The Word Warehouse

You've likely heard it before. It's the question that a "real" writer is supposed to be able to answer quickly, and that ever-feared question is, "What are you reading right now?" For a lot of people who are legitimate writers, this is a daunting question because reading takes up a lot of time in a very busy day, and our 24/7 lives rarely have room to slide a book in there now and then. However, that doesn't take away anyone's writing credentials. The only thing it really does is creates a backlog of things they need to catch up on in their writing journey.

Now, often after I ask this question to people, they respond with, "Why is it important that I should be reading something?" Early in my writing story I asked the very same thing - I couldn't grasp why other people's writing should affect how I write. I didn't want to be the next Pirsig or King, I wanted to be the first Pressler of literature. Reading how other people did it seemed to waste precious time when I could be writing instead. Then the whole "word warehouse" idea was brought to my attention. 

They say, amongst other things, that the average English-speaking person has a vocabulary of about 25,000 functional or recognizable words. Unfortunately, the average person only uses a tiny fraction of that - not out of some deficit in their knowledge but a general belief that, "I went to the store" is just as good as, "I dashed to the store," "I booked over to the store," "I popped over to the store" or many other alternatives. They don't play with their language, they just use it as a means to an end. As creatives, we should hold ourselves to a higher standard. And in doing so, we need to build up a lot of words to do this. That's where the word warehouse comes into play. 

Take for example the sentence, "I booked over to the store." Odd phrasing, but it comes with a lot of character because it takes a word and plays around with it. In a simple vocabulary, "Book" is a noun and little else. But as we build the warehouse, we have a lot on the shelves under the category of "Book." We would know that "book" gets used as a verb, like to record an entry - to book an expense, or to book a trip. If you book a bet, it can evolve to "bookie," the guy who takes your bet - often outside of the formal legal world - and now the word gets a feeling, something more casual, perhaps seedy. Another angle as a verb is to hurry - to book over to the store before it closes. Now we are in a more casual, lingo-style usage that makes conversations more interesting and multidimensional. As we read, we see these words used in many different contexts, and we start filling up our warehouse - not with a bunch of different words, but with a bunch of different uses. 

The more you read, the more you take in the wild, playful variability of language and how it can be used as a tool not just of explanation but of entertainment. Your writing appeals to more people on different levels, and it gains a new depth - same words, but so much more meaning. So when you get a chance, brush up on your writing skills by doing some reading. (And I am currently reading Wall Street by Richard Roberts along with Gamemasters by Flint Dille.)

      

Can Anyone Write A Story?

I hear it all the time. A conversation turns toward me being a writer, and someone says, "Man, I wish I was a writer like you. I really have some good stories to tell." When I ask why they don't write them down, they almost always come back with, "I'm just not a good writer." If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, well, I would have several dollars. However, none of those dollars would really help that person start on the journey to becoming a writer. I used to tell these people, "Well, why don't you try writing down a story and see what happens?" They never did, which is a shame, because that's literally all it takes to be a writer. Now I try a different approach.

When people have a bunch of good stories to tell but don't think they can be a writer, I now keep a different response in my pocket. If time permits, I say, "Well, tell me one. Whichever one you want." This kind of prompting gets them talking, and they tell me a story about their neighbor with the ferrets, or that time they accidentally set a garbage truck on fire, or the chili fight during sophomore year in high school. Nine times out of ten, they tell a complete story. At that point I thank them for sharing then say, "See? If you had written all that down, it would make you a writer. It's literally that easy." That doesn't always get those people writing, but it's good inspiration.

Now here's the tricky part. Notice how I didn't say, "See? That's how you write a story." It is you who tells a story, and writing it down makes you a writer, but marrying those two into the combo platter of someone writing a story does have a few tricks to it that you only discover once you write down what you say and realize there is a little daylight between saying something and reading what someone says. Fill that gap between the two, and you can write a story.

That gap between telling and writing may seem like a technicality, but there's a lot of verbal storytelling that actually doesn't involve the words themselves. Inflections of tone can make a huge difference. Pacing yourself. The volume of your voice. Accents, dialect, shifting between characters - all critical parts of the verbal storytelling process that can get lost writing things down. And let's not forget that telling a friend a story comes with an array of facial expressions, gestures, raised eyebrow and confused glares that bring a lot to the show. I once saw Marina Franklin do a hilarious bit of stand-up where the closing two minutes was exclusively expression and gesture - not one spoken word - and the piece killed. Writing something like that is what turns a writer into a real wordsmith.

