So I'm A Writer - Now What?

It's best if I approach my title head-on with this one, and not meander about. The obvious answer is: Start writing. However, there's something very unsatisfying about that answer in that it doesn't quite get people where they want to go. They like writing, they've developed their process and learned their tools for creating things, they know they rules and how to break them... but something's still missing. This is where they learn that writing is just a means to an end. What is that end? Let's find out.

As I mentioned over 500 posts ago, my main drive to write came from a desire to make sure the stories bouncing around in my head were brought into being through the written word. I had a lot to work with, a bunch of things to say and even more to create, and this tool known as writing, so I put them to use. However, creating stories wasn't the destination. As it turned out, while I had a lot of things to say and stories to tell, I realized that when I wrote things, I thought about them from different angles and had certain realizations about different concepts. With some larger ideas, I found myself changing my mind about long-held opinions. I found myself... growing. So the purpose of my writing became a tool to better myself; to be more of whatever I really was.

I think it's fair to say that this may not be the purpose of writing for most people, and that's fine. The point of that last paragraph is that we need to discover what our reason is, and why writing is our tool of choice. A very enjoyable reason is to make a good record of your life as you know it, along with the people that made you who you are. Many of the people who shaped me during my youth are no longer around; many never made it to the 21st century. However, I want to make sure that a few more generations hear about my grandmother, my Aunt Isabelle, and the many people who influenced me long before I knew the effect they would have on my life. Writing about your life is a great reason to write - and if I may, here's some advice on writing about those people and their stories.

I could write about Grandma, Aunt Isabelle, and so on, telling many stories about them. What makes these stories truly resonate with the reader is including some note about how their messages carried on through you. If I wrote about my Aunt Isabelle and her days as a teacher in Chicago, well, they're good stories. However, the parts that really carry through are how those events shaped her so that after she retired, when she looked after me and my brothers, that teacher came back to educate us. The story of her in Chicago is fine, but once it covers the arc of time, readers see some vision of that message in themselves.

And, of course, if you want to set out to write the Great American Novel (and yes, there's already a novel of that name), then go ahead and write it. However, this is again not about setting out to write something, but setting out to convey some greater message with writing as a tool to accomplish this. So as you write that novel, think about the message you wish to communicate, and make sure every part of your work hones in on that meaning.

(Then mention me in the acknowledgements.)         

Fact-Checkers Need Not Apply

These days, it's amazing how many people spread false information and the speed with which it goes around. (Note: These people aren't necessarily liars. According to St. Augustine, to be a liar, one must know something is false yet still speak it as truth. That's what I go with.) False information, astounding lies, and amazing stories too intriguing to be real fly around the internet at the speed of information, and everyone falls for it at some point. Why?

There's just so much temptation to believe that, say, your favorite cookie does, in fact, stop the aging process, because that justifies you scarfing down another sleeve of cookies. It's for your health! However, there's an even greater force at work here, which is our willingness to believe certain people and figures in our life. We have these people around us and we say, "Why would they lie to me?" after they tell you about the anti-aging cookies. We yield something to presumed authority, and it makes the story easier to accept - even after we've packed on an extra forty cookie-pounds worth of anti-aging goodness.

Well, this is where writers get to have fun. When we write a story, we create the ultimate authority - the narrator. The reader steps into a new world and the entire thing is created by the narrator. From the color of the sky to every character's actions, the narrator brings out this information, usually through the main character's perspective, and we build out from there, entirely dependent on the narrator's guidance. However, the writer is the one running the show, so even though the reader is all about this narrator, the writer is the one who knows the truth, and the greatest truth a writer can know is when the narrator is lying. This is the basis of the technique known as, "The Unreliable Narrator."

In my most popular post in the history of this blog, affectionately titled, "Obi-Wan Kenobi - You Suck!" I demonstrated how our beloved character of Obi-Wan set up one of the more famous scenes in sci-fi because he lied to Luke about his father. Now, a writer can do that same thing by telling us a story through one character's perspective, but not revealing (at first) how that character might see things differently than they were. I think of the stories passed down from generations, accumulating that wonderful shine of the golden years that covers up the gritty truths within those stories. (Since I recently had a family reunion, I could tell you things...) But most importantly, the Unreliable Narrator allows us to portray a situation as the character sees it so we understand what drives the character, then gradually reveal the truths, which if done right can show us the deeper layers of that same character - perhaps their inner fear of the things that really happened.

