by Em Lynas
This post it's the
storyteller voice - and my mentor text is Anthony Minghella
and Jim Henson's The Storyteller. It was a family favourite both for the videos with John Hurt's superb narration and the book by Minghella because it's such a delight to read aloud.
I've
been analysing the narrative techniques Minghella used and, as imitation is the
sincerest form of flattery, and the best way to analyse and learn, here's a
story.....
In the days of before, and before the
tomorrows, a young husband and a wife lived alone. They lived in a house of
cosiness, warmth and welcome, where all was peace and smoke rose into the
chimney and never clouded the air or coughed the lungs. All was happiness and
all was loveliness and all was togetherness until one day...
I
am loving using the power of three and getting a bit of imagery in there. And
that word all, all is this and all is that. Good word.
Plus, I'm a great believer in...
...there was a knock on the door. Now
this was no ordinary knock. This was a powerful knock, a knock that makes
Husband and Wife jump, a knock that makes Husband and Wife look at each other
with startled eyes and say in unison, "Who can that be? Look at the time?
Shall we answer it?"
They shake their heads with matching
shakes and don't answer the door but the knock is knocked again and again and
again until the knock is in their heads and it won't stop and they have no
choice but to open the door. So Husband unlocks the lock and Wife draws the
bolts and Husband lifts the latch and Wife creaks the door open and...
Loving
the escalation of anticipation that you get to write with the storyteller voice
- and and and and...
...there's no one there.
A
reveal!
But there's a whoosh of the wind past
Husband's ears and a sniff of the cold past Wife's nose and a tingle of fear
runs through both of their beating hearts as the door slips out of Wife's
fingers with a slam and a lock as who knows what invades their house of
cosiness, warmth and welcome.
Getting
in a bit of a repetition going with a refrain.
"Oh, I don't like to think of what
might have just come in to our home," whispers Wife and Husband's head
nods a nod that agrees with the words and they huddle by the door and wait and
watch until...the rocking chair rocks.
Husband gasps and whispers, "The
rocking chair is rocking, my love, and it shouldn't be because you're not sitting
in it."
"No," whispers Wife, "but
something is, look."
I
had a break at this point to research what the heck could be sitting in the
rocking chair. I'm finding these books very useful at the moment.
A boggart? A brownie? A flibbertigibbet?
Ooo, yes. Flibbertigibbet can mean an impish child. A chatterbox. Perfect. It's
incredible what people have believed. Are we really so gullible? So
superstitious?
Anyway,
back to the story.
Wife grabbed Husband by the ear and
whispered, "It's a child! It's a boy." And it was. It was a boy so
bonny, so beautiful, so BIG that it filled the rocking chair with plump and
chubby and cute and cuddly.
"Did you wish for one?" asked
Husband.
"Of course not," said Wife.
"We've only been Husband and Wife a month. It's too soon. But maybe we
should keep it now it's here?"
"What's that?" said Child. He
pointed at Wife.
"That's Wife," said Husband.
"What's that?" said Child. He
pointed at Husband.
"That's Husband," said Wife.
"What's that?" said Child. He
pointed at the door.
"That's a door," said Husband.
And from then on Child was all What's
that? and the couple were all That's a... until night left the earth
with a shudder and day took it's turn not knowing what lay ahead.
Getting
in a bit of personification of non human stuff there. Did you notice? Also,
names are often not named in the storyteller genre so liking Wife and Husband.
You can't query the truth of a story if no one is named?
"What are we going to do?"
whispered Wife, her voice all croaky with answering. She grabbed Husband's ear
again, adding to the bruises that had been made with the grabbing that had
already been grabbed. "I am exhausted, Husband. Doesn't it ever
sleep?"
"That's a lock," said Husband,
then quickly whispered his own whisper, "What if you sing to it? A
lullaby. That's a cobweb."
"Yes!" said Wife. I've heard
that sends them to sleep. I'll do it."
So Wife began to sing a lullaby but her
voice was so croaky from all the answering that Child did not like Wife's voice
and he screamed and screamed and screamed until Wife gave up and Husband tried.
He sang with a voice of deep that soothed the ears and tickled the skin and
closed the eyes. But every time Husband stopped singing Child stirred and wriggled
and threatened to wake and both Husband and Wife despaired.
I'm
possibly going off topic here and channelling new parenthood from the deep past
so bringing it back to folklore.
