Alakazam! Presto Chango! Abracadabra!
By Sarah Callender | March 6, 2025 |
A few months back, I bought, at the recommendation of The New York Times’s Wirecutter newsletter, a bottle of snail slime. But it wasn’t just snail slime. It was a Korean treat called CosRX Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence, that, according to the terrific test teams at Wirecutter, had made the list of Best Korean Skin Care Products.
I swore, years ago, that I would never do Botox or have “work” done. But there was a problem: I was getting older literally every day, and with each passing day, my forehead wrinkles were looking like furrowed rows in dry, fallow fields. I needed help. I needed magic.
Because I had never once seen a K-Pop star with a wrinkly forehead, I thought that perhaps this product would–Shazam!–smooth out my forehead situation. My friends would grab my arm, begging me to share my secret. My middle school students would confuse me with the adorable, sunshine-filled music teacher who could not be a day over 26. My husband would receive high fives from his middle age bretheren who wished their partners were as smooth-foreheaded as I.
When the CosRX Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence arrived in the mail, I tore open the box and removed the elegant packaging. The text on the frosted glass bottle impressed and delighted me: Being 96% Snail Secretion Filtrate (Mucin), this essence helps the skin to lose less moist while keeping the skin smooth and healthy.
Lose less moist? Sign me UP. With my very sensitive, very dry 53-year-old skin, I am all about holding onto as much moist as possible.
My college-age children however, as well as my husband, were uncomfortable that I would put any kind of snail mucin–Advanced or merely Average–on my face. But I knew the power of mollusk mucin, its ability to create a barrier between skin and environmental danger. I knew it most certainly blocked moist-loss.
I knew this because in 6th grade, my teacher, Mrs. Gillfillan, took our class to the foothills of Somewhere, California, where my classmates and I slept in cabins, where we hiked forested trails softened by layers of lichen and pine needles, and where my entire class and I stood in line to become members of the Sleepy Hollow Elementary Lick-a-Banana-Slug Club.
It was 1982, i.e. teachers allowed 28 students to line up and lick a single banana slug. Life was germy.
By the time it was my turn, 27 of my classmates’ tongues had already grazed the slug’s overripe banana’d personage, and the slug was relying on its best (and only) defense: its V-8 turbo-charged emergency slime boosters. In other words, instead of me leaving my saliva on its back, it left its (definitely Advanced) mucin on my tongue. The licker had become the lickee.
For at least 36 hours post lick, my tongue experienced an inescapable slick of slime as well as a sharp tingling sensation. I felt something that I now know was shame. The kind of shame that can’t be easily swallowed or toothbrushed away.
But 40+ years later, as I prepared to gently pat 1-2 pumps of mollusk secretion on my face, I reminded myself that what I was spreading on my face was not shame-slime but snail slime, and I have always had a fondness for snails’ goo-trails, those shimmery smudges that show their slow journey to wherever–like these tracks left on our front walkway by a slowpoke who, I assume, had been sleepwalking while dreaming of loop-d-loop roller coasters.
Everything, I assured myself, would be alright. Sure, I’d been betrayed by my beloved Mrs. Gillfillan, but I’d be a fool not to trust the nice folks at Wirecutter. This was just the hocus-pocus I had been searching for.
Alas, after a few months of using the CosRX Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence, the furrows in my forehead were no fainter. I probably had lost less moist, but the product was not the magical quick fix I hoped it would be. It was not even a slow fix.
Equally unhelpful were some of my other purchases: the cream that was supposed to make my thin, ridged fingernails stronger, jeans that would lift my tush higher, and the subscription to Wall Pilates, where, if one wanted to look like the instructor, one simply needed a wall. Just one wall!
As it turns out, my 53-year-old tush is no longer hoistable, no matter how miraculous the denim. Wall pilates only works if I get up off the sofa while watching Severance, pick a wall, and contort myself in weird ways upon and against that wall. Smoothing snail slime on my face does help me lose less moist, but I still look like the same old me.
The biggest issues can rarely be solved by quick fixes. I know this. And yet I forget that I know this.
Another big issue (unrelated to vanity): For years–literally–I have been struggling to write my WIP. But in June 2024, as soon as my school year ended, I made a plan to rewrite the entire manuscript. It was a good plan, at least until I realized it wasn’t a plan at all; it was a dumb and wholly unattainable fantasy.
Still, I went in search of magic, and in doing so, stumbled across a craft book called Save the Cat! Writes a Young Adult Novel: The Ultimate Guide to Writing a YA Bestseller.
