Magical Mysteries, Episode 12: The Case of the Glitter Jar

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 12: The Case of the Glitter Jar

Magical Mysteries, Episode 11: The Case of the Manuscript Draft

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 11: The Case of the Manuscript Draft

Magical Mysteries, Episode 10: The Case of the Star Party

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 10: The Case of the Star Party

Magicl Mysteries, Episode 9: The Case of Smoke and Mirrors

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 9: The Case of Smoke and Mirrors

Magical Mysteries, Episode 8: The Case of the Wraith

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 8: The Case of the Wraith

Magical Mysteries, Episode 7: The Case of the Stolen Art

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 7: The Case of the Stolen Art

Magical Mysteries, Episode 6: The Case of the Mysterious Footprints

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 6: The Case of the Mysterious Footprints

Magical Mysteries, Episode 5: The Case of the Bad Yelp Review

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 5: The Case of the Bad Yelp Review

Magical Mysteries, Episode 4 : The Case of the Ruined Cupcakes

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 4: The Case of the Ruined Cupcakes

Magical Mysteries, Episode 3: The Case of the End of the World

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 3: The Case of the End of the World

Magical Mysteries, Episode 2: The Case of the House Number Tiles

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 2: The Case of the House Number Tiles

Magical Mysteries, Episode 1: The Case of the Magical Neighbor

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 8: Magical Mysteries

Episode 1: The Case of the Magical Neighbor

Make Me Cry

 

Recently, one of the writers in my orbit complained of "dry eyes," and announced a contest where people would submit short stories and whoever made her cry the most would win.

This writer carries drama behind her like a cape that flares as she walks.  It trails after her, and heedlessly, she keeps walking with the wind in her hair.  So when she announced this contest, I got out my popcorn to watch the inevitable weirdness and fallout.  (It delivered.)  But I got to thinking about how the premise of this contest might be inherently flawed.

We all have different thresholds to what makes us cry. I cry just thinking about the movie "Arrival," but I rarely cry at books. (The big exception is "The Paper Menagerie.") And not everyone cries when they're sad. I mostly get quiet and need a nap after I read a very sad book.

You cannot control someone's reactions. As someone who plans out whole, difficult conversations and then gets disastrously off track when they say something I didn't plan for, I can tell you with certainty that people's reactions are in no way guaranteed. I suppose it could be different when you're writing for an audience of one, and you have an idea how they react to stimuli, so you can trigger those reactions. I know what's going to scare my kid, and I know what's going to make my cat snuggly. But not everyone reacts the same way, so if you're writing for a broader audience, it's unreasonable to write one thing that's going to cause all your readers to cry.  

Instead, something I think is doable is to trigger an emotion. It sounds strange, because in real life, I can't control the way someone else feels the same way that I can't control someone's reactions.  But I think in fiction, a particular emotion is a larger target to hit.  Wanting your reader to feel sad/angry/uplifted/frustrated is an attainable goal. Not every single person will feel that way, but you can set a tone with story beats and language and how you layer a story to make it come to an emotional head. I can check with my beta readers, "How do you feel about this? How did you feel when you read that?" and if I'm not hitting it right, I can adjust by changing or removing the parts that made them feel differently. If they're not sad about a character's death, because they're still upset about something he did back at the beginning of the book, then that part in the beginning of the book needs to change, or there needs to be more of an adjustment throughout the rest of the book, building up to the character's death.  If I was asking, "Did you cry here?" when they say no, that's a much steeper mountain to climb, and a peak that in the end may be unattainable.

So I'm side-eyeing the goal of this contest a bit.  There was some discourse on writer twitter a while back about how fiction writers emotionally manipulate their readers. Someone claimed this was bad, and others claimed that that claim was ridiculous.  I think that it's fine to try to inspire emotions in a reader.  It's good even.  And at the same time there are cheap punches an author can throw that do feel like manipulation.  And some of my hesitancy surrounding this contest has to do with how asking for this seems to be encouraging some level of manipulation.  Dragging up emotions in your readers is one thing, aiming for a specific reaction does feel manipulative, and it feels like a breeding ground for those cheap shots.

But I think another aspect that gives me pause is the individual nature of this contest.  If I wrote something for it, I would be writing a story just for this writer to enjoy (and by enjoy, I mean cry over).  It would be my tearful, urgent gift to her.  There are people I would do this for, and I hope that she is that person for everyone who enters, or that the people who enter are thinking about this completely differently than I am.  But as it is, asking me to write a story for her, is a bit too personal and too big of an ask on my time and resources.

(No matter what I think of it, it did deliver on the drama.  And, in the end, that's really all I ask.)

