Writing speculative fiction has influenced the way I read stories and changed the way I look at the world. In the same way I suppose a software designer can’t play a video game without appreciating the effort that went into developing it, or a chef can’t eat a meal without noticing the ingredients and considering what makes the recipe delicious.
I’ve learned that creating a story is different from consuming a story. Kind of like the difference between the compulsion to open every wardrobe door you see, and the drive to figure out exactly how to build a wardrobe from the wood of a magic apple tree.
Recently, I decided it was time to box up my children’s collection of picture books. My twins are entering middle school and a rapidly growing collection of chapter books and YA novels are stacked precariously next to, instead of inside, their full bookshelves like misshapen Lego bricks. Not that piles of books are an unusual sight around my house.
The initial organizational plan was to sort through them, keep my favorites, keep my children’s favorites, and donate the rest. Yeah, right. This task is so much more difficult than tossing out and donating the clothes my children have outgrown. Our so-called children’s books still fit.
Have you ever noticed how many picture books contain strong elements of speculative fiction? What would you draw with a magic purple crayon? How cool would it be to travel in a giant peach with insect friends as big as you? When the Cat in the Hat shows up, crazy wild terrifying and wonderful things will start to happen. He reminds me of Doctor Who.
I love short fiction that makes me think, that opens my mind and twists my understanding. I think the best speculative fiction also appeals to the child in us. We want to suspend our disbelief and remember that sense of wonder. We want to experience alternate realities. We want the thrill of being frightened by a scary story, because you’re never too old to sleep with the lights on.
The seed of my Dream Catcher story germinated in my head one night when I was putting my twins to bed. I foolishly caved to their desire to watch something scary on TV, and my penance included a good half-hour spent positioning and repositioning a dreamcatcher to my daughter’s satisfaction, directly over her pillow. She also asked me to repeat the familiar dreamcatcher legend several times. I complied with as much conviction as I could muster, hoping the power of suggestion would be enough to help her succumb to sleep. As I waited for her to slip into that angelic state, I thought about her questions. If the dreamcatcher worked, then what really happened to the bad dreams? Surely nightmares hold too much power and energy to simply melt away in the light of day. In fairy tales, dreams hold revelation, and no blessing comes without a price.
Reading and writing speculative fiction challenges me to move my point of view around until I see beyond what is in front of me. Can you see them? The fey folk that linger in your peripheral vision, but on direct inspection look like teenagers skateboarding in the park. You know as well as I do the bicycle-mounted police officer is wearing shiny plate armor and riding a white horse in an alternate reality.
So move your point of view around until you can see the speculative possibilities. Then write about them so other people can open the wardrobe door and see them, too.
Miriah Hetherington is a middle-aged stay-home mom residing in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband and three daughters. Though she’s been reading speculative fiction stories for years, it wasn’t until relatively recently that she started to write them herself. Miriah is delighted that her very first published story, Dream Catcher, will appear in Penumbra’s September 2012 Native American issue.
Learn more about Miriah Hetherington on her website. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter.
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