THE WORLD GOT WIDER

By Clay Stafford

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For a long time, I believed that anything worth pursuing should come with a clear signal, some sign, momentum, or external confirmation that I was moving in the right direction. I think I was waiting for the circus to come to town. Looking for that exterior confirmation, though, quietly narrowed my world without me even noticing.

I didn’t really understand this belief, this idea that I was essentially performing for others. I didn’t think about it. It wasn’t something I put into words. It just showed up, thoughtlessly, like the morning sun. Unlike the mark of a new day, however, this subconscious belief or need for validation manifested as hesitation, maybe doubt. When no one clapped, no one replied to my desperate phone calls, letters, or emails, or no one offered a word of encouragement or support, I found I slowed down. I started to wait. “Give me a sign,” my needy heart exclaimed. I started second-guessing my map. I equated uncertainty with fear, that I was about to make a mistake.

I don’t know when this thinking began; it may have started in childhood, perhaps reflecting a need for parental approval in a conditionally loved world. The shame is that it shaped my life more than I realized. It made me cautious, even timid, in moments that required courage. Wherever it began and however it grew, this subconscious belief that I needed that validation trained me to seek approval from others rather than to seek direction from within. I couldn’t help but think that when progress was slow, and especially when it stalled, it was proof that I was off track. When I felt something mattered, but yet it demanded so much unapplauded effort, I wondered if I wasn’t forcing something that should not be rather than earning something that should not have to be affirmed.

Somewhere along the way, it hit me. Why? Maturity? God-given insight? Not sure. I know nothing external changed. There were no circus clowns. No breakthrough arrived. But inside me, the moment that my life began to change, the moment that I began to change, was a shift in the limiting belief itself.

Somewhere in my Los Angeles days, I began to notice that the work that mattered most, not only to me, but to others, oddly rarely announced itself. In its inception, in its call to adventure, it made no promises. I didn’t have to wait for the green light to proceed. I didn’t need any person in power to give me some grand confirmation that I had finally found the path. Instead, my life and work began to show up, not with fireworks, but in small, unglamorous ways.

I found I was passionately involved in my work and life when previously I would have told myself to quit. Problems or roadblocks? Instead of avoiding or dismissing them and walking away, I found I started returning to them day after day, living and loving life regardless of who, if anyone, ever noticed. The silence, the fact that no one was even noticing, stopped coming across to me as a warning. The silence became the mental space where my life and work began to live and grow. And from the silence, to my surprise, others began to notice.

“Reassurance” is the key word. I no longer needed it. And when I began to accept this, to believe and live it, subtly, my attention changed. Without needing approval, I began to notice the quiet pull toward specific ideas or desires that were intrinsically my own, not someone else’s to validate. Life started at that moment to be an adventure, even if it was nothing more than showing up, even when nothing was resolved. It didn’t matter. I was living me. I accepted that sometimes understanding comes only after effort, not before. Looking back, I realized that my strongest decisions, the ones that actually changed and transformed my life, were rarely made in moments of confidence. They were made in moments of scared commitment.

With regret, but also with thankfulness for the experience, I realized how much life-energy and opportunity I had wasted, misreading what were, in fact, neutral conditions and neutral exterior feedback. No response didn’t mean that anyone was rejecting me. Resistance didn’t mean I was going in the wrong direction. Slow progress didn’t mean I was a failure or ill-equipped.

Letting go of the belief that I didn’t need external validation for how I wanted to live my life didn’t erase doubt. Don’t get the wrong impression. But what it did was to strip doubt of its authority. Uncertainty stopped being a verdict and became something I could walk alongside. I could live in the present, not the past or the future, and though it might feel uncomfortable to take risks others dared not, doubt was no longer in charge. Living the life I wanted to live became the mantra.

Letting go of that belief, that need for affirmation, didn’t suddenly make my progress in the world easier, but it did make it wider. Possibilities that had always been there came into view, and I was able to accept them without any need for anyone else’s approval. These possibilities that I dared not dream of didn’t change. They were there all the time. I simply stopped requiring permission to see them. Or honor them. Or rather, I realized the only permission I needed to live the life of my dreams on my own terms was mine.

I realized the world doesn’t widen because circumstances change. It widened when I stopped asking permission to dream big dreams. I wasn’t walking with the consent or acceptance of others anymore. I was walking with uncertainty, and noticing I still belonged, not to the whims of others, but to myself. I began writing my life, telling the story I knew should be told, even when I walked alone.

