WRITING MAGIC

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

I am in awe of magicians. I suppose I should call them illusionists since no true magic takes place, only slight of hand and misdirection, but I like “magic” better.

Writing is magical. An idea appearing from the ethers and taking shape on paper or a computer screen, characters coming to life and forming attachments with the reader, plots and turning points and making us care what happens next is nothing short of magic.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit coming to life once he’s truly loved by a child, our characters become real to us, whether we are writer or reader. The reigning queen of children’s books, J. K. Rowling said in an interview recently that she cried when she killed off one of her characters in the Harry Potter series. She wasn’t the only one who mourned – pure proof of writing magic – we believed “someone” (instead of a book’s character) really died.

Writers create a magical world where anything can happen, even if the story takes place in an already familiar place. It’s the magic of suspending our belief for a while, of accepting the words as truth.

There were no exit visas necessary in Casablanca during WWII to leave the country. Anyone could leave whenever they wanted and had the price of a ticket. It was the writer’s slight of hand convincing us that no one could leave without the papers Rick Blaine held for the highest bidder.

In “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” we travel with Mitty on his frequent daydreams, buying into the adventures as much as he. We become the adventurer and what a magical ride it is.

The adventures of Sherlock Holmes allow us to believe Holmes is almost magical in his assumptions, but when he shares that his hypotheses are due not to overblown brilliance, but merely keen observations that we, along with Dr. Watson, missed, aren’t we a bit let down that we didn’t see those clues, too? (Holmes is a magician who tells his secrets, but then he is a bit of a show off and I think he enjoys besting his dear friend, Watson.)

Mystery writers are deft at creating weather conditions to heighten the dramatic atmosphere, throwing red herrings into the mix, adding characters who seem bad, but aren’t completely bad when faced with right or wrong choices. It isn’t magic that their character changed, but realization that deep down this is who the character truly was all along.

Raymond Chandler was said to have confused the reader and kept him purposely in the dark throughout much of The Big Sleep along with the protagonist, Philip Marlowe, keeping the slight of hand concealed until Chandler was ready for his big reveal.

During “The War of the Worlds” radio broadcast, Orson Welles made an entire country believe aliens had landed. Pure genius or a really great illusion? You decide.

1984 did more than transport us to another era. George Orwell provided new vocabulary with newspeak, doublethink and reality control making their way into our dictionaries. J. K. Rowling did the same with muggles, Hogwarts and Quidditch. I’d say it’s quite a trick to conceive entire worlds and convince the public they are real enough to incorporate their vocabulary into ours. (Anyone remember the Klingon Dictionary?)

A whoosh of the cape’s dazzling lining distracts the eye from where the quick hands hide the tricks of the trade. A flickering candle suddenly extinguished throws us into darkness. A murderer leaving a note no one notices until he is safely back among the crowd. All mere illusions to make us believe the magic of a skilled writer presents to his audience.

Nothing thrills me more than a mystery where I can’t guess who did it until the author allows us to see the truth at the conclusion. The feeling of the aha! when the murderer is caught or the caper’s intricacies are revealed and the suspense is lifted is the best. I call it magic.