CHICKEN BROTH, or How To Choose The Liquidy-ish Substance That Holds Your Story Soup Together

AH! The kitchen has called! And I finally answered! … Alphonse whacked me with a spoon as I entered, for I have been gone far too long, and he was rather displeased with me.

But I have returned to teach you another lesson in soup!

Alright. So. We have discussed many aspects yet, but there are still a few more to go over. And I consider this one of the most important aspects of making the soup. The others were rather… general. But this… This is what makes your soup happen. The kind of soup it is and will be is decided by this… This is the medium. The glue.

This, my friends. Is the broth.

Tomato based soup has… tomato based broth.

And the national soup of Soup-land, is most definitely chicken noodle soup. At least the Soup-land I know of.

CHICKEN BROTH. Woo-hoo! It’s the awesome of the awesome.

Okay. Before I get carried away with the soupy-ness of it all… hehe… TO THE STORY SOUP!

We have a black cauldron. We have various ingredients. We have gotten through the jelly. And we are still alive.

But this particular part of the story is always there. This is what makes the story happen, guys. This is what literally holds in together. This is why we READ books. Why we watch movies.

This is why we eat the soup.

The characters.

We remember the characters from a book long after we have forgotten the brilliant sub plots and denouements. The characters stick with us.


Luke Skywalker.


Lucy Pevensie


Ebenezer Scrooge


Beren and Luthien (two of my absolute and forever favorites)

Huckleberry Finn

Tom Sawyer


…. and if you have read/seen the Lord of the Rings. You will never forget. Never ever.

Samwise Gamgee. The BEST ally. EVER.

There are so so so so many characters! And I could list hundreds, and you’d be like. Yup. I remember those. Point?

The point is… People relate to people! Whether they are real are not! (And I could do a list of real people who stick with us just as much as those characters do)

Characters are to stories like broth is to soup. It’s what holds the story together. They are the one element of the story that the reader … or soup eater 😉 … is always getting.

I’ve read novels where the author did not go into depth IN the novel about that character… so we never found out much about them. But you could tell the author knew where they had been, and what they had been through. And other characters did too.

There was an unrevealed depth to them, and it was quite effective.

Shallow characters. Well. A weak broth doesn’t give much nourishment, now does it?

Take the time to make a rich broth.

Take the time to have real, deep characters. That people will care about. That people will remember. That people would want to meet.

If you need help with character development, just shoot me an email. I can help with that one. I know a lot of other writers who could help, too. ‘tis what we do. 😉

It’s important that your characters are real though. That they have flaws. Goals. Dreams. That they’re human. (unless, of course, they are elves… or orcs… or ents…)

Those deep characters… Those are the ones who make us laugh… and bring a new aspect to our own mundane lives… and cheer us up… and make us cry. They are the characters we will never forget, because it was that character’s story that changed our lives. It was that character that changed us.

I have said before that stories change lives.

A story is about a character.

People change people.

More so than your story itself… it is the struggle of that individual, or group… Their love, their hate, their failures, and their successes… It’s the glimpse into someone else’s life that changes our own hearts.

So. Again. What kind of soup do you want to make?

What kind of story do you want to tell?

I hope it is a soup that will be nourishing.

I hope it is a story that will change the world.


THE BLACK CAULDRON, or The Great Pot Of Various Ingredients That Shall Become Story Soup

Your first reaction, will, most likely, be that of incredulous surprise. Indeed. However, please do not simply turn away, but do read on.

First, I must say that I received this concept from a friend… Well. More specifically. That friend’s typo. And it has stuck in my head. And so. I shamelessly shall continue down the path this typo has taken me. Thank you, friend! *hugs friend* (you can remain anonymous or not. Your choice. 😉 )

Now. Let us begin!

Shall we create a masterpiece together? Will you join me and create some delicious morsel with which to appease the appetite of the mind? For if you wish to feed the imagination, the soup must be a great one.

Into the kitchen we go, bravely we shall face it; one of the deadliest battlefields known to mankind. For here we create sustenance for this, our mortal frame. It is a cold world, and so, without much thought, we know what we desire. Soup. Yes, indeed, soup. For soup soothes, and soup warms. And there are so many different kinds of soup, each able to reflect your mood, your personality, able to warm your aching bones as you curl in front of the fireplace, and soothe your weary body. This… this is soup my friends. And I dare not attempt to further describe it, as I verily know I could never begin to do this luxurious food justice.

