Have you ever started a story only to find several hundred words in that it has nothing to do with what you thought you were going to write?
While surfing the internet, I came across an interview with Amy Tan, (I’ve attached the video to this post) where she discusses, among other things, the notion that through writing we discover things we otherwise could not express.
I’d agree with Ms. Tan that the craft of writing has a way of tricking you into thinking about things you hadn’t thought about before and that very often we are driven to write a story during periods of great change. In fact, it’s the change that forces questions to the top and that pushes the story to be told.
The catalysis, the change that inspired me to begin my novel was the death of a dear friend, who after years of battling leukemia, received a bone marrow transplant, only to have her body reject the donor marrow and eventually to lose her battle in September ‘03. I thought I wanted to write a story that would bring attention to the need for bone marrow donors and to reflect the courage I saw in my friend. Heidi was an only child with an uncommon pedigree (her parents are German and South African) and without a match in either extended family, she had to rely on a stranger donation. That’s what I thought I wanted to write.
You tricky trickster Ms. Writing!
As it turns out, what I really wanted to write was about a family with several siblings (not an only child) as they came to grips with the life-threatening illness of one of their own, and to watch how they pulled together (or not), pushing aside old hurts (or not) to support each other.
70,000 words in, I’ve discovered I’m writing a story about the relationship between parents and their children, and between siblings. I’m also exploring how easily we misunderstand the people closest to us, and how the people we’ve spent our entire lives with, the people who should know us better than anyone else, are often the people who don’t see us (the real us) at all.
Where did that come from?
As I’ve said in an earlier blog, my fictional family is not my real family, but as I write I do recognize themes present in the Sargent/Murchison/McRobb/Overend clans. Being the only family I know from the inside out, I guess it stands to reason issues (oh we have issues) that my family live with would show up on my laptop screen.
Even more surprising to me as I dig deeper into my characters, is how my attention has focused on the mother/son relationship. Although the mother/daughter relationship is present in my novel, the primary pairing driving my narrative is between Anne (the matriarch) and Burt (her eldest son).
Didn’t see that coming.
Ms. Tan suggests that we do all in fact have a story in us, a story that only we can tell, a story that reflects our unique way of looking at the world that is different from anyone else’s viewpoint.
So I’m not telling Heidi’s story? Interesting.
Now, I hope I’ve had all the surprises that trickster has up her sleeve so I can actually get this novel finished!
Sharon Overend 
Emotion fueled writing is the most powerful and the most devious of writing. I don’t envy you. But when you finish, it will be a story well worth reading.
I love writing emotions as well but they beat the hell out of me. As for writing making an unscheduled u-turn? Yup had that happen. Threw me right out of the car and I watched it speed away. One day I’ll catch it.
Sounds like you were hanging on.
I am hanging on, by the skin of my teeth. No, the truth is, it was a happy surprise to find my story was about a large family and more specifically about a mother and son. I have two sons and a brother. Maybe while writing about the mother/son relationship I’m paying homage to the special place in a mother’s heart where she holds her sons, and maybe I’m working out what that has meant to me, both in watching my mother and brother and for me and my boys.
So far, my books never turn out to be what I think they’re going to be. In my first novel, the main character was supposed to be having a major religious crisis as his encounter with the old Irish gods challenged his Catholic upbringing. Didn’t take me long to figure out I didn’t know enough about Catholicism to pull that off, so he suddenly became a lapsed Catholic and the direction of the narrative changed completely.
As for my second novel, Nora was supposed to think Steven was a bit of a flake and find him quite abrasive and … well, you know how that one worked out.
I sure do. Way more interesting your new approach to Nora and Steven!
Blame the muse whispering in your ear. You have no choice but to listen. I’ve been struggling with a side character who I was initially convinced to be nothing more than backstory. He sat in the background mostly, not saying much (he has an economy with words that completely escapes me). I finally realized that he really was the catalyst for the story and for change. Having realized this, I’m working with this laconic gent and really building layers thanks to him. Listen to the Muse!