Exercises

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.

Paradise Updated: a literary event

Hurrah! A literary event in Sydney! Elena from With Extra Pulp let me know about this one last night, so I went along and got to meet her as well. We talked about writing, drinking wine and getting distracted by graphic novels. Lovely!

Mic Looby (who I know better from his Big Issue column) was talking about his book, Paradise Updated, with Ben Groundwater. We were treated to a reading from the book, describing one of the older, jaded travel writers; and the conversation largely focussed on what a terrible job being a travel writer really is. I’ve been as guilty as anyone, assuming that travel writing would be a great, glamorous job. When it’s explained more fully (think covering an entire country on a two month deadline) it doesn’t sound quite so fun.

Elena, having read the book (and reviewed it, in fact), has a slightly more informed and amusing review of the night up here. Hopefully there’ll be some more events like this one for us to go to soon!

Going off on a bit of a tangent for a moment, the venue where last night’s event was held also happens to house my preferred cafe to write in, so I was there this afternoon making notes and scrawling down outlines. I have high hopes for this place: a jazz quintet set up and played a set or two while I was there, and the beginnings of some kind of art exhibition became apparent as I left and tables full of wine bottles were set up. I’ll have to keep a close eye on this place.

I recorded a small snippet of what I heard at Da Caff (as I’m now calling it) to share here. Unfortunately I’ve got no idea how to convert it to the kind of file I can actually upload… so for now it’s sitting on my desktop. Any help in that regard would be greatly appreciated!

Reading inspiration

This last weekend I’ve been in Canberra for my brother’s 21st (it was a dress-up party; I may put up some pictures when I get them from Mum — I did my usual trick of forgetting to take any). To get to Canberra from Sydney, there’s a three and a half hour bus trip each way, which I often look forward to. I love staring out the window, musing over things in my life, making plans or just playing make-believe. I also often use the time to catch up on my podcast listening.

I subscribe to a few, but hardly ever listen to them. I’ve probably got about fifty episodes of the Book Show left to listen to, for example.

So on the trip back yesterday I got through a couple of them. In one episode Ramona Koval was talking to Sarah Waters, who is known for her novels set in the Victorian era, usually with some kind of lesbian storyline. They were speaking about her then-new (the episode was six months old) book, The Little Stranger. I’ve not read the book, but its gothic nature appealed to me and I suddenly remembered the books I devoured as a teenager: Frankenstein, The Turn of the Screw, Northanger Abbey, Dracula, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

I loved gothic literature. As Waters mentioned in the interview, the supernatural is a wonderful space to explore anxieties and uncertainties, dysfunction and, possibly, mental illness. Of course, these are things I am obsessed with in my own fiction, albeit in a more realist way.

But as a teen I wrote creepy little gothic stories, which were probably really very bad. Unexpectedly empty houses with all the lights on, stormy nights, taps turning on by themselves, steep hills to walk up in the dark, footsteps coming from nowhere. All these things appeared in my stories. And they were fun!

I feel a return to the gothic coming on, at least in my reading. Now if I could just find my copy of The Woman in White

Letter writing

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!

Bread update

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.

Dinner, again

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.

Dinner

Tomato, lentil and vegetable soup seemed like the perfect dinner on a rainy Saturday night. I made this from a recipe out of my favourite cook book, and added a few things here and there. I love it when I modify a recipe and it works!

The only way this could have been better was with some home-made bread. One of my favourite bloggers, Claire, tentatively tried this recipe and had great results, so I’ve been inspired to give it a go myself tonight…

I’ll probably be writing a whole lot more about my cooking adventures on here for the next little while, because I’m researching a food essay I’m writing. If anyone’s interested, I can start posting up recipes for these things I’m making.

Oh! And we’ve got the Monday Project up and running again. Check out the latest theme here. Which reminds me, I really should send out the email that’s supposed to accompany new themes…

(PS. I have no idea why I included the peeler in that shot. It’s not like it was all that important in cooking this… let’s hope my food-photography improves.)

Eavesdropping

This afternoon I wandered up to my favourite writing cafe and sat myself down at their long wooden table with my notebook. I was fairly happily scribbling when a bunch of people sat down next to me (the table runs almost the full length of the cafe, so it’s a shared space). At first I was vaguely irritated, fearing distraction and interruption. But I needn’t have spent the energy being annoyed, because the group was some kind of creative writing course group, meeting up to talk and write.

So of course I eavesdropped. The teacher asked them to write a description of a character falling through the air without making reference to what they were falling from or where they were falling to. Five minutes, she gave them. Not pausing in my own writing I drew a line underneath my last sentence and wrote this:

FALLING THROUGH THE AIR: EAVESDROPPING ON A WRITING GROUP

The air is strangely like water: thick, moving around her body fluidly, letting her past. It is cold, the air, like the creek she swam in as a child, and she feels the pimples appear on her skin, running down her arms and legs as if spreading out from her navel. Her hair is all around her, her scalp has never been more alive. The rushing air cools it, the hair itself pulls at its roots, warming little pin pricks all over. She can feel the air under her fingernails and thinks, if she makes it out of this alive, she should cut them, they are too long.

Strangely she feels no fear, even though her heart pumps so hard she thinks it might break inside her body. Her limbs tremble with its beat and adrenaline turns her lips a bright, bright red.

The rushing air finds its way into her clothes, pushing them around and up behind her.

Funny how a chance encounter will get your pen moving. I wonder if they’ll be there tomorrow…

So…

… 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: