Karinwritesdangerously

« Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts. This requires not that the writer make all his sentences short, or that he avoid all detail and treat his subjects only in outline, but that every word tell. » E.B. White 

Make “every word tell” — this advice is from the classic handbook, The Elements of Style, a writing guide always worth revisiting. E.B. White, widely admired as an essayist, achieved his spare but sprightly prose only by vigorously paring his words. One admirer observes:

Each word must pull its weight: « Refining a draft is a process of elimination that, like any contest advancing the survival of the fittest, tends to dramatize what’s left standing when the competition is complete. Like passengers in a lifeboat, all the words in a concise text must pull their own weight. That’s why good poetry, which places a premium on brevity, stakes such a claim on a reader’s attention. »

Cut with care: « I frequently hear champions of brevity advising writers to cut their word counts by scratching all the adjectives or adverbs. » But the goal of brevity isn’t to slice a certain type of word out of your text, but to be sure that each word you use really matters. 

Strike a balance: « …brevity, whatever its virtues, must be balanced against a multitude of other needs in composition. If extreme brevity were the only goal of writing…we wouldn’t have Moby-Dick or Anna Karenina. Not every piece of writing requires a Spartan word limit. »

Wise words for us all as we craft our prose and write on!

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« It took me years to understand that words are often as important as experience, because words make experience last.” William Morris

“The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.”

“If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.”

William Morris was a poet, artists, textile designer, novelist, printer, translator and socialist activist. As a writer, he contributed to establishing the modern fantasy genre. Friends always remarked that William was bursting with zest for life and with an infectious enthusiasm that touched everyone he met.

How did he accomplish all of this? To my mind, he brought enlivening qualities to whatever he set his hand to that we can all use as well:

He had a mission: Whether he was designing wallpaper or a book, William had a single goal in mind. He strove to create something that was both useful and beautiful. This was his touchstone and it led him down amazing paths to create work that is still admired.

He was curious: William gained mastery over unfamiliar subjects with self-taught gusto. He seemed endlessly curious—always wondering—about how things could be done and eager to capture the beauty of nature. He was open to new ideas and ways of working.

He followed the “find it out or figure it out” path: William went boldly in whatever direction his creativity took him. He was never afraid to experiment and brought can-do energy to his endeavors. His self-confidence arose from taking action—it was the fruit of doing. There’s an old Estonian proverb I love: “The work itself will teach you.”

He relished resilience: William had his share of failures and setbacks, but he never let them dampen his enthusiasm and love for his work. He just kept moving forward and left his mistakes behind. A great attitude!

May we catch a spark of William’s creative flame as we all write on!

The practice of any art has certain general requirements,
quite regardless of whether we deal with the art of carpentry,
medicine, or the art of love.” Erich Fromm

Or the art of writing.

At first blush, The Art of Loving may seem like an odd guide to draw on for writing advice, yet it’s surprisingly apt. Since today, March 23 is Erich’s birthday—he was born in 1900,—I thought I’d turn to him, a holocaust survivor, therapist, and gifted writer, for inspiration.

In his classic, The Art of Loving, Erich lays out the ingredients for achieving excellence in any artistic endeavor. What a gift to us as we hone our craft! Reading the chapter is like attending a master class in mastery. Erich’s five keys to mastery:

Discipline: “I shall never be good at anything if I do not do it in a disciplined way; anything I do only ‘if I am in the mood’ may be a nice or amusing hobby, but I shall never become a master in that art.”

Concentration: “The activity at this very moment must be the only thing that matters, to which one is fully given. If one is concentrated, it matters little what one is doing; the important, as well as the unimportant things, assume a new dimension of reality, because they have one’s full attention.”

Patience: “If one is after quick results, one never learns an art. Yet, for modern man, patience is as difficult to practice as discipline and concentration. Our whole industrial system fosters exactly the opposite: quickness.”

