Write What You Want to Read

I know we all want to write works with Big Thoughts and Deep Conclusions. Because when we read these types of novel, they inspire us with what is possible.

But news—I think novels whose writer started out by thinking, ‘Right, this is going to be Big and Deep and Meaningful,’ often (I would say ‘always’ but I don’t want to exaggerate), end up with works which are also pedantic, boring, stilted, and forced. How come?

Well, pedantic because the writer (let’s call him Tom to save me typing and getting caught in the his/her thing)—so, Tom—because he has already decided the message he wants to convey, can easily slip into Telling rather than Showing, exposition, and even lecturing. While telling and exposition can have their place in a novel, their overuse will bore the reader.

In addition, since Tom has decided what he wants you to think, an efficient—I’m not saying effective—way to do it is have his characters spout his philosophy. Which often leads to stilted set pieces which don’t come out of the character’s personality and growth, but straight from Tom himself. So, we have an airhead character suddenly quoting Spinoza accompanied by a thoughtful reflection on his application to her life.

Same with plot. Because of Tom’s plan, he must often twist the plot line to meet his objectives. The hero purposely goes to a rough part of town so that he can be beaten up so that he can wax philosophical on the brutality of humankind.

Write what turns your crank

What do you typically read? Mystery, romance, scifi, westerns? Each genre has its own rules—I’ve talked about the rules of mystery in a previous post—and if you already read that genre, you have an instinctive understanding of it. You have a leg up when you start to write as you already know something of the typical settings, characters, plots, and actions.

If you are trying to decide what to write, at least start out there. I have a mystery novel hidden in a sock drawer which will never see the light of day but from which I nevertheless learned a huge amount about writing and myself as a writer.

Shouldn’t I be aiming for higher? Or lower?

I know there is still a niggle. Shouldn’t I be trying for Greater Things? Or alternately, shouldn’t I be aiming for a more commercial market?

Here’s the thing—you can start out with a project based on what you like to read and as you progress, the magic that is writing will help shape your views. For example, writing the mystery novel made me realize that I was impatient with the need, inherent in mysteries, for the characters to be assigned roles such as victim, murderer, suspect, detective, and sidekick. I wanted to be able to play more with their growth or decay.

Similarly, if you read only Booker and other literary prize winners, start trying to emulate what you admire. You may end up being the next Jane Austen or you may find that the novel is turning into a comedy.

What matters is not where you start but where you end. And the truth that you tell along the way. I leave the last words to Carol Shields.

Straining for seriousness almost invariably looks bogus while simple adherence to the truth does not.” [1]

[1] Shields, Carol, Startle and Illuminate: Carol Shields on Writing Random House, Canada, 2006 p. 19

October 27, 2020October 27, 2020

There’s a Book in Everyone. Isn’t There?

Is there a book in you?

Absolutely. I think that everybody’s life has the thrilling components of a book. Think of the timeworn stories you drag up when you’re with family and old friends. Aren’t they funny, poignant, inspiring, exciting, nostalgic, etc.? Otherwise, why do you tell them? The possibility that you are a repetitive bore I will ignore since I know none of you are.

And, in the quiet moments of life, on a long car journey or just before you fall asleep, don’t reflections on life lived or should be lived come to you? Wishes, aspirations, wisdom, regrets and longings—all the stuff of novel or memoir.

So why does Carol Shields believe that it is a myth that there’s novel in everyone[1]?

Because she knows about people like Amanda.

Amanda

This is an honest-to-god conversation I had with a would-be author (given artistic license, of course).

“So, you’re interested in writing?” I asked. “Fiction or non-fiction?”

Amanda passed a hand through the recently revamped blackness of her hair. “Oh, either one.”

“Oh, well…articles or a long piece?”

She shrugged. “Novel, articles, whatever.”

“What are you working on now?”

Her eyebrows went up high. “I’ve got a full-time job. I couldn’t do anything now.”

Of course. “Have you ever taken a writing course?”

“Do you think I should?”

I made a deprecating little noise. “Writing takes a lot of craft.”

“Oh, really? Well, maybe I’ll do that.” She smiled. “So, should I get an agent first or go directly to publishers?”

“Ah…I think you need to write something first.”

She waved that away. “Of course. That’s not a problem.” She tapped the side of her head in a significant way. “It’s all up here.”

Great. When wordless novels are the new wave, she’ll be ahead of the curve.

She continued. “Should I publish through a regular publisher or on-line?”

“Actually, I think you need to write it first.”

“Can you deduct research trips?”

