Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Spring Style: Gatsby T-Shirt
Hmm…I wonder who might appreciate this shirt?
You read more about this fabulous garment here: http://www.outofprintclothing.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=b-1034
And be sure to check out the line (am I pathetic if I admit that I already have The Catcher in the Rye AND Moby-Dick?)...helpful note: the shirts run small.
Out of Print Clothing: http://www.outofprintclothing.com/
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Low-Res MFA Event and Conversations & Connections Conference
Two upcoming events of note that I am involved in:
Doing a Low-Residency MFA: Pros & Cons
sponsored by AIW (American Independent Writers)
http://www.amerindywriters.org/
Monday, April 4, 2011
7:00 p.m.
Free for AIW members and non-members
Location:
AIW Office
Suite 701
1001 Connecticut Avenue, N.W.
Washington, DC 20036
The street entrance is on K Street, between 17th and Connecticut, near the K Street entrance to the Farragut North Metro station.
Metro: Farragut North on the Red line, Farragut West on the Orange and Blue lines.
Get the scoop on low-residency MFA graduate programs, and see if this option is right for you!
Speakers:
Leslie Pietrzyk teaches in the low-residency MFA program at Converse College (located in Spartanburg, South Carolina) and in the graduate writing program at Johns Hopkins. She is the author of two novels, Pears on a Willow Tree (Avon Books) and A Year and a Day (William Morrow). Her short fiction has appeared in many journals, including Shenandoah, The Iowa Review, The Gettysburg Review, and The Sun Magazine.
Rimas Blekaitis is currently a student and MFA candidate in writing at the Vermont College of Fine Arts low-residency MFA program. The VCFA program was recently ranked as the top low-residency writing program in the country by Poets and Writers magazine, and as one of the top five programs by The Atlantic magazine. He lives in Washington, D.C.
*****
Conversations and Connections Literary Conference
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Johns Hopkins University Advanced Writing Program campus, Washington, DC
1717 Massachusetts Avenue, NW
one block from the Dupont Circle (Red line) Metro station’s south entrance.
$65 for full day
My panel:
Debut Writers and How They Got There
Panel discussion: Dylan Landis, Eric Goodman, Janice Shapiro, Robin Black,
Moderated by Leslie Pietrzyk
People who have a first book coming out, or just had one, and how they got from slamming their head against the wall to first book out.
Lots more at this great conference! Registration/information:
http://writersconnectconference.com/word/
Doing a Low-Residency MFA: Pros & Cons
sponsored by AIW (American Independent Writers)
http://www.amerindywriters.org/
Monday, April 4, 2011
7:00 p.m.
Free for AIW members and non-members
Location:
AIW Office
Suite 701
1001 Connecticut Avenue, N.W.
Washington, DC 20036
The street entrance is on K Street, between 17th and Connecticut, near the K Street entrance to the Farragut North Metro station.
Metro: Farragut North on the Red line, Farragut West on the Orange and Blue lines.
Get the scoop on low-residency MFA graduate programs, and see if this option is right for you!
Speakers:
Leslie Pietrzyk teaches in the low-residency MFA program at Converse College (located in Spartanburg, South Carolina) and in the graduate writing program at Johns Hopkins. She is the author of two novels, Pears on a Willow Tree (Avon Books) and A Year and a Day (William Morrow). Her short fiction has appeared in many journals, including Shenandoah, The Iowa Review, The Gettysburg Review, and The Sun Magazine.
Rimas Blekaitis is currently a student and MFA candidate in writing at the Vermont College of Fine Arts low-residency MFA program. The VCFA program was recently ranked as the top low-residency writing program in the country by Poets and Writers magazine, and as one of the top five programs by The Atlantic magazine. He lives in Washington, D.C.
*****
Conversations and Connections Literary Conference
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Johns Hopkins University Advanced Writing Program campus, Washington, DC
1717 Massachusetts Avenue, NW
one block from the Dupont Circle (Red line) Metro station’s south entrance.
$65 for full day
My panel:
Debut Writers and How They Got There
Panel discussion: Dylan Landis, Eric Goodman, Janice Shapiro, Robin Black,
Moderated by Leslie Pietrzyk
People who have a first book coming out, or just had one, and how they got from slamming their head against the wall to first book out.
