What Inspires Our Writing Themes?

Consciously Or Subconsciously, We Explore Our Shadow Selves In Our Work

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what inspires our storytelling and what we choose to read. Why are writers drawn to certain kinds of stories? Why does a romance writer choose to bring a love story to market? Why does a historical fiction writer feel compelled to bring forgotten or hidden people to life? Why thrillers, or fantasy, or memoir, or horror? What gives us our voice, and what drives us to use it?

And what makes the reader choose a particular kind of book?

There are certainly easy answers to these questions; I’m sure any writer reading this can chime in with their own. But what of the quiet parts of each story, the things that stand out and make it undeniably theirs? Structure, language, descriptions, the idea of writing to a formula or being completely off on your own, sure. Voice, definitely. But if you read authors closely, you will see similarities in specific themes. For example, I have a friend who brings to life women forgotten by history who are disruptors. Disruption is a throughline to all of her stories. I have another whose throughline is houses, and the lack of safety behind the walls that are supposed to be our shelter. Another is writing a story of trust, again, and again.

Consciously or subconsciously, we writers insert themes, symbols, and other hidden messages in our work. Yes, some are purposeful easter eggs, something to honor the ongoing relationship between the writer and reader. But what I’m fascinated by are the ones that are an absolute mystery to the writer. Something they don’t see in their own work, but someone reading can spot easily. A reflection of the id, that primitive part of our psyche. The shadow self, working its way out into the world.

For example, I am obsessed with twins.

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

Growing up, a nascent writer and perpetual planner, I wanted four children, two sets of twins. Two boys, two girls. That felt like a logical way to have children, especially because it would mean I could get a two-fer, more bang for the buck. It was an odd obsession. I knew no twins. They did not run in our family. I have no idea where I even got the idea, though logic says it was from reading about Romulus and Remus being suckled by a she-wolf in my well-thumbed mythology book that I checked out of my elementary school library so many times the librarian gifted it to me on the last day of 6th grade. Not that I thought I was destined to become a she-wolf, but you know how imagery sticks in your brain when you’re a child.

Fast forward to adulthood. In what was a true shock to us all, I struggled with infertility. Two sets of twins became a dream of the distant past; the choice of boys and girls went by the wayside. Any child at all became the goal.

When I lost the twins we’d conceived using IVF, I realized my dream was never going to happen. I never thought I’d struggle to have a family. I assumed, like so many, that it would be easy, natural, and achievable. I am a goal-setter and high achiever. A true Type A personality. You can imagine how infuriating it was to learn my body was betraying me. (Turns out I have Ehler’s Danlos and Celiac, which contributed to my infertility. Found that out ten years too late, sadly.) I became instead a forever mother of cats. It’s not such a bad gig. Especially when we adopted—you guessed it—twin kittens.

I channeled my energy into my writing career and birthed a number of books. I didn’t realize that I was writing twins into all of my books until a reviewer pointed it out. She was right. Before, during, and after my childbearing years, they cropped up. And then, it became a thing. I started to add them purposefully. If I couldn’t have them of my own, I could certainly write them into my stories.

There are twins in almost every book I write. Identical twins. Fraternal twins. Twins who don’t know about one another. Twins with hidden pathologies, twins who act out their basest desires. Twins who were separated at birth and find each other, whose lives are eerie mimics of one another. I have quite a few Doppelgängers, too; twins that might have been. The complexity of a character who shares a soul with another creates confusion and excellent family dynamics, and allows for some sleight of hand when needed. Exactly what a suspense novel needs.

There are plenty of examples of stories with twins at their heart—mine are usually secondary to the plot so it doesn’t become a trope. It is a device that I love to use because the mirror reflection of another soul fascinates me. Sometimes, untwining the twin “situation” in the story makes the book come alive for me and ultimately drives the narrative to its inevitable conclusion.

This isn’t the only theme you’ll see in my stories. Women finding their power is also a huge component, as is finding justice for those who might not otherwise get it. These are rich veins to draw from, and my hope is always to find a path straight to the readers’ hearts, to make a connection that allows a story to come alive and creates characters you love, empathize with, and sometimes love to hate.

How about you? Do you have a favorite theme or trope in the books you write or read? Something you return to again and again, whether on purpose or subconsciously?

The bones of this essay first appeared on the Jungle Red Writers blog on December 20, 2024