The Stories Hiding in Your Junk Drawer

How everyday objects can bring people and moments to life on the page.

There is a particular kind of drawer that seems to collect things nobody quite knows what to do with. An old key sits beside a birthday candle, a receipt has curled around a rubber band, and somewhere underneath it all is something you have picked up several times without ever quite deciding to throw it away. It might be useful one day. It might belong to someone. Or perhaps there is a reason you keep it that would take a little longer to explain.

That last possibility is interesting territory for a writer. The things we keep can give us something specific to explore on the page. A chipped mug might bring a person into focus. A faded work badge might take us into a particular afternoon. If a chapter feels vague or a person in your manuscript seems difficult to describe, an ordinary object can give you a useful place to look more closely.

A question such as “What was your childhood like?” can leave you wondering how to fit years of experience into a few sentences. Asking what was kept on the kitchen windowsill gives you a smaller, more manageable starting point. Perhaps there was a radio nobody was allowed to retune, or a row of plants somebody carefully watered each morning. Once you remember the object, you can begin to explore the routines around it and the people who made those routines part of your life.

Let the reader meet the person

Imagine writing about a father who was particular about his tools. You could describe him as organised, careful and proud of his workshop. You could also show the outline he painted around every tool on the garage wall, then describe what happened when somebody returned a spanner to the wrong hook. Suddenly, there is something for the reader to picture. Depending on how the scene unfolds, they might recognise his patience, his fussiness or the way the rest of the family knew exactly how to wind him up.

The useful detail is the one that helps us understand the person. Perhaps he noticed a missing screwdriver immediately but never complained when the grandchildren covered his workbench in paint. That combination gives a writer something to explore. It also leaves room for the reader to form an impression through what the person does.

Follow the object into a moment

An object becomes more interesting when something happens around it. Take a handwritten recipe. Describing the faded ink and the flour caught in the fold gives the reader a sense of its appearance. Following it into the kitchen gives you a scene. Who was cooking? Who was allowed to help? Was the person teaching patient, or did they keep taking the spoon back because it was easier to do it themselves?

In an imagined scene, the recipe might say to bake for thirty minutes while its owner insists that you simply leave it in until it looks right. There is room there for affection, irritation and a conversation about whose oven was ever reliable. Those small exchanges give the relationship texture. For memoir, work with the details you remember and be clear where memory is uncertain. The scene can remain engaging without filling every gap.

Give the scene enough room to develop before explaining what it means. If somebody keeps taking the spoon away, let us see how the other person responds. Do they laugh, argue or quietly stop offering to help? That response can tell us something about the relationship. You can return to the wider meaning afterwards, once the reader has had a chance to spend a little time in the kitchen with the people you are describing.

Notice what has changed

The same object can mean something different at another point in a story. A key to a first home might once have meant freedom, along with the responsibility of remembering to pay the electricity bill. Years later, finding it could bring back the awkward furniture, the neighbour who always knocked at dinner time or the relief of finally moving somewhere else.

That change is worth exploring. Consider what you thought when the object first came into your life and what you think when you look at it now. Perhaps you once displayed an award proudly and now keep it in a cupboard. Perhaps an ordinary bowl has become the thing you would most like to inherit. Writing about that shift can help you understand which part of the experience matters to the story you are telling.

You might also return to the object at another point in the book. A suitcase packed excitedly in an early chapter could appear again when its owner is reluctant to leave. The circumstances give that repeated detail a different meaning. Use it where it naturally belongs in the story, allowing the reader to recognise what has changed without explaining its significance every time it appears.

One object can hold several perspectives

Imagine a family talking about an old dining table. One person remembers the comfort of having everyone together. Another remembers being expected to clear it while everyone else stayed seated and talked. Someone else remembers saving for months to buy it. The same piece of furniture belongs to several accounts of family life, and each person has noticed something different.

That possibility can make your writing more thoughtful. In a memoir, distinguish what you remember and felt from what you know about someone else’s experience. If another person’s perspective matters to the story, a conversation may offer something you had never considered. You can write honestly about your own experience while leaving space for the fact that someone beside you may have experienced the same afternoon differently.

Leave room for a bit of humour

A truly awful ornament can earn its place in a family story. So can the armchair everyone complains about and nobody is allowed to replace. The stories around these things might involve years of politeness, an ongoing family joke or somebody with an unshakeable belief that orange velvet will come back into fashion.

Give those moments some space in your writing. A person can be brave and occasionally ridiculous. A household can be loving and deeply divided over the correct way to load a dishwasher. Everyday disagreements and peculiar habits give you ways to show people living alongside one another. They can also add warmth to a manuscript that spends much of its time dealing with difficult experiences.

Choose the details that belong in this book

Once you have explored a memory, consider what it contributes to the manuscript. An object may matter enormously to you and still need only a sentence on the page. Does it reveal a relationship, help explain a decision or connect with a question the book keeps returning to? Give the most useful details enough space to do that work. When several possessions make the same point, choosing the strongest can give the passage greater clarity.

You can keep the other memories in a separate document. Some may belong in another piece of writing, or in something you share privately with family. During editing, look at the sentences around the detail as well. If the scene already shows how carefully someone looked after their belongings, you may be able to remove a later sentence explaining that they were careful. Let what you have written carry its share of the meaning.

Try it with something you have kept

Choose one object you are curious about. You can hold it, look at a photograph or simply remember it. Start by describing the details that make it recognisable to you. A blue mug becomes more particular when you remember that its handle was too small for your fingers, or that someone always turned the chip towards the wall.

Then write about one occasion when that object was being used, given, borrowed or put away. Keep the scene small enough to explore properly. If you choose a school bag, you might write about unpacking it on one particular afternoon. Include what you noticed, what happened and any words you remember. You can speak the scene into a voice note if that suits you better.

When you read or listen back, ask what the scene reveals. Perhaps it shows how somebody cared for you, a rule you wanted to break or a moment when you realised things had changed. You may find a detail that belongs in a chapter you have already written. You may also decide the piece works best on its own.

It can help to read the passage to someone who does not know the story. Ask what they understood about the people in it and where they wanted more context. Their response may show you which details are doing useful work and which connections still exist only in your head. You can then revise the passage with a clearer sense of what a new reader needs.

Take another look at the ordinary

When you return to your manuscript, look for a passage where you have described someone in broad terms. Is there an object they used, kept or argued about that could help you make that passage more specific? Follow it into a moment and see what you discover. That drawer you have been meaning to sort out might finally give you a good reason to get distracted.

At Morpheus Publishing, we can help you develop your ideas and shape them into a book. To talk about your writing and the next step towards publication, contact hello@morpheuspublishing.com.au or visit www.morpheuspublishing.com.au.