“I suppose, although the tax department needs proof that you’ve written—”

“What about car expenses? Mileage, gas, repairs, car washes?”

“Well, writers aren’t in cars a whole lot. They’re usually at a computer.”

“But you must have to meet with your agent and publisher—”

“It’s mostly done on-line—

“On-line…” she seemed disappointed but took it well.

I make one last effort. “Amanda, I think you can deal with all of this once you’ve written something.”

She waved it and me away. “But I need to be prepared. Because it’s all up here.”

Do you know how to bring it out?

So that’s why Carol Shields calls the book-in-everyone thing a myth. We all have the stories but sadly, that’s not enough. As it turns out, the skill of writing things down in an interesting way is completely different from those of a good raconteur.

You need the ideas and stories, yes, but you also need to master the craft of writing enough (ADV for this blog) to shape them into compelling reading. You also need the perseverance to stick with a lengthy and sometimes frustrating process. And, unlike our friend Amanda, you need the courage to begin.

If you need a bit of encouragement or nudging, you might want to read my posts, Do I Start the Story at the Beginning? Or How to Start an Autobiography or Memoir. To address the stick-with-it-ness that you will need, read The Muse and the Piano Tuner.

And for daring and audacity, don’t take my word for it but Winston Churchill’s

Courage is the first of human qualities, because it is the quality which guarantees all the others.

[1] Shields, Carol, Startle and Illuminate: Carol Shields on Writing Random House, Canada, 2006

October 15, 2020October 15, 2020

Self-Censoring

Self-Censoring

Self-censoring is pernicious, mostly because the people who do it most are often the ones who least realize it.

What does self-censoring look like?

I was in a writing group with a woman writing about a personally difficult topic—meeting a long-lost relative. She wrote effectively about her fears and hopes for the encounter. And about her reactions to it. But nothing about the meeting itself. It was as if she closed the door to her readers on what was the emotional core of the story.

The problem is that this writer was surprised (and threatened and offended) when it was pointed out that she had written around the story rather than about it.

I get it, I do. And have some sympathy for the woman who seemed to have felt that depicting the meeting was a bridge too far. But you can see how her unconscious self-censoring affected the quality of her story-telling.

Holding back affects the quality of writing

I’ve written before of the tough necessity to appear naked on the page. Being embarrassingly, shamefully, and completely honest is the only way I know to achieve the emotional truth which readers recognize and respond to. Readers know if you are giving the straight goods even if you don’t. Being readers not writers, they don’t think, “She’s not emotionally honest.” More likely, they’ll say “I just couldn’t get into it.” And not read what you have to say.

Are you repressing your writing?

I think we all do a bit of self-censoring. To capture a real person on paper, we might change the hair color or leave out the most obvious tic or quirk.

But the real self-censorship comes which you find yourself thinking, I can’t say that! and write away from that spot. The fear of exposing yourself or hurting others can happen at any time but is very common in memoirs. Self-censorship is death to the creative process. Without knowing it, you avoid some topics and choose others. You write charming travel logs rather than the abuse at the time of the travel.

What if I’m going for charming?

Nothing wrong with then but, while they might provide light entertainment, they rarely stir a reader’s soul.

But more importantly, here’s the thing. In a way I don’t understand, my finished product is almost never as deep, affecting, true—whatever words you want to use—as originally hoped for. Many writers have that experience. The piece may be good, even very good, but there is almost always some indefinable way in which you had yearned for more.

So, if you start out aiming for shallow or good enough, you’ll end up with even less. And your readers will know it.

What can I do?

I wish I could be prescriptive or even descriptive, but mostly this consists of being able to be—hidden under covers or in the middle of a forest—honest about your work. Ask yourself questions like: are there moments where I have ducked the real issue? Or have I glossed over a messy bit because it seems too hard or painful to write?

If your aim is to be a better writer, allow yourself to fully immerse in the scene in question—allowing uncomfortable feelings to surface, staying with them rather than pushing away.

I’m not saying it’s easy but it’s the only route I know which ups the possibility that you are writing as truthfully as you can.

September 4, 2020June 5, 2020

The Difficult Middle

Rosabeth Moss Kanter is a famous Harvard management guru. She wrote:

A basic truth of management—if not of life—is that nearly everything looks like a failure in the middle…persistent, consistent execution is unglamourous, time-consuming and sometimes boring.

In my last post, I’m Stuck, I recommended getting out of being stuck by creating a list of tasks (less description, more tragic heroine, more atmosphere, etc.) to fix the problems with your novel. It is probably a daunting catalogue. Like the swimmer in the picture, it doesn’t look as if you will ever reach land.

