I’m not sure now where I got this link from (let me know if it was you!), but these tips are both useful and (sometimes) funny.
This is probably my favourite one (thanks Margaret Atwood): “… there’s no free lunch. Writing is work. It’s also gambling. You don’t get a pension plan. Other people can help you a bit, but essentially you’re on your own. Nobody is making you do this: you chose it, so don’t whine.”
On that note, back to it!
I thought I’d join Sam Cooney, and mention creative writing exercises again.
I get stuck when I’m writing fiction. I get stuck with non-fiction too, but it’s not quite the same — I can usually just write my way out of it. Fiction is a different story. This is a made up person, a made up world. Half the time I start writing and I don’t even know what’s going to happen, or who these characters are so if I get stuck I’ve got nothing in the real world to go to as a reference. With non-fiction there’s always another bit of research I can do.
And this is one of the most important things my short story writing subject taught me last year: even if you don’t know at the start who your characters are, by the end you should have a pretty good idea. ‘You’ being the writer, not necessarily the reader. I think the piece has probably failed if the reader still has no idea at the end of the story. I’m someone who writes first and foremost about characters, and I’m a firm believer in the writer knowing far more about the characters and the situation than whatever it is that even makes it into the story. A writer who doesn’t write about characters, specifically, might have something else to say about this process, I guess.
But I think about my characters a lot. At the moment I have a set of about seven or eight characters that I write about continually. There are about four story lines happening there, none of them related. Ron and Audrey, for example, are an elderly couple I write about constantly. I leave them alone for a little while occasionally, but I usually end up coming back to them.
At the moment my notebook is full of entries that have me directly addressing Ron, asking him questions, telling him the answers (“Ron. You like to wear brown pants. What shirt do you wear with the pants? I think you’d wear a blue shirt”). It’s riveting stuff. Not.
But I think it’s important because when I sit down to write the actual story, everything I’ve already written about or to Ron will inform what comes out on the page.
A few tricks I’ve picked up here and there, from class and elsewhere are what get me through those times when I just feel stuck with fiction (writing to Ron seems to be a combination of all of these things).
The first is to take my character to a supermarket, which I’ve mentioned before. The choices a person makes in a supermarket are fascinating. Of course, this can be difficult if your character is someone from the 1800s. But I’m sure there’s a way to modify the exercise to take that into account. I can’t say I’ve had that problem yet, but I’ll be sure to write about it here if I do!
The second is to write letters to the character, and then write their responses back. Or to have one character write a letter to another character. Even if the letter-writing doesn’t form an important part of whatever you end up writing as the main narrative, I think it’s a useful exercise to see how characters interact with one another, and react to each other.
The third is to describe the space the character lives in, or to describe them in a place that they’re unfamiliar with. Both end up telling me a lot about the character.
Of course, if you don’t have a character to work with, all of the examples above are pretty much useless. But Sam’s got some good ideas about how to find characters. The only thing I’d add to what he’s already said is to write down any idea you ever have for a character. A friend of mine watched me do this the other day and suggested that I write my ideas in red pen, rather than black, so I can actually find them among the pages of black scrawl when I go looking again. Good suggestion, I think.
To take a break from the cooking posts (sorry, I’m a bit obsessed lately — blame it on this thing I’m trying to write), I’ll get back to letters, in both senses of the word, for a moment.
Today I put some cards in the post to various members of my family. Thank you notes, really. But it got me thinking again about how much I love sending and receiving things in the mail.
How serendipitous then, that I should come across this project over at Savidge Reads, completely by accident. What a great idea!
So I used the No-Knead bread recipe from the NY Times. And it worked! Very easy, truly.
The bread itself is comparable to something you’d buy from a bakery. I used wholemeal flour, which means the loaf is a bit whole-mealy-boring tasting, so next time I’ll try to put some whole grains in there as well. But it’s certainly edible, which amazes me.
All this cooking, aside from indulging in something I absolutely love, is a bit of an experiment in what it’s actually possible to make oneself. And in finding out what actually goes into making food I would otherwise buy from the supermarket.
This, of course, is related to the video I posted yesterday. So it’s research for a story, sort of. Oh, and the fact that there’s something incredibly satisfying about having a navy blue apron covered in flour handprints.
I don’t think my photography’s getting any better, but here’s another dinner: haloumi and lentil salad. Yum!
I will try to post up some thoughts on what I’m writing about (and what’s got me thinking even more closely about what I’m eating), once I’ve sorted them out in my own head. At this point I’m doing a lot of reading, watching and cooking.
