Susan Miner

Storyteller & Author

Imagination

When The Window Has Flung Open

Creative writing, Imagination, Writers Block

The window has flung open, and characters have arrived en mass. The downside to overcoming writer’s block is that all the ideas wandering around in my head leap out at once and want to play. They are so compelling. Each one offered to help with the story.

     Yesterday, walking to the chicken house, I ‘met’ a unicorn. I didn’t recognize it at first because its horn was missing. It went on to ‘tell’ me it had shed its horn when the trouble in the Enchanted Woods started in book two. It’s essential to hide one’s identity now and then. It offered to help rescue Angelina and Katie when they got into trouble. (Notice it is when not if. How well my characters know each other). Noting that it had kept its wings intact, it offered a few scenarios that would be good for the story. Then, the unicorn disappeared.

     Sometimes this goes on all day. Various creatures pop into my head and out again. My imagination key has undone the lock, and the window has flung open for any fantasy critter to barge into my head. This can be very confusing! I’m sure you’ve experienced what a friend called the monkey in my brain. Putting that monkey back in its jungle is hard. Those little critters are so engaging and very hard to catch. But it must be done.

     Now that the window has been flung open, I must take charge. This is not the time to play with every little critter and storyline that has rushed in. They all must go. There is a time and a place for all of them, but not necessarily in this story. This sounds like a call back for an audition; as I think about it, that is precisely what it is. Every one of them has auditioned for this book. I must stay focused on the story as I know it today, but it was fun to play with all those characters, even if it was just for a moment.

Susan

Getting Through The Darkness

Characters, Creative writing, Imagination, Writers Block

Some call it writer’s block. Regardless of what it’s called, it’s a time when getting through the darkness is the challenge. We all deal with it, even if you aren’t a writer. It’s when you just can’t see a clear way out of the tangled list of to-dos and other chores, or, in my case, where is this story trying to go?

I thought I knew. I had a plan, charts, and notes. It seems my story had other goals. Everything has screeched to a halt. Characters I had sent off in one direction are starting to show up and talk about things I thought could wait. Now, I know, not so much. I missed something, which is ironic since Angelina has missed a turn in the trail and gotten herself and the group she’s supposed to be leading to safety lost.

You see, often, I think I’m a writer – a creator. Really, what I do as a storyteller is document what the story wants readers to know. I get into trouble when I try to take too much control and force an outcome. I find giving up power over the path to be a very vulnerable place. If I focus, I can see the light at the end of the darkness, the unknown bits of the story. My challenge is to trust my gut and my characters and get through the obscurity by following that light.

I must not forget that this trust has never failed me. My first book, Jewels Of Kidron, is an award-winner with excellent reviews. Because of that success, however, I often succumb to the pressure to create another outstanding story. In truth, I need to follow the path of Angelina as she scrambles through the brambles and makes her way to her true self. That’s what this story is about, after all.

Doesn’t it make you wonder if novels aren’t more autobiographical than entirely made-up stories? Ponder that one for a minute!

Susan

Weaving A Tangled Web

Creative writing, Imagination

A challenge for writers is getting caught up in weaving a web of storytelling and losing sight of the story which results in weaving a tangled web. We use charts, sticky notes, notebooks, and vision boards. Then there are the characters that just show up. Mine show up most often when I’m walking to the barn or driving. I hear entire conversations between characters in the car. And they are excellent! But, of course, I can’t write them down, so I hope it all comes back to me when I’m at my computer.

I ‘met’ a new character a few weeks ago. She’s a wizard living in a cave in the Forbidden Woods. Or, at least, I thought that’s who she is. I pondered why she lived in a cave, not a village like everyone else. Was she the one who was creating the Forbidden Woods? Yes! That was it. She’d been bullied by some other women and decided to show them what evil looked like. She was making the Enchanted Woods die and changing all the critters of the soil into oversized creepy crawlies. That would be fun to write and so cool but, in this story, my gut told me it would be weaving a tangled web if I followed her for too long.

Last night, in that twilight where many authors dream of stories, just before sleep, I wondered why all that mattered to Angelina, Katie, and the others living in the Enchanted Woods. I know it matters to her – her name is Carlina, by the way – but does she belong in this story? And, now that I know her better, I don’t think she is the type to stoop to revenge. I think she is wise enough to dismiss the bullies for who they are and get on with her role in the woods. She’s a conduit to nature. Right now, she has more important things to think about than worrying about what a couple of old biddies are saying about her behind her back. My gut was right.

A good story should be like a perfect spider web, all the strands of the story weaving from one to the other until they all converge at the center. The center is when you, the reader, close the book and sigh with satisfaction. I had created something messy instead of weaving a tighter story web.

Even though rewrites are sometimes challenging, there is nothing a writer loves more than writing!

Susan

Storytelling Of Safe Places

Characters, Imagination, Magic

Finding A Safe Place

Reality had invaded the world of my magical storytelling of the safe place of raising farm animals. My friend called me sobbing, something had gotten into her pole barn and killed most of her chickens and ducks. Turkey, her turkey, had done her best to protect everyone, evidenced by the amount of feathers on the ground. However, not every critter died immediately, and she needed help putting them out of their misery. I grabbed a shovel and a live trap and ran to help.

These things happen when you live on the edge of wildlife territory. Rightfully so, they want it back. And they’re hungry. Two ducks, a male and a female, survived along with this chicken, Cora. The ducks went to live in the garage, where a pool and a pen were set up for them. Cora came to our chicken house under a Poultry Witness Protection Program. Immediately, my friend retrofitted the pole barn with security measures to prevent another attack. A mink was caught in the live trap the next day and rehomed many miles away.

