The Right Kind of Writing

I had a deal going with a fellow writer (I've actually had several deals with this friend, but this is the relevant one). He read some of my favorite non-fiction books, Liar's Poker, The Big Short, and Boomerang, all by Michael Lewis. This is an unintentional series discussing the rapid rise of the banking industry in the 1980s, the lead-up to the Great Recession in 2008, and the international aftermath of the housing market collapse, respectively. He wasn't very financially versed, so we would get together, have a few drinks, and I would help him go through the concepts presented. (I kind of think he understood them more than he admitted, and used them as a good excuse to go out for drinks).

Well, in exchange for this, I promised I would read Ulysses by James Joyce, with the same deal that we would get together and discuss my progress through this freaking huge book. It felt like a fair trade - Ulysses is about as long as the three books he read combined, so I felt this was manageable. Unfortunately, this friend passed away unexpectedly about a year ago, and I took it upon myself to step forth and read Ulysses as best I could, without his guidance to get me through any tough parts. (His wife was kind enough to gift me with his copy, so I did get the advantage of the notes he wrote in the margins). I was ready for this task.

Well, it's a year later and I'm only about 400 pages in. Clearly, I was not ready.

The biggest problem I have with this piece of classic literature is, simply, that it is nowhere close to my style. It's not particularly out there in its setting - after a funeral in 1904 Dublin - but the kind of writing is a whole world away from what I expected. The prose is incredibly train-of-thought style, it is very Irish in its voice (I mean, I'm Irish - but I'm not THAT Irish), it diverts into stories and metaphors, seemingly wandering through a variety of subjects even when the main character action is merely getting a sandwich for lunch. It pretty much breaks most grammatical rules, it creates its own vocabulary, and closes with an eight-sentence soliloquy that comes in at about 22,000 words in length. My friend is definitely laughing at me from beyond.

However, now that I have launched into this scathing criticism of Ulysses, you might ask yourself why it's considered by many to be a masterpiece of literature. The simple way of putting it is my critique is strictly my opinion. Look at the Michael Lewis books I mentioned at the beginning of this post. I guarantee you they are not written as challenging epics, they do not emulate The Odyssey or any other book I know about, they do not try to do more than just explain the subject matter. That's what I like. I do admire the style of Lewis's presentation and the asides he creates in order to explore deeper subjects, but in the end, it's what I work best with. 

Another writer friend of mine who is a big fan of Ulysses explained the experience of reading it to me in simple terms I could understand. She said to read the work, you just needed to open yourself up to letting the words move you wherever the feeling goes. Taking in the work without analyzing, critiquing, or challenging it was half the beauty of Joyce's writing. Well, to each their own.

What this all boils down to is simple: Your job as a writer is to create with all your personal joy and freedom, and not worry about what people like me will think. I guarantee you there will always be a reader who "doesn't get it," which is fine. Write for the beauty of writing, if that's what brings you the most joy. Now, if you are trying to write with the goal of publication to the larger market, well, at least consider some of the basic rules of writing before you go breaking them all. Maybe read Ulysses first.

And yes, Mike, I promise to finish it.  

  

How We See the Story

Time for a bit of a personal reveal here. During a particularly traumatic part of my life, I went through a very bizarre, ongoing period that I didn't fully realize was unusual: I dreamt in the third person. My dreams would be about me and whatever wild, subconscious developments my brain needed to process, but it all appeared to me as if I viewed it like watching the story happen on the screen. There I was, doing things and processing ideas, but I wasn't part of the process. This form of detachment/disassociation is an uncommon way the mind tries to understand situations too painful to relive, and it has a bunch of psychological significance. Long story short, I made it through that difficult time in my life and resumed taking the lead in my own dreams. However, as I got into writing, I realized just what this said about the perspective we choose to write from.

Third-person perspective places the narrative perspective outside of a character, either opting to tell a story as it's seen from a distance, or rfrom some omnipotent source not directly tied to the characters. It's still beneficial for the focus to be on one character and their actions, but instead of discussing the story of, say, Tom by being in Tom's head, we sit outside and see Tom live his life. This has several advantages, in particular it shows the world as it is, allowing the reader to take in everything and compare it to the character's perspective. Third-person perspective is very broad and rich in world-building, but it comes at the cost of not being deep into the character's head and thoughts.

This is where first-person perspective becomes a very engaging but possibly scary way to view a story - particularly if you are writing stories about personal experiences. In a first-person story involving Tom, it's no longer, "Tom went to the bar," but "I went to the bar," putting the reader into Tom's space. The reader should be taking in the story as if they were Tom, experiencing everything firsthand. And, just like a dream, this means things are felt in the most intimate way. While this can be a very satisfying experience for the reader, it can get a little unnerving for the writer - particularly when we get into difficult subject matter.