I was thrilled. With this gem, I could master “the 15 essential beats for crafting a successful story with a compelling character arc.” I would learn “the 10 universal story genres and how to use them to make [my] story work.” And, I’d discover “original writing tips such as ‘Shard of Glass’ and ‘Dark Night of the Soul.’”
Did I master, learn, and discover? Yes. Was it helpful? Absolutely. Truly. But did it offer a magical cure-all shortcut? Of course not.
“Good” craft books don’t make hollow promises or offer quick fixes. They share thoughtful, insightful lessons on how to build every bit of the world that exists between “Once upon a time …” and “the End.” They focus on how a character’s wounds and secrets relate to desire and conflict (The Art of Character). They model the importance of tension in dialogue and the power of subtext to hook a reader (The Emotional Craft of Fiction). They remind me what readers’ brains crave in a story (Story Genius).
Most important, the best craft books remind me that while there are no magical shortcuts, there is this important-and-lengthy math equation:
Hours with saggy tush in chair and ridged-nailed fingers on keyboard + solid understanding of story structure + mysterious compulsion and steadfast determination to tell a story + ability to ignore the sirens’ call of the internet and other distractions + the discipline to carve out and protect time to write + obsession with language and wordplay + the invaluable gift of the WU community + the willingness to buckle oneself into the rattletrap car of a rollercoaster and to stay on the ride, arms raised in the air–Wheeeeee!–in spite of the high highs and sickening drops = a someday complete novel.
That is the true Open Sesame, the only Hocus Pocus, the very best Abracadabra.
Your turn: What magical writing-related craft books, conferences, or writing instructors HAVE been worthwhile for you? What writing experiences HAVE helped you push your story forward? Have you ever licked a slug? Have you found a particularly good kind of wall that works best for Wall Pilates? When you are performing magic tricks, what words do you like to utter? Thank you as always, dear WUers, for reading and sharing your ideas and experiences.
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
Sarah, your essays always bring me such joy – thank you! And the biggest magic I have found, aside from sitting my butt in the chair and doing the work, which never, ever feels like magic, is this community. XOXO
I loved every word you share here, Liz. And yes, WU is the most magical of magic. Thank you Therese and Kathleen! And huge thanks to everyone in the WU community. I would be so screwed without the gift of everyone’s kindness, humor, wisdom, and empathy.
xo, Liz!
The opposite of the mucin-powered, twelve-essential-beats approach to Fiction Success! Is the mystical, magical, genius-can’t-be-taught belief that you either have it or you don’t.
That dogma asserts that beautiful fiction flows like peace radiating from the brow of the Dali Lama. You can’t teach it, you can only be it. How? Well, if you need it explained then you don’t have it.
The truth is that although there is no formula there are methods. A great story is crafted by known means, but exactly what you are crafting, your unique story, is something that no book, bottle or twelve-step program can invent, only you can. That’s what I find.
There is also an element that cannot be factored into any formula: readers’ eyes, minds and hearts. Feedback. Friends willing to read, react, and tell you what they liked, disliked, thought and felt. Theorems are useless without proof, and great fiction doesn’t grow in a vacuum.
We need each other for that too. Thanks for this post. And, seriously, slug mucin? Seriously?
Yes, Benjamin. Seriously! I can only assume, based on your question, that you have never been a 50+ woman with a trusting soul and oceans of hope?
I do love the topics you raise in your comment, especially the idea about whether writers are born or made … you used the word “method,” and that’s brilliant. Instead of searching for magic (i.e. snake oil and snail slime and even snake slime) we should search for methods that help us hone a variety of skills that will allow us to meet a variety of writerly goals. It sure would be helpful if “one method fit all books” … then again, maybe that would take all of the fun, adventure, and surprise (plus the opportunity for growth) out of the writing process.
Thanks so much for your wisdom here, dear Benjamin!
I’m not knowledgeable about music, so for a long time I felt confused about why some music felt disappointing. When I started paying closer attention to try and figure out why, I noticed that covers by beginners (and there’s nothing wrong with being a beginner!) felt, specifically, threadbare—Where a professional production has layers of texture, theoretical and emotional depth, technique to channel them all, and audio engineering to remove all friction and allow more resonance—and where a friend playing casually in the living room is someone you already like—you feel cold by default sometimes when you don’t know the person and the fullness you expect from professional music is lacking too.
