Friday, November 18, 2011

Turn Off That Music And Let's Talk

Have you ever had a moment when you are listening to someone talk, or rather should be listening, and yet all you hear is sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher, Wah Wahwah Wah Wah!  I know people often tell me I am such a good listener, and I may regret letting this secret out, but often my open eyed gaze at you could not repeat back what you said because I was actually listening to the music in my head. 

One of the issues with writing a book is getting your idea across but also getting your discussions to appear real and interesting and yet also something that this character you have created would actually say.  I once read a book, and I will not list the title or author out of respect, where I had real issues with the characters and their voice.  The characters were in an impoverished position in life.  They lived amongst the lower class of society. They were poor and uneducated and a bit crass at times.  Yet, when they spoke within in the novel and had any type of discourse their language was almost what you would find a university professor to use.  They used large, difficult, not found in common language words.  For some reason this really infuriated me.  To me that is an author trying to show off just how smart he really is by giving his characters words that the reader, no matter how intelligent, would have to look up.  Reading with a dictionary type of writing is good for textbooks but not pleasure reading and not when your use of the language in their discussions does not match up with the characters you have created in the readers imagination.  The only props I will give this author is that the idea and theme of his book was enough to make you want to buy the book and read it to find out how it played out.  The rest is my opinion of course but I think then he lost the reader with his need to be more important than his writing.

Writing in discussions can be interesting but there is a fine line a writer needs to walk.  The writer has created characters that, if done properly, need to seem real and relatable.  That means that when the reader comes to scenes with discussions and "talk"  there are three things that need to be considered. 

  1. Is this something that character based on their personality would actually say?,
  2. Does this discussion make sense to the story and the plot and move the action forward?  Does this discussion even make sense?, and
  3. How to change the style of discussions based on different characters, environments and actions?
I wrote a scene with one of my main characters and a "bad guy".  I had to make sure that discussion did not come across too cliche and corny but also make it understood that this character was manipulative and violent.  I am also coming up to the part of my novel where time periods will change and that needs to be considered when my past characters interact with the modern characters.  It will also be set in another country and that needs to be considered as well.  American slang just won't work coming from an 1800's Romanian Duke.  Although the thought of it makes me laugh. 

The trick is getting all these words to line up into a discussion that makes sense and is relatable.  That is no different than what everyone does everyday when they are telling a story.  When I tell the story about how my Mother wore two different colored and types of shoes to church one day or how my Dad decided to wash clothes in the dryer, I have to make sure the person hearing the story understands.  The laughter or response at the end of any discussion assures me that they turned off the radio in their head long enough to not only be amused by my story but because they showed how delighted they were they showed they understood my telling.  

When you meet a co-worker at the water-cooler to tell them how your son wore his clothes inside out and backwards you hope for a laugh.  If you did not get one it may be because you said, "My eldest offspring decided to garnish himself with vestments that were inverted and astern of him."  Even I don't think that is funny because it is not real and relatable.  Now, if I were having the same discussion with an Ivy League grammar professor then he may find that funny.  Again, it is also based on your audience and not just the words.  You change the way you speak based on the person or people in front of you.  I have given many speeches to varying audiences and that is important.  Now that I am writing this novel, I consider the readers as an audience to a speech and that they all attended for different reasons and are of different backgrounds.  I need to try to relate to each one of them.

So I have had to learn to turn the radio off in my own head and listen when people speak.  Everyone has their own nuance and mannerism.  It is fascinating and often at the end it leads to an open discussion.  So if this finds you interested....let's talk about it.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Out of Chaos…Hope

Out of Chaos…Hope

A farmer stands looking out over his fields
Angry, lost, scared
No clouds in the sky
The wind blows, the air heavy
The dust sweeps over the land
Barren, dry, dying

A farmer’s wife steps outside the house
Bruised, beaten, alone
She leans over the dry earth
Digs down deep
And plants the seeds of beauty in the ground
Crying, caring, hopeful

A farmer returns home at night
Hopeless, fearful, hollow
Listens at the door
The sweet voice of his wife
Asking for love, asking for hope
Weeps, releases, prays

A farmer wakens to a new day
Forlorn, crushed, clinging
Steps outside for another day
Stops stunned, amazed
Blowing in the breeze a single red, audacious flower
Bright, Vibrant, Loud

A farmer falls to his knees
Released, sobbing, full
Feels the warm, soft arms encircle him
Wrapped around him tight, concerned
Sees her eyes, the love
Strength, devotion, peace

A farmer and his wife
Shaking, wanting, believing
Feel the touch
Soft like a feather
Pulsing with the wind
Cool, sweet, clean

And it rained…

A woman sits down in the rain
Hungry, solitary, forsaken
Places her head on her knees
To quiet the noises
To soothe the hunger
Loud, unforgiving, distant

A man steps outside
Busy, fast, rushed
Pulls his coat close
Grips his briefcase
Continues to lay the brick for the walls inside him
Forceful, powerful, isolated

A woman shivers in the wet, dark streets
Cold, hurt, deserted
Wraps her thin coat tighter about herself
Hoping for warmth
Yearning for love
Shivering, scarred, resigned

A man rushes through the streets
Unaware, unaffected, absent
Brushes past people
In a hurry to get nowhere
In a dash through each day
Impassive, inattentive, thoughtless

A woman walks slowly down the street
Whispering, moaning, praying
Reaches out to touch
Pleads with the nameless to feel
Collides into a man, angry and rushed
Shoved, hurt, reeling

A man walking through the streets
Upset, stopped, stares
Suddenly looks, suddenly notices, suddenly feels
And with gentle hands places his coat
And with gentle words give solace
Soothing, slow, aware

And the rain stopped….