Supreme concern: “If the art is not something of supreme importance, the apprentice will never learn it. He will remain, at best, a good dilettante, but will never become a master.”

Devotion: “If one wants to become a master in any art, one’s whole life must be devoted to it, or at least related to it. One’s own person becomes an instrument in the practice of the art, and must be kept fit…”

What wonderful advice to ponder and apply, as we all write on!

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THREAD

Trying not to think of you 
yet your face colors 
every contour 
of my mind. 
And every way I turn 
inside of a minute 
I collide 
with your laughter.
I am wind, 
and you 
are chimes.

—- Essex Hemphill 

When a friend asked me to share advice on revising I realized that I’ve learned quite a lot. In the hopes that some of my hard-earned lessons may be helpful if you find your work in need of revision — and who doesn’t? — here are some ideas to spur you on:

Manage your mindset: Sometimes it’s just so hard, so emotionally demanding, to get a story or idea down on paper, that once we’ve taken that step, we feel our job is done. We’ve captured whatever it is we wanted to say in the first flush of our creative commitment — and we’re afraid or unwilling to tamper with it because we might lose something valuable. But our first go-round is exactly that — a first go-round. If we want we’ve written to be better, stronger, truer, deeper, then we need to push it to the next level. And that requires revision: revisiting — and re-envisioning — what we’ve written. 

Focus on faith: Revising is an act of faith. When you embark on a revision, I think it’s important to believe that the steps you take will ultimately improve your work. You may have no idea how this will happen — what additions or deletions you’ll have to make, but you don’t need to know any of this at the start. The only thing you really need is to believe in the value of your work and in the idea that focused effort will lead to improvement. Don’t worry about making the right changes, just start, trusting that the work itself will lead you in the direction you need to go.

Enjoy your excitement: As you revise and begin to see your work getting stronger and richer, your enthusiasm for pushing ahead with more changes is likely to increase and this will prove enormously motivating. Savoring your excitement about bringing your work to the next level will give you the momentum you need to keep going. 

Take the time: Deep revising doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time to sort through changes, play with new approaches, and let your ideas ripen. Don’t “push the river” — let it flow at its own pace. And write on!

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In honor of Women’s History Month, I’ve gathered a cornucopia of favorite quotes to inspire and energize us all:

“Inspiration usually comes during work, not before it.”
Madeleine L’Engle

“In the middle of the world, make one positive step. In the center of chaos, make one definitive act.
Just write.”
Natalie Goldberg

“But have the courage to write whatever your dream is for yourself.”
May Sarton

“Writing a novel is all about the timed release of information.”
Toni Morrison

“The universe is made of stories, not atoms.”
Muriel Rukeyser

“I might write four lines or I might write twenty. I subtract and I add until I really hit something. You don’t always whittle down, sometimes you whittle up.”
Grace Paley

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
Maya Angelou

“There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.”
Willa Cather

“Your writing is trying to tell you something. Just lend an ear.”
Joanne Greenberg

“If you have a skeleton in your closet, take it out and dance with it.”
Carolyn MacKenzie

“You should hear every sentence you write as if it was being read aloud or spoken.”
Edna Ferber

“I have been in Sorrow’s kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and a sword in my hands.”
Zora Neale Hurston

Are there any women’s quotes about writing that you especially love? Please share them as we all write on!

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Words of wisdom to from the wonderful writer, Annie Dillard:

“One of the few things I know about writing is this: Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book, give it, give it all, give it now . . . Some more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.”

Let’s dig into these words for the nuggets of gold they offer us:

“Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right way”— how often do we experience a moment of inspiration, something wonderful that glides from our pen or from our magic computer keys, and decide not to use it right away?

“Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book”—Have you ever decided to hold onto “what seems good,” instead of sharing it in the moment, when it’s red hot and glowing? I have. In my striving to find a better place for it within my story, I let the moment’s heat and light fade away. Let’s not squander these moments of inspiration!