The truths of this piece are relatively simple. First, most people can tell a story, and some can do it well. Second, barring any literacy obstacles, most anyone can be a writer. And the big takeaway is this: fusing those two skills together might take some work and practice, but that's true of most any talent. In the end, you end up being able to write a story. And when someone says, "Man, I wish I was a writer like you," you will realize that you are, in fact, the writer they're taking about.    

My Personal Escape Room

I am sure everyone reading this has heard of an escape room - you get locked in a room for an hour and have to solve a variety of puzzles and riddles in order to discover the way out. According to what I understand from other people, they are pretty fun. According to horror movies, they usually end in a tragic bloodbath. And according to parents of young children, it is an excellent way to not get bothered for one entire hour. I guess it depends on what you want from it. Frankly, I think of an escape room in an entirely different manner.

When I settle down for some writing, that space becomes my escape room. Not the space where I am sitting, but that space between my ears where all the thoughts roam free. In that place, there are a lot of way to interpret the world, to think about what I want to do and how I want to accomplish it. The puzzles, however, are more like challenges of how I reach the goal of creation. How do I get the character from place to place in a natural manner? What is their main moment of realization? Where is the dramatic plot twist? How is the character different at the end of the story? 

Of course, the fun of solving these problems in my little mental escape room isn't the problem-solving, but trying to do all this while the phone rings, emails from work pop up, thoughts about my other errands zip through my brain, the cats chase each other throughout the house, and so forth. (This is the part where parents of young children can surely relate). How is it even possible to complete these masterful puzzles of writing when the rest of the world won't stop?

This is, of course, where I once again mention the important of dedicated space for writing - be it a couch, an office desk, a Starbuck's during the slow time, or whatever works. The chaos of the mind calms down when the writer takes as much control of the environment as possible. I am not ashamed to admit that while working on an upcoming novel (working title: Gods of the Gaps), I got out the catnip and let my dear kitties get stoned in the bedroom. Controlling the outside world makes the mental escape room easier to manage.

And for those of us who have a hectic mental process, perhaps with about a dozen thoughts bouncing around while we try to focus on a transition scene, somewhere in your writing space should be a notepad. Nothing fancy, nothing major. This is a simple technique to capture thoughts much in the same way your writing captures ideas and impresses them into a story. If you can't stop thinking about the five errands you need to run, the four chores you need to do, the three people you need to call, the two loads of laundry that won't clean themselves, and the one thing you just can't quite remember, then just start writing your story. When one of those things pops into your head, write the task on the notepad and say, "I will get to that," then go back to writing. It may sound silly, but when your wandering thoughts are placed on that notepad, they calm down. Just like children screaming for attention, responding with, "Shut up!" rarely makes things better. Writing down a note is like telling the screaming child, "I hear you, your needs are important to me, and when I finish this, I will take care of your needs." (Or give them some catnip)

My mental escape room is a great place to write in - the puzzles are always there, the riddles never stop pouring in, and I know they're all solvable if I dedicate enough time to them. And, hopefully, I leave the escape room at some point with a finished work - Gods of the Gaps, to appear in a bookstore near you in the next few years.       

Word Play

Here's a simple question: When you say the capital of Kentucky, are you supposed to pronounce it as "Louisville" with the 's' emphasized, or should you say it as "Louie-ville"? The answer: You should say it as, "Frankfort," because that's the capital of Kentucky. Kind of a silly little joke, but admittedly, the first time I was told this, I fell for it. I also answered, "Louie-ville" in case anyone was wondering. And as silly as it is, you will remember this little bit of word play.

In one of my more popular posts entitled, "The Tigers of Africa," I got a lot of snap feedback from people who clearly did not read the post. To a person, the snap-responders were quick to correct me that there were no tigers in Africa, and yes, a few people challenged those comments and some fighting broke out - as is wont to happen on social media. The humorous part of this response is how telling it was. The post itself was actually quick to point out that tigers do not exist in Africa, but when people jump to conclusions from the first words they read rather than investigating the subject, problems emerge. In writing, we can have fun with this.

Let's pretend I am writing a sword & sorcery story, with the setting of a tavern in a busy city. A large, strong, smelly barbarian walks in, draped in the skins and furs of recent kills. The barbarian demands a drink, yells for the minstrel to play some joyous music, then proceeds to get drunk on the house ale. There's the telling of epic tales of past conquests, maybe a fight breaks out, tables are overturned, chairs broken, and the barbarian makes a drunken wreck of the place before staggering into the streets, ready to find another tavern for some entertainment. After hours of drinking and song, the staggering barbarian finally falls into the arms of a young courier boy, who takes the brave warrior to a comfortable cot for a night's pleasant sleep - and that's how the young courier boy first fell in love with the barbarian.