Recalling how I started this post, there were experiences my mind needed to process but didn't want to relive, so it disassociated into the third-person perspective in order to make those experiences manageable. Those experiences no longer happened to me, but to the person I saw. When we write in the first person, we do not have the luxury of avoiding the ugly or scary feelings. Instead, we have to confront those things head-on and write about them as personal experiences. In this situation, our writing might suffer because we do not go as deep into the subject as the reader would prefer. Even if the writer feels they are really exploring some deep personal situations, sometimes the mind can wall off those things it does not want to face, and they don't pop out in our writing. In turn, the character feels flat and lacking dimension because something's still missing.

When you want to tell a story, consider how you want the reader to experience it because this will inform you about the best way to write it. If it is best told as an adventure experienced from the outside, then third-person gives you a lot of tools to work with. However, if the story needs to be perceived from inside a character, then work from the first person and offer the reader a very personal experience. Just be warned that it's a very intense experience for the writer as well. And when dealing with personal stories, there may be more challenges than you anticipated.  

In Praise of Writing/Reading Fiction

Normally, on this day I would find a way to incorporate Earth, Wnid, and Fire's "September" into my discussion given the date, but I felt inspired to discuss another issue - the benefits of fiction. So for now, let's set aside the 21st day of September and talk about the value of fiction for writers and readers alike.

Now, it goes as no secret that a lot of writers feel drawn to fiction merely as a form of creative escapism. Why write about the world you already know when you can invent another space entirely and play in that sandbox instead? It goes without saying that there's a real adventure in this form of exploration, and as a writer it gives us the luxury of not just exploring but creating the space we adventure into. This is probably the most valuable skill we learn when writing fiction - world-building. If we explore any of the major fiction genres - alt-history, sci-fi, sword-and-sorcery, steampunk, etc. - we have to go through the elaborate exercise of creating the world our story exists in. More to the point, we have to communicate this to the reader in narrative fashion. Doing a big info dump is one way, but not very popular when it comes to storytelling. Therefore, this form of fiction writing forces us to show enough of the world to let the reader know where they are any any new groundrules, all while moving the story forward. The more out-there genres require ever-more-delicate techniques, but these are things that raise our talent to the next level.

Does this count if your fiction is just a present-day story about a person in the world doing a bunch of things that didn't actually happen? In this case, you are burdened with showing people the parts of a world they know and highlighting things the reader might not ordinarily appreciate. It's not world-building but world-showcasing. If my fictional main character is a skilled mechanic, I want to present very particular details and actions of a world the reader might not appreciate on their own. This is usually where some research is required, because even though it's fiction, it's grounded in the real world and needs to have that real texture. Once that feeling of genuine actions comes through, the reader loses the thought about something being fiction and instead embraces the story that never really happened.

And this is where we come to the reading side of fiction and its importance. I know plenty of people who have very little interest in reading fiction, sometimes if only because stories that didn't actually happen have very little appeal to them. That's understandable, but there's an interesting effect that comes from reading fiction which doesn't show up with strict consumers of non-fiction. People who explore fiction are forced to open up their mind beyond its normal constraints, whether it be context, genre, or the concepts presented. More importantly, when reading fiction, the reader has to make up their own mind about the characters presented without preexisting knowledge or biases. This creates a degree of empathy within the reader than often leaks into real life as they become used to seeing stories from other people's perspectives. This renewed openness to the world around them is strengthened by exploring fiction, and in my opnion, we could use a little more empathy these days.

I don't expect writers to change their preference of what they create simply because of this post. However, I would rather state it in public in hopes of people trying something new. And while you're at it, give a listen to "September" if you haven't yet.  

A Nut For Every Bolt

If there's one thing I learned from the recent Printer's Row Lit Fest, it's how subject matter abounds no matter where you look. Stories where the protagonist is some form of monster? We got that? Epic dystopian sagas with a surprise LGBT twist? Of course. Alternate history fiction-fantasy that also contributes a degree of magic? Aisles three through eight. And for the non-fiction fan, well, there's plenty to work with as well. Biographies from every direction, historical events analyzed and dissected, and the rise of any social movement under the sun has brren written about. Indeed, for the curious reader, there is no end of content to explore.

However, this is about writers and writing, so let's explore this wealth of literature out that. Does it help our writing process to know there are plenty of stories about warlocks, steampunk dragons, and misunderstood 23rd century warlords? What good is any of that when we just want to become a better writer at whatever subject we prefer to focus on? Frankly, the teen cyborg section of fantasy literature has very little appeal to me, so does it help me any to read about them?

