Monday, January 31, 2011
Maybe it’s because I just got back from one of my own pack meetings, but I believe that Lazar is spot on with that observation. Groups do so much more than critique or provide feedback. The members become your friends, your inspirations. They become your challengers, your champions, and they offer understanding in a job where there is very little opportunity for socializing. Because, in the end, it’s just you and your keyboard. It’s nice to know you’re not alone.
Virginia Woolf was a part of probably the most famous Pack ever. The Bloomsbury Group. Including writers, intellectuals, philosophers, artists, and political commentators, Bloomsbury helped solidify the arts and crafts movement, the development of Modern Fiction, and protested violence (a la WWI and WWII). They goofed off together, raised political hell together, and created together – each inspiring and pushing the others to greater artistic and intellectual development.
In the best sense, this is what packs do – push their member to excel in their chosen profession.
But I’ve noticed another interesting phenomenon regarding the great writers. Even if they are not part of a collective like the Bloomsbury Group (maybe once in a generation will you get a gathering like that together), great writers will find like-minded people – either as mentors or contemporaries.
There was one passage in Virginia Woolf’s diary that struck me, and it’s so simplistic on the surface:
“Also Mrs. Hardy said to me ‘Do you know Aldous Huxley?’ I said I did. They had been reading his book, which she thought ‘very clever.’”
~Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary
Mrs. Hardy is the wife of Thomas Hardy (Tess of the D’urbervilles, Far From the Madding Crowd). This passage comes from Woolf’s description of a visit to the great writer’s house. Aldous Huxley is the author of Brave New World. And Virginia Woolf (who should need no introduction at this point) wrote this sentence in her diary as if it were a side note.*
So, basically, the authors of my college reading list had all spoken to one another at some point or another. Enough to be put in a casual sentence together.
That’s like me saying that at dinner with Stephen King, he mentioned he was reading J.K. Rowling, to whom I’d just shot an email, and thought her a promising talent. (Assuming, of course, that I’m an equally super writer. And we are.)
How dizzying is that?
*I should mention here that this was not a casual visit to the Hardys’ home. By this time Hardy, an eminent Victorian author, had retired from writing novels and Woolf wanted to meet him. During their meeting he did not speak about writing as much as Woolf would have liked (“The whole thing—literature, novels, etc., all seemed to him an amusement, far away too, scarcely to be taken seriously. Yet he had sympathy and pity for those still engaged in it.” ~ V.W. A Writer’s Diary) – having suffered some severe critical receptions of his novel Jude the Obscure, which was the last novel he wrote.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
- Finished rough draft of one short story -- and I'm almost done with the rewrite for my writers groups
- Almost done with a second short story -- just need to add the end, which requires some shifting at the beginning. Then I'll jump into the edit for that one and it'll be ready for the CWC group (they get two stories!)
- Picked out the keeps for the Bundy portion of Up From the Basement (my serial killer poetry book) and started rewrites on the keeps
- Wrote three new poems for Bundy section
- Outlined Top Secret Project (which is really exciting because I got to use my new big ol' white board! Go office supplies!)
- Did Round Story chapter for the UGWP project
- Finished UGWP critiques
Whew! Happy productivity. Doesn't look too bad for a month's work, does it?
I'm also spoiled because I get to stay home with the kiddos. My word count productivity has doubled now that I'm not wallowing in Retail Hell. First month of being a Writer Mom? I'd call it a success.
How are you guys hanging in there?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
~Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary
While reading through Woolf’s diary, it’s easy to conclude: It’s good Virginia Woolf did not live in the time of Google or Amazon Reviews.
Because, holy moly! The girl was pretty obsessed with reading her own reviews. There’s a distinct pattern that emerges in her diary that goes something like this:
- Write book. (In this stage she gives her progress reports, seems perky, debates difficulties that appear in the piece)
- Finishes draft. (In this stage she gives a big sigh of relief, doubts start cropping up, she makes plans for revision.)