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Clay Stafford is a bestselling writer, filmmaker, and founder of the Killer Nashville International Writers’ Conference, Killer Nashville Magazine, and the Killer Nashville University streaming service. Subscribe to his newsletter at https://claystafford.com/.

Literary Alchemy: Ingredients of the Story – Foreshadowing

A series designed to elevate your skills and empower you to write like a pro.
By Chrissy Hicks

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Foreshadowing is a literary device used to hint at what’s coming later in the story. It creates anticipation and builds suspense, engaging readers by making them eager to see how events will unfold. As Chekhov so famously put it, “If in the first act you introduce a gun, by the third act you have to use it.”

Why use Foreshadowing?

• Build suspense and tension by hinting at future conflicts or outcomes. In Gone Girl, (Gillian Flynn) Amy’s use of the “treasure hunt” game, leaving clues for her husband Nick (and the police) to find, foreshadows the underlying (and much more sinister) game she’s playing with him, which we don’t learn until about halfway through the book.

• By providing subtle clues, foreshadowing encourages readers to engage with the text. They become detectives, piecing together hints to predict what might happen next. In the classic, The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald), Myrtle’s death foreshadows the tragic consequences of the other characters. Her reckless behavior and desire to escape her life leads to her fatal accident. This event sets off a chain reaction that leads to Gatsby’s demise.

• Create cohesion with foreshadowing by tying together various plot elements. When a writer plants clues early on, it allows for a satisfying payoff later in the narrative. For example, in Frankenstein (Mary Shelley), Victor Frankenstein’s early fascination with the works of occult philosophy foreshadows his tragic downfall, linking his childhood curiosity to the catastrophic consequences of his scientific pursuits.

• Prepare readers for impactful emotional beats, making them feel earned rather than abrupt. In The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins), Katniss’s early demonstrations of her archery skills foreshadow her survival tactics in the arena, allowing readers to invest in her journey and the stakes involved. The reader isn’t caught off guard by her abilities.

• Foreshadowing can also highlight central themes within a story. In my flash fiction story The Last Tour, the canyon, with its vastness and depth, symbolizes both characters’ emotional chasms and the literal danger they face. The tour being the “last one” of the day hints at the finality of their journeys, ultimately foreshadowing the tragic events that will unfold.

How and When to Use Foreshadowing:

To effectively use foreshadowing, incorporate subtle clues that may seem insignificant at first but gain importance as the story progresses. This can be done through:

• Dialogue: Characters can drop hints in their conversations or make ominous statements or jokes that hint at darker outcomes. “When I think of my wife, I always think of her head. ...And what's inside it. I think of that too: her mind. Her brain, all those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast, frantic centipedes” (Gone Girl). 

• Setting: Use elements in the environment that reflect future events. “. . .the sun climbed over the skyline of oaks, revealing its full summer angry- god self. Its reflection flared across the river toward our house, a long, blaring finger aimed at me through our frail bedroom curtains. Accusing: You have been seen. You will be seen” (Gone Girl).

• Symbolism: Introduce objects or motifs that will later play a crucial role. Introducing a motif that recurs throughout the story can create a sense of continuity. “But above the gray land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a non-existent nose.” Later, “. . .we walked back a hundred yards along the road under Doctor Eckleburg’s persistent stare.” (The Great Gatsby).

• Character Actions: A character’s seemingly minor actions can foreshadow future events. “Eve decides to celebrate her 50th birthday with a Grand Canyon excursion. She doesn’t research companies or pricing. She knows exactly which trip she’ll book. The last tour on Saturday, leaving from Boulder City, Nevada.” (The Last Tour).

• Flashbacks: Consider how a past trauma influences a character’s decisions later in the story. “My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run.” (The Hunger Games).

• Dreams or Visions: These may foreshadow future events. (Be careful: often these can be too on the nose). “I slept, indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams. I thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her, but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of death. . .” (Frankenstein). 

• Weather and Atmosphere: Atmospheric changes can foreshadow emotional shifts or upcoming conflicts. “September 9th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were heard at a distance as the islands split and cracked in every direction.” (Frankenstein).

• Physical Objects: Objects that hold significance for a character can foreshadow future events. “I think I’m finished when Cinna pulls the gold mockingjay pin from his pocket. . . I remember now taking it off my mother’s dress, pinning it to the shirt.” (The Hunger Games).