The answer depends on what you are looking for. Reading for personal adventure can be fun but exploring different genres can be hit or miss. Maybe teen cyborgs adventures works very well for those who it is intended for, but I am most likely not one of those people. I like my dragons large and pompous, I enjoy spaceships that are for some reason built in an aerodynamic fashion, and the vampires should be life-draining narcissists who are inevitably destined to get a stake through the heart.

The benefit we do get from reading some of these more off-beat and unusual topics and weird subject matter is examining the writing. Think about some of the more interesting books you've read, and consider what part of the writing itself drew you in. For me, I have discovered a lot of techniques from reading stories about anti-heroes, and examining how the author presents to you a character who is at face-value unlikeable or has some very dark traits, but gets the reader to walk around inside that character and feel for their personal story. In doing this, the genre falls by the wayside relative to the story and the person I am reading about. It becomes more approachable, and yes, even enjoyable even as I read about, say, a serial killer.

The hook that pulls this all together is as follows: There is plenty out there to write about, the story is up to you. However, there are plenty of ways to make the character - person, dragon, teen cyborg, whatever - someone interesting to read about. Learning these little hooks and techniques isn't specific to genre necessarily, but by reading a variety of things, you can uncover techniques that will apply to anything you choose to write. At that point, the best part of the story is the presentation, and you can find more fans in good presentation than in trying to create a new genre.    

The Social Side of Writing

I hold a twice-monthly writing group at the local library, and it is usually well attended, even in the summer when people get that urge to play outside rather than sit in a conference room and go over their projects. I enjoy facilitating these meetings and listening to everyone's writing, but here's a secret: I am kind of hoping nobody shows up tomorrow. Not that I don't want them there, and not that I would enjoy a day of my own to go frolic outside - my secret hope is the members are spending the day at an event better gathering, the Printer's Row Lit Fest.

Lit Fest has been going on for over forty years, and has picked up a reputation as the go-to place for writers, writing-curious people, and anyone who just wants to feed off of the vibe of a bunch of creatives all in the same place. As a free-of-charge event, it attracts quite a crowd, and it's more than just an opportunity for independent authors to gather and sell books to each other. Aside from the vendors, they have non-stop programs, speakers, and literary programs to choose from. It is a veritable smorgasbord of writing nourishment.

Now, I can understand if a number of people say, "But I'm not a writer. I want to be a writer, but I'm not ready to go out in public and pretend I'm one of these real writers." Of course, whether you're a writer or not is irrelevant. This is about walking amongst them, breathing in the atmosphere, seeing all the amazing things going on, and finding if anything catches your attention. There are gatherings and speakers talking about topics from dark humor to non-fiction environments to the Golden Girls, and all points inbetween. This is the chance to stroll around, find something that catches your interest, and let your mind just play around with different ideas, thoughts, and concepts. Any person who believes they might be a creative type will benefit from the experience simply because they will be exposed to the full range of the writing world, maybe see a famous face or two, and realize just how all-encompassing the world of the creative can be.

And, in case I didn't mention it, it's free.

Now, whether the members of my writing group go is up to them. Maybe they will show up to the meeting tomorrow, we will share and discuss our works, then they will go and check it out Sunday. Maybe they will all go Saturday and leave me in the conference room (it's air-conditioned, which is nice). Whatever their choice, I hope they get out there and expose their creative spirits to the entire spectrum of what's possible. It's good for the creative soul. And as for me, well, if they don;t show up tomorrow, I will gladly welcome them back into the conference room when we meet again in two weeks. I am sure they will enjoy the air conditioning as well. 

Finding the Unusual

Over the past few posts I have mentioned about how things have been changing in my life. In a way, I feel like I live in some kind of Bizarro world where everything is reversed - night is day, good is bad, etc. - but at the end of it all, I am still on the same planet, same country, same little patch of real estate. The only difference is I am seeing it from a different angle. That being said, during this adjustment I saw an opportunity to try and understand the differences in this same world and figure out just why it felt so weird even though it was no different in the bigger picture.

It all hit me last night at about 11:20 pm, when I stepped outside. The clouds were moving in, but for a happy little minute I got to see the peak of the partial lunar eclipse. They said it was about 96% coverage in my territory, which meant the moon was just a sliver of light, slightly rounded, peaking out from behind the shadow of our planet. It was not as impressive as a solar eclipse, with temperatures dropping, birds freaking out, and real stubborn people staring at it then saying, "Why do my eyes hurt so much?" However, there it was - a near-total lunar eclipse, and I witnessed it before the clouds buried it away. 