- Revision. (Much more debate about pros and cons of piece, doubt, doubt, doubt, then she thinks it’s not as bad as she thought, reassures herself that she is writing solely for herself and doesn’t care what other people think, gives lowball number of expected sales.)
- Goes to Leonard, her husband. (Much nail biting.)
- Leonard sounds off, usually positively (Rejoicing!)
- The book comes out. (More nail biting. More assurances that she writes for herself and knows her own mind. She starts tracking sales numbers)
- Reviews come out. (Generally much rejoicing because she’s a super-genius, person A was positive, person B was colder, there’s no writing during this time, she freezes and reads and reads and reads all about what people say about her…eventually she falls into a funk, sometimes talks herself out with sales numbers)
- After much self-talk she gets it back in gear and works on her next book…back to step 1.
And if she was struggling with a book? Multiply all of those emotional reactions times ten. Yeah, I think it’s best that she wrote when she did. Google and Amazon would not do her any favors. And Goodreads? Where the whole point is that everyone sounds off on what they read? She’d never be off the internet!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
59 Things You Didn't Know About Virginia Woolf
The list was put together in honor of Woolf's birthday. Didn't know she took longer than average to form coherent sentences? Well, I'd say she made up for it.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Because sometimes the story is there. It might just need a different form. (No one said this stuff was easy.)
Recently I ‘tabled’ a novel that I was working on. My group had read the book, commented on it, and put in a lot of time and work to make sure that I was on the right track. I wasn’t. The piece needed some hefty reevaluation. A lot of soul searching and struggling and thinking went into my decision: it’s not tabled, it’s just getting a new form: a short story.
Then I had my group read a bunch of older short stories that I wanted to ‘make work’. (See how hard I work them?) Mary said one of the stories would work better as a long poem. I hadn’t thought of it myself – but it made perfect sense when I pondered for a bit. It solved a bunch of my issues.
So imagine my happiness when I discovered that Woolf suffered from similar doubts/problems/reevaluations of form:
“But how to pull it together, how to comport it – press it into one – I do not know; nor can I guess the end – it might be a gigantic conversation. The interludes are very difficult, yet I think essential; so as to bridge and also to give a background – the sea, insensitive nature – I don’t know.”
~Virginia Woolf, from A Writer’s Diary, struggling to create the form for The Waves.
The book that Woolf is referring to in that passage, The Waves, is a novel (so she knew that accurately right off), but it is a novel on crack.
I don’t mean this in a bad way at all. In fact, I think that it’s one of the most brilliant books I’ve ever read. The story is told entirely in alternating dialogues (though it’s probably more accurate to call them monologues) that undulate like the waves of the ocean. The interludes Woolf refers to in her diary are represented in the final product. But note that, at this point in the creation of the piece, she mentions that it “might be a gigantic conversation.”
A gigantic conversation is what it turned into…
meaning that it didn’t start that way.
Meaning that she worked her way into the form. It took her a couple years to finish this book.
A lot of times writers talk about ‘revision’ as ‘editing’. NO NO NO! Editing is adjusting commas and periods. Revision means that (sometimes) you have to rethink the way the Whole Thing is designed. Maybe the great novel is a short story, maybe the short story is a poem, maybe the novel isn’t a narrative – maybe it’s a conversation. Which means that you might have to start over from the beginning. (No one said this stuff was easy.)
Like I said, The Waves is one of the most brilliant books I’ve ever read. It’s gorgeous. It’s difficult.
But it’s soooo worth the work that Woolf put in. It's beautiful.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Take for example: "But my mind is full of The Hours [Mrs. Dalloway]. I am now saying that I will write at it for 4 months, June, July, August and September, and then it will be done, and I shall put it away for three months, during which I shall finish my essays; and then that will be--October, November, December--January; and I shall revise it January February March April, and in April my essays will come out, and in May my novel. Such is my programme." (V.W. A Writer's Diary)
There's actually a bunch of stuff to digest about the above the excerpt (like Waiting Before Revision--note that the great V.W. plans on waiting at least three months before getting back to The Hours, which is really Mrs. Dalloway). But what I'd like to look at is her schedule.
