Every writer knows the frustration of a great idea that fizzles out–stories stalling without clear progression, stakes, or emotional depth. However, with intentional structure and development, even the simplest concept can grow into something powerful.

FROM CONCEPT TO CAPTIVATING NARRATIVE

“Not Drowning but Waving” by Sam F. Hutchins, published on June 5, 2024, by Intrepidus Ink, is a story of a perilous sea crossing—an idea that could have easily been another tragic narrative. Instead, the piece became a haunting meditation on survival, loss, and the delicate thread between life and death, and how people triumph in spite of overwhelming odds. The narrator’s transformation does not happen accidentally; instead, it results from Hutchins’s deliberate choices.

The story follows a mother and daughter attempting to make a water crossing, embarking on an overcrowded dinghy with others seeking safety. The idea is powerful, but without careful execution, it could have become predictable or overly sentimental. 

The story succeeds because of the layering of tension and the personal lens through which it unfolds. We see this early in the piece when the narrator recounts: Mum pulled me away, swimming. ‘Maya, we have to float. The coastguards will find us.’ This moment anchors the story in an intimate mother-daughter relationship, drawing the reader into a lived emotional experience rather than a distant catastrophe.

THE POWER OF PACING

First, the pacing and gradual build-up of tension ensure the story doesn’t stagnate. The early moments on the boat establish an eerie stillness, such as characters holding onto ropes in silence, the motor struggling to start, and an air of unease. Then, the shift happens: Even when the boat began to sink, they still hung on to the ropes, but then they were also shouting at each other, screaming, splashing, clutching their neighbour. This turning point propels the story forward, forcing characters into action and deepening their stakes. Hutchins’s descriptions force the reader to experience panic alongside Maya.

IMMERSING READERS THROUGH SENSORY DETAIL

The story maintains momentum by focusing on intimate, visceral details rather than generalities. Maya doesn’t just float in the water; The salty water slopped into my mouth, making me splutter, and I spat it out. That single moment, vivid and physical, speaks volumes about her struggle.

Even in stillness, the story keeps us anchored in Maya’s perception. The blackness was so clear that hundreds of stars, maybe even thousands, studded the sky. In the midst of fear and disorientation, the permanence of the stars offers a fragile sense of grounding. Hutchins isn’t just telling a story of survival; she captures how the mind clings to meaning and beauty, even in the dark.

MORE THAN JUST A TRAGEDY

The narrative’s emotional core ensures it’s more than just a recounting of tragedy. Maya’s internal conflict, her shift from resignation to action, grounds the piece in something deeply human. I didn’t want to wake her, she says of her silent mother. That line holds both denial and tenderness, underscoring the daughter’s growing awareness of loss.

The title is referenced twice, evolving in meaning. First, not waving but drowning, capturing a moment of near-surrender, where even the act of reaching out feels futile. Later, I opened my eyes wide, thinking, not drowning, but waving. To be found. The shift from despair to intent gives the story its emotional core. Hutchins’s story shines as an example of human resilience, showing how, even in grief, strength and survival prevail. 

IN CLOSING

The story succeeds by building on its premise with tension, vivid detail, and emotional depth. As this piece shows, committed development can transform even a simple idea into something truly unforgettable.