• Narrative Tone: A dark or foreboding tone can signal that something tragic is on the horizon, while a light-hearted tone may suggest a twist or surprise. “Lonnie’s family labels him a failure; his therapist, a lost cause; the justice system, another burden. So much for the American dream. Or any dream.” (The Last Tour).

Lookout! 👀

Be on the lookout for signs of foreshadowing in movies you watch and books you read. Consider how the author (or director) accomplished the use of this device. Was it effective? What hooked you and made you want to turn the page or keep watching? How can your understanding of what they did help you accomplish the same?

Prompt 📝

Write a scene where a character notices a seemingly trivial detail—like a broken clock, a dead tree, or a faded photograph—that later becomes pivotal to the plot or precedes a major event. Consider how this detail can create a sense of foreboding or anticipation.

Further Reading: 📚

• Grammarly: Foreshadowing in Writing

• Oregon State University: What is Foreshadowing?

• LitCharts: Foreshadowing Definition and Examples

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Chrissy’s debut novel, Inheritance of Lies (Marble Press Books), was a 2022 Claymore Suspense Award finalist. Her writing is featured in anthologies and magazines, including Story Sanctum, Killer Nashville Magazine, Black Works, and The Broadkill Review, among others. Her unpublished manuscripts secured First Place in the 2024/2025 Thomas Mabry Creative Writing Award, 2024 Seven Hills Literary Contest, and “Top Pick” in the Suspense category for the 2024 Claymore Award. A Northern transplant who traded snow for Tennessee heat, Chrissy actively volunteers for Killer Nashville Magazine and is a proud member of Mystery Writers of America and International Thriller Writers. Aside from thinking up ways for characters to die, she hikes, runs, reads, and drinks dark wine. Visit her online at chrissyhicks.com or hire her for your next editing project at emberskyeeditorial.com. Join her free newsletter for author updates, a glimpse into a busy writer’s life, and book recommendations.

This Crazy Writing Life: Binge Writing In This Crazy Writing Life

By Steven Womack

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I recently watched a YouTube interview with John Grisham in which he described his writing “ritual.” Grisham writes a book a year, like clockwork, and he starts at seven o’clock each morning. He begins a new novel every January first, and he’s finished in six months. His writing studio is a separate building with no phones, internet or any other distractions. He’s focused, his writing time is rigidly structured, and it rarely varies.

I’ve read interviews with other writers who have similar routines or rituals. Most of them involve getting up at the butt-crack of dawn, never letting anything disturb them or their focus, and incorporating a certain approach to the work that can best be described by the term laser-locked.

I wish I could do that but, dang it, I just can’t. For one thing, if I’m up at 7 o’clock in the morning, it’s because I haven’t been to bed yet. Grisham says he writes five days a week. I’ve heard other writers say they write every day, seven days a week, and if they happen to finish one manuscript in the middle of their writing day, then they just open a new file on the computer and start the next book.

This baffles me.

All this can’t help but remind me of the old Richard Pryor joke about the friend whose wife was in labor for two days straight. “I don’t want to do anything that feels good for two days straight!”

It’s not that I’m lazy, although lately—for a lot of reasons—I haven’t been very productive. I actually work quite hard and am reasonably organized and structured. But I’m not by any stretch of the imagination laser-locked. I find that writing works best when the mind and the imagination are allowed to wander about for awhile, to roam around and look in corners and see what’s there. I even find distractions useful, especially if I’ve written myself in a corner. I’m in the middle of a scene or a chapter and suddenly I don’t know which way to go next.

So I pull up the old web browser and find some clickbait to explore. I’m a sucker for clickbait. Throw a box up on my screen with a lead like Ten Forgotten One Hit Wonders From 1966 and it’s a pretty good bet I’m gonna click that sucker. And if I don’t recognize one of the one-hit wonders, I’m going to pop over to YouTube and watch some old black-and-white kinescope of the band performing it on Shindig.

Strangely enough, when I’ve finished watching the YouTube video and go back to the screen where the manuscript is perched, something magical will have happened and I know where to go next. This happens to me a lot. Does this mean that while I’m watching some obscure video that my subconscious is churning around trying to solve the problem? Or is just that clearing the mind for a few minutes allows you to look at the scene differently than when you were creatively deep in the weeds and saw no way out?

I don’t know. Truthfully, I don’t really analyze it very much. Overthinking these things is not a good policy either.

