Karinwritesdangerously

« The brain is more powerful than we think it is. We pay more attention than we think we do. When we’re not so obstructed with the tools of recording, we’ll actually pay attention more. » Verlyn Klinkenborg

Verlyn is a highly regarded essayist frequently compared to E.B. White, a teacher, and author of a guide called Several Short Sentences about Writing. 

One concept that Verlyn embraces wholeheartedly is that of creative attention — noticing the world around us and what seems important to us without feeling compelled to record it right away. He calls this an exercise in not writing, in “catching your sleeve on the thorn of the thing you notice, and paying attention as you free yourself.”

In Verlyn’s view, based on years of observing his own writing habits and those of students, all too often, we rush to commit words to paper prematurely, when our ideas are only half-formed. We don’t give them time to ripen and rob them of their full potential. As an alternative, he suggests “Imagining sentences instead of writing them.” 

I often do this myself. Sometimes, when I’m very relaxed — lying in bed, for instance — a sentence will float into my head and I’ll start playing with it, moving phrases around, substituting better words, listening to the rhythm of the new versions I come up with. Only after I feel totally satisfied, will I commit it to paper. Have you ever tried this? It’s a kind of mental gymnastics and it’s lots of fun. 

One of the goals of Several Short Sentences is to shake up some of the conventional wisdom about writing. As Verlyn observes, “I hear a lot of emphasis on correctness from my students. What is the correct way to write? And the fact is, writing is such a mystery. There is no way to write. There’s only the way you find to write.”

Well said, Verlyn! Bringing creative attention to the world as we find the way to write that works for us—great advice as we all write on!

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“There is one thing stronger than all the armies in the world; and that is an idea whose time has come.” Victor Hugo

Today, February 10, is Boris Pasternak’s birthday—he was born in 1890.

Abe Books sold an original, Russian language copy of Boris Pasternak’s Nobel Prize-winning novel, Doctor Zhivago, for $11,000. As part of the sale, the bookseller researched the tortured history of the book and found a story almost as tragic and star-crossed as the novel itself. Pasternak penned his novel in the early 20th century, but wasn’t published and made available to readers until 1957. 

Though it’s been called “the greatest literary event of postwar Russia,” Pasternak’s novel wasn’t published in his homeland until 1988, more than 30 years after its Western release. Censors feared its revolutionary impact and expelled Pasternak from the Soviet Writer’s Union. His novel was rescued from oblivion by Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, an Italian publisher who discovered Doctor Zhivago through a literary scout and after reading it, felt a deep responsibility to see it published.

It was originally planned for release in both Russia and Italy, but the Russian publication was blocked. Feltrinelli had the manuscript smuggled out of Russia and into Milan, where it was released in Italian in 1957. Less than a year later, more than 1,000 copies were secretly published in the United States in the original Russian. The novel went on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1958; intense pressure from the Soviet government — including the threat of exile — forced Pasternak to refuse the prize. In 1965, it was made into a popular film which won five Academy Awards.

The US original edition of Doctor Zhivago was actually published by the CIA, which distributed copies in 1958 to Soviet citizens visiting the Brussels World’s Fair as part of a Cold War propaganda campaign.

What a fascinating story! And how amazing to think that the American government “recruited” the poet Pasternak to help fight the Cold War. Write on!

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Ah, there it is again: the ever-present, ever-critical inner editor. You know the feeling: You can be writing along on a creative roll, when suddenly, your inner editor is at it again, whispering in your ear

What’s that pesky little know-it-all saying? It’s never anything good. It’s always kvetching and nitpicking: THAT’S NOT CLEVER, IT’S CLICHÉD. THAT’S NOT FUNNY, IT’S LAME. THAT’S NOT LYRICAL, IT’S LIMP.

If there’s one thing we all know about our inner editor: Yours, mine, Shakespeare’s, Stephen King’s, and J.K. Rowling’s: IT’S NOT HELPING US, IT’S HOLDING US BACK! 

What to do, what to do? some time ago, I came across a Writer’s Digest article by Noelle Sterne, editor, writing coach, and author. In the article, she describes vanquishing her inner critic by typing one word: FIX. 

FIX reminds Noelle that what she’s written isn’t cast in stone—she’s writing a draft, a work in progress and it “gently confirms that the writing process is one of trial and error, coaxing and courting, boldness, patience, and courage.” I love that!

A few final words from Noelle about the fixative powers of using FIX : “So, next time you hear your own version of the frightful condemning inner editor’s voice, just greet it with a FIX. This little word enables you not only to keep going, meeting your word or minute count for the day. It also, astoundingly, sets your creativity free. And you’ll be thrilled to discover greater confidence in your mind, your abilities, and your work. Accept the process. You’ll see that you can FIX anything.”

Let’s NIX those inner editors, FIX those drafts of ours — and write on!

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The Lobster Quadrille
by Lewis Carroll

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail.
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle – will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?

“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance –
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France –
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”

“Failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy to finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one area where I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter, and a big idea. And so rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”
J.K. Rowling

It’s hard to think of J.K. Rowling as a failure with 400 million of her books in print and vast legions of adoring readers who even now visit her Pottermore site because they just can’t get enough of all things Harry. And yet, it’s clear that at one point in time — and probably for quite a while — she thought of herself as a failure and thought that other people viewed her that way as well. But here’s what matters: she kept on doing what mattered to her — she kept on writing. 

When J.K. Rowling hit rock bottom, she found herself there waiting, ready to write. She had no control over what people thought of her, no control over whether a publisher would want to buy what she wrote or whether readers would want to read it. But she did have control over how much effort she put into her work and whether or not she would choose to keep going or quit. And she chose to keep going. Instead of being concerned about whether other people to choose or reject her, she choose herself. She gave herself permission to create. And that gave her power.

