Storylines for the Indie Author in 2025

Plots from Shadows

Even the most prolific storyteller, can at times, find it difficult to find suitable storylines from our imagination alone. I read about one successful Scottish crime writer who would scour newspapers until a connection was made with one particular news story, and that article became the catalyst for a bestselling novel. I find that life, itself, is a continuous source of ideas. Just look around you and watch life unfold. If you are a people watcher, which I think most writers of fiction are, then you have access to a continuous ideas generator completely free of charge. Watching TV, listening to the radio, or reading the newspapers, like the afore mentioned Scottish author, are more ways to gather inspiration for your next masterpiece.

I would like to share one such moment with you which resulted in this blog post and a short story of the spooky kind. The paranormal genre is undergoing a massive resurgence both in literature and on the screen for one main reason: We all love a good ghost story. Even ardent sceptics love a good ghost story because that’s all they are. Stories. Or are they? Anyway, whatever your beliefs, get your fingers nicely cracked, and hit the keyboard while the readers thirst for the weird and scary continues.

Podcasts are another source of ideas. I was listening to a ghost story a few weeks ago which spawned this post, and a short story which I alluded to earlier. The bit that had my ears pricking up was not the haunted house, or the man who lived there, but what happened when he was walking to the pub one dark and misty night. A dark and misty night says it all. Well it would have to be, wouldn’t it. It is a ghost story after all.

Actually, it was when he was walking back from the pub to his house when the fun started. His house and the pub are located high up on the North York Moors, and yes you’ve guessed it, the mist had rolled in off the moors spooking up the atmosphere even more. The sceptics reading this are already leaping out of their chairs saying he was probably pissed, and the whole experience was alcohol induced. Don’t get too hasty in your judgement because, yes it does sound that way, but when I had the same experience as the haunted man, I was sober as a judge. Yes you heard right. I had the exact same experience many years ago. More on that later.

Picture the scene.

It was late at night. It was dark and it was misty, and the man in question was convinced that a ghost was haunting his house. His mind was already a bit off kilter, and throw in a few pints of Yorkshire’s finest, you have the makings for a good story. The bright lights of the pub were behind our man as he walked the short distance to his house, and he was suddenly struck with terror when he looked up and saw a huge man-like-being in the mist. This menacing goliath began to move from side to side and seemed to get closer until our haunted man, took the bull by the horns, and ran as fast as he could until he got home and slammed the door shut behind him. Only to be welcomed by the house’s spiritual lodger.

Of course there was no huge man lurking in the mist high up on the North York Moors, and like the majority of paranormal happenings, it has a scientific explanation. This phenomenon is usually observed in the mountains and has been responsible for any number of scary stories. But like our haunted man, my own encounter didn’t happen in mountainous regions either. In fact I was at sea level, at the most easterly point in England, when I first encountered the BROCKEN SPECTRE. Brocken Spectre, even the name conjures up all sorts of images and flights of fancy, but folks, that’s all they are.

Back in the 80s and 90s I was living in Suffolk with my family, and I was still a keen runner. I was well past my best, but my love of running never diminished. and still hasn’t. I used to run in the evenings, and my route took me passed an offshore engineering site, and a well-known frozen food factory.

The lights coming from these two sites were both numerous and powerful, and during the dark winter months, the light beams contrasting with the darkness of the sea made for some head-scratching moments when I would cast several shadows at the same time. I was used to seeing two shadows keeping pace with me, but on one particular night a third shadow appeared and began to move forwards. I actually thought there was someone behind me, and I instinctively leapt onto the sea wall out of harm’s way. I felt a bit of a fool when I realised that the moving shadow was cast by the overhead light on a working forklift truck. But you can see the point I am making.

Back to the Brocken Spectre.

I ran passed the engineering works one winter night, and the place was a hive of activity with an evening shift. There were lots of lights for the workforce to go about their work safely, and these included large spotlights on top of the crane gantries.

I ran onto the north wall and into a sea fog that was rolling landwards from the North Sea. The settings aren’t as atmospheric as the haunted man’s with mist coming in from the moors and the colourful back lights from the pub, but all the ingredients for my encounter with the coming spectre were in place. I ran passed the frozen food factory, and spoke to my shadowy friends, which was normal practice by then, and when I was out of range of the factory’s exterior lights, my shadowy companions called it a night and disappeared.

The cold easterly wind was stinging every area of exposed flesh at this point, so I decided to put the hammer down, and that’s when I saw the Brocken Spectre. It was a huge shadow figure in the sea fog directly in front, and it was keeping pace with me as I ran. I didn’t think I could get any colder, but I did, and the hairs everywhere stood to attention as my mind began to cope with what it was seeing. Heart monitors weren’t the norm for runners in those days, but if I had been wearing one, I think it would have blown a gasket.

And then I realised what was happening and began to calm down a little. The lights, high up on the cranes, were shining behind me casting my magnified shadow into the sea fog. The conditions have to be just right for the spectre to make an appearance, but mark my words, unless you are a robot, the initial sight of this monstrous person in the clouds, mist or fog will, if only for a moment, have you judging your sanity. I got to the end of the north wall, up a short but steep hill, and into the quietness of a posh part of North Lowestoft. Well it was then.

So there it is.

Stories can come from anywhere at any time. Just keep your eyes and ears peeled, because if you do, you will never be short of ideas for a good story again. You can even get plots from shadows.