The Influence of Folklore on Genre Fiction

I did a panel with several wonderful, super-intelligent folks at Multiverse Con. It was so inspiring that I wanted to bring the topic over to the blog and open it up to our writing community at large. 

The panel was on folk magic/folk horror, (as evidenced by films such as Midsommar, The Village, The VVitch, etc.) but I think it applies to general genre fiction throughout as well. So, that's where we're going. 

Ready?

Folk magic and folklore began with the common people (folks), or as author Jessica Nettles put it on the panel, "As long as there are people, there is folklore." With so much emphasis in fiction having been spent on the rich or leisurely class, how has this notion of the commonplace protagonist influenced your writing?

Danielle Procter Piper: I shall admit a wealthy protagonist is not often necessary, but written as such for convenience sake. So many stories involve characters doing things while not at a regular job, that it's easiest to explain it away by making them wealthy/important enough to be free for whatever adventure the story calls for. That said, I love the new wave of stories I'm seeing where characters do have fairly regular Joe lives and there are consequences for vanishing to save the world or what have you when school or work is imperative. 

Nikki Nelson-Hicks: The first thing that comes to mind is Alan Moore and John Constantine. He said he wanted to make a magic user that was from the streets and not some lofty white tower. I’ve always loved that.

As for my work, the best examples of folk magic are in my Jake Istenhegyi stories. Jake, the protag, doesn’t use it as much as he gets used by it. The stories are set in 1930’s New Orleans so, of course, vodun, is the first thing to play with but I was able to dip my pen into Golems and Alchemy. While doing research into some of the folk tales of the swamp, I came across the Boodaddy and I used it albeit I did take some creative license with the creature.

A story I am working on currently, Crown of Feathers, is about a boy on the brink of losing his mother but, against the advice of the granny witches that live on the hill, he finds a way to snatch her from the claws of death. Although it doesn’t work out the way he plans. I’ve been doing a lot of research into Appalachian death culture and hedgewitchery.

So, yeah. Long story short, folk magic always somehow influences me.

Jessica Nettles: I feel like my characters are commonplace almost always, probably because I see myself as pretty commonplace. In that space of the commonplace there is the folklore. As a Southern woman, folklore is part of my infrastructure. We are taught it from the time we can hear stories and learn what's important. This feeling of being commonplace and being "not the lady or the Southern Belle" has made me aware of the people who farm the land and are the plain folk. I was raised not only around women like my granny, who taught me how to pick peas and read, but also around my daddy, who took me fishing, taught me to fix old furniture, and to also watch where I put my hands and feet in the woods. My characters often are those sorts of people instead of the well-off. I know those people best.

Kay Iscah: Far more of us are common people than wealthy. We may enjoy the fantasy of wealth, but we’re more likely to relate to people who remind us of ourselves or at least the challenges we face. However, I think there’s a distinctly rural aspect to the term folklore that implies a degree of isolation and being on the edge of nature. Particularly if you’re urban or suburban, visiting rural relatives takes on a magical aspect because you’re so much closer to the edge where you can step out of one world and into another.

In the two Before the Fairytale coming-of-age stories that I’ve written, early on the characters from humble backgrounds pass through the same forest as a significant passage in their journey, though they’re headed in different directions. The back and forth between the safety of civilization and the mystery and danger of the wilds is something believed at the heart of much folklore.

Sean Taylor: I've always preferred the common folk when I write. Even when I write Pulp stories, whose stable of heroes come from the richest and most leisurely people, I tend to want to surround them with the common folk. When I create my own, such as with Rick Ruby, it was important not to make him independent and wealthy, which is typical of a Hammett and Chandler hero, but also to put him in a culture not his own, a white guy in a black world, where every one of his preconceptions is challenged. 

I don't tend to use a lot of magic or spiritual power unless I'm specifically writing fantasy, but I love the notion of the "dark" being looming and mysterious and dangerous, and I picked that up from reading both Gothic lit and fairy tales. 

