten.
I had a huge belly laugh when I read that your students (“no matter how many times I tell them”) fail to put conflict in their stories & keep handing you papers about vacations, trips to the beach, “& other perfectly pleasant situations.”
No wonder teachers dislike grading papers. I mean, what do you say in the margins? “Suggest your mom gets caught in riptide here & is carried out to sea, never to be seen again.”
Still, I have the same problem: what shall I write about? I like those exercises that give you a list of places & two lists of characters. You pick one from all three columns & go for it.
I have a general distrust of my take on life. I think that I have not really lived, not the way REAL people live. I never had children, I have no abiding passion about anything & I don’t get worked up about much.
I feel like I’ve only visited this earth, this life. I don’t think I know enough about people, how they think & how they respond to emotions. I suspect a young person would have the same sense–that nothing ‘deep’ has happened to them yet, so what is there to say?
For some of us, nothing deep ever will happen, I guess.
L&K, MaryB
(PS–I thought you were gone for the week. Glad you are still here.)
Mary, I have a hard time believing that nothing deep has ever happened to you. From what I read from your comments, you have experienced plenty.
I’m 65, and there are still experiences in my life I don’t want to write about for publication. Perhaps the students are suffering from “my God, I can’t write about that. People will know that…” Self-revelation, which is IMO what happens when we write about subjects that matter to us, is inevitable in such cases. And, at least in my own case, I experience my character’s anguish as I write. There’s still a piece of me that hates to put my characters through so much trouble.
Later that week–
I’m so glad I clicked on to this day’s blog again. I’d left “one comment” but saw there were more.
Leave it to sweet Margaret F. to make me feel better about myself on a day that I really need it. Yes, many deep things have happened to me & I, in turn, did a lot of deep things. Statue has run on most of the latter, & no amount of therapy & meds can erase the former.
Oh, it’s just the holidays. I always forget how down I feel when they hit & how happy I’ll become once they are over.
For the first time in decades, I started writing one of my siblings, my eldest sister, this year. This is really playing with fire for me, but this sister is the only one in my family I have good feelings about. I’m sure this adds to my seasonal blues.
So–are these proper subjects for writing? I doubt few want to read about my trips to the beach, those with Dad & my brother, Joe, barely 2 years older than me. Gray beach, gray sky, windy cold, deserted, the 2 of us huddled behind a garbage can while the old man swims beyond the breakers for hours.
Later, in the back of a diner, he buys us beers with our burgers. We are 6 & 8, but more compliant when drunk. Back to the motel. I see Joe’s face, contorted in pain, watching me… A black shade falls, but a few visions slip through. There is only one sagging bed in the room.
Next morning, Joe & I dip our toes in the icy ocean. We cannot look at each other, but we don’t know why. Dad decides we will drop in on relatives nearby. Dad never calls ahead, so few are happy to see us–wet, sandy strays messing up their houses.
This time, it’s the ‘farm’ relatives. Dad finds their booze & sends Joe & me to go play with our nine farm cousins. We locate one, an adolescent boy of about 14. He is scrubbing the hooves of his 4-H cow with Ajax cleanser. This activity is so far beyond our comprehension that we say nothing & walk away. We play by ourselves in an orchard until Dad yells for us to get in the car.
It has been another exciting “Trip to Nowhere” with Dad.
Can these childhood memories truly translate into readable stories? Interesting stories?
I think I’ll stick to re-writing the Bible.
L&K, MaryB
Hi!
This was fun to read, I’ve had similar experiences in Creative Writing groups, or classes. I’ll admit that I’ve never taught one, but upon sharing work I find that I’m listening to a multitude of pleasant (boring) stories regarding the beach.
Personally, I’m a big fan of conflict. Without some form of conflict within my own stories, I get bored with my own writing and move on to something else. I think that it’s a key element in short fiction. Reading this article gave me a warm feeling inside, because it’s not addressed as often as I feel it should be.
Thanks for sharing this,
Savanna
Mary — wow. Yes, those memories could translate into readable stories. Whether you want to write them is quite another matter.
Again, it’s sweet Margaret to comfort me. You have nailed my quandary precisely: yes, perhaps I have some of the most ‘meaty’ material imaginable, but do I want to relive it again on the page? (Dad was just half of the team, too. Mom The Voyeur took over when I was 13…).
Like many who were abused, I numbed myself with every substance I could ingest. And, like many others, I eventually quit by going to 12-step programs.
I am told repeatedly that I should “write my story.” Why? Because it would “help others.” How? I just don’t get it.
I would never have read any such book while deep in my addictions.
Even when I skirt around the edges, & find very funny instances that I could write about, I always recall just a bit more—a bit more that changes the whole atmosphere & meaning of the “funny business.”
I’ve heard of this book, “Liar’s Club,” a memoir by a woman with a mentally deranged mother. She’s now written a second memoir, covering some later years. Who reads this stuff? Why would anyone want to drench themselves in still more trauma? I just don’t get it.
Thank you SO much, Margaret, for your kind words & your wisdom & your reactions.
L&K, MaryB, age 60
Mary,
I’m no expert but I too felt drawn in to your “beach” story. I, too, have been involved in a 12 step program and still am. One of the values that I and others get from this program is hearing others tell their own “horrific” stories. It helps me realize that I am not alone in my insanity. Of course you shy away from reliving it but, perhaps, telling it could be a form of catharsis. If you do write it, let me know. I want to be among the first in line to read it.
Gary
Dear Gary,
Well. Once again, one of those Everyday Miracles springs up to slap me in the face & get my attention…
I had no intention of checking this day’s blog yet again, but I saw ’7 comments.’ That seemed like more than I saw two days ago.
Sure enough, here YOU are, giving me encouragement & compassion! You are too kind. And yes, you make a very good case for why memoirs of even the ghastliest childhoods can provide hope & encouragement to others. Our tiny roots were mangled so early that our later insanity was a natural result–a predictable result, even.
You remind me, too, that pain cannot be compared. Another person’s parents might never have set a hand on them, yet that very fact may cause them a lifetime of mental anguish like nothing I can imagine.
Also, I’ve yet to hear anyone begin their story: “Gosh, I had just the BEST childhood ever! Then, once I left home–POW! The mantle of addiction fell out of the sky & onto my shoulders & it stayed there for 25 years…” We all had rough childhoods.
I must admit I was scared I’d written too daring a revelation in my ‘beach story’ above, yet you say you were ‘drawn in.’ Margaret, too, said it seemed the stuff of future stories. Perhaps I will try a short story based on it; I’ll just sneak up on the hardest parts.
If it doesn’t flatten me for a month, then maybe more stories will come.
Gary, thank you SO, SO much for writing what you did. You have reminded me how powerful our mutual “social club” is & how much I owe fellow members like you. What a guy!
L&K, MaryB (I surely hope you read this…)