I don't know about you guys, but when I'm setting my writing goals, it looks very much like V.W.'s list. "I'll work X over here, and then I'll work on Y before I revise. Then Z will need some attention. And here's the time-block that I'll give to it."
My method has become more advanced after getting to know myself. For example, I acknowledge that I sometimes don't have the time that I think I do. So I have a desk calendar and all my goals are now kept in pencil.
Example: the block of time allotted for today includes: outlining my upcoming Top Secret Project (check), getting to 4,000 words on my current short story (check). So today is great. However, yesterday I missed my "blog entry" allotted time and so I'm writing today instead of yesterday (most of my blogs are done a little ahead of time). All I did was take my handy-dandy pencil, erase the goal from yesterday and put it at the top of queue for today. So I'm not too far behind. Blog entry? Check.
Come on, guys, 'fess up. What're your schedules like?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Now, I know many of you are familiar with Julia Cameron's Morning Pages philosophy (For those of you who are not: you write down three pages, every morning, to get all the gunk out of your brain --it's supposed to free you up creatively). Basically, these diaries are Woolf's Morning Pages, even though she wrote them whenever.
I've done Morning Pages and, let me tell you, the gunk in my brain is downright hurtful. If my husband or friends read the stuff I'd written (I don't keep Morning Pages anymore) they would've been less than forgiving. And judging from the pieces that Leonard Woolf pulled out, if these are the ones fit for public consumption, then there's probably some painful stuff in the rest of the diaries.
But L.W. was a mature gentleman who understood his wife. "At the best and even unexpurgated, diaries give a distorted or one-sided portrait of the writer, becasue, as Virginia Woolf herself remarks somewhere in these diaries, on gets into the habit of recording one particular kind of mood--irritation or misery, say--and of not writing one's diary when one is feeling the opposite. The portrait is therefore from the start unbalanced, and, if someone then deliberately removes another characteristic, it may well become a mere caricature." (L. Woolf from the Preface of A Writer's Diary)
So I picture L.W. going through V.'s diaries, reading unflattering things about himself and their friends, and understanding--maybe sometimes understanding too much--that what he's seeing is one-sided and not judging what he finds.
But, if diaries and Morning Pages and journals (blogs?) are things that writers do--and knowing that these things could be possibly hurtful--why do writers write them?
My mother once said that I should never write down something that I did not want people to read. Because people eavesdrop. And it is inevitable: the people you do not want reading your diary wind up doing so.
Well, Virginia Woolf answers that too. She says (in her diary) that her diary "loosens the ligaments." I read that as "getting the gunk out" and "practice." Both of which a writer needs to do. So, I think that these diary-things (or journals or blogs or whatever you randomly jot stuff down in) are a necessary evil in a writer's life.
Perhaps we should just preface our diaries/journals with something like:
Don't take the shit I write down here personally. I was probably in a bad mood. Remember: I love you, I do like the pets, and I tolerate your mother.
Okay, maybe not that last bit. =)
Do you guys keep diaries/journals? Are they helpful? Do you find your "ligaments loosened"?
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Martin Luther King Jr. was a minister, a position of influence and respect. If he had been just some schmoe off the street, he would not have had the same impact. He would not have had the skill to communicate his Dream to anyone without this practice or this position. He is remembered especially for his speeches and his political demonstrations.
And his speeches and actions were rhetorically loaded--designed to make people respond, ie.:
It means that when you're hauled off to jail for sitting in the white person's side of the restaurant, you go with the cops...but you sit there again the next time you go in.
It means to keep moving while fire hoses are shot in your face.
It is non-violent protest.
For this, for upsetting the world so completely, for winning the Nobel Peace Prize...he was shot.
Because here's the truth: people in positions of power, who speak out, put themselves at risk.