All around us there are people choosing the people they’ll publish in their magazines or publishing houses, the people they’ll invite to their writing residencies, the people they’ll invite to their book clubs. When they pass us by, it can be tough to handle. We’ve worked hard, but for some reason, often unfathomable, we’re not one of the “chosen ones.” But here’s a great headline I read recently that I want to pass on for your reflection: “The ‘Chosen Ones’ Choose Themselves.” 

To me, this means that in order to become someone who’s work is valued in one form or another by the outside world — we first have to value that work ourselves. We have to choose to make it important in our life. We have to choose to make sacrifices so we can write. We have to choose to set aside time to plan and think and create. We have to choose to keep writing and give it our best even when we’re not chosen by the gatekeepers waiting outside our door. We have to choose to hit rock bottom and find ourselves there, just as J.K. Rowling did. So, forget about the choices other people are making about you — they’re not who counts: You are. You can become one of the chosen ones right now, this second. Choose yourself — and write on!

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It is frosty here in the Northeast — very frosty—it’s 20 degrees outside. That’s cooo-ld! To help warm our hearts and souls, let’s turn to “Summer Sun,”* a lovely poem by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Let me share a few lines:

“Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose:
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.”

Beautiful! In a flash, a handful of artfully chosen words transported me to a “blue and glowing” day with sunbeams showering down like rain and slipping their “golden fingers” everywhere. What a celebration of light and color and warmth! Isn’t that the joy of poetry and wonderful writing? In an instant, it transports you from snow to sunshine, from one world to another. What a mysterious magic trick! Bravo, Robert! And now, warmed by an imaginary sun shower, — write on! 

* If you’re feeling cold or need a boost, be sure to read this charming poem’s warming words in full.

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« There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are. » W. Somerset Maugham

Quick questions: Did James Joyce like to write at night or in the morning? How about Hemingway? Did Marcel Proust prefer tea or coffee? What about Stephen King? 

Not to keep you in suspense: James Joyce was a night owl like me, while Hemingway preferred to pick up his 20 sharpened pencils in the morning. Proust was a coffee enthusiast, but Stephen King sips “a cuppa tea” while he creates his creepy thrillers.

This little exercise shows there’s no one-size-fits all way of getting work done. The same is true for getting published and the backgrounds authors bring to their writing. Debut authors bring different life histories to their writing ventures— which I think is very inspiring because it proves there’s no one path to success. Whatever works!

Here’s what I mean: One author, Eyre Price who wrote Blues Highway Blues is a former lawyer with a passion for music. Lissa Price, the author of Starters, had an unsold manuscript that had been shopped by an agent to a handful of publishers and rejected. After she wrote Starters, she had three agents offering representation in 24 hours and the one she chose sold her novel in six days after a preemptive bid.

Melinda Leigh was a former banker and stay-at-home mom. She had two young kids in school, a longing to write, and a total lack of desire to return to banking. She ended up penning a romance, She Can Run, and then snagged an agent and wrote a series. Carter Wilson was the director of a global hospitality consulting firm. He wrote four unpublished novels as a moonlighter and sold his fifth one, a thriller called Final Crossing, with the help of an agent who stayed with him through all the rejection.

These writers didn’t start out being writers — they turned themselves into writers and published authors, by writing, rewriting, surviving rejection, reaching out for agents, and following their dreams.

There are no absolutes in writing — and that’s absolutely great news, isn’t it? Anything is possible! Once we’re out of the starting gate, the race is ours to run any which way we can. Write on!

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When J.K. Rowling was writing her now-legendary Harry Potter series, one of the tools she used at some point was a version of storyboarding: She mapped out her chapter outlines and plot points using vertical columns on a sheet of paper. This gave her an at-a-glance visual road map to follow as she was writing.

Storyboarding is a technique that’s always been widely used by script writers. It’s a great tool if you’re a visual person, as a friend of mine noted. She’s started using index cards to map out the plot of her story and pinning them up where she can see them easily.

I’ve done this myself with chapters of my novel. Index cards or large PostIt notes are perfect for this because you can write plot points and/or scene descriptions on them and then add additional notes as ideas crop up. You can also move them around easily, which allows you to play with the order of scenes in a chapter, for example.

One writer who uses storyboarding all the time is Janet Evanovich. Since the characters and relationships in her series are well established, she uses storyboarding instead of outlining as a tool to manage action and plot. As she observed in an article, “When I’m plotting out a book I use a storyboard — I’ll have maybe three lines across the storyboard and just start working through the plot line. I always know where the relationships will go, and how the story is going to end. When I storyboard, they’re just fragments of thoughts. I write in three acts like a movie, so I have my plot points up on the preliminary storyboard. Another board I keep is an action timeline. It’s a way of quickly referring to what happened a couple of scenes ago. The boards cover my office walls.”

Storyboarding is more scene-oriented than an outline: it allows you to create a blow-by-blow map of your action points. It can be a great tool if you are wrestling with a plot and if you need to see how the arc of your story is progressing. Whether you find outlining to be helpful or not, creating a storyboard can be a fun way to get your story out of your head and onto your wall and the page. Write on!

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The first day of February is the day Langston Hughes was born in 1902. In honor of this legendary poet and the launch of Black History Month, here’s a wonderful poem of his a poetry lover passed on to me:

Dream Variation

Langston Hughes

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me —
That is my dream!
To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at the pale evening…
A tall, slim tree…
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.

What a “joyful noise” these words make, strung together like pearls. May they inspire and uplift you as we all write on!

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Customize

Winter Time
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.

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