Story Notes

Story Notes – The world of her own making

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My story ‘The world of her own making’ was published recently in A cappella Zoo (Issue 14) and I was so excited.

To read the story just head A cappella Zoo and order up Issue 14.

Because I love to know about the origins of a story from the writer’s perspective, I thought I would share some notes about this story with you.

Spoiler Alert: There are spoilers in the story notes below. So if you want to read the story with fresh eyes check it out first at A cappella Zoo before reading the notes.

About ‘The world of her own making’

I love origin myths; the expansiveness of the claims and the simplifying of all the complexity of the universe into something completely human centric. Our gods are so often personifications of us, with all of our most basic (and sometimes terrible) traits; jealousy, lust, rage, hunger. Any origin myth we’ve conjured up is such a great indication of our humanity—our desire to connect with something bigger than us, our wish for the simplicity of a god-like figure.

I wanted to write a story of a girl who ate the world and naturally, as I was writing it, it turned into an origin story. A new world from the old, not something from nothing but something born from a normal girl who simply got hungry.

I can’t imagine a universe where something comes from nothing. I think ultimately that makes me a believer in an infinite multi-verse which has its own issues but I like the idea of a new universe coming from something pre-existing because a lone god in an empty void creating all of existence is even more confusing and definitely less science-friendly.

I liked being able to really get into the texture of things in this story, assigning common tastes to objects that aren’t meant to be eaten and I enjoyed the ultimate grandeur of the tale. I guess thoughts of the universe are never far from my mind because they creep into my writing at any given opportunity.

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I want to write what I know

New view of the Pillars of Creation — visible

(This post is meant to shed more light on the writing explanation for my cosmorphosis)

Since I officially decided to become a writer about three years ago I’ve written five books, three of which I love and want to publish. But in the summer after I had finished my fifth book I had a dilemma. I had enough practice writing novels from ideas that just came from nowhere (dreams, conversations with Ben, new articles online) and I wanted my next book to reflect the story I really wanted to tell. So I sat down and made a huge, sprawling mind map chart to outline all the things I was most interested in. Then I tried combining different concepts to make a full idea. It was a painful process (mostly because I often worry an idea will never come) but finally something presented itself.

An idea I loved.

An idea I felt could truly represent a lot of the things I cared about most and struggled with.


But then I realized that although the emotional aspect of the story was something I could definitely authoritatively write about, the technicalities of the story weren’t within the scope of my knowledge. I wanted to write a story that was essentially a love letter to the universe, but I didn’t have the understanding of the universe I needed/wanted to really get my point across.

I wanted to write what I know, but I didn’t know what I wanted to write.


So I decided to go back to school. Specifically to audit a course in astronomy and when I got there I realized it wasn’t enough. Sure it was nice to have a basic understanding of certain astronomical phenomena, but I wanted to know everything I possibly could about the birth and future death of the universe. How can you write a love letter to someone if you don’t know the person you’re writing to?

So I’m going back to school.

Maybe it’s taking the idea of research for a novel a little far, but obviously I have other reasons for doing it too. I’m not satisfied with the basics, I want to know the whole story. I want my love letter to the universe to encompass more than just one novel. I want to write thousands of stories in thousands of different ways to illuminate the mystery, wonder and sheer insanity of the cosmos.

I want to write what I know and I’m excited to figure out how.

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(Image from the Hubble Space Telescope depicting the Eagle Nebula’s Pillars of Creation)

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On Raw Talent

I recently read ‘On Writing’ by Stephen King.  It was a good book and one I’d highly recommend for any aspiring writer who wants to know about the journey of a famous, published author.

One of the things that King talks about is talent and I think his theory on it was pretty spot on.  Basically he postulates that there are four types of writers (and I think this can definitely apply to pretty much any art): bad, competent, good & great.  He says it’s impossible to make a bad writer competent or a good writer great, but with a lot of hard work it is possible to make a competent writer good.

I find this to be an interesting theory because I’m absolutely fascinated by the concept of raw talent.  I look at artists who can draw without practice and I’m astounded (I can’t draw for shit, seriously even my stick figures are sad).  I hear these ten year olds on youtube belting out songs with voices of gold and I’m amazed.  I see documentaries about math savants who can see the numbers in their mind’s eye and I’m blown away.  To some people certain talents are just there.  So they work to improve them, but the talent is engrained, so all they’re doing is refining the awesome.

Then, of course, I keep pondering and I come upon things like this:

“I saw an angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.” – Michelangelo

Now I’m wondering if that’s what talent is, maybe it’s the patterns and the beauty of the universe (and our brains) that these people are just recognizing and uncovering.  Like everything was all there to begin with and artists are born to find them.  All the stories, all the paintings, all the sculptures, all the equations.  Just waiting to be set free.

Maybe it’s because I used to be a hippy, took too many drugs and philosophized about the universe and how unbelievably crazy it is.  Maybe it’s because I still do that now (minus the drugs and most of the hippy part).  But the concept of raw talent gives me that same feeling I get when I stare up into the stars on a clear night, or when I was in Egypt looking up at those giant pyramids.  Wonder.  I mean think about it for a second, why are some people so good at things and other people are crap?  What are your talents, do you have one special thing or multiple things?  If so, where does it all come from and why?  Pretty crazy.

So talent.  Some people have it, some people don’t.  But does that mean that those who don’t can never achieve the same heights as people who do?  This is completely debatable, because a lot of the time, art is subjective.  Something I might consider to be abject garbage could make someone famous.  Something I adore could languish in obscurity.  So how does one gauge this idea of ‘greatness’?  It’s pretty tough.

But ultimately, at the end of the day, I tend to agree with King.  Perhaps it’s just that people who are bad at things typically don’t practice enough to get better.  But I kind of think there’s predisposition to a thing.  Being good at something usually tends to go hand and hand with a passion for it (I think) and I, for example, don’t have the raw talent of a visual artist.  I do, however, have the talent of a writer and I can only hope that if I try hard enough, I can go from competent to good.  Then again, it’s all just a matter of opinion now isn’t it?

Tell me your thoughts on Stephen King’s theory, or share some stories about awesome raw talent that makes you feel that jaw-dropping kind of wonder.