Lots more at this great conference! Registration/information:
http://writersconnectconference.com/word/
Monday, March 28, 2011
Victor LaValle on Narrative Voice
This interview with Victor LaValle is one of the best explorations of voice that I’ve come across. It’s longish, but you must read it: http://www.hobartpulp.com/website/october/NarrativeVoice.pdf
Here are some excerpts if you don’t believe me:
“My definition of “voice” is personality. And since everyone has one (just about everyone) then everyone has a Voice. A lot of times, when I’m teaching, students will discuss voice as if it were just another craft issue. “In this story I want the voice to be a 90 year old woman’s.” Or, “I want to use the voice of a tough cop.” I understand what they’re saying, they want to see how different characters sound, but that’s not the same as voice. As far as I’m concerned, each of us is born and raised with only one writer’s Voice, and no amount of camouflage is ever going to disguise that.
…
“…this leads back to the idea of writing as a quest for self-awareness through the telling of some kick-ass stories. When you think of it that way you might see why I say voice is simply personality. There’s nothing simple about it, but the person you are (in total, at that moment in time) is what creates the story you’re writing. It’s infused in every piece of punctuation, in the plot, in the most minor character who crosses the page. It’s all your voice.
…
“But when I read people who have mastery over their voice I always find (always) that when I meet them or hear them speak I can detect the same essence that I discovered on the page. It must be like when a grade school teacher has parent conferences and finally gets to meet the mother and/or father of the child they’ve been dealing with all year. The parent walks in the room and almost instantly the teacher says, Ah yes, of course you’re her parents. For me, that’s when you know your narrative voice is successful. When it’s undeniably, recognizably yours. Even in the dead of winter, covered head to toe in a snow suit and a scarf, you can stand at the edge of the playground and say, That one, right there. That’s my kid.
…
“So really I think Voice comes down to fear or lack thereof. If the author has parts of him or herself that are considered off limits, that can’t be indulged or addressed (or parts of those people he or she has known) then I think it comes across on the page and the words seem tame, even comatose. Even if the story is compelling, the lines lack courage. I’m not really talking about beauty or poetry here, but blood.
“In that way I think I actually can say exactly what it is that has made people compliment my use of Voice. At some point during that compliment they usually will say things like, I can’t believe you admitted that. I can’t believe you let the character say that or do that. So Voice seems tied to surprise, which is the single great quality that all living things share. All living things will surprise you. But with writing, it’s very easy to get rid of surprises. You can edit them from the page. Or, more common, you can edit yourself even before you put the words on the page.”
***
And yes, there’s more…as I said, a very smart discussion! And after reading that interview, you should do yourself another huge favor and buy one of his books—which will contain its own lessons about voice. Still not convinced? Read more about Victor LaValle here. And jump if you ever have the chance to hear him read from and discuss his work: I’m pretty sure anyone in the audience on Friday night at the PEN/Faulkner reading would agree with me. Off to go start a Victor Lavelle fan club…haha, sort of.
Here are some excerpts if you don’t believe me:
“My definition of “voice” is personality. And since everyone has one (just about everyone) then everyone has a Voice. A lot of times, when I’m teaching, students will discuss voice as if it were just another craft issue. “In this story I want the voice to be a 90 year old woman’s.” Or, “I want to use the voice of a tough cop.” I understand what they’re saying, they want to see how different characters sound, but that’s not the same as voice. As far as I’m concerned, each of us is born and raised with only one writer’s Voice, and no amount of camouflage is ever going to disguise that.
…
“…this leads back to the idea of writing as a quest for self-awareness through the telling of some kick-ass stories. When you think of it that way you might see why I say voice is simply personality. There’s nothing simple about it, but the person you are (in total, at that moment in time) is what creates the story you’re writing. It’s infused in every piece of punctuation, in the plot, in the most minor character who crosses the page. It’s all your voice.
…
“But when I read people who have mastery over their voice I always find (always) that when I meet them or hear them speak I can detect the same essence that I discovered on the page. It must be like when a grade school teacher has parent conferences and finally gets to meet the mother and/or father of the child they’ve been dealing with all year. The parent walks in the room and almost instantly the teacher says, Ah yes, of course you’re her parents. For me, that’s when you know your narrative voice is successful. When it’s undeniably, recognizably yours. Even in the dead of winter, covered head to toe in a snow suit and a scarf, you can stand at the edge of the playground and say, That one, right there. That’s my kid.
