The Crayfish in the Alley

Sometimes the way forward is unclear

I woke up on Tuesday to a flurry of texts from my neighbors. Usually, I worry about opening these because most often they are about a crisis in the building, like Monday’s thread about the flooding in the basement following an early-hours downpour. 

But on Tuesday, my downstairs neighbor wrote: “Our neighborhood has gotten so bougie that we no longer have rats in the alley,” and followed that comment with a photo of a crayfish he had spotted meandering out back near the garages.

Likely it got carried here from the fresh water of Lake Michigan, either on the high winds of the aforementioned storm or through the flooded storm drains. But the roll of commentary about the creature’s origins and even its species was hilarious, entertaining, imaginative. An exercise in brainstorming as we tried to make sense of something—a crayfish out of place in a Chicago alley.

One of my first draft writing mantras is, And what comes next? The question is my prompt for brainstorming when I reach a point in the story I am putting down on paper where I can’t see the way forward. It causes me to flex my imagination to picture all the different scenarios that could move the story forward. How does this work?

Let’s say I am writing a story about a person heading out to walk his dog. That person has embarked on the same route he takes every day, but on this day that I am writing about, things feel a little off to him. Maybe he didn’t have his coffeepot aligned correctly in his coffee machine and coffee spilled on the counter. His dog ate too fast and regurgitated its breakfast. The morning walk was delayed by all the cleanup, which means leaving for work will be delayed as well. As he’s trying to hurry his old dog along, he happens to encounter something unusual on his path, something that causes him to pause. Let’s say it’s a crayfish in the alley.

That’s a pivotal moment in my draft! But now that I’ve arrived here, I don’t know where to take the story. So, I ask myself: what comes next?

For me, that one simple question is a reminder to unleash my imagination while being focused and strategic with it. For those of you who can’t see inside my mind, here is a sample of the kinds of thoughts going through my head when I ponder what will happen next. 

 1. I am evaluating the setting of the story using my character’s senses.

Sight, sound, smell, taste, touch—these are actions that will begin to form pictures in my mind, pictures of the progress of the story. What can I see my character doing in this moment? Is he looking up from the pavement to see if he can find clues to the crayfish’s sudden appearance here? Does he see any other wildlife out of place? Any traces of a neighbor’s ornamental pond flooding? Does he hear the muffled laughter of neighborhood kids pranking him? Might he reach down to pick up the creature but pause when he sees its claws snap?

2. I am curious about my character’s emotions and emotional reactions.

Because I am curious, I will ask myself: What do I already know about his feelings? He is harried and rushed because his morning hasn’t gone according to plan. What else could I know? Is he angry because violent storms that displace creatures like the crayfish are becoming more common due to global warming? Is he afraid to pick it up because it is snapping? Is he ashamed to be so afraid? Is he energized with a sense of purpose because he can rescue the crayfish? Or is he sad because he thinks he won’t make it to the lake in time to save its life? 

 3. I wonder if someone else will happen on the scene.

Chicago’s alleys are busy places. This is where the city collects our trash and sites all our communications and power cables. This is where we house our cars. Our protagonist might not be alone for long. Who will join him? A neighbor, whether friend or foe? One of those pesky kids responsible for pranking him with the crayfish? Is a recycling or moving truck with a distracted driver bearing down on him? Or is it the woman on the bike who rides by him every morning at the same time, the one he would like to speak to but hasn’t had the courage to?

 4. I suspect the crayfish may remind him of something in his past.

What if the crayfish in the alley reminds our protagonist of all the times he used to go fishing with his father? Back then, while he waited for a bite on his line, he watched crayfish scuttling in and out of the water. Those were simpler times. He and his father haven’t done anything together in years because a terrible argument estranged them. 

Now, I suggest using flashbacks sparingly because too many time shifts will make a story unwieldy and hard to follow. But maybe this is one of those moments that calls for a memory. Flashing back to a scene from the past can be used to highlight something unresolved that needs to be addressed in the present. Maybe addressing it is what will propel this story forward. 

I hope you’ll remember some of these thought progressions the next time you have trouble figuring out the way forward in your draft. Maybe you even have some of your own to share. If so, let me know and I’ll do a roundup of good tips in a future blog post. 

Happy drafting!