Apology Hour, Episode 12: The Mermaids

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 12: The Mermaids

Apology Hour, Episode 11: The Tiny Lemon Tree Curse

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 11: The Tiny Lemon Tree Curse

Apology Hour, Episode 10: Chalking Day

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 10: Chalking Day

Apology Hour, Episode 9: Apology Dinner

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 9: Apology Dinner

Apology Hour, Episode 8: The Broody Hen

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 8: The Broody Hen

Apology Hour, Episode 7: Ghost Dad

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 7: Ghost Dad

Apology Hour, Episode 6: The Cranberry Bog Monster

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 6: The Cranberry Bog Monster

Apology Hour, Episode 5: The Kelpies

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 5: The Kelpies

Apology Hour, Episode 4: The Sweater Curse

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 4: The Sweater Curse

Apology Hour, Episode 3: The Questing Beast

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 3: The Questing Beast

Apology Hour: Episode 2: The Spriggins Bean Stalk

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 2: The Spriggins Bean Stalk

When the Podcast Season Changed Theme

 

I started Season 7 of the podcast inspired by the subreddit "Am I the Asshole?"  In this subreddit, posters present a story in which they have a conflict with another person.  They then ask the commenters if they are the asshole in the situation, or if the other party is.  Sometimes, both parties are at fault (Everyone Sucks Here) or no one is at fault (No Assholes Here).  Although the stories are supposed to be true, there really is no guarantee of that.  Therefore, this form of storytelling has become a new genre of short fiction.

I love it. 

So I wanted to write a season which was all posts with a story like these, with a wildly one-sided story, and a low stakes conflict, and there would be something supernatural involved.  Then there would be comments debating who was the asshole.  It sounded so fun, and I was stoked about writing the podcast for the first time in a long while.

But there were several problems with this.

The first stumbling block was fairly minor, but just using the word "Asshole" would lose me the "clean" label on iTunes.  I've had to work fairly hard in a few previous episodes to avoid swearing, and it feels like a waste to throw that away by doing a whole season labeled as "Explicit."  So I needed to change the name, and I changed it to "Am I in the wrong?" which works, but doesn't have the same pizazz.

The second stumbling block was making the format make sense in an entirely audio medium.  I can change my voice for different commenters, and I was planning to put in a little ting noise each time there was a new comment.  I think that would have worked, but for a while I was considering bringing in some voice actors.  That would, however, require that I have everything written WELL ahead of time, and then I would have to wait on the turn around as they recorded.  It seemed that it would be less time, less of a logistical struggle, and cheaper to do it myself.  Someday, I might look into it further, but not now.

The final issue (and the nail in the coffin) was that my usual short stories have a chronic tension (a problem that the character has been having for quite a while) and a situational tension (the event that sets off the story).  Stories that work well have these two tensions work together and the situation will make the chronic tension more prevalent and the chronic tension will make the event hit harder for the character. 

Am I the Asshole posts are specifically about a situation.  The relationships between characters are often unclear, and the background (if it's given at all) is either given as an info dump at the beginning, or comes out in bits and pieces in updates or comments.  The background info is often VERY important, and when it shows up, it makes the original poster the asshole.  But the narrators are not reliable to clue you into the chronic tensions they're experiencing.  They're here for advice about this one single situation.  They often aren't self aware enough to realize that the situation is the straw that broke the camel's back.  And often, knowing more about the situation and the poster's life makes it too real to be a silly distraction.  There was a girlfriend who was mad that her boyfriend buried beans in the back yard.  That's so strange and ridiculous.  But if we knew more, it might turn sad.  What kind of insecurity is the boyfriend going through to bury food stuffs?

I wrote four episodes, then decided it wasn't working, and scrapped the concept.  Luckily, around the same time, a friend introduced me to a radio show where people called in to apologize.  This felt related, and the show changed theme to "The Apology Hour".  Several of the story concepts have been preserved, but with the change of format to prose, it's easier for me to weave in that chronic tension and get at something deeper.

Apology Hour, Episode 1: The Corn Fairies

The Twenty Percent True Podcast

Season 7: Apology Hour

Episode 1: The Corn Fairies


More about the Corn Fairies

More About Corn Fairies

 

Corn Fairies are an invention of Carl Sandburg, renowned Mid-Western poet.  They appear in "The Rootabaga Stories," which is a collection of short, fairy-tale like stories for children, inspired by the every day magic of the Mid-West.  Specifically, they are from the story "How to Tell Corn Fairies if You See 'Em."

"Have you ever stood in Illinois or Iowa and watched the late summer wind or the early fall wind  running across a big cornfield?  It looks as if a big, long blanket were being spread out for dancers to come and dance on."  Well, corn fairies come and dance on those corn fields.  They sing and dance and make the corn grow.  They shoo away mice and crickets and nail down the corn in high winds so it doesn't blow away.

Corn fairies wear overalls, ("The reason they are proud is that they work so hard.  And the reason they work so hard is because they have overalls.") which they weave themselves from corn each year.  When corn fairies laugh, the laugh comes out of their mouths like a golden frost.  And you can tell where a corn fairy is from, because the corn fairies in each state have a different number of stitches in their overalls.  Some regional variances also have various accessories made of different kinds of flowers.

I don't often use folk tales or creatures that only appear in one source.  But here, I believe corn fairies (although specific) tie into a long tradition of fairies who aid in growing flowers or forests or crops.  Also, it feels as if the original short story (which has little plot outside of Carl Sandburg's daughters asking him how to identify corn fairies and him explaining) is set up as a jumping off point for other stories.  He presents a character and expects children to come up with their own stories about that character.  There's something in the question and answer format of the story (where he is clearly making things up as he goes along) that feels as if it's teaching his daughters how to create a story, how to add details, how to roll with it.  He has created a folk tale and would be not be upset when it takes hold and grows and bends.