Recommend a story to me!

“Go see Hadestown,” my sister said. “You’ll love it.”

The film of the Tony Award-winning musical wasn’t even on my radar until Sandy mentioned it. Since she knows my taste, I eagerly checked it out. Obstacles piled up from the start.

1. The nearest screening was more than an hour away from my summer address in Northern New York State.

2. It would be a limited run, so I couldn’t count on it being in theaters until I got home to Pennsylvania mid-September.

3. The only showing each day was at 8:35 pm. Since my husband and I are 4:30 am risers, I’m usually heading toward bed with a book at that hour. Going would keep us up half the night.

But who doesn’t love an adventure? We went. I enjoyed it. But did I love it? It turns out that the next hurdle was the most difficult for me to surmount.

4. Telling me I’m going to love something sets me on my back foot. “Oh yeah? Prove it,” my inner brat seems to say. The bar raises. Now the film must do more than captivate me; my emotional reaction must live up to my sister’s.

Yet I never discourage story recommendations. They come in handy when you write about fiction as much as I do.

Since 2007, I have written more than 300 essays about story craft and the writing life for monthly gigs at three major writing community blogs: The Blood-Red Pencil, Writers in the Storm, and since 2014, Writer Unboxed. This does not count the dozens I’ve written for my personal blogs, guest posts, Substack, and previous newsletters, which also focus on story.

I relied on this depth of experience to write my guide for writers, Crafting Story Movement: Techniques to Engage Readers and Drive Your Novel Forward. But depth of experience can present challenges of its own. For my July Writer Unboxed post, for instance, I came up with three great topics. When double-checking my archive of posts, though, I realized I’d not only covered them before, but sometimes with the same examples I thought had “just” come to mind.

This made me think through why I continue to write about story, which became another list:

1) I do this work to help other writers and to keep my name out there as an author, developmental editor, and writing teacher. Since I could have written at least three novels during the voluntary hours I spent on this work, though, I’m not the best role model for ways to make a living wage as a writer.

2) I love breaking down stories to see how and why they work.

3) I am an endless font of topics. 😂

Number 3, I fear, is a bald-faced lie. I am always scanning, scanning for inspiration from great stories.

I appreciated that my sister told me about Hadestown, but Midnight Kathryn was prioritizing “drive to survive” over fanning any flames of love. But since my experience had been short of the emotional connection she predicted, the next day I set out to learn more about the show.

I read about the original Orpheus and Euridice myth it was based upon. I researched other incarnations of it. I watched dozens of interviews with its stars and creators and studied the lyrics on the original Broadway recording until my husband asked, “So which role in Hadestown are you auditioning for, exactly?”

And guess what? Daytime Kathryn fell in love with it—and wrote about what we writers can learn from reinventing ancient tales for my post today on Writer Unboxed. If you’re interested, you can check it out here: 7 Elements of an Enduring Tale.

There is magic in discovering a story for yourself. You’re strengthening your intuition when you are drawn to a cover, read back cover copy, and then test the opening paragraphs. “Ah, this is my kind of story,” you think, as you slip into the intimate relationship it promises.

When I’m told I’ll love it, though, that magic fades. Because many feel that way, our neighborhood book club has a rule not to talk about the book until the night of our scheduled discussion. And yet there’s this one woman who always calls me ahead of the meeting—most likely because she knows my life revolves around story—as soon as she’s finished the book to tell me what she thought of it. Even when I repeatedly beg her not to because I’m not finished yet.

It’s interesting, though: as a dance critic, whether or not I loved a performance was the metric of least interest to me. I can love a roller coaster ride, but the thrill is gone as soon as the ride levels out and my hair settles back onto my head. I expect more from story.

When these questions can be answered in the affirmative, I’m on the road toward love.

Did it awaken something in me?

Did it deepen my appreciation of what story can accomplish?

Did it linger in my thoughts after I reached The End?

Did it arouse a curiosity in me that made me want to learn more?

I want to experience heightened emotional states, of course, but even more important, I want to be inspired to think and analyze and learn from how the artist put together their work. Given that, then yes.

Sandy, if you’re reading this: I loved it. ❤️

Crafting Story Movement was a 2026 Finalist in Nonfiction Books for Writers!

In addition to recognizing the top three medal winners, they added, “The competition was so strong this year that for the first time ever we are also recognizing finalists. While not every book can receive a medal, our judges felt compelled to acknowledge additional titles that distinguished themselves through exceptional quality and creativity.”

This is such a wonderful affirmation of what a consider the capstone project of my career in the arts, building on my background in movement to talk about story movement as a transfer of energy.

Thanks for reading, my friends. And I’d like to add a special shout-out to my paid subscribers for your generous support! If you have any thoughts about Hadestown or our recent return to myth discussed in the Writer Unboxed post, the comments are open in both places and I’d love to hear from you. If you’ve experienced a particularly affecting book or movie this summer, feel free to give me your recommendations—just don’t tell me what to feel about them!

Since I’ve been pulling back from social media to give my schedule some elbow room, some of you may be missing photos of the lake. I’ll leave you with this fierce yet determined sunrise.

~Kathryn