by KAK
I’ve an older sister who looks like an angel with the mind of Dr. Frankenstein. When I came along years after she’d grown accustomed to being the only child, she put on her lab coat and cackled with glee.
I’ve an older sister who looks like an angel with the mind of Dr. Frankenstein. When I came along years after she’d grown accustomed to being the only child, she put on her lab coat and cackled with glee.
Behold! Igor!
This is most likely why I’m neither a true Plotter nor a total Pantser. I need a framework, the 5,000-feet view of:
- Who are my characters
- What do they want
- Why can't they have it now
- When will they get it
The "how" I leave to creative flow. This drops me squarely in the middle of the Plotter versus Pantsers camps. I like to call my little brand of insanity:
Plontser, erm, Pantter.
Probably the latter if I’m writing a werewolf story.
For all that my sister was, and still is, the brains behind the operations, she taught me far more than how to manage a mad genius. There are valuable lessons to be learned from the noble position of eternal henchman / sidekick:
Spontaneity is permissible only when planned
Case: My mother wore make-up that came in fat gold and silver tubes. Sparkly tubes that held pretty colors. I wished to be pretty and sparkly too. While my mother was out, I determined that not only should I be covered from tip to toe in the glories of the tubes, but so should her entire bathroom. Master was not amused. Cleaning with toothbrushes was involved. Thus began Master’s revenge of soap on my toothbrush every morning for the next ten years.
When the risk is high, be certain of the reward
Case: We had a beloved baby-sitter who one night had the gall to sneak her boyfriend into Master’s domain after the ‘rents were gone. Foolish baby-sitter. Master’s goal was simple – vanquish the interloper. Hiding places, the main-switch for the fuse box, and a wicked thunderstorm all played to our advantage. Baby-sitter panicked and phoned the ‘rents. Boyfriend fled, but beloved baby-sitter never returned…
When the plan is in play, do not disrupt the show
Case: Once upon a foreign country, we lived in a house with a great winding marble staircase and a nanny with the tragic habit of telling Master what to do. I’ll let you guess the goal. One night, while the ‘rents were gone (naturally), Master and I filled tall trashcans with water and placed them at the top of the stairs. My bin of building blocks was similarly situated. The nanny passed the bottom of the stairs. We toppled our traps. A more beautiful waterfall was never seen nor a more delicious shriek heard.
I assure you, we were not wholly evil children, but what our parents didn't know never hurt us.
What life lessons have shaped your writing style? Is there someone among your family or friends to whom you attribute your means of attacking a challenge?