But before I begin, what am I speaking of? What, pray tell, is this Black Cauldron, this thing, this Great Pot Of Various Ingredients That Shall Become Story Soup? What is this so called “Story Soup”?

It is, very simply, just that. A story. A book. A movie. A poem. Soup, if you will, for the soul. Chicken and noodles may indeed feed our physical forms, but it is words and ideas that feed our souls. Our passions.

Now to begin. We are in the kitchen. Do you have an assistant? I do. His name happens to be Alphonse. He is very good with spices, and always knows just what needs to be added, or what needs to be taken out. (Yes INDEED we have special soup; for we can remove ingredients even after they have been added!) Alphonse’s official title is usually “Inner Editor” but today, he is “Inner le Chef”. He places on his lofty white hat, and we are ready. First things first. We need a pot. Yes. A pot. A cauldron. A pan, I say! Shall we cook soup without something in which to hold it? Verily, t’would be a messy meal.

Carefully, with much deliberation, we choose our pot. A nice big one. Who knows how many we might be cooking for, after all. And we must be prepared for however many guests arrive.

It is clean, of course, but we wash the pot before beginning anyway. It mustn’t just be clean. But spotless. Not even a watermark. Alphonse always amuses himself by making faces at his own portrait in the bottom of the pot.

Now we have our pot on the stove. It is time to choose what kind of soup we will be making!

What is first? Eh? Well. We shall begin with our broth! Shall it be watery? Thick? Creamy? Tomato based? There are many options. But this is a simple soup we are making this time. Simple, yet great. Alphonse hands me the chicken broth, and I pour it in.

And then on to ingredients. Carrots are chopped, and chicken prepared. Celery, noodles, spices brought down from the cabinet. Alphonse makes a face as I chop up an onion. The smell makes him cry, but he doesn’t say a word. He knows those tears are important.

With care we put in each ingredient, stirring our soup. Salt, pepper. Garlic. One by one each thing we have prepared makes its way into the pot.

It doesn’t take long for the soup to be done. We taste it every few moments. We add some ingredients. We even take some out. But at last, the soup is done.

This is just the beginning. Do you wish to know what I mean by all this? Do you want to know what comes next after we finish our pot? Perhaps I mislead you, for we are far from done with our soup. For this is just the start.

The secrets of the soup are many. Shall we look at them together?

Short story – Where Angels Dare To Tread

A short story I wrote today. More of a snippet story really.


Adarel trembled. His wings shook. He was weak. Too weak.

He raises his head and looked above. “Almighty One, I pray, grant me Your grace.”

The demonlord circled him. “He will not hear. He was abandoned you, angel. You remained faithful to Him, and he abandons you. That is His way. But it is not too late; the Prince of Darkness is merciful – join us.”

Adarel used his sword to push himself off the ground. “I will forever stay true to the Almighty God.”

The demon threw back his head and laughed. “If all of those that are His faithful are as weak as you, than I know not why the Dragon should not assault and take the Heavens by force.” His red eyes glowed with an eldritch light. Hate and lust shone from them.

A gentle breeze blew over Adarel, and he felt strength flow into him as if it were a soothing stream.

“You can never win. Even against one as weak as I.”

The demon hoisted his great axe aloft. “Yet I have already defeated you. You have tread where you should not have. There are no Believers here to give you strength with their prayers. This is our land, a land consumed in darkness. You will fall here, Faithful of the Most High.”

“You will be banished into outer darkness for all eternity, here, Fallen of the Dragon.”

The demonlord roared in anger and leaped forward, his wings flaring, rushing down upon the lone angelic warrior.

But Adarel was no longer weak.

The demon was wrong.

There were Believers. And they were praying.

His sword glowed with holy light as he deflected the first blow of the new assault.

“I have tread where none should have.” He pressed forward, turning his defense into assault. “For you can never see all, as the Almighty sees.”

The demon howled in pain as Adarel’s sword cut into the flesh of his leg.

“I have tread where no angel dares, for there are Believers here. And I have brought them Word from He who sits on the Throne.”

The fallen threw himself forward attacking with all his might, desperate. But the prayers of the righteous had strengthened Adarel. The grace of the Most High guided him. He would deliver his message to the Beloved Bride, and this demon could not stop the Will of the Father from being carried out.

He raises his voice and praised the Father as he delivered the final blow.

“I am a Messenger of the Almighty God, and I shall tread where no other dares.”