From the Archives – Introduction to Plot Bunnies
Plot bunnies come in various shapes forms and names – though generally in the animal family: hamsters, monkeys, etc. But given context, most writers know what these are. I call them plot bunnies since, for me, they’re much like living, breathing versions of dust bunnies under furniture or lurking in the corner. They come in different shapes, sizes, and intelligence levels. They’re the snippets. These are the portions of stories that attack at the weird times and in the strange places. The bits that may or may not become a full blown story or article.
These plot bunnies are an interesting phenomenon in the writerly realms. They are either a writer’s best friend or worst enemy. They come in all shapes, sizes, and aggression levels. Many are happy to hide in the shadows until such time as they are swept out into the like. Others are like the Monty Python Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog and have no escape. Though the first type, the kinder, gentler plot bunnies are lovely creatures. If you cultivate them enough, you do get wondrous projects out of them. Sometimes it takes a warren of plot bunnies to bring a story idea to fruition, and that’s very awesome. However, I like the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog species of plot bunnies. These are the ones I refer to as the ones that eat the brain.
The brain eating plot bunnies are the ones, much like the one in Monty Python that have the big, sharp teeth and go for the throat. These are the ideas that come not only full-blown and don’t allow the writer to rest until the story is completed.
I’ve been blessed with a few of the brain-eating plot bunnies. These are the ones to hunt. To set snares for, because some of the most amazing pieces come from these plot bunnies. But where is their hunting ground? Where do you find them? How do you snare them?
Plot bunnies are an elusive breed, but I’ve had some of the best luck tracking them down in networking/social situations – like conventions. Random conversations at parties with other creatively minded people where you’re off your guard, relaxed, and not actively seeking them. This lulls the plot bunnies into a false sense of security. They creep out of their dens to burrow into a new place.
A writer must be prepared for the unexpected attack of a plot bunny. The plot bunny must believe it is the one on the attack and not that you’re laying in wait for it. This is when it sinks in its teeth and latches on for dear life.
Unfortunately, this also happens when you’re deeply involved in other projects. This is when you very carefully build a hutch for the plot bunny and nurture it enough to settle in to a time you can give it your full attention. Or, if you just want the bleeding to stop, allow the plot bunny to control your life and interrupt what you’re working on.
Either way, you don’t want to ignore your plot bunnies – if they allow you to – because, as we’ll explore later, if you don’t make the effort to care and feed your plot bunnies, they’ll find someone else who will. Plot bunnies are nothing if not fickle and flighty.