When I launch myself into writing a novel, I never have a theme in mind.

Honestly, theme is not even the second, third, or fourth thing I think about. Here’s what I do think about: What do my characters want? Are their desires dramatic enough to sustain a story? What’s the date and location? Is there a Quirky Historical Event I can incorporate into the story?

But, when I’m writing a short story theme is often the first thing I consider. That’s because—in my crime fiction universe—anthologies-based-on-a-theme are very popular. So popular that I wrote my short stories Kate Chopin Tussles with a Novel Ending and Miss Evelyn Nesbit Presents with hopes of getting them included into an anthology or two. (And Reader, I did.)

Honestly, theme is not even the second, third, or fourth thing I think about. Here’s what I do think about: What do my characters want? Are their desires dramatic enough to sustain a story? What’s the date and location? Is there a Quirky Historical Event I can incorporate into the story?

But, when I’m writing a short story theme is often the first thing I consider. That’s because—in my crime fiction universe—anthologies-based-on-a-theme are very popular. So popular that I wrote my short stories Kate Chopin Tussles with a Novel Ending and Miss Evelyn Nesbit Presents with hopes of getting them included into an anthology or two. (And Reader, I did.)

Here’s what I’ve learned after writing two novels where I didn’t start with theme, and two short stories where I did—all my fiction explores the same theme.

Surprisingly, I just learned this about my writing. And here’s how…

When I’m writing a short story, I generate pages and pages of notes on my laptop. After my notes become totally confusing, with hundreds of character, plot, and story possibilities, I print out the pages.

I read through the pages thoughtfully, hoping to find at least one idea that excites me. An idea that offers a new way of looking at how a woman acts and reacts when confronted with her worst enemy, or an idea that tramples on a woman’s cherished plans and emotions until she’s forced to claw her way back to some type of normalcy.

As it happens, I’m currently writing a short story set in the frantic world of 1943 Washington DC. After printing out and reading thirty pages of notes, it became clear that I wanted to write a tense confrontation initiated by a smart, under-estimated woman who wanted to spy for the US government. It was a job she knew she’d excel at, but a job that her gender kept her from getting.  

That’s when it hit me. I was once again writing about a woman whose primary goal was to get the job of her dreams. Thinking back to all of my novels and short stories, I slowly acknowledged that almost all of them revolve around a Woman Wanting to Work.

And here’s the proof: Kate Chopin must write for money to support her family; Evelyn Nesbit must perform to recast herself from victim to heroine; Fanny Newcomb must detect for personal satisfaction; and Viola Vermillion (from my WIP) must reach the heights of vaudeville because she craves that connection to the audience.

To be honest, during those first moments of theme revelation, I was a little appalled at myself. Sick to my stomach, even. Was I really stuck on one theme? How lame was that?

But minutes later my self-loathing turned to joy. Triumph, even. Because my writing HAD A THEME! My writing was a cohesive whole that explored something very important to me—a woman’s right to choose and excel at her occupation.

So, I’m suggesting two things here. First, if you’re trying to find your theme—and if, like me, you make lots of notes—try printing out and reviewing your notes. Because as you read, your theme may certainly emerge.

And secondly, if you realize that you always write only one theme, don’t let it bother you. Because that one theme might be your most satisfying work of all.

All images courtesy of WikipediaCommons.

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