On January 8 of this year, a gunman shot and wounded United States Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, killed six, and injured another twelve people. There's been a lot of shouting about the political rhetoric in the U.S. being a contributing factor. One side yells "Yes! It's the politician's fault because they've created unrest!" The other side yells "No! Politician's have no cupability in this crime!" (See global reactions here.)
Like Martin Luther King Jr., whatever a politician says implicitly carries more weight than a heavy metal music lyric or a movie script. Why? Because they are policy makers. One swipe of a pen and Obama can tell us that, yes, universal healthcare is in effect. One well-argued debate in the Senate can mean that NASA no longer gets funding. One dumb mistake in the House can jack-up education for decades.
So when the people hear the shouting and the posturing, the politicians may think that they're only playing for a vote or to score that one, last point...but it's worth so much more.
I would hope, that when it comes down to it, leaders would speak their hearts and minds because, in the end, that's the only thing that brings real, substantial change. And it's the only thing worth risking your life over--and make no mistake, when leaders speak, they do risk their lives.
What is being said today cannot be coming from our leader's hearts. I just can't believe that: "It's the Right's fault because they use violent rhetoric" and "the Left is looking for someone Blame so they're villifying us instead of looking at their own problems" is what needs to be said right now. This shouldn't even be a remotely divisive issue.
An asshole (who is definitely not-right-in-the-head) just shot a bunch of innocent people. This should be a time of mourning. A time of unity.
Especially for politicians.
Shouldn't they be standing together saying: "Our sister was shot today"?
Shouldn't they be looking at the nine-year-old who died and say:
"There was a little girl who wanted to learn about what we do; she is our daughter; and she was killed today"?
Friday, January 14, 2011
In her photos, her smile lights up the frame. I smile too (she makes me think of Mrs. Claus). The family photos are below, you can check them at your leisure.
And I can't tell you her name.
And my Great-grandfather and Great-grandmother.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
It's Not "Killing Your Children"... It's Accepting That They'll Work At McDonalds Forever (or become Lawyers)
Advice often quoted is that you must "kill your children" in order to be a better writer. This advice applies to a perfect turn of phrase that doesn't seem to fit, it means cutting scenes that are spectacular but don't-quite-work in the scheme of things, and maybe it means that the whole novel you're working on has to be scrapped.
But, after a conversation with Shane, I've come to realize that putting a whole novel under the bed is not "killing your children."
It's accepting your children for who they are.
We all want our children to grow up to be doctors, lawyers, professional chefs, etc. (Okay, maybe not lawyers.) However, no matter how much we help them with their homework, show them how to groom themselves, or give them all kinds of experiences that we never had as a children, they grow up to be themselves.
We guide them, but sometimes they're gonna live at home until they're 34, or work at McDonald's for the rest of their lives, or, heaven forbid, become lawyers (but the sleazy kind, ya know?). These are the novels that are under the bed. As a parent, you still love them, but you know, deep down in your gut, that they're not gonna be a doctor. So, you let them do their thing. Accept that your expectations may have been too high for them. But don't feel bad because they are what they are.
So, if you've got a book that you're working on, and you love it, but it's not working...Do Not Beat Yourself Up. You did the best you could. This kid just didn't turn out. It's got quirks that can't be overcome. You can still love it. But don't try to send it to med school.
You've got other kids.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
For those of you who want to explore Woolf more in depth, I refer you to**:
The International Virginia Woolf Society
The Modernism Lab at Yale University
The Virginia Woolf Socity of Great Britain
**Again, while I try to make my references as in-depth and accurate as possible, please trust to the veracity and usefulness of a site only with your own best judgment.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
At one point I was actually called in to be quizzed by the lawyers to determine whether I'm a biased/prejudiced jerk who should/should not sit in judgment of other people. I wasn't picked. Ah, well.
But, here's the funny part.