…
“So really I think Voice comes down to fear or lack thereof. If the author has parts of him or herself that are considered off limits, that can’t be indulged or addressed (or parts of those people he or she has known) then I think it comes across on the page and the words seem tame, even comatose. Even if the story is compelling, the lines lack courage. I’m not really talking about beauty or poetry here, but blood.
“In that way I think I actually can say exactly what it is that has made people compliment my use of Voice. At some point during that compliment they usually will say things like, I can’t believe you admitted that. I can’t believe you let the character say that or do that. So Voice seems tied to surprise, which is the single great quality that all living things share. All living things will surprise you. But with writing, it’s very easy to get rid of surprises. You can edit them from the page. Or, more common, you can edit yourself even before you put the words on the page.”
***
And yes, there’s more…as I said, a very smart discussion! And after reading that interview, you should do yourself another huge favor and buy one of his books—which will contain its own lessons about voice. Still not convinced? Read more about Victor LaValle here. And jump if you ever have the chance to hear him read from and discuss his work: I’m pretty sure anyone in the audience on Friday night at the PEN/Faulkner reading would agree with me. Off to go start a Victor Lavelle fan club…haha, sort of.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Guest in Progress: Julie Wakeman-Linn on Creating a Writing Life in Africa
The dynamic and fabulous Julie Wakeman-Linn has guest blogged before—about creating her own writing retreat and her life as editor of The Potomac Review—so clearly she’s always up to interesting things…and today’s post may top them all in terms of “interesting things.” Julie is on leave, in Tanzania, figuring out how a Type A, workaholic DC writer who’s used to packing 30 hours into a day can, well, do nothing but write:
The Indian Ocean is blue and aqua green, the horizon empty of clouds. My view is framed by palm trees, papaya trees and flame trees. Here in Dar Es Salaam, I have taken over a second floor bedroom as my den so I can watch the waves or sit on the balcony right outside when I want an ocean breeze.
I, Julie Wakeman-Linn, professor of English at Montgomery College, program co-chair of two different writing conferences, Editor in chief of the Potomac Review, am on leave. Free from classes, committee meetings, the slush pile, the key element of my life to be managed is me. I’m used to being busy all the time, but now each day stretches out, mostly open. Every writer thinks she or he wants this situation, but how can she ensure it will be a productive time and not just a long vacation in a beautiful place?
Last week, Leslie was at VCCA, a magical place, but most people are in residence for one- two -three weeks; I face seventy eight weeks. Like most writers I have a list of projects that runs to two single spaced pages, so material to work with is not the issue. My list includes minor things like finish the second novel, revise the first novel, write the brand new prairie novel as well as writing new stories that arise from this wild existence here in Tanzania. So it isn’t inspiration that is required, but two other personality traits: discipline and adjustment.
Adjustment seems to be hardest: How to settle into household, social, and writing routines so I really use these eighteen months. Here I have a housekeeper, Devota, and two gardeners, Humphrey and Joseph, who came along with this beautiful furnished house, so I’m free from drudgery. My key task is to become accustomed to people around me all day; I’ve had to get over the guilt of someone else “working” while I sit at a computer screen. I’m told Devota’s salary places her securely in Tanzanian middle class and that economic fact helps dilute my Irish Catholic Midwestern guilt. Better yet-- Devota has come to understand that if I’m sitting at the desk with my back to the door, I don’t want to talk. She moves around the house as quietly as the emerald green geckos.
I chat with the gardeners in their indifferent English trying to use my budding Swahili. Mostly we just smile and laugh at each other once or twice day.
The social adjustment has been trickier; I’m a workaholic, and in a third world/expatriate society there are dozens of volunteer opportunities. Help run the United Nations Spouse group fundraising ball, volunteer at the High school for orphan girls, start teaching a writing group, connect with the guy who wants to create a literary magazine. A wise woman here said “don’t volunteer for anything for six months.” I should only observe until I know what is the best activity for me, but I don’t just sit very well.
