How to be a storyteller.

One of the joys of writing fiction is to write a story, which is not only a creative effort, but one that flows, entertains, and concludes properly. On the surface, that sounds rather simple and many writers are so good they make it look easy. However, for a lot of us, telling a story in a work of fiction can be frustrating. Let me give you a few of the ideas I've come up with to make it easier.

First, in my novels, I like to have several incidents linked together, all of which focus on the overall premise of the novel. In some way, these sub-plots are rhythmic high points to pull the reader along.

This is how I worked several of these sub-plots into my novel The Red Scarf. First, I made sure the sub-plots related to the final resolution of the story. The Red Scarf has a simple premise; Richard is trying to earn $15 to buy Rosalie a red scarf. In 1944, $15, for a poor country boy, is a tremendous amount of money. The plot winds around Richard and his best friend trying to earn the money, and everything in the novel relates in some way to the boy's efforts. One of the really outlandish adventures the boys have has to do with the hunt for the chicken-killing coon. Of course, catching a coon and selling it to earn money is the simple reason for the hunt, but as the hunt progresses the boys become involved in something they never expected. Their encounter with a wildcat instead of a coon could have been a paragraph, but a storyteller will naturally embellish the encounter to make it wilder, funnier, and more dramatic---and make it a whole chapter.

Take a quick read of part of the "Hunt for the Chicken-killing Coon" below, and you'll see how I told the story.

The Red Scarf

The Hunt for the Chicken-killing Coon
........"Come on, John Clayton, let’s get in close and shake that coon out. Sniffer’ll grab it soon as it hits the ground, and if he needs any help we’ve got these clubs..”
“Yeah, but, Richard, that’s one big coon. I can’t make it out, but it’s takin’ up most of the top of the tree.”
“Yeah, you bet it’s a big ’un! Let’s get ready with a couple of sticks in case Sniffer needs some help. It’s a world-record coon! Come on, let’s crawl in the brush top and get up close to the base of the cedar tree.”
The tree brushtop was all that was left of a huge pin oak tree that loggers had cut down last summer. They had carried off the big pin oak logs and left the top of the tree, which had fallen across the little cedar tree. There were so many branches around the base of the cedar tree we barely had room to stand up on one side, and the other side was so close to the bank of Flat Creek we couldn’t stand there without getting in the water. Finally, me, John Clayton, and Sniffer got ready at the base of the cedar tree where we peered up trying to get a look at the chicken-killing coon which was into the very top of the bushy little tree. Sniffer was so excited he was biting the tree and howling his head off. Around the base of the tree there were so many pin oak limbs and leaves that we barely had a place to stand.
“Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeyhaaaaaaa! Git ’em, Smiffer! Sic ’em! Sic ’em!”” Sniffer roared and jumped up trying to climb the tree. Old Sniffer went absolutely dog crazy.
“Sniffer’s ready,
“John Clayton, shake the tree. Sniffer’s ready for that coon!, Come outta that tree, Mr. Coon! Eyeeeeeeee! Ahaaaaaa!” ” I yelled as we grabbed the small cedar tree and begin to shake it.
After a few minutes of shaking, we stepped back to think things over. “Shoot, that dang coon’s not movin’ a bit ,” I said. “The tree’s too big to shake. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Pull out your slingshot and send a few rocks into that bushy part of the tree. I’ll bet after a couple of rocks, it’ll come outta there.”
We pulled out our slingshots and started sending rock after rock into the mass of green cedar foliage. Then I heard one of my rocks make a solid thump, and I knew I’d hit the coon. It was moving and then it made a funny sounding snarl.
“Wow! Dang! Did you hear that? That sure sounded like one huge coon!.”
“Uh, Richard, that didn’t sound like no coon I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, John Clayton come on; a coon is a coon. It don’t matter none how big it is. It’s still a dang coon. Get your club ready. Between me, you, and Sniffer we’ll take care of that dang coon.”
“Come on outta that tree, Christmas money!” John Clayton yelled.
I screamed. “It’s movin’! It’s movin!’ Get ready! Here it comes! Get ready! And don’t hit Sniffer!” I could see it crawling through the branches heading down the tree, and we stood there with our clubs raised ready to whap it, while Sniffer just went plumb dog crazy trying to climb that tree..
“Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeyhaaaaaaaaaa! Git ’em, Sniffer! Sic ‘em! Sic ‘em!”I yelled Sniffer jumped straight up trying to get to that coon, and then I looked up and—“No! Nooooo! Nooooooooo! I screamed. “It ain’t’s not a coon! It ain’t a coon! Get out of the way!” I was looking straight in the face of one big wildcat.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! It’s a wildcat! Look out! Here it comes!”
I was trying to back away from the tree when an eighty-pound wildcat sailed out of the tree right at me.......

To be continued

That's the way I worked one of the sub-plots into my novel