Lots of folklore comes from people who have been "othered" by those in power, for example, by race, poverty, or gender. Folklore-inspired tales give power back to those people (often for vengeance in horror, for instance). How do you use othering and the empowerment of the "other" in your work?

Danielle Procter Piper: In my sci-fi series, the hero becomes everything he despises and fears...and while many believe he has become a villain... he actually still works for good, but on a much grander scale. In a way, it suggests God doesn't do enough little things because perhaps He's busy with even bigger things...and that's not an excuse to ignore the plight of those who struggle. In my Medieval fantasy series, the hero is about to achieve something uncommon that should be beneficial...but which drives him to push his limits to overcome mockery and protect others similarly mistreated. Eventually, he must give in and become something dreadfully fearful just to save innocent others. In both cases, my heroes must learn to accept and embrace dark things that not only terrify them but completely change them in the eyes of others—even those close to or who love them, sacrificing who they are as they learn how to use these new identities for good no matter the consequences to themselves. 

Kay Iscah: Continuing with the two characters already mentioned. One is an orphan who thinks she’s been abandoned, and the other is an abandoned child who thinks he is orphaned. I’m definitely a fan of clever protagonists, so both work their way up to better positions or at least respectable work with a mix of luck, skill, and determination. But both also make decisions to walk away from situations that might have given them material gain for moral reasons. I had not intentionally set up that parallel, but I see it now. I certainly think there’s a theme of how far you’re willing to go to find acceptance. Are you willing to walk away from power, community, or comfort if it compromises who you are? They both take completely different paths. One walks away from society completely to essentially become the witch in the wilderness, and other works his way up to management and then a royal court position. I don’t think either is wrong or better, but it’s different paths to empowerment. One creates her own space, and the other moves to a position where he might be able to influence larger-scale social change.

Sean Taylor: I love to either set stories in "othered" places, like with Rick Ruby mentioned above or to look for the "other" even in characters who don't immediately seem like an "other." For example, when I wrote Agara, a sort of female Conan for Black Pulp II, I wanted her to be disconnected from everyone else. I wanted to explore someone who exists outside of community but still must live within one. A lot of super hero fiction deals with this as well, I've found. They only pretend to be part of it, but in reality, they have a unique set of problems and issues "normies" can't possibly understand. 

One of my favorite aspects is how the power balance is restored and even tipped to the "other," whether my story has genuine folkloric elements or not. Agara wins, but at the expense of community, which she remains distant from. Rick Ruby's world influences him far more than he influences it. Even in my horror tales, the true power tends to reside in those who are outside the norm. 

Nikki Nelson-Hicks: In the collection of short stories I am working on, Politics of Children and Other Stories of Revenge, I play with this idea in quite a few of them. In, "A Beautiful Thing," a Golem is able to get revenge against the murderer of his protector with the help of some furry friends. In Sweet Revenge, a witch gets revenge against the bank president who finagled the foreclosure of her candy shop.

Magic is a way for the powerless to feel as if they have some kind of say in a game that is rigged against them from day one. I am guilty of that. I have two altars in my office. One is for blessings; I keep it to the right of me, close and under the care of Bridgid. The other is way back in the left side of my office, under the care of Maeve, is where I collect my hex jars. Do I believe that these quaint little jars hold any real power? Is it all just a psychological tool to deal with life with a dose of magical thinking? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it gives me comfort.

But in fiction, all things are possible. And I can take revenge with absolute impunity.

As for themes, folklore typically includes what DL Wainwright called (on the panel) "strangeness and wonder." In its origins, it often involved the encroachment of the dark and mysterious (often the forest or night) on the so-called normal world of the village or daylight. Does that encroachment of dark upon light weave into your work? Howso?

Danielle Procter Piper: All of my writing deals with heroes encountering and learning to function within the darkness of life. It's just a metaphor for dealing with all that life throws at you and discerning if there's anything good that may be wrought from it.