Many years ago, in the early days of my teaching career at Watkins Film School, the writer/director/producer Coke Sams visited the school and spoke to our students. Sams, whose credits include Ernest Scared Stupid and Existo, among many others, described his process and it gave me great comfort. He said that when he’s working on a project—whether it be a script or a film or anything else—when he’s on it, he’s totally on it. He’s completely absorbed, swallowed up by it, or to coin a Tarentino-ism, he gets medieval on it.

Then when he’s done, he needs some serious time off.

“I’m a binge-writer,” he told our students.

That’s it. Somebody finally nailed it. When I’m in the middle of a project, I’m on it like white on rice. I once finished the first draft of a novel in seven weeks. Usually, it takes a lot longer, but when I’m done, I’m spent. The well is dry.

And I need to allow time for it to fill up again.

Then, there’s life. Life can really get in the way of the important stuff like writing.

On the surface, 2025 has been a productive year so far. I finished writing, editing and indie-pubbing an eBook memoir of my twenty-five years as a film school professor, Death Of A College. After at least five years, I finally won the battle with Harper Collins to get the rights back to my standalone thriller By Blood Written, revised it, and indie-pubbed it with its new title, Blood Plot.

Two books in six months; not too shabby.

Dig a little deeper, though, and the lipstick rubs off this pig pretty easily. After a solid year of writing a proposal for a three-book historical series for an editor at a medium-sized publisher, I was thrilled to get an offer. This would be the best book deal I’ve had in a long time and one of the best ever. This project could turn my struggling career around. Only problem is this medium-sized traditional publisher is the process of being acquired by a larger, multi-media, deep-pockets company (this is why the editor was able to offer me a more lucrative deal than one usually sees these days). Until the acquisition is complete, contracts can’t be signed and, obviously, advances will not be forthcoming.

The acquisition process is coming up on two years now.

If I were as focused and disciplined as some other writers, I’d have gotten to work on this project so that when the contracts came through, I’d have the three books finished. But for some reason or other, I just can’t seem to muster the bandwidth. For one thing, while I trust the people involved and do believe this will eventually happen, there’s that voice inside my head that constantly reminds me that when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

Then there’s the outside world. I don’t know how you guys feel, but I and many of my friends feel like the world’s becoming a little more unhinged every day. Politics, the economy, wars raging, floods flooding, people starving… I’m reminded of the song by Paul Thorn, one of my favorite artists, who wrote and sang a wonderful song called What The Hell Is Going On?

That sums it up for me, or as Yeats wrote: Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.

So far this year, I’ve had two friends pass away in a ten-day stretch. We’ve had to throw several thousand dollars at my wife’s old car to keep it running because, candidly, I can’t afford to replace it. We discovered hidden water damage that caused the siding on the front of our house to decide it wanted to be set free from the rest of it. That was a quick wheelbarrow full of cash down the drain (and you can only imagine how helpful our insurance company was).

Life seems to be one problem after another, one shock after another, one hassle after another. Life is full of conflict and complications. Makes it very hard to focus on that chapter you need to get out today…

Years ago, we were in San Francisco and went to Musée Mécanique, the museum of coin-operated machines and arcade games. It’s a real hoot; if you’re ever in San Francisco, it’s a must-see. While there, I encountered an arcade game that took me back fondly to my younger days: Whac-A-Mole. 

For the uninitiated, Whac-A-Mole is an arcade game with a bunch of holes on the top. At random intervals and speeds, small fake-furry plastic moles pop out of the holes and the player whacks them with a soft, spongy mallet. You knock one mole back into its hole and another one pops up, rapid-fire.

My only question is when did a silly arcade game become a metaphor for life?

My wife took a photo. For five years, a framed copy of the photo hung outside my office door for the five years I was Chair of the Watkins Film School. It perfectly encapsulated my job description.

Here it is and I hope you get a chuckle out of it. That’s it for this month’s episode of This Crazy Writing Life. As always, thanks for playing along.

P.S. I don’t know whether this column will be published in Killer Nashville Magazine before or after this year’s Killer Nashville conference begins on August 21st. For the first time in a couple of years, I’m going to be able to attend the whole conference (last year I had to cancel because of Covid). I’m doing a Master Class with Jaden Terrell and Lisa Wysocky and appearing on two other panels. I’m looking forward to meeting as many folks as possible.

And if this column appears after the conference, I hope you all had a great time.