The flip side of the coin is missing my network in Maryland, a lively supportive group of writers, faculty members and friends. Here I don’t know anybody yet because I’m not plugged into volunteering, clubs, and fundraisers. I have to have patience to take time to meet people here while realizing they are never going to replace the most special people in my writing life. I have to balance my needs for socializing against my writing time.
An odd coincidence that has really helped is talking to other “tag along spouses” who, like me, left careers behind or on hold. Their sympathy and advice on how to adapt to a suddenly wide open schedule has helped me relax about playing bridge in the daytime which feels so decadent.
My next adjustment is the writing routine. Like many writers, I’m best when I am on a ferocious deadline, preferably externally imposed like a contest. I’m lining up lots of those deadlines, but I can’t fill all the weeks and months with them; I’ll go broke from contest fees. Instead of relying on external pressure, I divide up my day into chunks for different types of writing and those random errands like buying groceries. I use the sunlight to help me focus.
At this latitude, dawn is always right around 6 a.m. After some journaling with the creamy sunrise, I have breakfast and send off that hard working spouse to his office. In the morning, I work on a defined task: either a timed writing or a specific new scene. I like to write new rough drafts before 10 am when it starts to get hot. Sometimes I pace the balcony or write outside with the birds and the geckos. Midmorning, I’ll have a nibble if I skipped breakfast or a little bit of exercise like a quick dip in the pool. Next I’ll dig into a part of a big project that requires a steady hand and an open mind like revision of a chapter. For a break I’ll run an errand, have lunch and nap with some reading. I keep my “out of the den” errands, volunteering and shopping, bunched to the afternoon whenever possible. The late afternoon, as the sun heads towards the western horizon, is the time for the most loving, careful, sentence by sentence drafting. Or on bad days, I do marketing.
If my spouse is running late, as he often is, I pick up an engaging novel to read or a difficult writing task, like in-between scenes in a mostly done story, but it must be a task that completely absorbs my attention so I don’t think about waiting for him.
Contrary to human nature, discipline hasn’t been a problem for me. I would give credit to several factors. First once I’ve begun the day writing, I can continue. Yesterday I sat at 6:58 pm, working on this guest blog, when in Maryland I never wrote new material after twelve noon.
Because I have so much free time, day by day and week by week, I both play and work more easily. I am a hopeless keeper of lists and I list my writing projects and revisit and reorder those lists regularly. It doesn’t matter which project I am working on as long as I am working.
The second discipline factor comes from examples of friends and writers who have done this successfully. My pal Susi Wyss took time off from her job to just write and her beautiful collection The Civilized World, comes out this month( http://www.susiwyss.com/ ). My first time in Africa I was much younger and running the social scene for the American Canadian Women’s Club, but two women I knew stepped away to do art. They were lovely, friendly, but always busy in their mornings. I understand them now.
The final factor is reporting to my Maryland network. I have started a blog, Gecko Tails (http://geckotails.wordpress.com/). In it my friends, writing pals, students and even family members get the latest fun photo from Tanzania and a brief report of what I have accomplished that week. Thanks to Susi for the idea for reporting back and to Leslie for her excellent blog as an ideal and also as motivation to write regularly on Gecko Tails. Subscribe to Gecko Tails and follow along. My photos are a great little escape to the tropics and to safaris on the Serengeti.
A couple of tricks have helped me develop this routine. About once a week, I let myself read a whole novel in two-three days which I haven’t done in years; secondly, I tell people here in Dar es Salaam that I’m writing and I’m not really available in the morning. They seem to be respecting that request, while letting me play bridge. It helps that in the pattern of life here, Swahili Time, nobody does anything before lunch anyway except for a couple of diplomat/expat spouse group monthly meetings. Finally I have remembered to play--exercise, swim, go to the fun dinner parties, explore the wood carver’s market. Oh yes, and Skype helps.
About ten weeks into the eighteen months, I can report the following: two stories finished and polished and submitted, two new stories started from raw material, another old story retrieved, repaired and submitted and finally pages of notes on this environment.
