I think the most imaginative part of writing is creating a new world. This is a universe plucked out of your mind. And it’s all yours. But nice guy that you are, you’re going to share it with your characters. By that, I mean you’re going to slap them right in the middle of it with no escape, and then throw stuff at them.
You’ll do this scene by scene, as your characters journey through this wild world you have created. And your readers will see, hear, and smell it all through your characters, and through you as the storyteller.
One thing always guides me when I create new scenes. Contrast. Imagine a character stepping out of the bright daylight into a shadowy dragon pit. Or the eerie silence of a dark ocean suddenly broken by the blast of a pirate cannon. Or what about two school kids standing in the dusty grey attic of a London schoolhouse, only to fall through a magic puddle and land in the specked sunlight of a deep green wood. Hmmm … that sounds like a good story.
If a story is all dark and brooding, it can get a bit dreary. Sometimes, the writer might think the answer is to make the next chapter even darker and scarier. But that’s just more of the same. Of course, if it were all light and cheery, there would be no suspense. But put them together, and you’ve got something that turns pages.
One fun technique is to introduce humour to create more light and shade in your story. Here’s a scene from my book, The Ancient Machine, where Georgie and Thomas encounter the torture master. I’ve used humour to lighten up what could otherwise have been a dark and scary scene.
See what you think, and then try to add some humour or contrast into your next story.
Georgie and Thomas were so tired and miserable by the end of the day that they were almost prepared for their last lesson. ‘It’s got to be a mistake!’ Thomas repeated for the hundredth time as they arrived at the entrance to the torture chamber. Before them was an enormous door at the base of the Haunted Tower. A notice hung upon it for unsuspecting children.
Free Sweets Inside!
(A little torture master’s joke, it seemed.) Thomas glanced nervously at Georgie as the door creaked open all by itself. There stood a giant of a man, with deep-set eyes, a hairy chest, and a black hood pulled over his head.
Thomas swallowed hard. ‘S-Sorry to bother you, I think there must be some mistake,’ he said, pointing rapidly to his schedule by way of explanation.
‘You’re wate!’ scolded a muffled voice.
The schedule dropped to the ground.
‘Hands pwease,’ said the torture master, pulling something out of his pocket.
Gulping audibly, Georgie and Thomas held out their hands. They were promptly stamped with a crooked black smiley face. They looked up in surprise. The torture master turned and lumbered down the dark stairwell, making a thud with each footstep. The children stepped nervously inside the tower as the door closed behind them. They hesitated on the steps, for a low moaning had risen from the depths. ‘Keep up, pwease!’ their teacher called. The children followed reluctantly after the retreating footsteps. They had a nervous feeling about that smiley face on their hands and didn’t want to earn another one until they knew what it meant.
The torture chamber was a dungeon with flaming torches that illuminated a collection of sinister contraptions. There were levers, wheels, cogs, and shackles, all of which gave them the nasty impression it was best not to know what they did. The air in the chamber was old and smelled of sweat, and a low moan echoed through the cells. A shiver ran up Georgie’s spine as she noticed a hairy man who was hanging from a set of shackles on the wall. ‘I’ve bwought you some company, Bob,’ said the torture master. The man cackled madly at the children, who were beginning to feel rather queasy.
Unaware of their reservations, the torture master set about acquainting them with the facilities. ‘Now pay attention pwease. Dat wever on de wall lowers the shackles, not to be confused with dat wever beside it, which opens de cwocodile den. Any questions so far?’
They swallowed. ‘What does that do?’ asked Thomas, pointing to a particularly sinister-looking device.
‘It twists your ears off, sticks burning pwods up your nose, and shaves your eyebwows. Any more questions?’
There were no more questions.
The torture master handed them their uniforms. These consisted of one black hood each that covered their whole head. ‘Dere are no names in dis cwass,’ he was saying. ‘You will wefer to me as Sir. I will wefer to you as you.’ He paused as Thomas put up his hand. ‘Yes, is dat a question?’
‘H-How do you know who needs to be, (Gulp!) … you know?’ he asked, nodding nervously towards the torture machines.
Sir grinned in a most disconcerting way. ‘Excewent question! We have a vewy simple meffod. De torture master’s stamp. Anyone wiff the torture master’s smiley face on their hand has a tortuwing coming to dem.’
Silence fell over the torture chamber. Georgie and Thomas lowered their eyes to the crooked smiley face on their hands. Hairy Bob cackled.
‘Oh, mummy,’ Thomas whimpered.
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