A Writer’s Hunger
Copyright 2011 Hampton Bush (Visit Hampton Bush’s Home Page)
Genesis of Quest for the Golden Quill of Storytelling
Years ago I wrote a mystery novel and nervously submitted it for critique to three friends who were successful novelists and members of the Southern California Chapter of the Mystery Writers of America. A couple of weeks later all three responded from the same song book, “Chuck, your copy’s good. Dialogue is clever, even amusing. Descriptions are vivid, action exciting, characters credible, but—well, frankly, Guy, your plot is kinda thin.”
“Huh?” I said. “Plot? What are you talking about? I thought—”
“We mean story,” they sang. “Yours is kinda weak. Get a better story and you’ll do fine.”
Smarting, I replied, “Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks. Uh, I really appreciate your help.”
I stumbled away, scratching my head. What the blazes were they talking about anyhow? Story? Better check this out.
Optimistically I went to the dictionary to look up the word story. Among other unsatisfying definitions I found the following: “Story – the plot or succession of incidents of a novel, poem, drama, etc.” The dictionary rubbed salt into my wounds by giving an example of using the word story in a sentence. It said: The characterizations were good, but the story was weak.” Yeah, thanks!
Obviously this was going to be harder than I thought. Still, somewhere there had to be a clear set of specifications or at least a simple recipe for a good story! All I had to do was find it and when I did I’d have it made. After all, I was already a pretty decent writer (my friends had said so) and I had enough self-confidence to believe, within reason that, if I could define a thing, I could do that thing.
Thus began my quest for the Golden Quill of Storytelling.
Exciting Discovery
“Eureka!” I cried one dark night some years later.
I was reading a book on the art of composition copyrighted in 1934 (the twentieth such I had read during my search). The passage that had flipped my switches said something like: a story is a narrative in which events are recounted in some sort of temporal sequence. (Not so special. Kind of like the dictionary definition, in fact.) But then came the eye opener. Two sentences later it said: the basic principle of all good storytelling is suspense.
“The basic principle!” I breathed. “Suspense! Of course! Now I’ve got it. A story is just telling what happened, but a good story keeps ‘em in suspense! Yeah!”
Excited beyond measure, believing I at last had found the Golden Quill, I grabbed a dictionary and looked up the word suspense. What I found was: Suspense is a condition or state of uncertainty or excitement induced by being forced to await a decision or an outcome, usually accompanied by a degree of apprehension or anxiety.
“Hee, hee!” I laughed fiendishly. Now all I had to do was learn all the tricks for creating suspense and I could become a truly diabolical, master storyteller. Look out publishing world! Here I come! Yeah!
Pretender to the Quill
It really was a dark and rainy night, unusual for Southern California. Another of my professional author friends had just looked up from reading the first 150 pages of my latest novel. The book was a scifi thriller in which I had used every trick for creating suspense I had discovered during more than a year of research. I held my breath as my friend took a sip of savignon blanc and blinked at me.
“Well, don’t just sit there!” I growled. “What do you think?”
“Well, ah—” Another sip of wine. “Ah, interesting, Chuck. Remarkable, actually. It’s a real page-turner, but—”
“What? What?”
“Well, uh, what’s it about, Chuck?”
“Huh?” Dumbfounded.
“I mean, there seems to be something missing. This is great copy and you really grabbed me and kept me reading, but I still don’t know what it’s about. What’s the story?”
“Are you crazy?” I shouted. “How can it be a page-turner and you don’t know what it’s about? That’s—well, that’s crazy! What about all the suspense I put in it? Huh? What about that?”
“Yeah, well, it’s got suspense, all right. No question about it. But it doesn’t seem to have any focus. Couldn’t figure out what it’s about.”
I glared at him, struck dumb. Shrugging tiredly, my friend calmly rose, placed the manuscript on his chair, gulped the last of his wine. As I followed him to the front door he muttered in an embarrassed tone, “Chuck, I’m sure you’ve heard the old saying no one ever waits in suspense for the suspense to begin?”
“Yeah, so what? I got lots of suspense here. Said so yourself.”
“Well, just suspense isn’t enough, either, Bud. My suggestion? Get yourself a story. Then you’ll do fine.”
Devastated, I watched him climb in his car and pull away. Bitterly I realized I hadn’t found the Golden Quill after all, merely a pretender. With a resigned shrug, I turned back inside to begin the quest all over again.
But, I’m a persistent cuss, and I finally did find that darn illusive Golden Quill of Storytelling. And, finding it, after decades of research, led to the writing and imminent publication of the book.
Yeah!