I have written before about the value of story talismans — physical objects that take on an emotional meaning — as I did here analyzing the importance of the shilling in The King’s Speech. Story talismans are doubly valuable to a writer because they communicate something to the script reader in a visual way.
I was reminded of this due to a real life bit of business. In early December, I asked my oldest son Will what he wanted for Christmas. Among the things he mentioned was a wind chime. But not just any wind chime. The notes the chime played had to be in the Lydian mode. This particular scale seems to be part of Will’s psychic DNA, much of the music he has composed deriving from it. Thinking this would make a swell gift, I did some research, found a Lydian mode wind chime, and bought it.
About a day before Will was to return home, he sent me an email: “Don’t get the wind chime. My roommate got one for me.”
So now I was in possession of a duplicate Lydian wind chime. What to do?
On Christmas Day, we went through all our gifts. Will opened a package: It was the wind chime. I said, “I figured why not two? One for Boston, one for home.”
Over the busy holidays, we never got around to putting it up. In fact, it wasn’t until the day after Will left to go back to college that my wife pulled it out, put it together, then hung it on our front porch. She and I sat last night in the living room, listening to it create wonderful wind-driven melodies. As I thought about it, I realized that wind chime is a talisman:
* First and foremost, it is symbolic of Will. Hearing the notes is like having a big part of him — his music — at home.
* Second there is a story attached to the object. Not a terribly interesting one — duplicate wind chimes — but still a tiny piece of the entire fabric of our family history.
* Finally the wind chime is an homage to creativity, making an endless non-repeating melody.
In other words, the wind chime is an object that has taken on emotional and symbolic meaning.
As I was out for my morning bike ride today, an image occurred to me: A character hanging up a wind chime on a porch, stepping back to gaze at it, a breeze causes the notes to sound… and this character’s eyes fill with tears.
What stories could arise from that? What emotional and symbolic attachment might that character have with the wind chime? Does this moment begin the story? End it?
Story talismans are powerful tools at a writer’s disposal. Fortunately inspiration for them is everywhere around us.
While it has become a bit of a cliche, wind chimes are sometimes used as an archetypical Herald, announcing the coming of significant change, and usually an ominous one.
One story idea that comes to mind is that of a fisherman and the Japanese tsunami.
In the beginning, we see our hero at sea, hauling in his day’s catch. The wind chimes (a school of fish) happily jangle from the mast, as the boat rocks back and forth.
And then the earthquake.
Because he’s at sea, our hero doesn’t feel the earth shake, and doesn’t realize that a monster tidal wave is fast approaching. He’s to busy hooking more bait, to notice the winds picking up; his wind chime the only indication of the oncoming tsunami.
Once the devastation is over, our fisherman clings to the splintered mast as it floats in the ocean, the once-jangling school of fish now silenced as they swim in the water.
Having been rescued, our fisherman begins collecting materials for a new boat. He hammers a new set of wind chimes onto a mast, symbolizing rebirth and a new start on life.