It’s freezing in Los Angeles and we have something called graupel (which fascinates me no end). Graupel is essentially a snowflake wrapped in ice. The nouvelle cuisine of weather. So L.A. Anyway, as you can see, I changed the theme again. The grey was too cold. This is like hot chocolate.
Warming up for writing? I usually journal. Steinbeck wrote letters to his editor while writing East of Eden. How do you warm up? (writing-wise)
No, your story’s not the Titanic (though there will be days you fear it is). This picture is what your story looks like.
The top? The words on the page. Then there’s what is under the surface. For one thing, you can see that the reader is going to not only bring their own stuff to your story (the nerve!), but also their imagination is your biggest asset. You don’t have to write out every little thing, but you do have to know every little thing about your fictional world because once you do, it will appear ‘under’ your writing. It’s part of why – and granted, this depends a lot on the tone and subject matter – but generally speaking, you can write less for a sex scene and get a greater impact. The same can hold true for horror, violence, even swearing. Yes, swearing. Hemingway taught me that you don’t have to use the words themselves (again, it’s a matter of preference and what works best for the story). You can indicate that the character can’t believe what’s coming out of their mouth or you can, in all of the cases above, describe the effect on others. There are a myriad of ways to explore these kinds of limitations, if only as an exercise to force yourself to go (you know I’m going to say it) deeper.
And this isn’t to be fussy – I think the language Junot Diaz used in The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao worked seamlessly with the story. When I think back, I don’t remember the f-bombs, I think about the story and that’s really the point here. Your approach should serve the story rather than call attention to itself. You are the one who is going to have to determine if you are being lazy with language and not explore options or if the explicit is better for the story you’re telling. Most writers err on the side of laziness. Don’t be that writer.
But back to our iceberg…
In Working Backwards From the Worst Moment of My Life, Rob Roberge writes two sentences on the aftermath of a failed suicide attempt: “The cops took the slug out of the wall and I ended up wiping down the wall of blood and brain and bone and patching the hole. The carpet was replaced.”
See what I mean? There’s an entire world resting below those 31 words.
I met a lot of talented writers at Antioch. My cohort still checks in weekly and we help keep each other encouraged, on track, etc. This morning, one phrase jumped out at me. One woman was writing about courage and said she thinks of a number of things like the people dancing in the streets in Egypt, but she also mentioned ”all of us our face alight with the glow of submishmash clicking Send.” Isn’t that a great image?
One of the most sobering things I’ve heard on the artistic life was from Orson Wells. We always hear phrases like ‘cream rises to the top’ and so on, that if you’re talented, you will be recognized and have glorious success. He threw cold water on that hot hope. He said he’d seen dozens of very talented people never able to break through. So yes, courage is continually trying against the odds.
Esperanza Spalding just won Best New Artist at the Grammys last night. She’s quoted as being influenced by BB King (quoting Jesus) She said, ”B.B. King once said ‘You can’t serve two masters,’ and to me, that means you have to decide if music is something that expresses that inner voice and the divine connection that is music, or [is] something created to meet other people’s expectations. I’ve chosen the path of serving that muse.”
It can be a struggle to focus on the work instead of continually thinking of the audience, especially in the performing arts, but it also applies to the literary arts. We do this not only for ourselves. Art is communication. You’re creating a relationship with a reader. It also led me to take a hard look at this new project. I’m not starting from scratch, but I am starting over in some sense. This time with an eye and ear for the muse, not what I think the audience (as opposed to my ideal reader) would like. The war of art continues…
from her website
Take a look at Dylan Landis’ dissection of linked stories, what makes the best collections work and why. She’s not afraid to go back to her book and look at why she didn’t feel it was as good as it could have been. If you want to teach students how to read more deeply, if you want to improve as a writer, if you’re interested in any part of the process, do yourself a favor and head over to her site.
This is the kind of connection between reading and writing that we’re looking for at Annotation Nation. Speaking of which (shameless plug warning), my latest of Douglas Coupland’s ALL FAMILIES ARE PSYCHOTIC is up. I read it when I was looking at comic novels about family dynamics while writing WRESTLING ALLIGATORS (currently out to agents, thanks for asking).
In the past six months, I’ve had my hair blown out straight a few times and at first I
loved it, but then discovered that I don’t feel like me without curly hair. That got me thinking about ways to reveal character.
What’s a small change that would make your protagonist uncomfortable… not even uncomfortable, just… not quite themselves? Curly to straight hair, putting on a suit for the first time, a tie, or someone buttoned up going too casual for who they are? What’s a little change you can have them make that would reveal volumes about who they are by their reaction to it?
What about you, the writer? Now how can you take that feeling and translate it for your characters?
Last night, I heard Fr. Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries speak (he’s very good) and he told a story of one of his former gang members getting his first suit and going on an airplane for the first time to a conference in DC followed by dinner at the White House. Okay, that’s really big, but what I’m talking about was this:
when he came out of the dressing room and saw himself in the mirror for the first time in a suit, he could only stare at himself in the mirror, his mouth half open.
That is a great moment. That reveals character. You don’t have to go on endlessly – just give us a moment.
P.S. Please do something nice and click on the link above to donate to help get gang members off the street and into jobs. If you’re in L.A., go eat at the Homegirl Cafe or buy Homeboy Salsa and chips at Ralph’s in Southern California for your Super Bowl party. Thanks.
Diane Sherlock
