I have always loved stories. All kinds, in every format, on screens, in books, in music. And though there are stories in nearly every genre that I adore, fairy tales are my favorite.
As a small child, I watched Wizard of Oz on a loop. It had everything a fairytale should have, wonder, terror, hope, consequences. I memorized every line and every song, and I occasionally performed it for my older siblings’ friends. Every time Dorothy opened the door to Oz, excitement overcame me. I never accepted that Oz was just a dream.
I started Out Of The Way Things more than 25 years ago. I intended to write an anthology of related short stories. The principal character, Max, had the incredible ability to read everything about a person with only a moment of eye contact. I wrote the story that introduced him and his unsettling gift. From there, my plan was to write more stories with Max appearing throughout the book. With Max introduced, I sketched out another short story: The story of a woman who experiences something quite extraordinary in an abandoned house. I wrote copious notes, but no story.
I wouldn’t write another word of this story for more than a decade. I talked about it over the years. It changed shape in my mind, a larger world grew around it. At some point along the way, I lost the original story. But I remembered the idea. At the prompting of a friend, I started writing it again about five years ago. I didn’t want to rewrite what I had written years ago, I was convinced I would find it, and that I might be able to salvage something from it. Instead, I started with the outline I had written as a teenager, the story of the woman and the house. I wrote Win’s story. And it went no further than the house.
I still planned for a book of interconnected short stories. I tried to go back to Max. I tried to write a third character to tie the two of them together. For years, I tried to move past Win and the house. But I couldn’t write Max. Poor guy. The third character I had in mind didn’t have a name, let alone a story.
Earlier this year, I joined a writing group and I decided to pick up the story again. This time I wrote with the intention of finishing it. I had a solid twenty five pages.
I realized quickly, I couldn’t write Max, because this was Win’s story.
Max is a great character. I love him. But I wanted to walk through the door to an extraordinary world with someone who would experience it the way that I would. Win enters this story like Dorothy enters Oz, like Alice enters Wonderland. She asks the questions I would ask. She experiences the same surprise and curiosity and wonder that I would, if I were in her shoes.
From there the story came quickly, four months later I had my first draft. It is a great honor to share this story with others.
Kendall McNutt brings readers into a hyper realistic fantasy that asks us to consider the possibility that all stories are true and that nothing is impossible.
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