Jessica Nettles: I don't think the folklore comes from being "othered." The folklore comes from people who have their own primary cultures that are not ours so we don't understand (and in some cases don't want to understand) the importance and power of those stories to "those people over there." In Menlo Park, my witch, Deborah, has been othered because she comes from Romani roots and people fear her witchy powers (she is a VERY powerful witch). Her back story lands her in one of the asylums in New York City because no one knows what else to do with her. Her true power comes in her ability to love and believe in what she knows is true when no one else can. She's not powerful because she's Romani. She's powerful because she loves and is loved by her created family and that grounds her magic. She still believes in her folklore and the magic of her folklore, but in a way, she has created her own branch in her folklore.

Sean Taylor: Now this is a theme I can really get behind. My entire horror short story collection A Crowd in Babylon is based on the fuzzy line that happens where normality and strangeness & wonder meet. One of the stories went back to Indigenous Peoples legends. Another combines folk magic with the quantum mechanics ideas of M-Theory. And one of my favorites goes back to the metaphor of the crossroads and the Blues but removes the crossroads and puts the story in a dive bar in the middle of nowhere. One I'm currently working on involves a couple getting an unbelievable deal on a house... as long as they don't remove the dead squirrel in a jar in the cellar -- a sort of folkloric protection or ward. 

Nikki Nelson-Hicks: The hedgewitches in my Crown of Feathers story are representatives of the Furies: Alecto (mother), Tisiphone (maiden) and Megaera (Crone). Alecto and Meg, the Mother and the Crone) often fight about their responsibilities to help the Protag since he started the whole mess. Meg isn’t one to mess around with. She has no patience and enjoys the taste of a young boy’s flesh.

I like to entangle what might be consider Dark into the Light of my fiction. Mainly because Anger, which is always seen as somehow negative, gets shit done.

But I’ve always been drawn to the antihero.

Jamais Jochim: This is sort of what I'm playing with my Vella book. Folk stories are how we explain the weirdness in our lives while looking at the existence of the awesome and the profane, and how they are sides of the same coin.

Kay Iscah: I think I skipped ahead with my first answer, but yes. The first scene that pops to mind is young Phillip making a nest in a tree, and unable to sleep, he listens to the night noises around him. He’s very aware of his vulnerability and has a similar moment of hyper-awareness when he takes shelter with a tanner in an isolated cabin. There’s another scene where he encounters fireflies for the first time and I think it shows how nature can inspire certain myths about fairies and other creatures of folklore. If I remember correctly both of the bandit attacks that dramatically changed his life happened in daylight in an isolated place. He also encounters actual magic for the first time in daylight, so it’s a bit of flipping the script on his expectations. The girl’s story by contrast is constantly setting up tropes to sidestep them. She is a shapeshifter, the fairy, and a strange old lady who lives alone, so night does not tend to intimidate her to the same degree. She often finds comfort in it; “The stars hummed a lullaby… dreams lack all restrictions. So that night she could be small as a bug or big as a mountain.”

One of my favorite quotes from the panel comes from Dee Norman. "That's how folk magic survives -- through efficacy, not explanation," she explains. How do your magical or belief systems in your work, more commonly fantasy, horror, or some more esoteric sci-fi, line up against this notion of folk magic being more a practice than a doctrine?

Kay Iscah: In the world of Seventh Night where my examples come from, I describe magic in terms of rhythm and song. It’s based on the more scientific idea that everything vibrates, but with the more mystic idea that these vibrations can be harnessed and shifted to produce almost any desired effect. I do think this ties into common magic tropes of saying the right word or humming the right tune. There’s also an element of potion-making, which ties to understanding the potential effects of the ingredients. It’s a blend of science and art.

I do distinguish magic/sorcery and witchcraft as separate practices. The first has more to do with rhythms and is not seen as a spiritual practice by those who practice it. Witchcraft by contrast utilizes spirits, and there’s a stronger taboo against it. Laymen may confuse the two.

