Well, teaching ‘creative writing techniques’ and learning ‘creative writing techniques’ are both tough propositions, for many reasons, but today I’m going to focus on one: invisibility. When writing is most effective, technique is invisible.

Mystery

Some mystery remains as to why stories have the capacity to move us so deeply. The empathy we feel for fictional characters is distinct from the compassion felt for people suffering on the news. We semi-live, colive, if you like, fictitious experiences, and, as yet, academia is still striving to understand why. (If you want to read more on this subject, Monika Fludernik’s research into cognitive narratology is a great place to start.)

Harnessing

Add to this mystery the fact that every story, even a formulaic one, is unique, and it seems impossible to spot the traces left by such an elusive yet desirable invisible force. But spot them we must. The example I give my students is the following: Imagine a boy sitting on his own in a room, then a man walks in. It’s a meaningless scenario. We do not care about this boy or this man. Now, add the information that the sweet faced, nervous looking boy has never met his dad. This new knowledge immediately triggers questions, engaging the reader. Is this man the boy’s father? How and when information is revealed to a reader affects, nae creates, that page-turning invisible force. In other words, plotting matters. So, can creative writing be taught? Probably not, but through reading, writing, discussing and playing we can spot the traces left by the invisible force that is storytelling, until we begin to harness that force ourselves.