Was it really a long-awaited part 2? I don’t know. You tell me. I know it was long-awaited for me because it has pretty much taken me since part 1 to discover the answer to the unanswered question I raised in that post – what is starlight dust and how does it fly from your imagination and into your story?
If you don’t remember or did not read that post, I encourage you to check it out. There were some wonderful responses!
So. The question I asked as I puzzled over it in my own mind was, “Why do I write some stories and they just completely flow? There’s little effort to really get it out, and it comes out solid and good. Why do I write other stories and, after great effort and writer’s block, it comes forth choppy, jagged, empty?”
My critique partner and I settled on our own term for this mystery – starlight dust – and I proceeded to observe in my own work when I saw that “dust” and when I didn’t. It’s been eons . . . but I believe I’ve discovered what starlight dust in the written word means to me.
There is not one strict answer. Show of hands, how many of you have seen the epically awesome, squeal-worthy, downright incredible The Man Who Invented Christmas? It’s in theaters now, if you haven’t even heard of it – inconceivable! – and you must watch the trailer. Anyway, enough fangirling – never enough! – let me get to the point.
Spoiler Free: In the above-mentioned movie, we witness the process Charles Dickens went through to write the second-greatest Christmas story of all time, A Christmas Carol. The first-greatest is Jesus’. But I think we’re safe to presume A Christmas Carol ranks second. Okay, so, in this new movie, providing the following bits of the film are true to Dickens’ life, we see an enormous portion of that author’s life, past, and convictions being poured into the book he worked so hard to produce.
And thus, we see starlight dust. Because of what Dickens put of himself into the story – without trying to – it came to life. Again, providing those tidbits of the film are true, as I have done no research on the topic, because A Christmas Carol came straight from Dickens’ heart, it was showered in starlight dust.
So, our past, present, and personal convictions can drastically affect whatever it is we’re writing. They can give the story that special glow I now label starlight dust.
What else? Having observed my own writing, I believe there’s another source. And it’s just a plain
and painful fact: Some stories we can put our hearts into, and some we cannot. It is the blessing-in-disguise of writing. But when you can pour passion, like your convictions, into whatever it is you’re writing, it can illuminate the words so they become totally yours.
Of course, just because you deal with writer’s block or fatigue or pulling your hair out – do you do that? I’ve never experienced it – or slamming your head against a brick wall – or your keyboard. I don’t recommend either – those things do not mean there is no starlight dust to be found, or that what you’re struggling with isn’t what you should be writing. Beware of falling into those excuses.
There are, of course, many, many other sources for that special light only you can give your story. We wouldn’t have enough time to write down or read through all of them. Perhaps the major ones are the two highlighted here – convictions/you and passion. But many more exist and only you can uncover what starlight dust means for you.
So, while you’re puzzling over that, go watch The Man Who Invented Christmas. I saw it in theaters yesterday for my first-ever visit to a theater. (I know, I know. I’m sixteen and have never been to a theater.) It was an interesting experience. 🙂
Tell me, friends, what does starlight dust mean to you? Any tidbits you can share to encourage someone struggling as I was with figuring out what’s wrong with this story? And perhaps the most important question of the day . . . drumroll commences . . . drumroll ends . . . HAVE YOU SEEN THE MAN WHO INVENTED CHRISTMAS YET!