A final note, the world seems very far away. The submission game is electronic and disembodied. Last year I had a writer’s escape for three weeks in France; I got two very quick acceptances in under a week. Here I had a rejection in under a week, but it didn’t bug me. I had to pinch myself over the personalized rejection from a big mag because it also didn’t seem real. I hope my first Indian Ocean side acceptance comes soon, so the good news won’t distract me either. ~~Julie Wakeman-Linn
About: Julie Wakeman-Linn, Potomac Review editor-in-chief, is on leave in Africa. Her short stories appeared last year in Rosebud, A Prairie Journal, Santa Clara Review, and Gray Sparrow Review. Gray Sparrow nominated "Brothers Killing Brothers" for a Pushcart. Currently, she blogs at www.geckotails.wordpress.com, and volunteers to teach creative writing to a class of orphan girls at Bethsaida High School in Dar es Salaam. Her website is www.juliewakemanlinn.com.
The Indian Ocean is blue and aqua green, the horizon empty of clouds. My view is framed by palm trees, papaya trees and flame trees. Here in Dar Es Salaam, I have taken over a second floor bedroom as my den so I can watch the waves or sit on the balcony right outside when I want an ocean breeze.
I, Julie Wakeman-Linn, professor of English at Montgomery College, program co-chair of two different writing conferences, Editor in chief of the Potomac Review, am on leave. Free from classes, committee meetings, the slush pile, the key element of my life to be managed is me. I’m used to being busy all the time, but now each day stretches out, mostly open. Every writer thinks she or he wants this situation, but how can she ensure it will be a productive time and not just a long vacation in a beautiful place?
Last week, Leslie was at VCCA, a magical place, but most people are in residence for one- two -three weeks; I face seventy eight weeks. Like most writers I have a list of projects that runs to two single spaced pages, so material to work with is not the issue. My list includes minor things like finish the second novel, revise the first novel, write the brand new prairie novel as well as writing new stories that arise from this wild existence here in Tanzania. So it isn’t inspiration that is required, but two other personality traits: discipline and adjustment.
Adjustment seems to be hardest: How to settle into household, social, and writing routines so I really use these eighteen months. Here I have a housekeeper, Devota, and two gardeners, Humphrey and Joseph, who came along with this beautiful furnished house, so I’m free from drudgery. My key task is to become accustomed to people around me all day; I’ve had to get over the guilt of someone else “working” while I sit at a computer screen. I’m told Devota’s salary places her securely in Tanzanian middle class and that economic fact helps dilute my Irish Catholic Midwestern guilt. Better yet-- Devota has come to understand that if I’m sitting at the desk with my back to the door, I don’t want to talk. She moves around the house as quietly as the emerald green geckos.
I chat with the gardeners in their indifferent English trying to use my budding Swahili. Mostly we just smile and laugh at each other once or twice day.
The social adjustment has been trickier; I’m a workaholic, and in a third world/expatriate society there are dozens of volunteer opportunities. Help run the United Nations Spouse group fundraising ball, volunteer at the High school for orphan girls, start teaching a writing group, connect with the guy who wants to create a literary magazine. A wise woman here said “don’t volunteer for anything for six months.” I should only observe until I know what is the best activity for me, but I don’t just sit very well.
The flip side of the coin is missing my network in Maryland, a lively supportive group of writers, faculty members and friends. Here I don’t know anybody yet because I’m not plugged into volunteering, clubs, and fundraisers. I have to have patience to take time to meet people here while realizing they are never going to replace the most special people in my writing life. I have to balance my needs for socializing against my writing time.
An odd coincidence that has really helped is talking to other “tag along spouses” who, like me, left careers behind or on hold. Their sympathy and advice on how to adapt to a suddenly wide open schedule has helped me relax about playing bridge in the daytime which feels so decadent.
My next adjustment is the writing routine. Like many writers, I’m best when I am on a ferocious deadline, preferably externally imposed like a contest. I’m lining up lots of those deadlines, but I can’t fill all the weeks and months with them; I’ll go broke from contest fees. Instead of relying on external pressure, I divide up my day into chunks for different types of writing and those random errands like buying groceries. I use the sunlight to help me focus.
