Addictive Storytelling

The other day I downloaded a book from Amazon onto my Kindle and began to read. About 50 pages in, I suddenly got a vague sense of deja vu, and as I read further, I kept getting that feeling and it kept getting stronger. Finally, about halfway through I couldn’t escape the realization that I’d read this book before. I couldn’t recall when, or even how it ended, only that I had.

I think back to all the things I’ve ever read and realize I can count the truly memorable reading experiences I’ve had. There are not so many that I lose my count doing so. Of those, fewer still were the proverbial can’t put it down books, the ones I so thoroughly enjoyed reading that I couldn’t stop thinking about them when I wasn’t reading, that couldn’t wait to get back to them when I did finally put them down, and that I felt real loss when they were over. Among these: the Harry Potter series, Ayumi’s Violin (by our own Mariko Tatsumoto), Pride and Prejudice, etc.

Perhaps it’s hubris on my part, but when I think of my own efforts, I compare them to that kind of writing, the kind that draws in the reader so completely that they can’t put my book down and they can never forget it when they reach its end. Maybe they go back to read it over and over again, as I do my favorites. I’ve thought a lot about what it is about my own favorites that made them so memorable, what common denominators, if any, could I learn from.

Certainly, they had engaging characters I could identify with. Yes, there was a premise I found intriguing. And of course, the writing was more than just competent; the prose was composed in such a way that both tickled and engrossed me. But these are only the most general terms, nothing specific, nothing that I could sink my teeth into and learn from.

And yet, the more specific I tried to get, drilling down through these generalities to the nuts and bolts of why these books became so addictive, my reasoning kept springing leaks. It was like trying to hold on to a handful of sand under the waves. Eventually I could no longer deny the fact that the common denominators were all just that general. The specifics were anything but common, and none of these books shared many, or any, specifics as to why I become so enamored of them. Further, I came to suspect that even if I could nail them down, not everyone who loved one of these as much as I did would share those reasons.

That led me down the road of universal appeal. These books (or series of books) didn’t just grab hold of my mind and heart, but many others’ as well. There was something about them that appealed to a great many people over a large population and a broad range of interests and experiences, in many cases even across disparate cultures. There was something about these books that transcended all of those things. How can you possibly put a finger on that, define it, learn it, or for that matter repeat it?

In the end, I had to finally decide not to try to pin it down. Instead, I write what I love, and I can only have faith that if I keep the feeling that those books gave me in my heart as I work, somehow feeling that will come out in the final product. I try not to approach writing as a science, but as an empathy, an affinity, as love, and hope that my love for the material comes through in the writing, that it reaches out and touches the reader and makes them share somehow in that love.