The Unreliable Narrator should not be used as just a clever tool for you as the writer to fool the reader. The reader will believe the narrator until told otherwise, so they are too easy a mark for such a simple trick. Rather, it should be used as a point of revelation - possibly for the narrating character themselves - that they have been resisting larger truths and more fearful circumstances. It should be used as a twist to aid in the character's progress and not a "Gotcha!' moment. As the reader, our response to a good use of the Unreliable Narrator should be, "Wow!" not "Huh?"

After all, Obi-Wan was, in fact, doing what he thought was best for Luke. It just didn't turn out too well.          

Things I Learned From Mark Twain (maybe)

“Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please” 

-- Probably Mark Twain

Now, if I am not mistaken, that last quote is, in fact, from Mark Twain. Mark Twain was one of the most prolific authors and wits of his time, and is known for many quotes. Far more, in fact, than he actually said. Along with Shakespeare and the Bible, he ranks among the most misquoted voices in the literary world. And yet there is still wisdom in his words (if they are in fact his), and we, as writers, can take advantage of this.

Let me offer a simple story. It's about a guy. The story is him going through his routine - go to a movie, take a regular morning jog, watch television and gripe about the news. Everything seems fine. When he's outside on a hot summer day, this character is very social, trying to make conversation with the woman using her earbuds in the seat next to him on the bus. or waving to strangers on the street. Occasionally, someone waves back, and it's perfectly normal conversation. These are normal interactions. Nothing special here. Maybe we have a sad moment, when he goes to visit his mother's grave. Other mourners do not bother him, instead wrapping themselves tighter in their own sweaters or putting on their jackets. A solemn moment, but no surprises here. In fairness, it's actually kind of boring.  

Oh, did I tell you it was a ghost story? No? Well, it is, and I set up a series of "facts" to work with, then distorted the story just enough so you wouldn't know it was a ghost story - at this point. Basically, I gave you The Sixth Sense treatment (spoilers ahead). I created a ghost, made him seem real, then surrounded him with facts that I never told you: 

• Ghosts don't know they're dead. 
• Ghosts can talk to anyone, but only people who can see ghosts can hear and respond to them.. 
• When ghosts get riled up, things get cold. 

These are the facts. We look back at our story about the guy and realize he is within the rules, but now he very well might be a ghost. If this were a longer piece, I could go on and make you feel for this perfectly human character before the big reveal of whether or not he was a ghost. However, I would have to know my rules, follow them to the letter, and properly tweak everything I wrote to make you think something else before the big reveal. 

Leading you down a certain road of thought before offering new information that really enhanced the meaning was something else I learned from Mark Twain, but that's for another time. But I will offer another possible Twain quote: "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story." This will be the lead-in to my next piece about unreliable narrators.

And by the way - Bruce Willis was a ghost.

     

The Experience of Writing

This was a rough weekend. A busy weekend. A weekend where not everything went my way, and those things that did go my way took a route I did not expect. It was exhausting and exasperating, a weekend where it feels like every part of my existence took a piece of me with it (even literally, in the case of my platelet donation). These kinds of stretches can leave me feeling depleted in more way than just blood products, and sometimes I need to charge up in more ways than one. It's very much a, "I need a weekend to recover from the weekend" situation. So I did some writing.

Now, I am sure many of my regular readers knew that was coming. Writing is my go-to move for when I reset my life or just need some kind of break from everything else. However, this time it was a special kind of writing. This wasn't about creating some story, processing some feelings into a poem or a narrative, or pushing words across a page. Frankly, it wasn't even about words, or the act of creation. It was about the distinct experience of writing words to paper.

As you might have noticed, today's piece was not titled, "The Writing Experience." That would be more succinct and to the point, but that's not the point I was aiming for. This piece is about experiencing something very simple and isolated. This is about being in the moment of writing, and taking in all the details of what happens during the process.

First - this was about writing, so I did not use my laptop. I placed a pencil to paper and wrote words manually. Often when we create, we overlook the creating part; it's quite a shame that we miss it. We write our story so quickly that we don't appreciate the pencil lead rubbing against the paper and that gentle friction as the graphite leaves its marks in just the right manner for others to understand it. I felt the way this wooden pencil (yes, I went old-school with a real wooden pencil) rubbed against my fingertips, pressing into the familiar grooves left by years of writing. The coarseness of the wood creates a familiar tingle, its edges rough enough to connect you to it but leave you safe from a splinter.