Quite the story, but the end is a little... unexpected. Probably did not see that part coming. Maybe the reader customarily does not expect barbarians to fall in love, or maybe the twist with the young courier boy was an unexpected turn. But tell me this - at any point did you think the barbarian was a woman? Chances are, the expectation of the reader is that the loud, drunken pile of violence that was the barbarian came off as rather masculine, and the reader makes a quick assumption. Everything written thereafter plays to that assumption - no gender pronouns are used, no designations whatsoever. This allows the reader to build upon their assumption and even create things about the barbarian that are not actually described. Then, when the veil is lifted and the reader realizes something was very different, they remember the whole adventure they had been on, and hopefully how they built assumptions into the character they generated in their mind.

This might seem like a mean thing to do to the reader, but as long as the writer's intentions are to engage the reader on a deeper level and not just say, "Ha! Gotcha!" then it's a perfectly valid writing technique. And as I have said many times, any time you can get the reader that deeply engaged with the character, then you know you've got them right where you want them.          

Today's Word is Polymath

Every now and then I am asked at a writing workshop just what I did before writing took over my life. This question usually comes from someone who thinks I have been a lifelong writer. Imagine their surprise when I say, "Well, before I went deep into creative writing, I spent my career as an international economist, and before that I was a graphic designer and a production director at a Chicago newspaper." They don't exactly know how those things add up - how can someone be creative, and also some financial guy, and also a production director (whatever that is)? My answer is simple: Why not?

There's this concept called polymathy - a term with more than one interpretation, but in general it's anyone who knows a lot of different things and can apply them in different ways. The term, "polymath" is usually used to describe a person in a positive, even honorary manner, but I don't see it that way. I see it as a much simpler term that describes someone who pursues different things, explores different avenues of thought and knowledge, and incorporates all of it into their way of thinking.

Just like a good writer should.

If there's one thing I have learned from different writing workshops and groups, it's that writers come in all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life, and from every background imaginable. There are people who have amazingly creative minds that just naturally become writers, there are technical people who explore the world beyond the straight lines, rules-driven people who deeply feel the conflicting forces within any situation, and wildly open souls who will latch on to anything. These writers become essayists, novelists, biographers, researchers, poets, literary teachers, and maybe even production directors (whatever that is), all because they do not frame themselves within a specific set of boundaries. They explore the world, they collect information and translate it through their different voices. They are the true polymaths.

In this regard, a writer can do the same thing within that one craft. Some people love writing poetry, so that becomes their jam. They write poems and they write them well, but they never explore outside that space, never take on a new subject. And, of course, there are writers who prefer short stories but never explore poetry, or longer-form storytelling, or essays or anything else. They confine themselves. Don't get me wrong - these people can become great at what they do. However, they miss a great opportunity to spread out, to try things and take chances, to go out there and be more than just an essayist, a poet, a story writer, or a production director (whatever that is). And that's the secret - when a poet starts writing stories or essays, the knowledge they gain can make them a better poet. 

As I mentioned, the polymath is one who explores a variety of fields and synthesizes that information into a greater body of knowledge. They usually are great with similes and metaphors because they are filled with parallel examples explaining different features of life. The writing polymath is the same way. Their stories have almost a poetic, lyrical cadence to them because they recognize how such a technique can enhance the story. Their essays are engrossing because they use techniques reserves for storytellers. They incorporate this broad wealth of knowledge, often unknowingly, into everything they do, and it shows.

In short, this is little more than another plea to the writing community to try new things. Write an essay, an autobiographical story, a poem. Play with words, go outside your comfort zone and try new formats. Write a play if you want - just try these things and learn the lessons they can teach you. Maybe writing a play won't make you an amazing playwright, but it can help you become a more tuned-in poet, or a deeper storyteller, or, possibly, a more productive production director (whatever that is).      

The Most Difficult Battle

"When the facts change, I change my mind."  

- possibly John Maynard Keynes

This is a simple quote stating something which, at face value, is pretty obvious - new information should bring us to new conclusions. When we start putting together all the evidence suggesting there is no Santa Claus, we adapt our view of things. When some of life's deeper complexities are revealed, we grow along with what we've learned. This is the simple process of maturing, of growing up and seeing the world differently. Most everyone does this without even thinking. However, what if it wasn't that easy? What if the new information completely changed everything? Well, that's going to create some internal conflict. And that's what great stories are made of.