The judge wasn't quite ready for us jury contenders to come in and as we're sitting around the jury room we start talking books. (I like books.) One lady brings up e-readers and how she hasn't made up her mind about it. No joke: five out of 16 of us pulled out the e-readers that we had brought along. One nook, three Kindles, and (I kid you not) a Kobo. I'm not even counting the woman who had BN's app on her iPhone.
One lady owns an independent bookstore in town and we may as well have stabbed her in both eyeballs. She was not thrilled when faced with the future of publishing.
A rough adjustment period is coming, people. But I don't think it's all bad. First off: look how many readers there are. Five with e-readers, one with a BN iPhone app, and another six with physical books in their hands. That's what? 12/16? Those are not bad odd, my writerly buddies! Keep on writing.
Monday, January 10, 2011
In art there is a term: disegno. Today's dictionaries define it directly as drawing or design. Back in the day (Michaelangelo's day), however, it referred more to the entire process of art. First a piece was conceptualized in the brain-box and then the artist would make a physical representation of their vision.
There's a glitch that often occurs in this process: the physical representation ain't nothin' like what the brain-box came up with.
I don't know about you guys, but when I get an idea for a story it's rarely fully formed. I have an image or a character or a plot twist in mind--then I go to write it down and POOF! It's suddenly something else.
This is frustrating. Ya know?
I realize that this is because the story isn't fully formed when I begin and that of course things are gonna shift around. But it's also because the act creating a thing changes the thing. There are a multitude of reasons for this (including, but not limited to: skill-level, tool effectiveness, and your ability to assess the potential obstacles and overcome them).
As a writer, the medium is restricted because you are limited to words--in this visual lifestyle we live in, sometimes it's hard to translate what you see in your mind's eye to a word-medium. Artists are limited by the materials that they have. Forget to buy yellow? Well, that pause to go buy it might jack-up your palette. Are you a sculptor? Your tools' sharpness, the flexibility of your wrist, etc., all affect the end result.
And do you know your limitations? Are you aware that, by not having visited Italy, nor being related to anyone Italian, or not having a second cousin's friend's brother's Italian grandmother make you meatballs, your descriptions of a immigre grandmother having an emotional meltdown because she misses the homeland while making homemade pasta might be cliched somehow? (I don't know how...but maybe.) And, being aware that this might (somehow) handicap you, do you have a strategy to avoid cliches?
If that last paragraph made any sense to you at all (see? Brain-box to blog-typing is not always in sync either), then that leads me to my point.
The great artists/writers/etc. understand their tools, their resources, and their limitations. They come up with solutions to give their pieces a closer resemblance to what was originally in their brains.
And I think that they also recognize when a piece they're working on is better than what was in their brains.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
While the semi-colons are used with abandon, they do seem to serve a rhetorical purpose in Woolf's To the Lighthouse. Namely: There is always One More Thing. Lighthouse is two stories juxtaposed--the story of Mrs. Ramsay, the prototypical supermom, and Lily Briscoe, the struggling artiste extraordinaire. Each woman is faced with One More Thing all the time.
Mrs. Ramsay is faced with her husband's neediness, her son's demanding of attention, her daughter's rambunctiousness, and on and on.
Lily, the painter, is faced with interruptions, subjects who won't cooperate, the demands of society to 'be normal', and on and on.
Throughout it all: semi-colons.
Each time one appears, it is in a list form, a turning form. It adds One More Thing into the mix. It also makes the day seem endless and exhausting. Vonnegut definitely had a point regarding the use of semi-colons. After a little while the reader has to re-read to understand the subject of the sentence.
However, in this book's case, I could see the argument that they are a necessary literary device for revealing the sensation of the story's day. (At least the first day, because I haven't gotten to the second yet.) Sometimes it is satisfying to wallow in the language of it all. To just feel the endless sensation.
Besides, we can give Woolf a pass because she was writing before Vonnegut came up with that rule. (I'm not even sure what college Woolf attended, if any--I should look that up.) And anyway, she's the Wild Child. If you told her there was a "rule" about semi-colons, I'm willing to bet she'd throw even more in.