Oh, and that sound. You jot word after word across the sheet, but that scratching noise sounds like a whispered conversation between pencil and paper, as if it is dictating your words in its quiet, hushed tones. It is the level of creation that happens between the lines, an intimate connection of that pencil lead to one point in space that moves across the sheet. As I write faster, the noise grows in intensity. It sounds invigorating, excited. Creation builds upon creation, with the steady whisper of pencil on paper continuing all through the process.

Did I write anything great? No - and that's okay. What I did was focus myself into the most intimate part of the writing process; something grossly overlooked, and let it become my world. For that period of writing, the world wasn't blood donations, football games, or how to throw out my old TV. The world was my fingertips pushing one pencil against paper. I could've used my laptop and studied that familiar chatter of the keyboard, or even done voice dictation. However, The pencil seemed like the right conduit to really experience my writing. And within that moment, I could free up my mental resources and sort out all the problems and anxieties. A very simple meditation to clear one's head.

Now, I actually have some writing to do. However, I am in a much better headspace to do it.      

   

The Dr. Seuss Rules of Editing

I know that talking about Dr. Seuss can sometimes set off a few PC sensitivities these days, so I am not going to go into the social or political discussion of one Theodor Geisel, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss. I am, however, going to bring up something about his writing that every author should appreciate to some degree. And, of course, if an author writes deep fiction, high fantasy, or does a lot of world creation, then it is all the more important to recognize the rules that are best discussed in the context of all the children's books written over the years.

Now, we all know Whoville, and the residents of whom are Whos (and have nothing to do with Doctor Who). They are weird little things, not quite human but very similar, though with snouts, big feet, and a hop in their step like kangaroos. Now, this is where the seed of Dr. Seuss editing comes in, and it's in the world-building phase of the story. The physical build of the average Who doesn't quite seem like it would work in the real world. Maybe Mother Nature had one too many, but it doesn't seem like a proper species in the technical sense. And yet, we go on with the enjoyment of the story regardless. Why? Because in the world of Whoville, we aren't concerned about Darwinian principles. We want to hear about the innocent adventures of the kind-hearted Whos - big feet, hoppy legs and all.

Speaking of those little Whos, Dr. Seuss used a pretty broad spectrum of adverbs and adjectives to describe their antics - a spectrum that went well outside of the boundaries of the English language. Think of all the toys and musical instruments described in the story, How the Grinch Stole Christmas! I won't mention these odd things because I might get sued of something, but these wildly imaginative and entirely non-existent things with their equally senseless names would drive a story editor nuts. Let's take a random sentence - Junior bleamed with his flamshooter. Did I lose you? Good. As an editor, technically I see two words that make no sense. However, in the Dr. Seuss sense, all I need to know is that there is a character - Junior - who possesses a flamshooter, and he had bleamed with it at least once. As a reader, this writing intrigues me enough to know more, and look for where more context can explain this. However, I do not care about the details behind this verb or that noun - at least not for now. And if Junior is just a passing character who bleams on by, not impacting the story, then let him bleam - save the editing for the real subject matter.

Now, where Dr. Seuss's style of writing does need an editor is to make sure that if a lot of characters bleam in the story, that they bleam but don't bleem or bleme, and that basic rules of conjugation apply. Bleam isn't an actual word so there's no "right" way to spell it. However, there is a consistent way to use it that lets the reader fold it into their own private vocabulary. Editors are priceless in this regard, and world-builders should make sure their editors can pull out details like that.

So, in the end, what is Dr. Seuss editing? It is simply to worry about the story coming through effectively, and not fretting over whether the characters use proper grammar or the structure of some fictitious being is realistic. If you write hard-core sci-fi or fantasy, this editing style is not for you. However, if the importance is the heart and the voice of the story, then create the weird words, the odd creatures, and whatever satisfies your urge to fill in the story - but be consistent about them. Don't let rules get in the way of your creativity - just make sure that you keep your creative world on track.

That would be something to really bleam about.      

Grammar Rules - A Follow-up

I am sure you've experienced something similar to this. You and some friends get together, say to go bowling. You get a few strikes, pick up a couple of spares, and close the game with a solid 148 - far better than usual. You are happy, and say, "It's always a nice night when I bowl good."

At this point, a friend butts in with, "You didn't bowl good, you bowled well."

"Huh?"

"The proper way to say it is that you bowled well." This uptight friend continues, "A bowler is good. Someone bowls well."