That’s where Rosabeth comes in.

Recognizing the difficult middle

It will be worth it when you succeed. Take that as your mantra. Having said that, it is also true that the road to nirvana will have some tough patches. This is one. You are far enough in to know the outline of the story but not far enough along to identify its true shape. You have already invested an enormous amount of time and effort and you’re not sure whether it’s worth it. But instead of doing the artist thing of throwing your hands up and the manuscript out the door, just accept that this is the difficult middle. It’s not a comment on the quality of your writing. It is just the difficult middle that all worthwhile projects have to go through. You have reached yours.

Getting through

What I am going to suggest is pretty mechanical but it can get you home.

Step 1. Elaborate on your list.

For each of the items, flesh it out a bit. How could you do it? What scene would illustrate it? Could I stick a bit in an earlier scene to accomplish this? Any main points that I want to make sure I include?
If at any point in doing this, you get excited about the possibilities and have to urge to write the scene, do it. No need to finish your broccoli before you get dessert.
But do eventually eat your broccoli and finish the list—again stopping to write if/whenever the spirit moves.
If you don’t have the skill/knowledge to accomplish a particular item, identify who to ask for help. Skill/knowledge is not the same as talent. You can have oodles of the latter and still need to learn the tricks of the trade.

Step 2. Prioritize

With your annotated list, re-order it. Not in order of what is most important for the novel or the hardest, but with the ones you are most interested in.
Work through from the most motivating to the least.

Step 3. Dump

Sometime as you are working your way out of the difficult middle, stop to ask yourself, do I really need this scene?
Often, especially near the end of the list but it can happen at any time, you realize that the passage is unnecessary because:
- You’ve made the point elsewhere
- You can tweak an already written piece to include what you want
- The reader already knows this
- You can just stop the last scene and open on the new one. You don’t need the transition scene. Like getting the protagonist from home to downtown.
Dump these. Not only will it give you a thrill but it will get you home that much faster.

Accepting that there is a middle, that it is difficult, and that has nothing to do with your talent or creativity will help you get through to The Promised Land.

August 28, 2020June 5, 2020

I’m Stuck

One thing writers are unfailingly good at—finding reasons not to write. Whether it’s lack of time, fear of hurting someone, being convinced every word is junk, blanking, experiencing writer’s block—you name it, we can come up with it. And here is another variant: you are writing but are stuck. That is, you faithfully put bum in chair but the results are discouraging.

Varieties of being stuck

This one even comes in variants on the theme.

The story isn’t going anywhere. You know where you want to take the plot but your writing feels meandering and worthless. You can’t seem to make it as exciting and involving as it should be.

What I’m doing isn’t working. You want to put across a feeling, an action, a meaning and what you’re doing isn’t cutting it. Maybe you don’t have the skill?

The next scene turns out flat and boring. Your mind is numbing just in reading the scene over. You need this incident to move the plot forward but you’re sure the reader will toss the book at this point. If you can’t stand it, how can your reader?

Thoughts of junking the whole thing are raising their ugly heads.

Remedy to being stuck

First of all, you know, this can be a form of writer’s block, so reread that post and see if any of the suggestions feel right.

Luckily, although there are a variety of ways of being stuck, there is a remedy which can help all forms.

Choose something exciting to write.

Might be a later part of the novel which will be fun to write. Might be an action scene just to see if it works for your characters. Whatever it is, pick something which will entertain you.

Then write it. Fully engage your right brain. Suppress or ignore any demons lurking and go for it. Don’t stop until you have either finished the scene or gotten back your mojo.

This often works for me because it forcibly reminds me why I love to write. It has the added advantage of taking you away from drudging on with a tedious but necessary scene or even one which, in the edit, you decide you don’t need.

Bad news—sometimes you’re stuck for good reason

The remedy suggested usually works but sometimes you are stuck because the novel really isn’t working. But don’t throw in the towel immediately.

I know that you feel that it isn’t working, but feelings can be unreliable companions. Great for writing, not so good for analysis. You need to let your left brain kick in. Write down where the problems are specifically. Might be too much background, too little, too much build-up, not enough, etc. Actually write them down. If you just think them, the feelings may take over the exercise.

With the list, decide how to fix the issues, including getting help for techniques or approaches you don’t know how to do.

Look over list and remedies. If you did that, would the novel start working for you? Now, this is different from this is a lot of work. It undoubtedly will be. I’ll address that in the next post. Right now, stick to would it be good with the fixes?