Jessica Nettles: Dark and light must always push and pull against one another. In my stories, there is always that element. There is the small town that seems very familiar and the people seem so nice, but there something swimming in the undercurrent you can't see, but can sense. If we're honest, this is more true than not, but most of the time, no one wants to say that out loud. My Eulaila stories explore those small spaces--those towns and areas where things seem off by about two steps, but maybe to the drive-thru tourist, on their way to Panama City, might just guess at. In my Three Sisters stories (y'all ain seen them yet) there is also this same push of darkness and light with the sisters witching their way against various dark elements that seem drawn to their small town for reasons they haven't figured out yet.

Nikki Nelson-Hicks: This reminds me of the dichotomy of Wizards and Witches in Discworld. The Wizards go to a college and spend all their time debating and studying the idea of magic. Witches just WITCH and get shit done.

I tend to waver between ritual and natural magic practices in my fiction.

In my story, "What the Cat Dragged In," the witch in that story is highly ritualistic. Her hex jars are meticulously prepared. Plus she has jars with Kabbalistic sigils on her shelf. Not something a hodge podge hedgewitch would have sitting around.

In the story, "A Beautiful Thing," the Golem has to follow strict rituals as does the John Dee Wanna-Be wizard that it has to fight against.

I prefer the more hodge podge sort of magic that my girls in Crown of Feathers deal out but that’s probably more due to my ADHD than anything else. I don’t have the attention span for ritual.

Danielle Procter Piper: My Medieval fantasy is watching "magic" struggle to thrive in a world where religion and reason fight to suppress both the average person from obtaining what they need on their own and to drive away magical beings and creatures that prove there's another way of getting what you desire that does not rely on obeisance to others. In order to control the masses, you must strip them of their ability to get what they need on their own and convince them that what you say and do is the only way to accomplish things. You introduce government, capitalism, and religion to provide for yourself and those you deem worthy on the backs of innocent others you break with rules that only work so long as you keep throwing them crumbs. The self-empowered person is considered radical and potentially dangerous for what if he or she showed people there's another way? You lose everything you worked so hard to build by letting the commoners know they had the ability to provide for themselves all along—they just needed the knowledge you've worked so hard to convince them was unsafe poppycock.

Sean Taylor: I avoid doctrine in my work as much as possible. I love the idea of loosey-goosey belief systems because, honestly, that's what even most of our entrenched religions were before they were voted on and codified and made safe at the state level (Constantine). And it's so much fun to play in that area where "good Christian people" will argue about a dead squirrel ward in a house for protection or a suburban family will continue to wait up on the night of a new birth in the family for the spirit of an ancestor to show up for a blessing (that's another currently in progress). It's also fun to see ardent atheists encounter something supernatural that sends their world into a spin even if it doesn't trigger any kind of faith. Just the tailspin of supernatural stuff is enough for a good story, especially if it comes from a place intrinsic to their family's past that they thought they were so far beyond having to deal with as modern people in a real, scientific world. 

Jessica Nettles: Deborah would agree with Dee. Magic is practice. It's everyday living for her. It's in her music when she plays her cimbalom between shows, or when she sings as she makes tea. She sees it in the way Thomas, her husband, smiles and his eyes light up when she teases him about the way he likes too much sugar in his tea. It's the way she and her son Seth connect over his dreams. Sometimes it just the way a meal comes together at the end of a very long day. Magic has to be practical in nature and connect to something that applies to life. Doctrine doesn't do that. Those are just rules. Practical magic is a daily, living thing.

What are stories, novels, short stories, or graphic novels, that best highlight the ideas of folkloric influence that you would recommend to others who want to learn how to include such themes in their work?

Danielle Procter Piper: Fairy tales, the ones most of us heard as children, are the best springboard for jumping into folklore as many of these stories are centuries old...but please don't write another variation on any of them. I've read dozens and dozens of variations of Snow White and Cinderella and the lot and most are drivel with very few introducing anything new. It's much cooler if you forge your own fantasy world.