Put yourself in this position: you find out that some mythical creature like a leprechaun, a unicorn, or a fairy exists. Or perhaps you discover that some fictional land like Narnia, Westeros, or Estonia is actually a real place. How easy is it for you to accept that? How does your mind start spinning if you stumble across a leprechaun in the woods, sleeping on his pot of gold? You might think it's just some Irish fellow taking a nap by a tree, right? The fact that he's shimmering in green light and two feet tall might not be enough to convince you he's a leprechaun because they don't exist, right? Even if he wakes up, admits to you that he's a leprechaun and you can either have his gold or he could grant you a wish, would you buy into any of this?

Humans generally don't yield their beliefs easily, which is a great source for the most critical ingredient in any good story - conflict. Often, people think of conflict as fights and car chases, but at its core it is when two competing interests clash - in this case, knowing there is no such thing as a leprechaun yet standing before one in the Irish flesh. This becomes a battle of reality - how easily does this person give in to the new facts, or how much resistance is offered? This is a challenge that hopefully does not resolve easily, in part because we can carry the story along on the coattails of this kind of conflict.

Of course, this kind of "reality versus experience" conflict doesn't have to be mythical. What if a character meets some old guy who tells them he is their real father? What about that moment where two parents tell their only child that he's adopted? Reality-shattering moments such as those force the character to confront a new set of information, often at the expense of everything they believed. 

If the "real parent" story is too dramatic, here's a simple one: a character finds out they have cancer. Anyone who has heard those words from across the doctor's desk knows the immediate doubts flying through their mind. Could there have been a mistake? Are you sure? What about a second opinion? Of course, the tension doubles if the doctor says, "We need to determine if this is cancerous." Now the character exists between two worlds - wanting to not have cancer but facing a very possible future with the dreaded disease. This kind of tension is easily the most gripping to the reader, because they clearly want the character to be healthy but worry about that possibility disappearing in the worst way. When the reader has that type of buy-in to the story, you have them right where you want them.

Always look to highlight what makes a story challenging when you approach it. What are the hurdles? What challenges lie ahead? And most importantly, what is the character fighting to overcome? This is the battle readers are drawn to; it's the cornerstone of any good story.       

Know When to Say When

Even though this blog is primarily about writing and the things that help you refine all those little things that make you better at your craft, any regular reader knows it goes well outside those boundaries. I also mention my pets, my bicycling habits, my terrible knees, and other non-writing facets of my life. And yet, somehow, I manage to bring them all back together to somehow relate to writing. Don't believe me? Well, today I am going to talk about writing, but start with my March Madness brackets.

To be fair, referring to my college picks as a bracket sheet does not really do it justice. Brackets are these well-structured, possibly symmetrical setups used to carefully simulate the path to the NCAA championship. What I possess is a ramshackle collection of crossed-out names and blown predictions, with very few actual picks having come through for me. It doesn't look like a bracket sheet as much as a corrective lesson for those people who want to venture into bracketology. I'm not in last place in my group, but thanks to Wisconsin losing, it will take a miracle to keep me out of the cellar.

Now, if bracket life has taught me anything, it's that there comes a point where you just need to let it go. You just have to accept that you made your picks, they were the best you could come up with, and the rest was now in the skilled hands of 64 college basketball team (well, 63 skilled teams and then Wisconsin). There are many opportunities for second-guessing, for last-minute changes, for creating multiple sheets, and for testing different ways you could've gone, but at the end of the day, you make your choices then live or die with those calls. It's pretty simple in the end, though it doesn't prevent a lot of people from watching the games, rooting for a college they've never even heard of, and thinking somehow this effort will push them into the Final Four. It won't. That's not how life works.

With our writing, it's just like that bracket sheet, except we don't have to finish our story by Thursday at ten in the morning. We can go back to our story and rewrite a scene, or punch up some dialogue, or add some description. We can add a scene or drop a character, incorporate a deeper mood or try it in any number of ways. Some ways might feel better, others might be regrettable, and many won't really make a difference. However, if we do this enough, we will lose track of what our original purpose of writing this thing was. At some point we just need to say, "It's done." We need to put a wrap on it, save the fine, print a copy for posterity, and move on. As some point we have to hand in our bracket sheet and just take it from there

When I think about the creative rethink we all go through, I do go back to my father's art easel. There was one canvas he constantly worked on - his white whale of paint. He had gone through several ideas, changed it any number of times, and redid the theme and design more times than I would ever know. That work was thick with acrylic, but he never quite got it right (in his opinion). He died before he could call it finished, though if anyone looked at it they would not know it was incomplete. It is a wonderful work of art hanging in my brother's house, and people compliment it often. To him, however, he could never get it right, nor did he know just when to say when. That was his bracket sheet, his incomplete story. And from that I learned that sometimes you just need to know when any more work is just spinning your wheels, and as a creative type. it's time to move on.

And let's just hope Michigan State and Florida make it to the Final Four...