Now, what exactly hit me at that moment? Well, first off, it was 11:20 pm and I was wide awake, in a strange location I was still getting accustomed to. I was out by my car, which I still have to look for in the parking lot and remind myself it's mine as opposed to the one I drove for eleven years. I was in my Bizarro world, but yet things still went on. Clouds appeared and disappeared, the weather changed, and yes, the occasional lunar eclipse came by to draw the eyes of many spectators. The world was both different and the same.

That last sentence is the important part to me as a writer. Whether you write fiction or non-fiction, your mission is to take the reader from their comfy chair in the living room and drop them smack-dab into the middle of a new world. This new land doesn't have to be some fantasy world to be new - you can drop them into Manhattan and start from there. And yes, I mean Manhattan, New York, or Manhattan, Illinois, or Manhattan, Kansas - you are placing them into a space they are not familiar with and creating the world around them. Even if you write about something very familiar to many people, you need to give it the new appearance. I always note how my golfing buddy Saul Bellow (inside joke) wrote very passionately about Chicago, and even Ukrainian Village, where I lived for six years. I knew the landmarks he mentioned, I walked the streets of his characters. However, seeing Division Street through his character's eyes, through that new perspective, made it a fresh and exciting environment for me to experience. (Read Humboldt's Gift for reference.)

So, your job as a writer is not to offer up an accounting of the territory making up the story's background, but to give it the unique flavor and texture to make it seem different, special, even unique, but still very relateable. Give the reader elements they can connect to, even if those things have nothing to do with the reader's own lives. Make the observations things they can associate with, even if it's something as simple as looking up at the moon.   

A New Kind of Thinking (for writers)

I admit this next post will date me a little, but I grew up in a school system that was big on "New Math." For those who are not familiar, New Math was simply teaching certain mathematical principles in new and different ways, often to the confusion of second-graders like myself. Before this, everyone was familiar with the numbers 0-9, and how they were arranged in columns for the ones, tens, hundreds, etc., then they learned how to do all the mathematical operations. New Math, however, explained this numberical concept as "Base 10" - there were ten numbers to choose from and build off of - and then taught us Base 8, and even Base 16 where the additional six numbers were A, B, C, D, E, and F. Now, a simple problem such as 7+7 changed around depending on the base. In Base 10, the answer is 14, in Base 8 it's 16, and in Base 16 it's E. Yes, E. In short, second grade was confusing for me.

What this mathematical madness did, however, was teach us how to think outside the standards we assumed. Base 10 is a given that we just take for granted, so realizing there are other ways gives us new perspective. (As an aside, Base 16 connected to the foundation of computer processing, which was a burgeoning field at the time, so best to teach it early.) Anyway, this New Math didn't change how I did my mathematics and I stayed in Base 10 for balancing my checkbook and other manual operations we performed with numbers back in the 20th century. I didn't count my change in Base 16 or anything, but I knew when it could be applied and I knew D2 was larger than 8F.

When it comes to the creative mind, we have to flex our creativity by exercising it in different ways. This usually means blowing away some preconceived notion and seeing what the world looks like. This isn't the easiest thing to do because a lot of assumptions are so predefined we don't even realize they're there. If I were to suggest you write about your favorite food dish at Thanksgiving dinner, you would likely offer up a bit about the big, juicy turkey, a wide variety of pies (including pecan), a savory side dish, or maybe even a special holiday relish. 

All of these are fine things to write about, but it limits us creatively because the moment I said "food" is the moment you went toward the concept of how the dishes taste. The taste is the preconceived notion we can remove to really do some creative flexing. If the assignment becomes, "Write about your favorite food dish without using references to taste or smell," this forces you to examine the other sensory inputs underlying that meal. Maybe the aforementioned pecan pie now becomes enjoyable with the blending of crispy baked walnuts within the gooey filling and a crumbly crust. Maybe you go back to the hot, moist turkey breast, or the creaminess of the rutabaga pudding (I can DM you a recipe). Whatever the case is, you now think about something common through an uncommon lens. You get that creative flex.

This doesn't mean that writing always has to be about something other than the obvious. A forest can have its greenery, the sky can be blue, etc. However, when you really want to understand something on a deeper level, you need to see past the obvious and try to explore those aspects. If you write about painting your living room, make references to the crackling sound of the roller on the wall, the tacky feel of paint on your fingers, and I challenge you to find a way to describe the smell of housepaint. The color is incidental - the real challenge is making the paint tangible as something more than a can of blue stuff.