How Do I Write a Case File?
by CindyET

I love to write case files. Who wouldn’t? Each one is a marvelously complex puzzle. Crafting one is more satisfying than finishing the toughest New York Times Crossword. From beginning to end, I find the process challenging, engaging, and more fun than I would have ever thought possible.

Over the past two years, I’ve written 21 case file fics, and am currently working on numbers 22 and 23. Thanks to reader feedback, advice from other fic authors, and several semesters of creative writing courses at the University where I work, I’ve learned many techniques that have helped me write better stories.

For the purpose of this article, I’ll start a case file from scratch in order to take you step by step through the process.

How do I begin?

With a question. Scully’s question, to be exact. I ask: “Mulder, how is this an X-File?”

The paranormal phenomenon (or monster of the week) drives the plot in a conventional or “classic” X-File, so I begin by deciding what sort of demon Mulder and Scully will face in my story. Bigfoot, Big Blue, Jersey Devil, liver-eating-brain-sucking-hypothalamus-crunching-alien-human-hybrid-clone-from-outer-space?

Nnnnnah. Those have been done.

I want to write about something unique, something reeeeeally different. Something that will set Mulder a tingle and have Scully raising that eyebrow!

Lucky for me, there are plenty of options.

On the occasions when I need help finding the perfect out-of-this-world antagonist, I go to the Internet for inspiration. There are several excellent paranormal Web sites that are favorites of mine. They list the usual: phantoms, zombies, witches, OBEs, EBEs, etc. I skip these traditional fairytales and urban legends, and go straight for the “true life” accounts submitted by readers. Firsthand reports are the Mother Lode of “extreme possibilities.”

The Lizard Man of FEMA. The Rabbit Man of Arizona. Psychic Pets. Mara experiences. Bunyips. Spontaneous Human Involuntary Invisibility.

Could you ask for better story ideas than these?

I choose one: The Lizard Man of FEMA.

Here’s what the online witness claimed:

When I was an employee of the Washington State Department of Emergency Services, I attended a radiological defense pilot course in 1982 at FEMA training headquarters in Fredricksburg, Maryland. While there, I saw Louis Guiffreda, a cousin of George Bush, metamorphose into a giant lizard during the orientation.

Oooookaaay.

Looks like the perfect MOTW.

Time to determine the tone of my story. Is it going to be humorous? Scary? Angsty? Smutty? And what about point of view? First person? Mulder’s POV? Scully’s? Maybe third person limited? Omniscient? Since I like experimenting, I’ve tried all of these variations and don’t have a particular favorite. I let the phenomenon/monster and my mood suggest the tone and POV.

Going with my gut, I’m thinking The Lizard Man of FEMA will work well with a combination of humor and horror. And because I want to include some scenes in which the monster appears without Mulder and Scully present, I’ll write this one in third person.

Now what?

I need some science to balance Mulder’s inevitable wild theories about scaly lycanthropes. I need something for Scully. I need to go back online and do more research.

Lizard Man? Science? You betcha. I initiate a keyword search on google.com for “lizard.”

Ooooo -- all kinds of cool stuff. A site about “lounge lizards” gives me an idea for a Mulder one-liner. As does the Texas Horned Lizard Conservation Society’s home page that describes the “horny toad.” Perhaps this case file should be rated NC-17? No, not this one. I’m more in the mood to scare the pants off my audience. A little more surfing and I soon collect a wealth of info on lizards, complete with photos, and some interesting local news about a conservation lawsuit in Nevada.

Nevada?

Nevada is as good a location as any for my story. Mulder and Scully will be going to Las Vegas!

I live in Maine. Suppose I’ve never been to Vegas. Is this a problem? Not really. I continue with my Internet research in order to find out all I can about the local flora and fauna of Nevada.

Gathering background material doesn’t take nearly as long as you might think. In two to four hours I can usually get what I need. While I’m looking, I stumble upon interesting details about lizards, the desert, Nevada, Vegas and FEMA that help me flesh out my story line. For example, did you know lizards are able to change their skin color to match their surroundings? That little tidbit will definitely work its way into my tale. Because of his skin’s unique attributes, my Lizard Man will have the ability to hide in plain sight. Cool. That makes him a delightfully devious foe.

Suddenly, the mothmen of “Detour” flash into my head. Too similar? No, but close enough to mention them before the reader begins to think, “Hey, haven’t I seen this before?” Whenever I find my story wandering into familiar territory, I point it out as soon as possible. And the easiest way to introduce a plot with a familiar ring to it is to use Mulder’s line, “We’ve seen this before, Scully.” Then, launch into a brief discussion of the past case and how it parallels the new story.