At this latitude, dawn is always right around 6 a.m. After some journaling with the creamy sunrise, I have breakfast and send off that hard working spouse to his office. In the morning, I work on a defined task: either a timed writing or a specific new scene. I like to write new rough drafts before 10 am when it starts to get hot. Sometimes I pace the balcony or write outside with the birds and the geckos. Midmorning, I’ll have a nibble if I skipped breakfast or a little bit of exercise like a quick dip in the pool. Next I’ll dig into a part of a big project that requires a steady hand and an open mind like revision of a chapter. For a break I’ll run an errand, have lunch and nap with some reading. I keep my “out of the den” errands, volunteering and shopping, bunched to the afternoon whenever possible. The late afternoon, as the sun heads towards the western horizon, is the time for the most loving, careful, sentence by sentence drafting. Or on bad days, I do marketing.
If my spouse is running late, as he often is, I pick up an engaging novel to read or a difficult writing task, like in-between scenes in a mostly done story, but it must be a task that completely absorbs my attention so I don’t think about waiting for him.
Contrary to human nature, discipline hasn’t been a problem for me. I would give credit to several factors. First once I’ve begun the day writing, I can continue. Yesterday I sat at 6:58 pm, working on this guest blog, when in Maryland I never wrote new material after twelve noon.
Because I have so much free time, day by day and week by week, I both play and work more easily. I am a hopeless keeper of lists and I list my writing projects and revisit and reorder those lists regularly. It doesn’t matter which project I am working on as long as I am working.
The second discipline factor comes from examples of friends and writers who have done this successfully. My pal Susi Wyss took time off from her job to just write and her beautiful collection The Civilized World, comes out this month( http://www.susiwyss.com/ ). My first time in Africa I was much younger and running the social scene for the American Canadian Women’s Club, but two women I knew stepped away to do art. They were lovely, friendly, but always busy in their mornings. I understand them now.
The final factor is reporting to my Maryland network. I have started a blog, Gecko Tails (http://geckotails.wordpress.com/). In it my friends, writing pals, students and even family members get the latest fun photo from Tanzania and a brief report of what I have accomplished that week. Thanks to Susi for the idea for reporting back and to Leslie for her excellent blog as an ideal and also as motivation to write regularly on Gecko Tails. Subscribe to Gecko Tails and follow along. My photos are a great little escape to the tropics and to safaris on the Serengeti.
A couple of tricks have helped me develop this routine. About once a week, I let myself read a whole novel in two-three days which I haven’t done in years; secondly, I tell people here in Dar es Salaam that I’m writing and I’m not really available in the morning. They seem to be respecting that request, while letting me play bridge. It helps that in the pattern of life here, Swahili Time, nobody does anything before lunch anyway except for a couple of diplomat/expat spouse group monthly meetings. Finally I have remembered to play--exercise, swim, go to the fun dinner parties, explore the wood carver’s market. Oh yes, and Skype helps.
About ten weeks into the eighteen months, I can report the following: two stories finished and polished and submitted, two new stories started from raw material, another old story retrieved, repaired and submitted and finally pages of notes on this environment.
A final note, the world seems very far away. The submission game is electronic and disembodied. Last year I had a writer’s escape for three weeks in France; I got two very quick acceptances in under a week. Here I had a rejection in under a week, but it didn’t bug me. I had to pinch myself over the personalized rejection from a big mag because it also didn’t seem real. I hope my first Indian Ocean side acceptance comes soon, so the good news won’t distract me either. ~~Julie Wakeman-Linn
About: Julie Wakeman-Linn, Potomac Review editor-in-chief, is on leave in Africa. Her short stories appeared last year in Rosebud, A Prairie Journal, Santa Clara Review, and Gray Sparrow Review. Gray Sparrow nominated "Brothers Killing Brothers" for a Pushcart. Currently, she blogs at www.geckotails.wordpress.com, and volunteers to teach creative writing to a class of orphan girls at Bethsaida High School in Dar es Salaam. Her website is www.juliewakemanlinn.com.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A Few Random Writing-Related Thoughts Leftover from VCCA
Because of the physical set-up of my studio—and, okay, because I wear reading glasses—for the first time I increased the size of my “view” in Word, ending up with a giant white page and giant letters. (An increase to 120% makes a big difference.) That helped my eyes, but what was really remarkable is that I truly think that the visual difference tricked my brain into loosening up and not going all harsh, psycho-editor on me (you know, that murmur of, this sucks). I was working almost totally on very rough drafts—each of them a story that I had not remotely been thinking about writing or that had any sense of a plan—and seeing the words look so surprising and different on the screen added to the novelty and sense of possibility. This wasn’t “the same old stuff.”