Nikki Nelson-Hicks: Check out the Witches and Wizards in the Discworld series. My favorites are: Lords and Ladies, Witches Abroad, and Carpe Jugulum. For Wizards: Interesting Times and The Colour of Magic.

Graphic Novels: Hellblazer and Promethea or anything done by Alan Moore. He’s a maniac and an actual wizard. Very interesting ideas on magic.

Jessica Nettles: Start with the basics: Read your mythos. Which ones? All of them? As many as you can learn about. I started reading Greek mythology when I was very young (I look back and realize that it was probably too young). Then I learned about other mythos and read them too. Why do that? Because this gives a better understanding about what people believe and why some magic works certain ways. Read good books with strong magic systems, like Wheel of Time (okay, I'm not a huge fan, but the magic system is pretty consistent), Jonathan Strange and Mr. Morrell, the Sandman (yes, Gaiman has issues, but his magic systems are spectacular and his writing is worth studying), read Dr. Strange and some of the other Marvel titles that deal with cosmic magic (once again, somethings are problematic, but also there are a lot of really cool things that happen in this magic system that are worth studying, plus they play around a lot with mythos and their takes on folklore). Also read things from people who don't look like you. It's really easy to fall into reading information filtered through those who are part of your culture. When you do that, you miss all the nuances of the culture you are learning about. It's one thing to learn about Anasi from a very Western point of view than it is to learn about Anasi from the African or even West Indies point of view. Same with magic. If you are going to learn about magic of certain cultures--talk to the folk who practice it or find books by the folk who practice it. I recommend reading folks like Nicole Givens Kurtz, Milton Davis, Geneve Flynn, L. Marie Wood. You will get schooled.

Sean Taylor: I think there have been some amazing comic books and graphic novels exploring folkloric themes. The Writer from Dark Horse looks into Jewish folklore and mysteries. Harrow County is hands-down my favorite take on mountain haints and spellcraft. Obviously lots are drawn from folklore in The Sandman, even if Gaiman himself is a bit tarnished. Image Comic's I Hate This Place begins as a sort of homage to folk horror before sliding off into Lovecraftian themes. 

As for books, no one does this better than Angela Carter in The Bloody Chamber or Shirley Jackson in "The Lottery." 

Kay Iscah: Definitely Brothers Grimm Folklore and Fairytale collection for my work as I borrow elements of the folklore style, particularly in The Girl With No Name. But I think it’s good to read broadly. I lost my African folklore collection in a housefire, so can’t give you the title, but it’s a big influence on one of my works in progress. I make a reference to Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain, which is a retelling of Nandi folklore. In Seventh Night there’s also a nod to Legend of Zelda.

A lot of folklore is retelling of older myths with a local flavor thrown in, which may be hard to recognize if you don't know the older myths. Reading The Mabinogion before rereading Brothers Grimm helped me start connecting several of the Grimm stories to older myths, Celtic, Greek, and Bible stories. I think the more you dig into mythology, the more you see the patterns as stories are told and retold.

Help! My Characters Hijacked My Story! (But Did They? Did They Really?)

We've heard it as writers over and over again: I was going in one direction, but my characters sent me in another direction. But... is that true? Can our characters really hijack a story from us? Let's ask the panel of experts and get to the bottom of this mystery. The game's afoot, Watson!

How secure are you in your plots when you begin writing a novel? Or a short story? Is one form more or less likely to be disrupted or redirected by a shift in characterization than the other for you?

Daniel Emery Taylor: I’m a screenwriter but in MOST cases, I have scenes and plot points but no finalized plot. I’m more of a free writer … just creating characters, putting them in situations, and letting things evolve naturally.

Sean Taylor: I'm the oddball type who will sit and drive and think on a plot for months before I commit to even beginning to put it on paper. I'm rarely a pantser. Like, almost never. No. Even rarer than that. I like to have a first direction in mind before I start typing. But I think I'm the odd man out for thinking that way. I do it for both longer stories and short stories. 

