[Intro music plays]
Woman’s Voice:
This is Behind the Cut with Christopher Gronlund. The companion show to Not About Lumberjacks.
[Music fades out]
Christopher Gronlund:
I should probably begin episodes of Behind the Cut with a spoiler alert. Something like, “Behind the Cut is usually a behind-the-scenes look at the latest episode of Not About Lumberjacks and likely contains spoilers of the latest episode. You’ve been warned…”
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I didn’t like my latest story, “The Cold of Summer,” until its final days.
I mean, I loved the idea of it—a group of strangers contracting a virus that allows them to share dreams? What’s not cool about that? But it became a story that seemed to do only what was expected of it: hitting all the right points, but feeling rather stale in doing so.
For me, a story that goes through the motion of its telling with little more than the effort leaves me flat. And for much of “The Cold of Summer’s” creation, it was that kind of story. It’s not that there was anything really wrong with it, but it definitely lacked that certain je n’est sais quoi.
* * *
Writing is an act of discovery, and for me, I often go into stories with no idea how they end. In the writing world, I’m what’s called a pantser, someone who writes by the seat of their pants…not according to any plan.
Because of this, I often put a great amount of trust in myself and the story…believing it’ll all come together through the effort of putting my ass in a chair and writing.
It’s not that I’ve never tried planning, but I can’t truly know a story until wading in and spending time with it—no matter how much I try. Writing begets writing; ideas lead to more ideas, and it’s often during that effort that the best pathways appear. (Sometimes, granted, too many trails at once, but you work with it and trust the journey.)
* * *
One of the problems with “The Cold of Summer’s” creation was how it quickly bloated. The structure was there: people contract a virus, they get sick, they have dreams, we see how it affects them, and…there, well…I planned another round of full dreams in which the characters crossed over into each other’s dreams.
It was a neat idea, but aside from adding to the story’s length, it became strangers helping strangers in dreams. It all seemed too forced, like, “Hey, I don’t know you, but aren’t you the person I saw the other day in line at the pharmacy? Here, let me fix all that’s wrong in your life…”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but it was definitely not good.
* * *
The first time I really considered scrapping the story, I did what I usually do in that rare instance and I sat with it. And in doing so…I knew the old woman needed to play a bigger role. But I had no idea what that was until, in another rare instance, I talked about a story in progress with my wife.
She said something to the effect of, “Maybe the old woman is full of regrets…?”
I ran with that idea, but I still had the bloated dreams issue—and all the stuff that I came up with for the old woman seemed hokey. (Even now, her line about the ripples in the final dream still seems very on the nose to me.)
But those are things that can be fixed. I’m sure some people would have liked seeing the characters crossing over into each other’s dreams instead of the quick info dump, but here’s the thing with any story: any decision you make along the way will be liked by some and hated by others. (I mean, some people like chocolate, others like vanilla…and then there are people who are like, “Oh, yuck!” to it all and want something savory.)
So, the second round of dreams was cut short and the old woman offers some pat advice we all already know, but ya know, hey: sometimes you do that in a story. And in making those decisions, the ending seemed more realistic to me: It wasn’t rushed—it was four strangers who haven’t quite come to grips with what just happened to them, and they’re all like, “Now what?” instead of things concluding in a neat little package where everything is resolved.
* * *
Another thing I need to remember when a story seems off is the stories on Not About Lumberjacks are heard—not read. (Although I’ve been catching up on providing transcripts for people with hearing impairments or those who would rather read fiction than listen to it.)
Lines that might seem a bit heavy-handed while writing can be tempered through narration. Sounds fill in the gaps, and sometimes a music bed can do more for a piece than trying to describe it in greater detail.
When all those elements finally come together, I’ve enjoyed all the stories on Not About Lumberjacks even more.
* * *
I also need to remember these stories are not for me. Sure, obviously, I write the things I want to write, but once they’re out there, they belong as much to the readers as much as they do to me.
I recently shared the opening story of December’s Christmas episode with someone…and they saw in it something totally different than my intent. But, once I think about it, I’d argue that their view is even more valid than mine because they lived through the very subject of the story in a way I never did.
I’m not precious about controlling what people take from the things I write. If I wanted to control it all, I’d not share the stories at all…or I’d only share them with people primed to see in them exactly what I see in them.
Fortunately, the people I hear from—people I know and even a bunch of strangers—like what I’m doing. And when they talk about liking stories I’m apprehensive about, I see those stories affected listeners and readers in ways I might never have imagined.
It’s in those moments that I’m happy I let something go, even if I wasn’t sure about it…because some of the things that have entertained and even helped people are not always the stories that mean the most to me.
And that makes the effort worth it every time I sit down to write and record a story for the show…
* * *
Thank you for listening to Not About Lumberjacks and Behind the Cut. Theme music for Behind the Cut is a tune called “Reaper” by Razen. Visit nolumberjacks.com for information about the music, the episodes, and voice talent.
Later this month, a guy down on his luck who takes up the hobby of geocaching begins finding the strangest caches out along the lumber roads of northern Minnesota. So strange, in fact, that his obsession with them changes his life forever. Oh, and of course, since it’s November and the anniversary episode of the show, I PROMISE…there is no mention at all about lumberjacks!!!
Until next time: be mighty, and keep your axes sharp!
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