Why a lost bag of cash gave me a writing epiphany

What's the true motivation for your writing?

Something bizarre happened this week in my small village of Windermere, a bag of money was left at the train station.

Just to the side of the platform, outside Booths, innocently begging to be found.

And I’m not talking about a handbag sized amount of money, I’m talking a lot of money. I mean, look at that picture, that’s the amount of money I’m talking about.

It was left in a Sport’s Direct bag, those massive ones they give you when you’ve bought all the sporty stuff. The ones that sit under your kitchen sink for ages, as never again will you need a bag that big.

It was a huge amount of money.

A life changing amount of money.

It was two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, all folded up into neat wads that were elasticated and bound, and thrown casually into this massive Sports Direct bag and left at the side of the train station.

The story goes, and I say story although this really did happen just this week, but the gossip surrounding it all, as you can imagine, is immense, so what I’m writing to you here may not be all fact. But the story goes that it was left on the platform for hours, partially hidden to the side, just waiting to be picked up.

As it was an unattended bag, left for some time, a worker spotted it amongst her daily tasks and after an hour or two, called the police. The protocol, I’m guessing, is that any left luggage needs to be reported and investigated should it pose a threat to public safety.

Some time later, but before the police arrived, a cleaner at the train station spotted the bag and wandered over to it.

‘Don’t go near that!’ the lady called over, ‘it’s been there for hours. I’ve called the police, they’re on their way.’

But it was too late.

The cleaner had already gotten close enough to see what was inside the bag, it wasn’t zipped up or closed, and as he leant down and put his hand inside, everything changed.

He pulled out one of the tidy bundles of notes. The neat, elasticated wad of notes, and held it aloft in the air to show her.

At which point, she shouted, ‘Oh my fu**ing God!’ and ran toward the bag.

Everyone at that small train station was alerted to what they had been so close to. What any one of them could have picked up and walked away with.

The smattering of other passengers waiting for the train, the worker who alerted the police, the taxi drivers who were sitting so close to such a fortune in old used notes. A handful of people surrounding the bag of cash that any one of them could have taken and no one would have known.

No one, apart from the person who left the bag there in the first place.

But the police were now on their way.

It had already been reported.

The small crowd, now gathering around the bag of money, so much money, I’m guessing more than any of them would’ve ever seen, were unsure how to react.

What would you have done?

The general talk in the village now is all about the possibilities that present themselves in that kind of situation.

How they could have taken some of it, made a pact, divided it up amongst themselves and told the police it was a false alarm.

Another suggestion is how one of them could’ve grabbed the bag and made a run for it. Dived off into a car and made for the hills. But none of them did this, they simply waited for the police to arrive, staring at the bag of cash. All wanting to do the right thing.

But what if one person amongst that crowd had made a suggestion?

What if one of them had offered up a criminal act as a solution of what to do next?

And it’s that right there, that sudden change in the ordinary, that spark of surprise and the unexpected, that one person speaking out loud what everyone else is afraid to say, that makes me want to write.

To explore that possibility of a normal person, put in an extraordinary situation, and behaving unexpectedly.

As you would imagine, the whole village is discussing what happened. Speculating.

Talking about what they would have done. Musing over where the bag of cash came from. Criminals obviously, is the general feeling. A drug deal gone wrong. A forgetful smuggler that hopped on the train and discovered they’d left the bag too late to reclaim it.

But then, the bag was there for hours, enough time for anyone to hop on a train back and at least see if anyone had taken it.

Being a crime writer, I immediately sent this story to my WhatsApp group of writers, ‘look at this for inspiration!’ was my general message and we all imagined what our fiction books would look like after an opening like this.

A quarter of a million left at a train station.

We had many suggestions. So many ways this story could play out, and then one friend, said, ‘you’re all thinking crime, but I’m thinking something else, a woman who wants to give her riches away but can’t. Trying to rid herself of cash by leaving it in places to be found, but no one will take it.’

What if that’s what happened?

The mislaid bag of money was not due to crime, but as an act of kindness?

Or perhaps it belongs to someone with memory problems, or an illness that made them leave it there?

And another host of possible story ideas came from that. It was great, all brainstorming the ways in which this could be played out.

It’s not everyday that this amount of money is left at train stations. This is a dramatic event, I know, but it shows how every experience we have, from the mundane to the extraordinary, every person we meet, every stranger passed on the train platform, is an endless inspiration for stories.

Observation is what drives us as writers, that, and a curiosity to the hidden gems of human nature, the complexities and contradictions to our society, the beauty and the ugliness.

It’s a strange thing to be a writer.

To take an event like this and want to reflect it in fiction whilst also interpret it and give it a higher meaning. To offer a new perspective and make the reader both resonate with our work and find something new in it.

It’s a courageous and brave thing to attempt this, and then show someone your work and wait for feedback. To let go of that work and hope someone, somewhere will say ‘this is good. I liked it.’

But wait, is it just praise that we write for? An ego boost? Profit? Are writers all narcissists just wanting a pat on the back?

After what happened here, after speaking with so many friends about it, and watching and listening to how the bag of cash affected them, I think not.

I know that most people will talk about the bag of cash, discuss it and this time next month it will just be a funny story. A ‘hey did we ever find out who it belonged to? What happened with that?’

But for me, it sparked ideas for stories. It made me want to write about it and I think I want to write about it to uncover what I think about it as much as what our cultural expectations over something like this are.

I want to explore the universal themes involved in finding an unexpected life change. I want to communicate my insights, and those of the characters I make up to see what happens. And most of all, I want to tell a good story.

And understanding that drive, is what this bag of cash has done for me.

It’s reminded me that I write for more than money. I write to understand the world, myself, and for a sense of community and connection.

I’d forgotten that.

Working as I do amongst authors, doing their social media and looking at books as products that need to be marketed and sold has taken some of the fulfilment out of the writing process on a personal level, and I hadn’t realized that until now.

I think it’s also to do with where I’m up to in my writing career. I’m on a rocky patch at the moment, things are up in the air with both my publisher and agent, so this lesson couldn’t have come at a better time.

I have been writing fiction under pressure for so long. Looking at the story as a flow of commercial beats and a chain of events that the reader would buy into, that would make good TikTok’s and sound bites, but what of the wider story experience?

It’s a fine line isn’t it?

We want to be paid for our work, we deserve to be paid for our writing, but if a bag of cash isn’t there as a dangling carrot, would we still do it?

Yes, is the answer from me, and it took this lost bag of rolled up notes to realize it.

Have a great weekend,

Zoe x

PS. Every Monday I send out ‘Monday Muse’ a newsletter full of content ideas, trending audio and social media updates that you can use. It’s paid for content, but if you’d like to get it to make promoting your books easier on social media, but can’t afford it, please let me know and I’ll make sure to put you on the list.