Because of that, I've never really been one to believe that my character honestly have any control over the story. I'm the writer, damn it, and I made them up. I may add details to their character as I write, but that's not them doing anything. 

HC Playa: As someone who started writing life as a strict pantser and then slowly shifted to some murky middle between pantsing and plotting, my plot is always up for negotiation 🤣. In general, I have specific story beats I want to hit, but if I find a better way or a more character-driven way to get there along the way, I make the changes. For me, novels have far more wiggle room for plot changes than short stories do. It isn't that I can't achieve character growth in short stories, but for me personally, I have to have a concrete beginning/middle/end and expected word count already in my head to tackle a short story. That former concrete planning on the front end tends to override character whims.

Sean Harby: I normally have an idea where I want the story to go, but even after I've done an 'Outline', I often alter things if the story seems better told another way. As far as one type more vulnerable to drastic changes, I would say my novels are less set in stone than my short stories or novellas.

Brian K Morris: I'm a plotter who doesn't look at his outline once the writing begins for the day. This way, inspiration can lead me to fresher modes of thought (or into dark alleyways where there's no escape, which has happened more than once). For the most part, I'm secure in the plotting, but will consider a better way as it occurs to me.

Maya Preisler: For me, sitting down to write is like a road trip. I know where I want to start and end, but I recognize my route may deviate because of roadblocks or because I found something cool I wanted to visit along the way and adjusted my course accordingly. In my experience, longer pieces of writing are more likely to be disrupted or redirected because they’re longer journeys so there are more opportunities for distraction.

Robert Freese: Not secure at all. It’s like a new day, I have no idea what’s going to happen next.

Dale Kesterson: I always know the key plot points of my mysteries (I don't want to have to actually SOLVE the thing on the fly 🙂 ) but there have been times when what I have in mind isn't right for one of my characters.

L. Andrew Cooper: I do a lot of pre-writing for novels, usually starting with notes about the lead characters and then developing them as I develop the plot outline, which will spawn more characters if/as needed. If characters are going to shape the plot, they’re usually going to do it at the outlining stage, so the plot is pretty secure when I begin the actual drafting. That said, in the novel I finished drafting, um, today, Alex’s Escape, the development of two characters and the relationship between them caused me to rework the outline, shrinking it by three chapters so I could change the trajectory toward a new ending and then add three more chapters to develop new concepts (I didn’t want to increase the book’s length if I could avoid it). So, my method doesn’t guarantee plot security. I do less pre-writing for short stories, so characters are more likely to turn a tale in unexpected ways, but they still don’t very often. As a side note, I don’t think characters have ever taken over during the drafting of a screenplay. A screenplay’s story beats are too exacting for me to leave much to chance before I draft.

Jamais Jochim: Yes, they can if you've written them well enough.

My short stories are more likely to survive intact, but only because there's less time for them to influence me.

Bobby Nash: Oh, I love this topic.

I start with loose plots. I know certain things that need to happen. I call these plot points signposts. Then, I set my character(s) off toward the first signpost, but let the characters dictate how I get there. Sometimes, this takes me down paths I hadn’t planned as the characters react to situations. Other times, I uncover wonderful character moments.

When you say your characters send you in a new direction, which of these meanings is closer for you? (a) I wasn't really planning anyway, so I just went with the flow (pantsed it). Or, (b) I had a solid plan in place, but the more I got to know my characters or the more they changed as I wrote them, I had little choice but to refigure my plots.

Daniel Emery Taylor: It’s a little of both. I oftentimes will have specific scenes or dialogue in mind that, as a character evolves and becomes more real, no longer feel authentic. This happens after casting, too … the actor will bring their own input and twist. This can also change the trajectory. We try to make the characters as real as possible and then listen to what they tell us.