What literary rules have you heard about and subsequently seen broken? Are you a Wild Child yourself? What writing 'rules' do you think are made to be broken?
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
You've heard the terms associated with these modernist guys, I'm sure. Terms like 'stream-of-conciousness'. Chapter breaks were often eliminated, or indicated shifts in the entire genre of the piece--Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway has zero breaks and Joyce whips from narrative to drama to poetry in Ulysses, for a couple examples. These styles were considered simultaneously amazing and discombobulating. (Even today a lot of readers scratch their heads and wonder what the fuck these writers were thinking/drinking.)
An interesting result of this stylization, at least for this reader, is that the voice of these stories always sounds young. Wild. Out of the ordinary. Somehow I always picture a younger writer writing this stuff--after all, who else could be so unconventional, if not the young?
Well, a piece of perspective that (I think) is forgotten a little too easily is this: modern writers are the children of Queen Victoria's reign. Propriety. Family. Structure. Empire. Woolf is a very rebellious writer, but she didn't grow up in a a wild and crazy home life. It's very hard to remember when I'm reading her work that she is of my great-grandmother's generation--the generation of homemakers with dozens of children.
Because she learned control, propriety, and structure from the literature that surrounded her, the 'wildness' (which some readers find tedious, in all honesty; there's only so much streaming that people can take) is tempered. She could 'break' the rules because she knew the rules. Her innovation, while seemingly unrelated to the gigantic volumes of Victorian literature, is reigned in so tightly that the words almost squeak. Every word, every comma, every piece of white space is carefully and meaningfully constructed. Nothing is out of place.
I didn't have a great appreciation for Woolf's time period until I heard the only known recording of Virginia Woolf's speaking voice. It sounds exactly like I imagine a proper English grandmother would speak. This didn't jive with the literary voice I hear in my head as I read Woolf's work. It made me rethink how I evaluate what I'm reading; it seems more complete to me now.
Please check this out and see if it doesn't shift whatever preconceptions you may have regarding her work. Wild? Yes, she definitely is. A veritable crazed rock-star of literature. But this woman knew her craft, knew her technique--and knew what effect it was supposed to have.
Monday, January 3, 2011
~Margaret Atwood, Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing
Welcome to the New Year. With New Years, come new things. Resolutions tend to be the dominating feature--"I shall blah-dah-de-blah..." Here at Place for the Stolen there is a facelift and some content refinement.
I've come to a couple conclusions regarding this blog. First off, it is and will always be a blog about writing. However, there are tons of blogs out in this world that talk about writing--how to build a platform, marketing, e-readers, publishing, etc. You will find most of these fantastic resources on the sidebar to your left. I've decided that I won't comment on these subjects (too much) until I gain more experience in them.
My strength, you'll find, comes from stealing things. Or, at least, recognizing what should be stolen and applied to writing. For example, as Margaret Atwood says above, learning how to write (and if you consider yourself a writer you'll quickly learn that the best you can ever be is a serious student of writing) is about collecting the good, shiny bits from the writers who have gone before you--and building your own nest.
The best way that I can figure to do this is through mentors. Reading selections of work, reflecting on various writers' styles, and dissecting my own thoughts regarding philosophies of writing, and how they relate to my life, are important to understanding (my understanding anyway) the 'how-to' of this writing gig.
There will six mentors this year--every two months the mentors will change. You'll find the line up below. I'm going to read these authors (some of whom I've never read up until now) and report back on my findings. If you've followed this blog for any period of time, you know that I've often had mentors. However, mentors will now be the dominant feature of this blog.
Please join me in sounding off on published, legendary writers--tell me what you've learned from them, what you think might be overrated about them, and whatever else comes into your writerly mind!
And now, the Mentors for 2011:
- Virginia Woolf: January-February
- P.G. Wodehouse: March-April
- Agatha Christie: May-June
- Jack Kerouac: July-August
- Margaret Atwood: September-October
- Neil Gaiman: November-December