Universal, yet unique – using childhood as inspiration

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

“Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days.” ―Flannery O'Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose.

I’ve been thinking about childhood a lot, recently. My own was isolated, but very free. I grew up in Shropshire, a rural county in the UK, where the countryside could be reached with a trot down the garden path and a hop over the fence. If I close my eyes, I can picture instantly the rough-earthed slope that led down to a small stream, then a disused railway line, one high-hedged field beyond. I can recall the smell of torn grass and cow shit. Songbird arias in summer, crows critiquing from bare trees in winter. And the sense of wonder I always carried, along with the knowledge that I could be alone and safe, unlike home or school.

These musings led me to think about its importance in writing. After all, one of the things every writer and reader has in common is the lived experience of childhood. Be it cosy, tough, funny, full of love or riven by anxiety and disruption, we all have that shared understanding of growing up, which leaves a profound and lasting influence on our lives. But, and this is the kicker, no-one else had our childhood. And it is this seductive combination of familiarity and intrigue that can be a useful tool in making them care enough to continue reading.

You could also argue that having childlike qualities is something writers need (I’m not talking about throwing tantrums, getting tired and grumpy, or having a complex attitude around other people correcting what we do…though, thinking about it, that’s exactly what some writers are like). What I mean is the use of imagination and in-the-moment playfulness, the building of fantasy worlds, and that drive to shape everything around a narrative. 

I wrote down a few things I thought worth sharing on how we can use our childhoods as inspiration for story ideas and better writing, plus some simple ways to tap into some childhood memories to enhance your writing.

Childhood and the inciting incident

An incident in childhood (from our own experience or one that is imagined) can be the springboard for an exploration of wider themes and ideas. In the deceptively simple Dinosaur, by Bruce Holland Rogers, it is a young child’s desire to be a dinosaur that acts as a catalyst for a story about the pressure to grow up, how we are feel the pressure to be defined by what we do for work, and the poignant way we can find our way back to childhood simplicity again.

The story Snow Crow, by Doug Ramspeck also uses a single incident, in this case a child finding the body of crow, to explore grief and loss of a parent.

The style and tone of these two stories are completely different, but their source has similarities.

Childhood and the ‘fuck, we were a weird family’ effect.

How many of us have an upbringing which is completely ‘normal’? Did your family have rituals or sayings or living situations, or relationship dynamics, or a homelife which, when you look back on it with hindsight, other people might consider completely bonkers? Chances are the answer is yes, and though that seemed normalised at the time of your childhood, to your readers it may appear quirky, bizarre, or even troubling. That’s all great fuel for writing.

Childhood provides ready-made snapshots for short fiction writers

Due to the way memory works, we tend to think back to our own childhoods in scenes or moments, which is ideal for short fiction. It means we have a ready-made mental filing cabinet of memories, which can act as a focal point for stories, and also potentially themes. As the British author Graham Greene succinctly says:

“There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in” ― Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory.

Childhood as the only historical period you know intimately

Looking back on our childhood means looking back at a lived-experience of small, specific window in history. This creates a useful perspective and distance. It can add layers to a story which impact setting, description, tone, language, characterisation and more.

Childhood has a magnifying effect on emotion

Emotions tend to be raw and amplified in childhood. So many things are for the first time. We’ve got family tensions to play with, the concept of friendship (and betrayal) to navigate, first time love, literal and metaphorical growing pains, the first experiences of loss. Our emotional regulation has not yet matured. Our ability to deal with things is not fully-formed. This is profoundly useful for raising the emotional temperature of our stories, as long as we avoid the pitfalls of overwriting and hyperbole.

Childhood as a gateway to better sensory writing

Writing that incorporates all the senses tends to be more alive and vivid. Childhood memories can often be led by the senses – the night sounds that frightened us, the smells that comforted us, the tastes that thrilled us and the ones (sprouts or liver, anyone?) that made us gag. The feel of a knee under our fingers. The way the touch of someone we liked made our ears burn and our stomach flip. This quote from the poet John Betjeman captures it, for me:

“Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows”. - John Betjeman

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Exercises and prompts to access your childhood for writing

• Describe your best childhood friend, and then write about a time that friendship was disrupted, changed, or ended.

• Think about a time when you did something forbidden or taboo as a child. Describe both the incident and the feelings they created.

• Did you grow up with family traditions or situations that, looking back, seem to be unique or quirky? Write about them in a narrative piece.