Chris Riker: I trust my characters to steer clear of cliches and predictable plots.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: For the runaway projects, it was both a and b. However, the sidetracked parts were more characterization and trying to flesh out more of the world than I was wanting to. It was closer to a non-pulp style, so I'm thinking of rewriting it closer to a pulp style since that tends to be smoother relatively in the writing process.

Robert Freese: I’ve had characters that received an entirely new fate because I grew to love them.

Jamais Jochim: B, sorta: I let the characters change the plot a lot, but a good part of my original outline does survive. Albeit barely.

Bobby Nash: Of these two options, I’m closer to A, but really I’m more option C, which is a combination of A & B. Often, things will shake out in dialogue that makes me realize something important about the character or the plot. In one novel (no titles to avoid spoilers), the antagonist says something that made me realize that he was more involved with something that happened to the protagonist than originally planned. This was a big revelation, not only for the readers but for me because it wasn’t planned. This made the story better and the relationship between the two characters much more interesting.

In a short story, I had a pretty simple plot. Good Guy. Bad Guy. Victim. A couple of secondary characters. My plot was pretty straightforward since it’s a short story. I was writing the final act, where the good guy and bad guy meet face-to-face for the first time. As they are talking to each other, I realized that the bad guy wasn’t the “real” bad guy of the story. That’s when another spoke up and the story went from straightforward to one with an interesting twist that made the story better. I went back to drop clues to the twist and was surprised to find that they were already there. The characters knew before I figured it out.

In a series, I planned a villain arc where the protagonist and antagonist would meet in book 1, then again around book 3, and then have a final showdown in book 6. In book 3, I killed the antagonist. It wasn’t planned, but it felt right for the series and the story. It also allowed another character to move up from a secondary or tertiary character to become the main protagonist. That character ended up being a better villain than the one I killed off early. A happy accident. Certainly not planned. Also, as with the previous example, the clues were already there. That character had been planning a coup all this time. I just didn’t know it yet.

L. Andrew Cooper: B

Brian K Morris: Definitely the latter. I will come up with quirks for the characters as they become more real in my mind. I won't surrender control to them, however, nor will I blame them for my digressions. I'm the one in charge and I'm where the story buck stops.

Maya Preisler: Neither? B is a bit closer. I usually have a plan but it tends to be a broad outline and I fill in the details as the story flows. For me, it’s less about getting to know my characters and more that even our best friends and closest relatives still possess the capacity to surprise us. Often when my characters make unexpected choices I find those decisions make perfect sense in hindsight, especially once I revisit their backstories.

Sean Harby: I'm not one to say the characters change the story. The story changes because I feel it's better told another way or feels more satisfying. I do try to get inside their heads as far as reactions to circumstances and dialogue, but the story determines how it unfolds. So ... sort of?

HC Playa: For me, it is a little of both. I write a mix of series and stand-alone stories. When it's a character I know really well I might just go with the flow b/c I can step into that character like a seasoned actor. When it is a new and unfamiliar character, it's usually me fleshing them out and realizing the idea I initially had doesn't match up with the character I have built so far. It's easier to change the plot a bit than to go back and rebuild the character.

Sean Taylor: If my characters ever redirect me, it's almost always because I didn't really know them well enough to build a plot around them yet. I jumped the gun, and they became better characters while I was writing, it was because I didn't pay attention when I should have been watching them (or creating them and figuring out who they were/are in the first place). 

How well do you know your characters when you begin a work? Do you think that it's only because they're becoming more fully fleshed out as you write that they're reshaping your plot? Have you experienced the opposite, where because you knew the characters inside and out, the plot was changed little because it was already based in character?

Bobby Nash: Character is key when writing this way. Knowing how a character reacts to certain things informs where your story goes. If you take 3 characters that you know well and drop them into the same plot, you will get three different stories because how those characters react and respond to the plot you put in front of them will be different based on who those characters are. These are “real” people to me. If I try to make them do something out of character then it feels wrong to me and to the readers. Have you ever read a book with characters you know well and thought “That character wouldn’t do that?” That’s what I try to avoid by trusting my characters. It doesn’t work without trust.