"Whatever," you say, reminding yourself to no longer invite that friend for nights out.

We all know that guy. We all hate that guy in one way or another. It gets so annoying that they know exactly what I meant, yet still pointed out that the way I said it wasn't the grammatically proper way to say it. They just had to have their win, apparently. We dislike these people not because they are right, but because they are insisting we use the right words instead of familiar communication. (Or maybe because they picked up a spare in the tenth frame to beat us by two pins.)

As writers, we have to hold to the rules of grammar - kind of. When I write this piece, then I definitely keep to the rules because I want to effectively communicate a point to you, whether it's about writing, grammar, or my bowling scores. However, when our writing drifts into the arena of storytelling, the lines blur a little. We can start playing games with sentence length, points of view, and the reliability of the stories we tell. Then when it comes to dialogue - look out! We suddenly have license to write things in the way people say them if we so choose. We can use the passive voice, we can mix up certain words, we can get sentences wrong, just as long as they ultimately serve the purpose of fleshing out the story in the shape we want it to.

Now, that being said, there are still a few rules. What about narration? If someone is telling a story from their own perspective, then it very much needs to be in their voice - warts and all. If, however, the narration comes from a third-person source, or the omnipotent eye in the sky, well, the narration better be crisp and to the point. This can sound weird when you mix the dialogue of someone who uses a lot of slang with a proper third-person narrator, but the effect is clear. Example:

Steve thought about the situation for a long moment. "I ain't knows much about no book-learnin'," he said, rubbing his chin in contemplation, "but I sure 'nuff knows what's right and what ain't that right."

Narratively, the voice is clean, so it helps showcase every little quirk of speech in the actual voice of the character. I have had to edit dialogue like this and it's a nightmare, but when it is put next to proper narration, the experience is very effective.

Plus, it drives the grammar Nazis out of their head.

(With the approach of Labor Day on September 2nd, my next post will be on September 6th.)      

 

Writing Earworms

January 25th, 1966. Does this date sound familiar to you? Seriously - I need to know. Is there anything about that date in particular that shouts out to you or compels you to relay a special message? I looked it up, and it seems that this particular date is inconsequential (unless you are Chet Culver, former Governor of Iowa, who was born on that date - Happy birthday, Chet). There is no reason why this date should be stuck in my head, and yet, there it is. 1/25/1966. And apparently, I am stuck with it.

If this happened to be a lyric to a song, it is far more socially acceptable. Someone would complain that they had a song stuck in their head, other people would suggest songs to counter it, the song would keep playing like the little earworm that it is, and that person would go about their day, quietly humming, Cherish by The Association until it ran its course. However, for writers and other creatives, some weird things can get stuck in the brain - writing earworms - and they become a lot more difficult to process because we don't know where they came from or why they are relevant; we just can't get rid of them.

Now, under normal circumstances, my cure for any writer-related ailment is to write about it. Having a very emotional day? Write about it. Thinking a lot about someone in your life? Write about them. Having trouble dealing with the White Sox' latest loss? Get writing! (and you'll have a lot to write about on that last one.) However, I think I am going to come at this writing earworm from a different angle.

Sometimes, when an idea or other creative seed sprouts in my mind, I make the active choice to try and understand it. I turn my tools I use as a writer into weapons, instruments of interrogation to find out about this thing. I don't need to investigate it for some greater truth - although that might happen. I try to find out just why it seeped into my brain at this particular time.

As far as January 25th, 1966 goes, I first ask myself, "Why that date in particular?" It can't have anything to do with me because I hadn't even been conceived. It doesn't sit on any anniversaries or anything, so I kick out the obvious distractions and wonder, "Why not 1965 or 1967? Why do those years not feel right?" "Why January?" Frankly, January is a pretty sucky month in Chicago - but maybe that's exactly why this comes to mind. And as for the 25th, well, that's kind of like Christmas but actually pretty far apart from Christmas - a full month to be exact. 

I have found out nothing about the actual date itself but as a writer, I start feeling how it works into some general narrative. It's a remote, lonely, empty date, with little connection to anything. In my family it actually represents this chronological crater around which none of my siblings or cousins were born for about two years. It's a pretty big bunch of empty there. So, in this regard, I now feel some kind of creative connection to it. Now if I want to write about it, I might not know exactly where it came from, but I know what moods it triggers, which is a start.

And yes, my next short story now has a working title of, "January 25th, 1966."