On Wednesdays, I share posts, fables, songs, poems, quotations, TEDx Talks, cartoons, and books that have inspired and motivated me on my writing journey. I hope these posts will give writers, artists, and other creatives a mid-week boost.

In a recent post on the Writer Unboxed blog, author Kathleen McCleary shared the importance of the one-word question “Why?”

Years ago, in my other life as a journalist, I interviewed Michael Jordan for a cover story for the magazine I worked for at the time. At the peak of his fame, shortly after his father was murdered, Jordan had quit basketball to try playing baseball. When I interviewed him, he had just made the sudden and surprising decision to return to basketball.

I had 30 minutes to interview Jordan and I was nervous and he was polite but not too excited or exciting. Desperate for something different from him, I said, “I read that Ghost is your favorite movie. Why?”

Suddenly, he came to life. He sat up and leaned forward, and really looked at me. “Because I’ve always believed that after we die, we come back to watch over and protect the people we love,” he said. “And since my father died, I’ve felt him watching over me. And the whole reason I decided to leave baseball and come back to basketball is because that’s what my father is telling me to do. Right now.”

It was an incredible moment, the story made news, my editor was happy, and I understood on a gut level the huge importance of the one-word question “Why?”

And as I’m embarking on writing my fifth novel, I remind myself every day that I need to keep asking “WHY?” You know the important basic questions about story: What does my character want? What’s my character’s flaw? How does this flaw affect my character’s life and world? What does my character need? We all have to do that work. But for me, “Why?” is the key.

I got the idea for this new novel, my fifth, almost a year ago. It was an interesting idea with a hint of magical realism and I felt intrigued but I wasn’t inspired to actually start jotting down ideas or scenes. Then recently, while hiking in Ireland, I was thinking about why it would matter that this magical thing happened, and suddenly I had an answer and a reason for the book to exist. It changed everything for me. So, whether you’re just starting out or deep into your twenty-seventh book, here are some Whys to remember:

The obvious Whys. These are the questions about character, motivation, and plot that are crucial for our own understanding of our stories. Why is my character making this choice? Why can’t my character change? Why does my character want this thing that she wants so badly? Why can’t she get it? Why does it matter? You know these. Come back to them again and again. Sometimes the answers change as you get deeper into your story.

The Whys we need to ask our characters. These are questions that help you get to know your characters in the same way you get to know someone new you meet, or get to know a friend better. I teach English to immigrants and we often talk about how to have a good conversation, or how to keep a conversation going. And one of the keys to having a great conversation is being genuinely curious about the person you’re talking to. If they mention that they’re afraid of snakes, finding out why could be interesting. If they always wanted to be a doctor but became a carpenter instead, that’s a potentially fascinating why to unearth. Ask your character: “Why does that particular thing/event/person frighten you? Why do you love trees/knitting/movies so much? Why is your daughter named Jeannie?” It’s the stories behind the details that give a fictional world its realism and believability.

The Whys we need to ask ourselves. “Why does it matter to me to tell this story? Why do I need to tell it now?” Knowing the reasons that we need to write and why it matters to do it at a certain point of time in our lives is important. I have written entire novels because I was compelled to write, because it was the only way I could process difficult events or feelings in my life. Writing them out in fiction was a way to get through. I’ve also written novels for the pure enjoyment or challenge of writing. Yet another important Why to ask ourselves is “Why I am struggling to write this story?” The answer to that speaks volumes, too, and may tell us it’s time to change direction, dig deeper, or, hard as it is, put a story aside.

Source: WriterUnboxed

On Wednesdays, I share posts, fables, songs, poems, quotations, TEDx Talks, cartoons, and books that have inspired and motivated me on my writing journey. I hope these posts will give writers, artists, and other creatives a mid-week boost.

In a recent post on the Writer Unboxed blog, writer/photographer Kelsey Allagood shared the following insights:

We writers talk a lot about sustainability. About how to not burn out, how to protect the work, how to make space for our creative selves while also having to pay rent and answer emails. We talk less about how dynamic that process actually is. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that sustainability is a state I can achieve, or an end goal, like once I’ve figured out my morning routine or my word count goal or my relationship to social media, I can then stay there. I will have achieved it: the State of Balance™.

Unfortunately, the writing life (mine, at least) has never been still. We get jobs. We lose jobs. A family member moves in. A season shifts. Our relationship to the work shifts—sometimes we’re deep inside it and sometimes we’re circling it from the outside like maybe we’ve forgotten what it’s for. And maybe the balance we worked so hard to build a year ago might not even be the right balance for who we are now.

What I’ve had to learn, repeatedly, is that the adjustments themselves are the practice. Noticing that the work has gone quiet and turning toward it again without self-recrimination (personally, this is the hardest). Or noticing that I’ve been in production mode for so long that I’ve stopped reading, stopped dreaming, stopped absorbing anything, and choosing to open a window. Noticing that I’ve been waiting for inspiration and actually what I need to do is just sit down. These are micro-corrections. They’re so small that sometimes I don’t recognize them as acts of craft.

But they are. They’re the same intelligence that keeps us upright on one leg.

I don’t think we master balance in our writing lives any more than we can master tree pose. I certainly haven’t mastered either. What I’ve gotten better at—slowly, inconsistently, much like my yoga practice—is recognizing when I’m starting to tip. Making the adjustment a little faster. Stopping expecting the stillness to last and starting to trust that I can find it again, not because I’m stable, but because I’ve practiced returning.

I keep coming back to yoga the way I keep coming back to writing. Not because I’ve gotten good at it. Because every time I come back, I remember what it feels like to be in the body I actually have, in the life I’m actually living, making the small corrections that keep me here.

Source: Writer Unboxed