Many writers strive to capture the feelings and inspirations of real life. It can be something simple. Staring out at the sunset on a beautiful day, or feeling the cool breeze against your skin. These small moments of life inspire innate storytellers.
I’ve been there countless times. After moving to Japan, I’ve stared at the looming Mt. Iwaki in the distance and thought, “I want to tell a story about this feeling.” The awe that I have when looking at the mountain, the realization of the dreams and hard work it took to get here—I want to write about it all.
Yet, I’ve sat down to write this story countless times. After a few sentences, it always falls flat. I’ve tried different formats and genres. Fantasy, realistic fiction, speculative fiction. But nothing has stuck.
Is it a story that can’t be told?
Feelings are fleeting, plot is forever.
The age old debate between novelists: plotter or pantser. Do you meticulously plot out every scene and detail of your story before you write it? Or do you sit down and let your muse move you through the words without every opening an outline?
There is also the headlights or flashlight method, where you plan out scenes based on the ones before it. The usual metaphor is driving a car at night with the headlights on. We can only see so far ahead of us, but we aren’t completely in the dark. In the headlights method, the author would write a scene and then plan the next few chapters or scenes based on that.
I often find myself falling somewhere in between. I like to have a rough outline as well as a thematic purpose and a question that I want to answer. Yet, I am constantly changing and revising things, and I believe that writers need to be open to that as well.
This is why, for me, feelings or vibes will not drive your story as far as good plot or good characters will. Intentional and deep thinking produces good plot and good characters. Long form writing is not like a drawing or a song, where you capture something in a still image or a three-minute tune. Long form writing has a narrative, and narrative burns through that feeling quick.
Let’s say you looked up at the sky. You felt that nature is greater than you. That the sky could house a thousand secrets and you want to write a story capturing that feeling. If you are writing a 100,000 word fantasy novel, can you really keep that same ethereal feeling for each and every word? Perhaps. But I’d argue that it’s harder than it seems when you are giddy with excitement and inspiration.
Writing is often 2% those ethereal feelings of inspiration and 98% pushing through and writing when that same inspiration is absent.
Capture the Stars
Is it futile then, to try and capture these moments of inspiration in story? No. In fact, I’d argue that it is very important to try and do just that. However, these inspirations are not plot, and that is the mistake that I have made many times.
For example, one day I was taking a walk. The mountains were in the distance, the sun setting over the rice fields as the wind swept through. I wanted to write something capturing that feeling of the wind and why it moved me so much.
So, I incorporated the wind as a symbol and something that my characters reacted to similarly to how I did. It became a recurring symbol in my book representing freedom, home, and spiritual power. The wind still had power and significance based on how I had felt that day. Yet, since the plot of the story wasn’t riding on this feeling, it didn’t have to hold up the weight of the entire story.
How I have used this realization to improve my writing
Writing is work, just as any other art form is. When I came to the realization that not all of my inspirations were story-worthy, I sifted through what was worth writing about and what wasn’t.
Holding back ideas was also something that hindered my writing for years. As a novelist, I always thought in trilogies or sequels. I often came up with ideas for future books while writing the first book. I put a lot of the good ideas in the sequels, leaving the first work to suffer.
As I grew as a writer, I adopted a “feed-the-machine” mantra when it came to writing. Add every good idea I come up with to the thing I’m writing now (within reason, of course). Don’t hold back for some future sequel. You aren’t James Patterson with a seven-figure book deal. Subconsciously, I was afraid to run out of good ideas, but I learned that the more good ideas I used up, the sooner great ideas came to me.
So now, I look at inspiration through this feed-the-machine lens. Do I think my inspiration has enough of a purpose to add to my story? Does it make the story more interesting and complex, or is it something that would only look good on a Pinterest board? Will it help the story to answer the question it set out to answer? Will it help it to resonate with readers?
If the answer is no, then I usually store this inspiration somewhere. Perhaps it will become a short story or a poem someday. If the answer is yes, then I think about how big or small the effect on my story will be, and try to incorporate it in the most meaningful and impactful way.
It's not a 100% full-proof method. There are ideas I thought would carry a story that didn't, and "dull" ideas that turn out to be some of my best. Part of the challenge and fun of writing is turning seeds of ideas into forests. The challenge is addicting, and it helps me grow and develop as a storyteller.