A young woman at the beach
Absent, consumed, misplaced
Sits watching the dark waves crash
Designing the ending of her story
Watching the tempest roll out to sea
Scheming, arranging, intending

An aged dog runs along the shore
Happy, carefree, loved
Feeling the wind wash over him softly
Feeling the warmth of the peeking sun
Feeling life running through him
Content, relaxed, free

A young woman at the beach
Troubled, anxious, imprisoned
Struggling inside herself
Haunted by the past
Aware of the void of the future
Confused, numb, dazed

A young woman at the beach
Fearful, enraged, searching
Screams out in pain
Cries out for relief
Shouts for attention and care
Loud, forceful, alone

An aged dog runs along the shore
Aware, knowing, sensing
Hears, feels the agony ahead
Stops short his jovial race
Rests softly next to a young girl at the beach
Quiet, timid, comforting

A young woman at the beach
Awakened, revived, reinvented
Sees again the endless borders of time
Feels again the rays of light like a song
Sits quietly, gently with her new friend
Expectant, hopeful, faithful

Out of chaos hope again hung over the land.  And a rainbow appeared…



Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Having A Cold At The Ballet

Over the past week I had been battling a bad cold.  I was not mobile most of the week.  All I wanted to really do was sleep or just lie around doing nothing.  Unfortunately, I am also a single, working mother so that is not always possible.  Oh, to be ten years old again, and able to stay home from school and just eat Mom's chicken noodle soup and watch cartoons all day.  Well, since that is not possible I trudged forward.  I went to work.  I took care of the boy.  I talked to friends.  I also did not do much writing because any spare time was spent lying down and not moving.  All I could really accomplished was a lot of thinking doing that.

Many mornings I get on the train for my long commute into work.  As I get closer to my stop, I cross over the Potomac River and see the sight of the Washington Monument and the Thomas Jefferson Memorial outside of my train window.  I am always amazed by the sights of Washington, DC and the feel of its history as you enter into the city.  It is not a large city but as you come across the river you feel its importance.  It is not only beautiful to cross over and see the Potomac and the monuments but you can feel the city's largeness of power if not in size.

One morning last week was a bit rainy and the only good thing was that it at least was not cold.  It was more of a light rain, you know, enough to make you annoyed but not enough to really make you wet and angry or happy and splashy.  Since the rainy weather was not too bad it was nice enough that the rowing teams from the local high schools were out on the Potomac.  I love to watch as they work in unison and move smoothly through the water.  The way their arms move and the boats glide through the water is like an animal and yet also like a ballet.  It is fascinating to watch.

It got me to thinking also.  Here were examples all around me of movement.  One was of myself and the painful, disjointed movements I was making when I was sick.  The other was the beautiful, graceful, synchronized movements of the rowers on the water looking almost as if they were dancing on water.  Everyday and everything we do has some type of rhythm or movement associated with it.  Even a person laying on a hospital bed has the fluids moving through tubes and the monitor beating in time to the heart.

Writers as well need to have focus on the movement of their pieces.  To me when I think of poetry there has to be some fluidity of movement as if it is a modern dance.  It moves you along sometimes without you realizing what is really happening within the story.  Short stories though would be more quick, staccato movements like an African tribal dance or a tap dance.  There is smoothness in it and yet a quickness that leaves you breathless from the feel of the quick beats as well. 

As I am writing my first novel though I have noticed that there is a difference of movement for novels.  When you write a novel there needs to be more of a slow, graceful, glide of movement through the story process.  You don't want to have a quick story that ends up boring the reader with is predictability. Yet, you also don't want it to drag on and on and on and on, well you get my point.  You know those stories, yes Tolstoy I am talking to you.  It is like attending the opera with your wife and then hoping to sneak out after the first act but your wife keeps you in the seat next to her.  Then you spend your time nodding off and dreaming about the bar and getting a drink at intermission just to get you through the rest of the opera or ballet.

Movement can be beautiful though.  As your story progresses you think of a ballet or opera.  There is a storyline and a sequence that relates to your story without giving out everything.  Sometimes, it works to even slide in a surprise action or a funny action that entices the reader.  At the end though there needs to be a movement to your story.  It can be graceful or harsh or quick but that movement is what our reader brains move to.  So the lesson to myself is to keep that in mind as I entice and move my story along.  I don't want to be the girl who has a cold and has to watch all the movement of the ballet around her.  I want to keep my own story moving and gliding along smoothly so the reader feels the same.