Even Chickens Get PTSD

Cora joined my chickens in their house, and they accepted her without fuss. My concerns developed at dusk when I went to the barn to put everyone up for the night. I could not find Cora anywhere. I checked all the corners behind the plywood stacked against the wall. I pulled the metal nesting box away from the wall, thinking she might be behind it. Nothing. Next, I searched the outside chicken yard for breaches under the fence. Where could that chicken be?

Fear Often Drives Creativity

Finally, I gave up putting my hope in her coming back in the morning. That’s when I reached down to get the feeder to hang it up for the night. I found Cora. She had crawled into the feeder and had curled up in a ball on the scratch. She had found a place where she felt safe. I left her there, where she slept for two nights, only coming out to join the flock during the day. And thus began more magical storytelling of safe places.

Characters Show Signs Of Creative Self-Care

As an author of fantasy books with elements of realism, I can’t gloss over the lingering effects of the abuse Angelina and Katie experienced in book one, The Jewels of Kidron. They survived, and their abusers got what was coming to them. But regaining a sense of control and self-confidence takes time. No magic will make that fear and need for caution disappear. In book two, Caves Of The Forbidden Woods, the girls must work through their healing, finding their safe places. These two girls are very courageous. How creative will they be? I can’t wait to see how they do it and I, once again, get to do more magical storytelling of safe places!

The Magic Around Us

Imagination, Magic

I have an Imagination Key. It hangs on the wall by my desk in the Studio. I take it from its hook and put it beside me when I need inspiration. My grandsons each have one, too. I gave them to them when they were little, but at thirteen and sixteen, they still take them off their hooks and wander the farm searching for magic. The bank of trees outside my Studio is one of those enchanted places where you can wander under the bowing branches from one end to the other. They call it the Dark Forest. All kinds of fantastical creatures and stories come out of that tangle of tree branches.

Walking to the barn in the morning and again at night, I am surrounded by magic. The small birds are the first ones up in the morning. The way they fly from the ground to the scrub oak is like a troupe of ballerinas swirling across a stage. In the winter, the frost settles on the chicken wire around the chicken yard, and there’s no way a person could ever duplicate the flocking patterns.

I can hear the trees talk to each other if I’m very quiet. Aspen mostly. Pine trees only whisper. What I hear from them is the sound of wind. The wind itself is very quiet. Some days, the fields around us are blanketed in a heavy mist. It’s heavy enough that I can’t see the barn from the house, but as I walk towards it, the mist will part, and a world of wonder opens up before me. The sound of running and the rising breath of the horses come into view. With a background of the chickens muttering, anxious for breakfast, these are all part of my day on Twin Pine.

We all live with magic around us. Most of the time, we don’t stop to take the time to listen, smell, or feel the subtle gifts that the world has to offer. Cities are full of magical moments. Smiles from strangers, the melody of car horns mixed with the rumble of trains. As a writer, I’ve learned that it’s the magic that makes a story come to life. Suppose you see someone gazing around with their mouth slightly open soaking in elements you consider everyday ordinary. In that case, you can bet they are a writer and have just entered a world that is about to be in their next book. You might want to take a moment and see what they see, hear what they hear, smell what they smell. It just might enrich your day with a bit of magic.

How Does Your Brain Do That?

Imagination

“How does your brain do that?!” my grandson exclaimed while we looked at the bleach splashes on my favorite tee shirt. He said it was ruined. I said I thought I’d make snowflakes out of them, thus his bewilderment.

     I don’t know how my brain does it, but I know when It began, the seeds of it at least. When I was about three, my daddy made me a leaf house while raking leaves. There was an outline for the walls, a tiny opening for the door, and a bigger one for the window. A big pile was the sofa, and a little pile was the chair. From then on, I saw possibilities. Scraps of fabric became gowns for my Troll dolls, and shoe boxes became doll houses. All children do this. I’m just lucky to know when it started.

     I also know the day my imagination was unleashed and given permission to travel without boundaries—Wasson High School, drama production of Finian’s Rainbow. Bonnie Paris was our teacher, and I was in charge of the costumes. Bonnie took me out into the house, and we stood in the dark, watching the rehearsal of the wedding scene under the stage’s lights.

Like one of Shakespear’s witches, she reached out her long fingers as if conjuring up a spell and bid me to imagine. I have to admit I thought “How does your brain do that?” The machine-made mist drifted around the actor’s feet, the light from above streaming through the prop-built trees, and I saw it. I saw what I needed to create to add to the magic of the actors and the sets. I can still feel the smile stretch across my face as the joy of creation bubbled up from my core.

     Not a month of the last 48 years as an interior designer has gone by when I haven’t called on Bonnie and her spell to help me find the right design solution. Now, as an author, I use that same freedom to wander the paths and trails of the Enchanted and Forbidden Woods, following my characters to see what they are up to. It’s how my brain does that now.

     What would the world be like without the imagination of children? Think about it. Imagination powers the arts and the sciences, math, parenting and romance, criminal investigations, and all manner of building. Our world would stop. We must encourage imagination to expand in every direction. There must never be walls or boundaries around imagination – it must be allowed to create. It doesn’t matter that we don’t know where it comes from or how it works. We must search for it and blow it into the wind like dandelion seeds.

     Build a leaf house, make forts, dollhouses, and clothes, and above all – color outside the lines. Imagine and Create.

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Susan Miner