I also wrote in single-space, and will also swear that that made a huge difference.
Could it be that the whole trick to writing is to switch fonts and sizes? How come I haven’t read this secret in a craft book?
***
I was working on several stories, each with several characters, and—truly—it became exhausting to think up the right names for everybody and to give them all jobs. (An advantage to the novel: once you set everyone up, you’re good to go.) It seems as though those tiny details may not matter, and that it would always be easy to change them later. And, yes, for a while you can call someone XX until you get to the right name. But that’s cumbersome and becomes alphabet soup when you’re writing lines like “XX looked at YY and said, ‘I’m worried about ZZ.’”
Anyway, these details are important. A woman named Patricia sends a different vibe than a woman named Esther. I like to figure out what year my character was born and glance through the popular names of that year for ideas: http://www.ssa.gov/oact/babynames/
(This site was especially helpful last year when I was working on my novel set in 1900, since the list of names goes back to 1879.)
As for jobs, they don’t define a person, but they help us understand who a character is. A lawyer is different than a schoolteacher who is different than a woman who manages a 7-11. Knowing what someone does, also allows the writer to fill in the props: what kind of car does the lawyer have? What does the schoolteacher have in her purse? It drives me crazy when I read stories where everyone seems to have no job whatsoever. Isn’t that how we spend most of our time, working? Isn’t that one fact going to immeasurably impact who we are?
Now I’m pleased to trot out—probably for the billionth time—one of my favorite quotations from John Gardener, from The Art of Fiction:
“As in the universe every atom has an effect, however miniscule, on every other atom, so that to pinch the fabric of Time and Space at any point is to shake the whole length and breadth of it, so in fiction every element has effect on every other, so that to change a character’s name from Jane to Cynthia is to make the fictional ground shudder under her feet.”
I also wrote in single-space, and will also swear that that made a huge difference.
Could it be that the whole trick to writing is to switch fonts and sizes? How come I haven’t read this secret in a craft book?
***
I was working on several stories, each with several characters, and—truly—it became exhausting to think up the right names for everybody and to give them all jobs. (An advantage to the novel: once you set everyone up, you’re good to go.) It seems as though those tiny details may not matter, and that it would always be easy to change them later. And, yes, for a while you can call someone XX until you get to the right name. But that’s cumbersome and becomes alphabet soup when you’re writing lines like “XX looked at YY and said, ‘I’m worried about ZZ.’”
Anyway, these details are important. A woman named Patricia sends a different vibe than a woman named Esther. I like to figure out what year my character was born and glance through the popular names of that year for ideas: http://www.ssa.gov/oact/babynames/
(This site was especially helpful last year when I was working on my novel set in 1900, since the list of names goes back to 1879.)
As for jobs, they don’t define a person, but they help us understand who a character is. A lawyer is different than a schoolteacher who is different than a woman who manages a 7-11. Knowing what someone does, also allows the writer to fill in the props: what kind of car does the lawyer have? What does the schoolteacher have in her purse? It drives me crazy when I read stories where everyone seems to have no job whatsoever. Isn’t that how we spend most of our time, working? Isn’t that one fact going to immeasurably impact who we are?
Now I’m pleased to trot out—probably for the billionth time—one of my favorite quotations from John Gardener, from The Art of Fiction:
“As in the universe every atom has an effect, however miniscule, on every other atom, so that to pinch the fabric of Time and Space at any point is to shake the whole length and breadth of it, so in fiction every element has effect on every other, so that to change a character’s name from Jane to Cynthia is to make the fictional ground shudder under her feet.”
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Ten Days at VCCA
I had another excellent stay at VCCA. For those of you who know the place, my studio was W6 (again!), which is right by the drive where the visual artists load/unload their cars (not that I’m nosy), and I had bedroom #3, which meant that I had my OWN bathroom, though it was quite—and I do mean quite—tiny. Still, no sharing, and that is worth a lot.