HC Playa: Oh absolutely. I rewrote my first novel about 5bazillion times. After 3 short stories and 3 novels, I know exactly how each of these characters is likely to act. I just finished a digest novel with a "bonus" story and am starting the final installation. I haven't quite worked out my plot yet, as I have just started, but I expect few deviations. I know how I want this series to end. I know the players. I know the various motivations and conflicts. All I have to do now is weave it all together.

Most of my short stories have gone precisely as I planned in part because I have the character and vignette set in my head before I ever put my fingertips to the keyboard.

Lucy Blue: For me, all the details of plot come from character. I have a situation going in, and I know who my characters are at a pretty deep level not because I plan it but because I just do. Character and dialogue are my superpowers as a writer; both just sort of happen for me. And from that comes plot.

Daniel Emery Taylor: They reshape the plot as they become more fleshed out, yes.

Sean Harby: I have a pretty firm grasp on the high points of my characters when I begin, but through writing them, I get to know them a little better. As I said above, the way I see them reacting does impact the story.

Sean Taylor: I tend to know them inside and out, at least in all the important ways that make the plot matter. I know what they want. I know what they're willing to do to get it. I know what will get in the way of them achieving that. And I know what it will cost them in terms of their soul to claw their way back to a second chance to achieve it when the first one (or few times) fails. I also know their major relationships to other characters and enough "job application" information about them to have the kind of minor details that make a character seem real and not just paper thin. 

Robert Freese: My relationship with my characters is like any friendship- the longer I hang out with them the better I get to know them. More times than not, I know all their strengths up front, it’s their vulnerabilities I discover as the story is written.

Maya Preisler: It depends on the work. For my longer pieces, I usually spend hours agonizing over the details of my character’s lives to really learn who they are. In my shorter pieces, the characters tend to spring from my imagination more fully formed. That’s a fascinating question. “More fully fleshed out” does seem like an accurate way to describe the process. From an internal perspective, there’s a sense of immediacy that occurs as I’m writing where it feels as if the character acquires a sense of agency and enough self-awareness to struggle against the plot. I have had that happen once, where I based the characters off of people I know and love so there were relatively few surprises in my plot. However, that’s only happened once.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: The current one that I'm writing is fairly secure. No one is trying to jump into a different storyline or genre yet. It's a short story, which is probably the difference.

The previous attempts have characters changing everything up, including time frames, and genre, and adding new characters whenever they can't solve something for their own amusement. I was aiming for a book for the other projects, so that might be part of it.

In my runaway projects, I would get to know them too well and they derailed my plots badly. On my current short story where I haven't paid any attention to word count and have been writing it on a typewriter, I had an idea of what I wanted to happen and of my characters. It's going smoother as I know less about my characters before I write.

Brian K Morris: A bit of both, but I know the broad strokes that make up the characters before I begin the actual writing. The little touches that make them more interesting often come to me as I flesh out the story.

L. Andrew Cooper: For novels, I usually know my characters very well before I begin drafting. They tend to live in my head for weeks, more often months, sometimes years, trying out different fantasy scenarios, before I pin down their details and try them out in a storyline. Therefore, I’m more likely to experience a plot that changes little because it was already based in character. For example, in my forthcoming novel Noir Falling, the central (perspective) character was loosely inspired by someone I knew 25 years ago, but I watched what I took from the real person grow and change dramatically before I put him on the page. By the time he got words, though, I knew what his character arc would be, an arc inseparable from the plot of Noir Falling. Of course, writing Noir Falling would have been impossible without a good map… I expect readers to find aspects of it dizzying… but no matter how surreal and seemingly random things get, it was all planned in advance. Characters for screenplays and short stories don’t tend to live in my head as long before I write them, but I still usually know them, flesh and all, before they appear on the page.

Jamais Jochim: I know them absolutely before I start writing, and then they show me things I just can't unsee. Some just say, "Nope."