Then again, some cover performers astound and impress us by pulling off techniques and combinations the people with production crews have not tried. They similarly immerse us, but by doing more with fewer resources: Commitment and ingenuity. It seems to be about how much of the world you can make resonate with your song—I think about Sorcerer Mickey here, or Prospero with the spirits on his island. A concert hall is, in a way, a place designed for channeling magic. Shazam!
Bryan! This was such a cool comment to read and gnaw on. I love the idea that commitment + ingenuity is connected to the magic of writing.
In some ways though (at least to my tired brain) those two ingredients are very different … almost like the two hemispheres of our brain. Ingenuity is related to freedom; commitment is related to faithfulness. A book does not get written unless both are present in a writer’s life … day in and day out.
I am thrilled that you shared this idea with my brain this evening. Such a great analogy too.
Happy writing and thank you for being here!
Hello Sarah, and thanks for sending up or taking down vanity. As the daily headlines keep flipping past the way they do in old movies, vanity starts to shift from self-regard to self-doubt. My wife Barbara says my own tush hasn’t yet dropped, but she is a very kind person. Plus, my neck no longer works well enough for me to check her honesty.
My only knowledge of snail lore comes courtesy of Chez Guillaume, our go-to place for bouillabaisse, duck a l’orange, etc. Next time, I’ll order escargot. I’ll wrap a couple in my napkin, go to the restroom and massage them into my forehead. Since garlic makes everything better, maybe that’s what was missing in your own mucin power essence. I’ll let you know. Thanks again for a very funny piece of self-mockery.
YES! Garlic butter would really help with the moist AND keep away vampires. I’ll pass along your name to the Korean skin care wizards. You’re gonna be a game changer. Be thinking about how to weave “Knister” into the product name.
And thank YOU for sharing your humor. I was on a field trip with 85 8th graders today, and I really needed some humor that was more elevated than that of a 14-year-old boy. Which yours was.
First of all, thank you for the much-needed belly laugh!, Sarah! Your humor is priceless. Over the years I have embraced craft books (certain ones), seminars with brilliant teachers, a vibrant writing community, hard but ultimately useful rejection letters, and and buckets of butt-glue (not available on Amazon) for sticking to the chair. All a blend of practicality and magic. A wise friend told me to always trust in Allah but to tie up my camel. My magic words are always “thank you for my gifts”, and in the name of full disclosure, I once licked an earthworm on a dare. Peace.
Susan! I knew I liked you! (I was tempted to write “I knew I licked you” but that would be rude and inappropriate).
I literally just spent about 20-30 seconds imagining the experience of licking an earthworm vs. licking a slug. The nice thing about the slug was its stationary and statue-still qualities. Also, with the slug, I knew I was licking its back. With your licking, you likely lacked similar certainty. But your situation also lacked the slime, and that’s worth a lot. Did the earthworm have a umami taste? Slug feels more “salty” vs. umami-y, but maybe that’s just my ignorance.
WHO dared you? And was it worth it?
I loved the “Trust in Allah but tie up the camel” concept, and I REALLY love your magic words. I will steal those … they remind me of Anne Lamott’s prayer: Help! Thanks! Wow!
xoxo!
First of all, thank you for saving me from purchasing and smearing mollusk mucin on my face. And thank you for reminding me that there are no magical shortcuts. I forget I know this as well.
Hi Dawne! Thanks so much for writing … I admit: last night, when I was finishing up this post, I went in search of reviews of this product because I had suddenly started to wonder if I was the only person who felt let down. Honestly, so very many 5-start ratings gave me some serious FOMO. Between you and me, I *might* give it another go after my face-washing this evening. I think my expectations were just a little high the first time around. I will keep you posted.
xo!
I’m always thrilled when I see your byline at Writer Unboxed because I know I’ll be entertained, and laugh while I’m learning. This post was no exception! I remember ordering a set of Korean face masks for my daughter, a vegan. When they arrived–with snail mucus and snake venom and other scary delights–she immediately sorted the masks into Okay and Not Okay. I hung onto the animal ones for a while, not wanting to waste, but ultimately decided I didn’t want that on my face. You are brave!
Your wisdom about craft books is spot on. Early in my writing, I bought a ton of how-to books, hoping for a magic fix. I’ve shed some over the years and bought others, but I tend to grab pieces of each that resonate and ignore the rest. Save the Cat Writes a Novel was in my Keep Pile because the structure fit my drafted novel like a puzzle piece–and showed me which section had too much bloat. But to each her own…
Thank you for a wonderful, warm start to the writing day. I’m already looking forward to your next post!