To be accurate with the details of the show’s cases, I use CarrieK’s episode transcripts (http://www.inimation.com/xfilesgame/transcri.htm). This invaluable resource helps me with dates, character names, and snippets of dialog.

Before I begin any actual writing, I still have another decision to make. What’s the subplot gonna be? As Mulder and Scully encounter each situation, how will it impact them personally? After all, the XF is not Dragnet. Mulder and Scully are not emotionless and pokerfaced like Joe Friday and sidekick Bill Gannon. M&S react on a personal level to the crimes they investigate. Adding a subplot that includes those reactions creates a richer story.

David Amann, writer for the XF, said in an interview in Cinemascape’s The X-Files 2000 Yearbook, “No matter how strong an idea might be on its own, the framework must include compelling positions for Mulder and Scully…. Ultimately, the stories are about them.” (Or about Scully and Doggett, or Doggett and Reyes, if you’re into writing case files about the newer characters.)

I completely agree with Amann, and after reading his interview, I took his advice to heart and began adding subplots into my own case files.

A subplot for The Lizard Man of FEMA might play off the idea of the lizard’s changeable skin. Consider how the Lizard Man’s identity-altering abilities might be similar to Mulder or Scully’s desire to transform an aspect of their own physique, personality, or life. The tone of the story will determine the seriousness of our heroes’ personal involvement. For example, in a humorous subplot, Mulder may find himself dissatisfied with the appearance of a gray hair as he nears his 40th birthday. Throughout the story, he will obsess about his looks, make comments to Scully about getting old, maybe even shop for Grecian Formula (much the same way he considered plastic surgery to reduce the size of his nose in “Sanguinarium”). In a more serious subplot, Mulder may want to alter a more integral aspect of himself -- his loneliness and “narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous” ego, for example (as in “The Ghosts Who Stole Christmas”). Turn the tables and consider Scully the subject of an “identity crisis.” Her concerns might range from the serious to the sublime, as well. She may wish to make herself over into the doctor her father once wanted her to be. Or, on a lighter note, she may wish she had longer legs and a better singing voice, tying in with that “lounge lizard” theme mentioned above. Maaaaybeeee she has always harbored a secret desire to be a Vegas showgirl. Anything is possible…

…as long as Mulder and Scully stay in character. To me, keeping the characters true to form is the number one, most important aspect of any fanfic, whether it’s a post ep, vignette, smut biscuit or a stand alone case file.

So how do I keep our heroes true to eight years of backstory? Well, I’ve watched every episode of the show, and I often double-check the transcripts, *and* I pay close attention to our heroes’ habits, style of speech and motivations.

Every Phile is familiar with the yin and yang nature of Mulder and Scully’s relationship. He’s the intuitive one; she’s the logical one. They begin every case from opposing points of view -- his sixth sense vs. her science -- yet during their investigation, they come together to solve the mystery. They ask for the other’s opinions. They respect each other’s methods. Their interplay and dialog follows a predictable pattern. In the end, it is not a question of who was right and who was wrong. Both characters contribute to the solution, so both are right in some way.

Mulder claims (in “Field Trip”) he is “right like 98.9% of the time,” and it’s true, he is prone to perceptive leaps while avoiding Scully’s more rational path. Even so, he rarely solves a case on his own. In classic case files Scully shares the credit for solving the mystery nearly every time. Her scientific approach is usually responsible in some significant way for our heroes’ success.

Which brings me to another question. Since we have two heroes, who will save whom in my story? Will Scully’s life be in danger with WhiteKnightMulder rushing in at the last minute to rescue her from the evil Lizard Man? Or will KickAssScully pull Mulder’s nugs from the fire this time around? Maybe Lizard Man threatens them both. But how much of a menace is this monster? How much danger will our heroes face? Will they be subjected to physical injury? Psychological damage? Both?

Again, I allow the phenomenon/monster to steer my decision. Because even mutants and monsters have motivation, it’s those motives that will determine the level of danger. The antagonist’s motives may vary from the simple (a “biological imperative” to survive, such as Rob Roberts, the brain-eating mutant in “Hunger”) to the more complex (the ravings of a psychic serial killer like Luther Boggs in “Beyond the Sea”). If the enemy is driven by its biology, I explain its need with some sound science. If the antagonist is more of a human monster like Boggs, I visit a few Web sites that explain VICAP statistics on serial killers so mine will fit one of the four FBI classifications and I don’t end up sounding like an uninformed idiot.