For some vague idea of what I’m working on, have a look at this TED video. I have been on TED all day. All. Day. I’m obsessed. This can’t be good.
… where do I start? I’m sitting around at home, after a productive morning doing house stuff like grocery shopping and a little bit of food-prep, and a yoga class, and I don’t know where to go from here.
I had writers’ group yesterday, and took along the first draft of a short story I wrote last year. I hadn’t intended to work on it again for a while, but now the questions and ideas are fresh in my head I think I should. But then last night I was talking to a friend about another idea for a longer story that I have, and that I’ve had kicking around in my head (and occasionally making it out the end of my pen) for a few years (years??? How did that happen?). And then I’ve got a few non-fiction projects on the go as well. So what to do first?
My indecision has left me sitting on my bed doing nothing. Not even applying for jobs, which I really should be doing. Ah, the trap of having too much time on your hands. I’m just going to have to pick one and start.
Meanwhile, I’m insanely jealous of my Melbourne friends after I read about the Wheeler Centre for Books, Writing and Ideas programme over at Literary Minded. Especially since I spent much of last week moaning to my writerly friends here in Sydney that I there just doesn’t seem to be the same level of literary events and community in this harbour city. I mean, I suppose that’s why Melbourne was named a City of Literature and Sydney wasn’t, but I still want to go to events of this type. Sigh. I live in the wrong city. Yes, yes, Melbourne friends, I know you’ve been telling me this for nearly two years…
Surely there are some literary events in Sydney too, and I’m just terrible at searching for them? Please point me in the right direction if you know of any.
Once again though, music is saving me from disappearing completely into my whingey-ness. This time it’s Andrew Bird:
As a result of all the discussion I referred to briefly in my last post, Overland have amended their call out for bloggers. Check out the updates here.
I’m still unsure how I feel about this whole debate, so I’ll withhold comment for now, while I attempt to form a more rounded response than my last one.
It’s taken me quite some time to feel like I had the right (or perhaps the guts) to weigh in on the debate that’s being waged about the merits — or otherwise — of organisations like the ABC’s The Book Show and Overland Literary Journal putting out a call for bloggers. Bloggers that they’re not currently planning to pay (at least not with money).
It’s a thorny issue. The Book Show Blog callout is aimed directly at writers under thirty, writers who, presumably, aren’t already being paid for much (or any) of their writing. Overland aren’t asking so explicitly for young writers, but they’ll probably get quite a few applying.
Lisa Dempster, Ryan Paine, Benjamin Solah, and Extra Pulp have all been part of the discussion, as has Alec Patric on the Overland blog. (Clearly, I’m a bit slow off the mark.) I’m prepared to have my mind changed, but most of me thinks that these opportunities are good ones. Sure, they may not pay in actual cash, but (and if you read through the comments on the Overland piece, you’ll see that I’m pretty much reiterating what I’ve written there) being committed to making a regular contribution to, well, something, would be worth it for me. Payment is not always financial.
Again, a repetition of my comments on the Overland blog: I think blogging needs to be rethought. How do we make a distinction between professional and amateur bloggers? Does the fact that some writers might be paid necessarily mean that they are valued over those that aren’t? There are many different reasons to blog; not everyone who blogs considers themselves a writer. Is the distinction here the fact that these blogs are being put together by organisations?
If nothing else, the fact that such a flurry of typing fingertips has ensued can’t be a bad thing.
It seems timely, given what I’ve just done to my working life and income, that I should come across this post on Lisa Dempster’s blog.
I’m afraid this venture of mine might fail. But there’s the remote possibility that it might succeed… and even if it doesn’t, at least I will have learnt something.
Patience has never been a virtue of mine. At the moment I’m struggling with my lack of it. I’ve (sort of) finished up at work, and one would assume that would give me lots of free time. Not so.
This week I’ve been really busy. I had a (very welcome, by the way) visit from a friend, yoga classes, a brother’s 21st present to finish making, cooking, movies, The Decemberists concert, a night at the Moonlight Cinema. My brothers and some friends were over for dinner on Thursday night, excited about the Big Day Out they were going to be sweating at the following day, then my parents came up to Sydney and I had dinner with them and my aunt, uncle and cousins before we headed off to Foster on Saturday morning for a family holiday. I’m currently lazing about drinking cider and eating cheese and biscuits, so I can hardly complain, but I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever start with the writing. And I’m getting frustrated.
See? No patience.
On a side note, I picked up this second hand dictionary the other day from some cute kids selling some things outside their house. They told me I looked like I was in high school. Bless. Small salespeople in the making, methinks!
One can never have too many dictionaries.
avocado and lemon 