What a great (and very kind) comment, Christine. There is a fine line between “brave” and “dumb.” There’s also the kind of “bravery” that comes from desperation, which I would argue is not at all bravery.
I am so glad you have also found Save the Cat! to be helpful. Three cheers for bloat reduction.
And did you read today’s post? With the broccoli-helmet clad pups? That was my warm and wonderful start to the day.
Thanks so much for taking the time to write! xox!
Hey Sarah — Always a delight reading your essays! While I have been disappointed by the promotional claims of many products and services, nothing can compare to the crushing feeling I got when I ordered sea-monkeys, only to get a stinky plastic pouch of brine shrimp eggs–squiggly, piteous water bugs that only survived a few days. Where was the delightful little aqua-family the comic book ad so clearly promised?
I guess there’s some benefit to the jaded life I’ve lived since, as I take all promotional promises with a boulder-size chuck of salt. It’s funny, but while I often feel like the latest craft book’s standout lesson is *the* one that will make me the pro I long to be, I think it’s a cumulative thing. Some of the stuff I pick up doesn’t really stick in the way I expect; as in, I don’t retain the ability to pithily articulate the lesson. But I’m to the point in the climb where I know they’re stowed in my backpack, ready to be unconsciously used when needed.
Here’s to the accumulation, and to the climb! As always, thanks for the laughs and the additional lessons.
SEA MONKEYS! They broke my heart!
Yes! It really is the combination of craft books that, for me at least, does the trick. As does keeping the collection handy. Why are the details of craft so very difficult for me to retain?!? You and I have been reading for decades, so why can’t I (I’ll just speak for myself here) just internalize the wisdom once and for all?
I so appreciate you, Vaughn. I hope you are getting the very first, very small, glimpses of spring in your parts … though if memory serves, you are probably at least four weeks away from getting glimpses of anything new and green poking–so determined and brave–from the ground.
xo!
I was fortunate to retire early, just as the pandemic hit. I was a medical technologist working in the lab of an urban major medical center that was hard hit as COVID hit our 800+ bed hospital. I had survivor’s guilt as the HR tried to entice me back to work and I refused. My first career was ending, and it was time to start my second one.
I began the journey of fulfilling a lifetime dream: writing a novel. I did it! Actually I wrote two and began on numbers 3 and 4. I shared the first manuscript with several friends–which I learned is termed your “alpha readers” and also friends aren’t the best choice for your alphas. As complimentary as my friends were, they did point out errors or passages that left them bored. Or confused. They also comments on passages that moved them so much they literally cried. “When will you publish it?” was universal.
And so, as foreign to the writing/publishing world as any migrant walking north to the Mexican border, I began to learn. At about the same rate of speed, I might add.
I have attended one day workshops on publishing; be it self, traditional or hybrid. I’ve read countless books on grammar and writing skills and pounded my head over contradicting “rules” inside. I’ve signed up for numerous online classes and webinars (I’ve found Reedsy to be very helpful.) I’ve made connection with a few successful published authors and have been astounded at the helpful suggestions they have offered.
I’ve discovered–no surprise to anyone here, probably, but all new to me–that I’d need to rewrite my novel. Maybe a dozen times! I’d sweat over single words and fret over the total word count. (A suggestion to use ProWriting aid, not for the AI generation but to illustrate repetitive words, sentence length, etc, was a good one. I discovered and tamed my overuse of the word “that” using it.)
I was quite surprised to learn I’d need to hire a professional editor. Maybe more than one! (Gee, don’t publishers employ editors?) By taking up that suggestion, I truly raised my manuscript up an entire level. My editor got what I was trying to convey and showed me how I could make it clearer.
My task now is to obtain an agent. You mean I can’t just print out my excellent tome and have USPS deliver it to a publisher in New York? Or LA? Or wherever? I have spent entire days–many of them!–learning how to write a query letter, how to find agencies, how to choose an agent, and how to connect with those agents.
Every time I think, this is it, I’m this.close to holding my printed book in hand, I learn that I’ve merely crossed one peak and there is an entire range of mountains ahead of me. I take a day or two to rest and regather my strength. I look in back of me and think, you’ve gone way too far to turn back now.
As the first dozen or so agents have been contacted, and yes, the first rejections are coming in, I’m more determined. It might take 100, 200, who knows how many, but somewhere in this land new to me, there waits an agent who will pick up my manuscript and fall in love.
Ellen, thank you for sharing this! Your journey is SO similar (in learning and in duration) as mine. And you are here, sharing your story … offering empathy to others. AND recognizing that you have come too far to turn back! That’s the beauty of telling others that you are a writer. You HAVE to walk the walk. The alternative is just too embarrassing.