Then Wife had an idea that should have
come earlier but the idea had hidden itself until the moment was right in the
story.
Wife talked as Husband sang. "I
have thought some thoughts and brought an idea into my head. The idea is this.
This Child is not a normal Child. It's obviously a fairy child escaped from
fairyland so we have to send it back so we can have our home back. Our home of
cosiness, warmth and welcome, where all is peace and smoke rises into the
chimney and never clouds the air or coughs the lungs."
Husband nods the nod that signals
agreement so Wife continues.
"And you know that I know how to do
that."
And Husband nodded another nod of
agreement because it just so happened that...
You have to love the storytelling - it
just so happened that... You can't get away with that in any other genre.
...Wife was an expert folklorist and she
had bookcase and bookcase and bookcase on the walls of the home of cosiness,
warmth and welcome. And the bookcases had shelves and shelves and shelves and
the shelves had books and books and books. And the books were all knowledge and
knowhow and fable and myth and advice.
I
do like starting sentences with And and But and Because
and Then and So...
Wife read through the books and Husband
sang through the day until the day was tired and gone all dusky. And all the
while Child snuggled and snored and
rocked in the rocker that creakity creaked into night.
Then "Eureka!" said Wife, just
before midnight, and Husband screeched a note and Child twitched a twitch as
Wife waved a book under husband's nose, the leaves all a flutter with
excitement.
"I have the answer! Listen."
She bent close to Husband's ear. "If thy home be invaded by a fairy being,
a child, a flibbertigibbet of a chatterbox who's all What's that? you
must turn the tables by asking the flibbertigibbet What's that? But you
must ask the What's that's that the flibbertigibbet has asked. All of
them."
"All of them?" sang Husband.
"All of them," said Wife, shutting the book. "And we must do this between midnight, which is now,
and dawn, which is then, or Child will stay for a year and a day."
"A year and a day! We'll be
dead from exhaustion before the month is out," said Husband. So he stopped
singing and Child snuffled and stirred and wriggled and woke and said,
"What's that?" and Husband answered "It's a toenail."
And Wife immediately asked,
"What's that?" and Child answered, "That's a toenail."
"What's that?," said Husband and Child answered, "That's a
book." "What's that?" said Wife and Child answered, "That's
a nose."
And from then on the couple were all What's
that? and Child was all That's a... as night settled thick on the
earth and stayed until dawn threatened to creep over the horizon. And Husband
and Wife were running out of What's thats? And panic was living in their
hearts.
Everything had been asked. They searched
the room for more What's thats? Repeating What's thats that had
already been repeated repeatedly during the night.
"Is it dawn?" asked Wife.
"it must be dawn, oh if only it isn't dawn for we have not remembered all
of the What's Thats. We must open the door and see."
So Husband unlocks the lock and
Wife draws the bolts and Husband lifts the latch and Wife creaks the door open
and Husband remembers the creak and he remembers all the remembering and says...
Bookending
makes me happy.
"WHAT'S THAT?"
And Child says...
"That's Wife."
Husband nudges Wife and Wife remembers and says, "WHAT'S THAT?"
And Child says...
"That's Husband."
And the couple say in unison...
"WHAT'S THAT?"
And Child says...
"THAT'S A DOOR."
And there's a whoosh of the wind
past Husband's ears and a sniff of the cold past Wife's nose and a tingle of
happiness runs through both of their beating hearts as the door slips out of
Wife's fingers and slams shut. With them on the inside and Child nowhere to be
seen.
So with a sigh and a smile and a
tired goodnight they settle back down in their home of cosiness, warmth and
welcome. And for all I know, they're still there.
The End
I have had so much fun writing this! It's a first draft, it won't ever be published but the techniques will be fed into my writing and hopefully make it richer and deeper and the words will welcome the writing of them.
Em Lynas is the author of the Witch School series published by Nosy Crow.
Well, that may have been my starting point. My tenth book is about to come out, and along the way when I was writing the others I was actually really surprised to find how much personal stuff creeps in – things that worry me, scare me, or personal issues. In my first trilogy – Slated – the main character’s memory has been wiped, and she’s trying to fit in and work out who she is in an unfamiliar place. I’ve moved around countries and continents all my life, and it’s safe to say struggling with identity is personal. 
Trying to make a difference is worth it, no matter what.