…”give it all, give it now”—Give generously to your readers, let them join you in your moment of inspiration as it arises. That’s Annie’s advice! Giving. In the end, that’s what writing is all about, isn’t it? We’re giving something, hopefully, something wonderful, to our readers. We’re sharing what we know, what we’ve learned, what we believe to be true, what we’ve imagined, what we’ve reflected upon and transformed through the lens of our creativity. Generosity always rewards us, as well as our readers.

“Some more will arise for later, something better.”—Let’s be confident. Let’s believe in our work. Let’s know, in our bones, that as we grow and share what we know, our work becomes better, stronger, truer. Let’s believe that even better words and sentences and thoughts lie ahead of us, just waiting to be discovered and shared.

“These things fill…from beneath, like well water.”—Inspiration is infinite, boundless. The more of it you tap into and use, the more you have. Like an artesian well, the very act of drinking the water of inspiration and sharing it draws more inspiration forth. Our wells are never dry!

“Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you.” What wise and wonderful words! Think of nature—the world that Annie Dillard explores so beautifully in her books. Nature gives freely and abundantly, doesn’t it? Think of the thousands of leaves on a blooming tree. The way flowers kissed by the sun, share their fragrance and beauty freely and lavishly. Or the countless grains of sand on a beach. Nature doesn’t hoard its gifts and neither should we.

Well and truly said, Annie! May your beautifully observed reflections
be a constant source of inspiration as we all write on!

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« The longest road out is the shortest road home. » Irish Proverb

Since St. Patrick’s Day is here, fresh as the green grass that is sprouting somewhere just beyond my door, I thought we’d all enjoy the warm glow of a traditional Gaelic blessing:

May The Road
Rise Up To Meet You

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

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“Fiction depends on its life for place.Fiction is properly at work in the here and now.” Eudora Welty

“The work of a novelist is making fake biography.” Philip Roth

“If you don’t know where you are, you don’t know who you are.”
Wendell Berry

Consider the importance of the ocean on Ishmael in Moby Dick. The effect of the river on Huck in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or the moors on Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. Creating a sense of place is one of the key demands of being a fiction writer — and the writers we all most admire are almost without question able to conjure up a strong feeling of time and place in us as readers. Wherever they set their stories, we come to feel and see that place as real — and to appreciate its compelling influence on both their characters and how those characters’ destinies play out. 

How do writers evoke a sense of place in their readers in a fresh and exciting way? This was the intriguing question was posed in a wide-ranging talk at the Montclair Public Library by Ann Mckinstry Micou, who’s studied the effect of place on three New Jersey-based, Pulitzer Prize-winning writers: Philip Roth, Richard Ford, and Junot Diaz. How do these writers make us feel as readers that we are right with them, wherever they want us to be? Among Ann’s findings:

They stress “hereness” — They use all the tools at their command to generate the physical and psychological dimensions of place — its weight and feel.

They often use first-person narrators — Adopting this point of view instantly creates a sense of “hereness,” since we are seeing what narrators see through their own eyes and filtered through their own mind and insight — or lack of it.

They use precise, granular description — Employing prose that is “exact, detailed, and particular” is one of the most powerful techniques for creating a sense of “hereness.” “Abstract, vague, generic” references are avoided.

They invoke and evoke memories of the past — A strong sense of place is “inextricably linked to memory of the past,” Ann observed and the “past is insistently present in the here and now.” Remembering the past is always an act of the imagination: As Philip Roth notes, memories are always “memories of your imagining the past.” To remember is to imagine — and strong writers know this and use it to make the past come alive in the present and in doing so, to root us as readers in the places of their choosing. 

The power of place: Let’s plumb its mysterious depths and all write on!

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Twilight

Dreamily over the roofs

The cold spring rain is falling;

Out in the lonely tree

A bird is calling, calling.

Slowly over the earth

The wings of night are falling;

My heart like the bird in the tree

Is calling, calling, calling.

—Sara Teasdale