What you describe here is arduous and humbling … it’s also exactly what we (most of us) have to go through. It makes the hard-won successes even more sweet. You keep going! xo!
Gosh, I love all of your comments! I am heading out on an all-day field trip (I prefer middle schoolers when they are contained in my classroom as opposed to running amok in downtown Seattle). I will reply to your lovely ideas this evening. xoxo!
This is priceless! Thanks for sharing.
That’s really kind, Lisa. xo!
Hi Sarah, now I know what products to avoid and to continue to write my forever novel. Because there is a potion to use to make all my writer dreams come true. It’s called ….Butt in the chair. Here’s to success and persistence!! Beth.
Yes, Beth. You’re absolutely right. Anything else that promises an alternative is simply snake oil. Big hugs and happy writing to you. Thank you for sharing and for being here at WU.
xo,
sarah
Sarah, you are hilarious! But, but, but, whatever possessed you to actually try the slime? It did keep the moist, lol. Oh, how I long for quick fixes and teleportation and other things. I’ve been on a journey of healing and let me tell you–it’s slower than a snail. The writing helps. I really enjoyed Writing for Your Life by Deena Metzger. It’s not a craft book, but more about the interior life. As to the wrinkles and scars…I wear mine with pride because hey, I made it this far! Thanks for cheering me up. I stayed for the lesson :)
Oh Vijaya. I hope you are alright. I just said a prayer for full healing and, ideally, speedy full healing. I’m so glad you are able to write through it. I will be thinking of you.
xox,
s
Sarah, here in Santa Cruz County, the mascot for the university is the banana slug. On damp mornings, I’ve often seen one sluggishly making its way across the semi-forested country road of my neighborhood walk. I always stop to greet him/her (they seem gender fluid, or mostly fluid), but I’ve never considered licking one. I will consider it now (and will consider doing it after nine shots of tequila).
I found Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg a thoughtful book on both craft and mindset, with enough Zen-ish spell to convince anyone that kissing a banana slug might be revivifying. (By the way, “Hoisted: Losses Less Moist” would make a fine mystery novel title.)
Tom! I grew up a bit north of Santa Cruz, and I remember when UCSC voted to make the yellowish lowly lowrider the official mascot … along with the tagline, “No Known Predators.”
I read Writing Down the Bones decades ago, and it was life changing. Thank you for reminding me … I want to reread it. Here’s a big high five to you and your comment.
LMK if you don’t use that title for your next novel. You have dibs on it, obviously, which is probably fine because I have NO idea how to write a mystery, but can I have second dibs?
What a great post, Sarah–and a spot-on moral to the story regarding writing. I’m sharing in my newsletter for authors. Thanks!
Tiffany, thank you! :)
My cousin recently gifted me the “Writing a Novel” book by Richard Skinner. I’ve never read craft books before, especially for writing. And so far, I’m loving this book. It’s very easy to digest.
Nicole, thank you! I don’t know that one but will check it out posthaste! Easy-to-digest is key for me. :)
I completely understand the urge to smear something on your skin that will give you the appearance of youth and health. (I have never told anyone about this before.) Several (many) years ago I was interviewing for an editorial job in Silicon Valley. I was already looking forward to retirement, and I looked like it.
So I decided to have my hair dyed–just a bit, nothing extreme–and I bought a bottle of stuff that was supposed to remove bags from under one’s eyes. You just smear it on and wait a few minutes, and voila!
It turned out that my haircutter, who said he had taught other haircutters how to dye hair, went a little heavy on the brown, and my hair turned out jet black. I had asked that my little gray streak in front be left alone, for verisimilitude, so I now looked like a skunk.
But the hair was a triumph, compared with the eyebag treatment. As I’ll bet many of you already know, the goo (were snails involved?) does tighten and flatten the area under your eyes. But it shines when light hits it! I didn’t realize that a layer of makeup was expected to go over the goo. When I found myself considering makeup, which of course would have to be applied all over, not just in one spot, I bailed and washed my face, bags and all.
I did get the job. The interview fortunately didn’t involve any high-level executives, and it turned out that there are a lot of strange-looking people working in high tech. As skunk-man, I fit right in.
Michael, I love your comment, both for the honesty and the funniness. SkunkMan might be the next Marvel character … a good guy, of course. Moral, Strong, Faithful, Distinguished (obviously), and just to add some irony, Pleasantly Aromatic.
Happy writing to you, my friend!