The Lizard Man of FEMA will be more human than not (think adipose-eating Virgil Incanto in “2Shy” as opposed to the Flukeman in “The Host”). I’m thinking Lizard Man will be a Nevada congressman who happens to have the ability to transform into a lizard. A politician who can “change his spots”? Not too farfetched, is it? If I can come up with a scientific explanation for his mutation, all the better. But it isn’t necessary to explain every aspect of an X-File. By definition, they are unexplainable. There should be enough information, however, to make the story sound plausible. Although we were never told *how* Incanto became a fat sucker, we were told *why* he did the things he did, and his reasonable motivations made his character more authentic. As for Lizard Man, his motivations will be both biological and psychological. He is a danger because he is both a reptile and a politician. Er…um…is that redundant? Whatever. Suffice to say, this is where I work out all the details of my killer’s motivation.

Once I have a clear picture of my villain, as well as a handle on background material, it’s time to start writing the actual story. As a classic case file, The Lizard Man of FEMA will follow the standard X-File format:

TEASER: This is where I try to hook the reader. This section will be short, because most readers prefer to read about Mulder and Scully, and our heroes aren’t usually in the teaser (although there are exceptions). In this section, I’ll try to be more objective than subjective. I’ll concentrate on the surface details, and let the reader remain a bit mystified. (This advice comes from super fanfic author David Hearne, BTW.) In my example here, The Lizard Man of FEMA will open with a normal looking Nevada congressman in a hotel room making love to his beautiful, young intern. After they’re finished having sex, Mr. Congressman morphs into a lizard and devours Sweet Thing. He then crawls from the bed and “vanishes” when his skin changes to a color that matches the cheap, patterned hotel carpet. Disguised this way, Lizard Man slithers away into the night.

ACT 1: In the first act, Mulder and Scully are introduced to the case (How do they learn about the Lizard Man? From Skinner, an anonymous source, a news report, a friend of the deceased, their own first hand encounter?), and possible problems are brought up. (How many lives are in danger? Who is in danger? Is Mulder afraid of lizards? Does Scully have a thing for lizard skin shoes? This is a perfect time to introduce the subplot.) Here is where the reader learns the details of who, what, when and where. I think it’s wise to start foreshadowing right now. There’s nothing quite so irritating to the reader as one of those Perry Mason type endings in which a surprise witness with a vital piece of evidence appears out of nowhere in the very last scene. I want to prepare the readers for the end long before they get there.

ACT 2: In the second act, the pace picks up and the conflict heightens (usually additional murders occur), clues are uncovered (Mulder finds a reptilian toenail. Scully finds traces of saliva belonging to Chlamydosaurus kingii on the victim’s body), and both the plot and subplot progress. Mulder presents his theories, Scully counters with her science; they work together and separately on autopsies, interviews, and other assorted fact-finding. The reader is given glimpses of the antagonist as Mulder and Scully close in on him.

ACT 3: In the third act, the pace and tension build to a boiling point (Is Scully kidnapped? Is Mulder threatened?). Finally the climax is reached (The Lizard Man appears to have the upper hand. Yikes! How will our heroes prevail?), then a resolution or denouement is presented (How do M&S find and capture/defeat their foe, thus winning the day and keeping their case solution rate at 75 percent, well above the Bureau standard?).

EPILOGUE: Last but not least, the case is put into perspective, M&S trade final thoughts, and perhaps I tease the reader with the possibility that the killer is not quite dead.

On the show, we seldom get much of an epilogue. Chris Carter prefers to leave his stories open-ended and a bit unexplained. I’ve found, however, that when I try to do the same in fanfic, I receive complaints. After writing my first fic, I was told my ending felt incomplete and rushed. Now I go against the X-Files’ convention and write a thorough conclusion, wrapping up all the details and leaving no loose ends, as if the story were a traditional murder mystery instead of an X-File.

Another valuable lesson I’ve learned as I’ve become more experienced at writing is to pare down the story to its absolute essentials. Now I heartlessly axe any scenes, dialog or details that do not advance the story or contribute to the plot or sub plot. I also choose metaphors, similes, even verbs that tie into the storyline. All action or exposition has a purpose. Nothing extraneous is allowed to stay.

My final step before posting is to enlist the help of a trustworthy beta. More than one is even better. Some are experts at proofreading -- they spot every typo and grammatical error. Others are superb editors -- they question confusing passages, character inconsistencies, missing scenes, superfluous information, etc. An honest beta is worth his weight in gold. I’ve been fortunate enough to know several and I’d like to take this opportunity to thank authors/betas David Hearne, Brandon Ray and Marybeth Cieplinski for the many hours they’ve devoted to reducing my learning curve. I bow humbly to their eagle eyes and expertise.

That’s all the advice I have -- for now. I’m still learning as I go, so there’s no doubt I’ve missed a few points.

As always, I welcome any questions or pearls of wisdom. Send to cindyet@tdstelme.net.