Once upon a time, a book changed my life. I took it out of the library so much my name was on the card more than any other kid. It was the first book that appealed as much to the writer in me as it did to the reader. I was eight.
The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles by Julie Edwards – pen name of Julie Andrews – is a tale of three siblings who harness the power of their imaginations with the help of a local scientist in order to reach a mythical, magical place called Whangdoodleland. I was immediately enchanted with the notion that sheer imagination could transport me to other, better places. (In retrospect, however, isn’t that what reading IS?) I began to diligently practice the major technique mentioned in the book – I paid attention.
I noted the differences in shades of the same color, I looked for the berries behind the leaves of bushes, I sat still and watched the bees and the ants and the spiders. I taught myself to listen harder, picking out specific sounds in noisy environments. I looked up a lot. I touched things to understand how they felt, I tasted new things, and tried to identify smells. I looked down a lot. I figured out how to soft-focus my eyes and see things more clearly when I refocused.
I never made it to Whangdoodleland as it was detailed in the book – or did I? Didn’t I return there every time I re-read the words? While I was reading it seemed that the Whangdoodle, the Splintercat, and Oily Prock were as real to me as the silver maple in the side yard where I sat all summer reading piles of books. And in paying attention to what was all around me, I learned how to better experience and imagine the worlds laid out before me at the library.
It was right about then that I began to understand the true power of words. I had visited countless imaginary places created by others, and now I began to think that maybe I could create and share my own worlds with other people. Heady stuff for an eight year old. Enter Mr. Simon, my fourth grade teacher who made us write a story every week using the vocabulary words on the board, and voila! The birth of a lifelong writer.
The key, I think, is the paying attention. I can never thank Ms. Andrews enough for that simple, powerful lesson. Not only did she teach her characters how to notice the small details around them, but she also included them in the world she created. Hers were not so small, since she was writing for children, but they were there. The particulars of any imaginary scene make it more real, something the reader can relate to even if it is far beyond the scope of reality.
I never stopped paying attention, I realize. My children are often impressed with how many details I can pick out of a given scene, be it in life or a movie or even a book. And because I am aware of those details in my everyday life, I am also aware of them in my writing — aware enough to include them. Not description, mind you, but details. Description is a billboard advertising the author’s presence, saying “hey, see it this way.” Details make it real, make it powerful – they are a springboard for the reader’s imagination.
I’m quite certain that my Whangdoodleland would be different from yours, but we would each imagine that land based on the details that stood out to us. Which, as I see it, is the miracle of the connection between writers and readers.
TL. Schofield is a xenophobic social butterfly, a lifetime writer finally sending her words into the world. She lives in central Georgia and dreams of the ocean. She placed two stories, Arrival and Escape, on Flash Fiction Chronicles String-of-10 Flash Fiction Contest and blogs at Blogging in the Dark.
