Pure Imagination

‘I’ve always hated the expression, “write what you know.” It’s a hall pass for the imagination-impaired. But when your life becomes a twisted mystery, maybe it’s time to lean into it.’

I came across this quote on the new Netflix series by Tim Burton, Wednesday. It made me laugh, as much of that series does (I knew it would be good when the opening scene showed our protagonist entering Nancy Reagan High School, complete with a giant bust of the First Lady). But at the same time, it triggered one of my chief anxieties these days: Do I have enough imagination to be a writer?

I know that I lack empathy. I have to try very hard to understand others’ feelings. And I am constantly amazed by the wonderful ideas expounded in my writers group.

But at the same time, my trouble with empathy has made me pay closer attention to people’s speech and expression, which has proven useful when writing. And I find the more I work with the group, the more my own imagination has developed.

When I attended the Stirling  mystery writers convention earlier this year I was surprised by the number of authors who didn’t know “who dunnit” when they started writing a novel. But as I finished my own, only to discover it did not end as I’d plotted, I came to appreciate the power and process of imagination in writing.

Imagination is a muscle, and it becomes more fit with usage.

The Joy of Hallmark

 I was at a post-service refreshment gathering at my church yesterday, at a table with another woman in her sixties, a woman in her seventies, and a 90-year-old man. When I brought up a Hallmark Christmas  movie I’d just watched, it turned out we’d all seen it. “I’m glad I’m not the only one to watch such nonsense,” said the older woman.

This reminded me of a friend asking why cozy crime is and always has been so very popular.

I believe it’s because life is messy, and we all crave order. We spend our lives trying to make sense of our world, and for good or bad, these types of stories allow us to live the fantasy for a short period of time. It’s been that way forever. Austen just wrote with more grace and wit than is generally found in a Hallmark film.

By looking at these films, particularly the Christmas ones, we can identify the main tropes of our wish fulfilment.

There are the ones where the young, pretty woman gets a job in a mythical kingdom or castle, often under false pretences that aren’t her fault, and ends up falling in love with the titled nobility.

Or the one where the young, pretty woman is assigned to go back to her hometown to do some work, generally buying property someone doesn’t really want to sell but has to, and falls back in love with her old boyfriend.

And let’s not forget the one where she thinks she’s satisfied with her career and life, but some magical angel/elf/Kris Kringle shows her it’s not so because she’s forgotten the true meaning of Christmas/family/charity.

Having worked in marketing once upon a time, my favourites are the first and second, because the young woman generally manages to save the kingdom/farm/inn/bakery by creating an event and posting it on social media, after which tons of customers suddenly appear. After this happens, she generally gives up her big-city career to marry the king/boyfriend. Amazing to think we are centuries from Austen but still touting the same goal: marriage to a nice and preferably rich guy.

But that is the power of the fairy tale. We all want love and acceptance and that kiss in the last minute of the film. The only difference for me is that I really, really crave a decently written script.