I had all sorts of plans in mind about what I was going to work on—seriously, for fun I typed up a list of options and there were 21 ideas that I would have been happy to tackle. I did work on a couple of these ideas, but a single, idle conversation at breakfast changed everything and sent me in a totally new direction in a very exciting way (thank you, Rachel Zucker!). I’ll pass along the comment that got me thinking, and perhaps it will inspire you. It’s not all that complicated. Rachel, a poet, was talking about a friend of hers who taught a class called something like “Writing about Subcultures.” So—I decided to write about a subculture that day. I probably don’t want to go into too many details at the moment, so suffice it say….best decision I’ve made for a long, long time.
So I got a lot of writing done, mostly rough drafts that I’ll have to spend the coming months fixing up. I think that spilling out Anne Lamott’s “shitty drafts” really works for me in the residency situation. It’s a new environment, there’s a lot of energy—somehow new stuff seems to flow more readily than it does at boring old home. When I’ve been limited to editing and revising at VCCA, I’ve usually felt hampered.
The other important issue: The food was mostly quite good. In fact, on Saint Patrick’s Day, we had some of the most amazing corned beef ever. Honestly, second only to top-notch Jewish deli corned beef. There was a tiny fight over the last little scraps as several people (including me) raced up for seconds. And there were some burritos at lunch that technically weren’t anything fabulous, but that I’ll remember with fondness.
And I read some excellent books:
The Dry Well by Marlin Barton (short stories by my colleague at Converse College)
If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This by Robin Black (short stories)
Normal People Don’t Live Like This by Dylan Landis (novel in stories)
I couldn’t say enough good things about these books; everyone should read each of them. But, to be more specific, read Landis for perfect prose that will make you feel lazy as a writer for accepting less in your own work; read Black for stories of the deep complexities and moments of grace of real life; and read Barton to read deeply lived lives one small town in Alabama and if you wish Flannery O’Connor were still around writing. All three of these books were incredibly inspiring to me while I was here, and I honestly feel as though they came to me at exactly the right time.
I read some less than inspiring books that shall remain nameless. Boo!
Now it’s back to the real world—which, given the avalanche of recent bad news—I didn’t actually miss all that much. Oh, to be back at VCCA, complaining about stinkbugs!
I had all sorts of plans in mind about what I was going to work on—seriously, for fun I typed up a list of options and there were 21 ideas that I would have been happy to tackle. I did work on a couple of these ideas, but a single, idle conversation at breakfast changed everything and sent me in a totally new direction in a very exciting way (thank you, Rachel Zucker!). I’ll pass along the comment that got me thinking, and perhaps it will inspire you. It’s not all that complicated. Rachel, a poet, was talking about a friend of hers who taught a class called something like “Writing about Subcultures.” So—I decided to write about a subculture that day. I probably don’t want to go into too many details at the moment, so suffice it say….best decision I’ve made for a long, long time.
So I got a lot of writing done, mostly rough drafts that I’ll have to spend the coming months fixing up. I think that spilling out Anne Lamott’s “shitty drafts” really works for me in the residency situation. It’s a new environment, there’s a lot of energy—somehow new stuff seems to flow more readily than it does at boring old home. When I’ve been limited to editing and revising at VCCA, I’ve usually felt hampered.
The other important issue: The food was mostly quite good. In fact, on Saint Patrick’s Day, we had some of the most amazing corned beef ever. Honestly, second only to top-notch Jewish deli corned beef. There was a tiny fight over the last little scraps as several people (including me) raced up for seconds. And there were some burritos at lunch that technically weren’t anything fabulous, but that I’ll remember with fondness.
And I read some excellent books:
The Dry Well by Marlin Barton (short stories by my colleague at Converse College)
If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This by Robin Black (short stories)
Normal People Don’t Live Like This by Dylan Landis (novel in stories)
I couldn’t say enough good things about these books; everyone should read each of them. But, to be more specific, read Landis for perfect prose that will make you feel lazy as a writer for accepting less in your own work; read Black for stories of the deep complexities and moments of grace of real life; and read Barton to read deeply lived lives one small town in Alabama and if you wish Flannery O’Connor were still around writing. All three of these books were incredibly inspiring to me while I was here, and I honestly feel as though they came to me at exactly the right time.
I read some less than inspiring books that shall remain nameless. Boo!
Now it’s back to the real world—which, given the avalanche of recent bad news—I didn’t actually miss all that much. Oh, to be back at VCCA, complaining about stinkbugs!
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