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The Lost History of Henry, Kansas
Murder your darlings. The advice is frequently trotted out in writing circles. (It is just as often misattributed to Oscar Wilde or F. Scott Fitz or some other luminary. In actuality, the mantra comes from Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, and he probably stole it from his grandmother). No matter who it was that first thunk it, the advice is good. It’s quite easy to become particularly attached to a bit of prose that isn’t actually pulling its weight in the broader narrative. It could be fabulously written, but throwing off the pace. It could be distracting. It could be a bit of over-intrusive narration. It could be terrible, but you love it anyway. Be ruthless. Make sure all your prose serves the best interest of the story (and your readers).
As an example, I give you the lost history of Henry, Kansas. I wrote this. I like it despite its many faults. But it is clearly chub, nonetheless, and I slashed it from my book. It came early in the first chapter of 100 Cupboards (while Frank and Dorothy Willis were waiting for the bus), and it lengthened an already slow build to action. For a couple of years, it has been dwelling in some dark corner of my hard drive. But now, it sees the light—blinking, dusty, useless. . . Read the rest of this entry »
This is Me Blogging About Writing
I resolved to blog today. And even though it’s 12:05am, it still counts as today. I make the rules.
But, thanks to my daughters, I have an actual thought about writing. Background: my girls each have a little pearl necklace on a tiny silver chain (one pearl per birthday). Imagine little girls deciding to get out their necklaces to play (without parental consent) and getting the two thin chains (and nine total pearls) tangled beyond comprehension, tangled into a unified snarl nest of sterling with nine little oyster eggs imprisoned throughout. Now imagine a father (an unirritated, shockingly patient father) sitting in front of an episode of Law and Order, but not paying any attention to the detectives hard at work. Instead, he holds a needle in each hand and his neck is kinked as he hunches over the balled up knot of links. He is picking, picking, picking, hunting for sense, for straightness, for strands that connect, for pearls.
That’s what writing a novel is like. (At least for me.)
So You Wanna Be a Writer, Pt. 2 (For the Critics, These Pearls . . .)
Let’s say that you are more than a dreamer. You’ve actually finished a story. Now that you’ve finished it, you’re eager for feedback. You show it to friends. They read through it, and (just as you suspected), it turns out that you’re a genius. They all loved it. So did your mom. At this point, you should be growing suspicious. Is it at all likely that you’ve written the perfect book? Bet against it.
Where’s the criticism? You should be begging for it. You should want resistance. You should want people to try to tear your work down. You should want people with slender fingers and long nails pick, pick, picking at your cheap sweater. Read the rest of this entry »
So You Wanna Be a Writer, Pt. 1 (Don’ts)
I haven’t been doing this writer thing long. Yes, I’m a relative rookie. And yet, despite my rookieness, everywhere I go, I end up in conversations with various people who would like to be doing what I’m doing and want to know what pearls of wisdom I might be able to give them in order to improve their chances of success.
Honestly, these conversations are in large part responsible for why I let myself get talked into blogging. I know I’m not capable of ladling out silver-bullet profundity that will automatically anoint the furrowed brows of hopeful writers with the warm shininess of success. [Sidenote: I apologize for the previous sentence. But it still make me smile.] I don’t think anyone can do that. But I can point out some of the more obvious things that have been unfortunately overlooked by many of the aspiring (with whom I have spoken). In other words, nothing can guarantee success, but any number of things can guarantee failure.
While I fully intend to be as constructive as I can, I’m kicking off this series of posts with some hard (but hopefully helpful) shots of negativity. So lick that salt off your wrist, and then brace yourself.
If you wanna be a writer, do not become a . . . Read the rest of this entry »