140 Sentences

I've completed the fourth draft of my novel Disorder.  But I have not attained the goal of making it a Gothic novel.  It lacks Gothic atmosphere.

I went through it and made a list of 46 scenes that could be set up with more Gothic descriptions. These are scenes where I've done very little with the setting, or have the wrong (unGothic, unthreatening) details.  I think for each setting I should write at least three sentences to set it up. So I need to write 138 sentences. Lets's say 140.

I feel these 140 sentences are the essence of the book. The book will have no atmosphere, no dread, without them. So far the book has come out fairly quickly (albeit over a period of 8 years). These 140 sentences are the only real writing in the book, the words to work on to make perfect, the real effort. 

The Purposes of Gesture

I've been troubled for awhile in my writing with characters who, especially during dialogue, "lean forward" and "sit back" a lot. These phrases go in to slow down the pace and because I visualize it that way. But they're empty phrases. I've been to two workshops on this subject now, one at Story Studio and the other at the AWP conference. I've determined there are only six reasons a gesture should be noted in the narrative:

1. The gesture is a conscious act of the character towards a goal. An action sequence is a clear example. A smaller gesture, such as, she reached for the cup-- Because she wants the cup. The majority of gestures in a narrative should be towards a goal.

2. The gesture reveals something unconscious about the character. A nervous tic. A smile at sad news.

3. The gesture reveals how the character feels about the environment. She shivered because it was cold.

4. The gesture reveals how the character feels about another character. She shivered because he was cold.

5. The gesture reveals some physical attribute of the character. She squints to read because she's nearsighted. There should be a reason to make her nearsighted, it should not be a random attribute. Note, too, that this gesture is still goal-directed. Her active goal is to read.

6. The gesture is seen from the point of view of another character, and the pov character feels some response toward the gesturing character. According to the AWP panel, this is difficult to do in an omniscient pov, and should be used with third person limited. In this case, the one who gestures is not the pov character. The pov character watches someone light a cigarette. The pov character may be disgusted--it doesn't have to be overtly stated, but the description implies the disgust.

My problem was that I was writing scenes with no pov character. In my novel Disorder, I've made Wendy the pov character, but I have scenes she doesn't appear in. In those scenes, no character has a pov. That's the problem, and hence these objective but meaningless descriptions of leaning forward and sitting back. I need to either cut them, put Wendy in the scenes, or have other pov characters.

The Voice of Our Generation

For some time now I’ve been thinking about my generation’s lack of a voice. There are almost no significant writers in their late forties. I don’t know where they all are. Perhaps they’re all writing for television. They’re not writing novels and plays.

People my age were children during the Viet Nam war. We are the age of the child plucking a daisy in that campaign commercial. My memories of the world as a child are unpleasant ones. I remember the napalm-naked girl running across the front page of the newspaper. I remember it because I was the same age as the girl in the picture, and knew the shame of her nakedness as only another nine-year old girl can. My first knowledge of the outside world was a place where monks set themselves on fire, while reporters stood by and took pictures. That was what freaked me out the most, that reporters could do nothing but just take pictures, not attempt to stop or save them.

We have one prominent writer, Michael Chabon. He writes about the Holocaust instead.

The baby boomer years ended in 1965. I am part baby boomer, and we came at the tail end of something, something about ideals and dreams. We touched that, too.

The term “Generation X” has come to mean ironic slackers in their thirties. But Generation X was coined when I was in college to describe those of us too young to remember Kennedy’s assassination. We were called Generation X exactly because we had no defining characteristics. As students we had no leaders and no issues. The media decided we were ciphers.

For awhile I thought the voice of our generation was Weird Al Yankovic. Now we have Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. I come from a generation of satirists.

But yesterday, January 20, 2009, we gained a voice. I am the same age as Barack Obama. Lines such as, “The question isn’t whether government is too big or too small, but whether government works,” resonate for a generation largely unfettered by ideology, having observed both the Cold War and later the divide between red and blue, and who have always taken a more pragmatic approach, a generation that never came up with a slogan.

Barack Obama is our president and our voice. I’m happy with that.

Tracking Progress

I've been trying to figure out when I wrote what sections of my novel Kells, and how long it is taking me. This is what I've been doing so far....

2005:
Mostly did research.
Wrote Part Two, "Oona." About 62 pages.
Struggled a lot with the opening chapters, all of which I ultimately tossed.
Wrote several short film scripts this year.

2006:
Worked on a different novel this year, a murder mystery I wrote in 2001, completely revising it.
Started a different historical screenplay/novel called Tulip Mania. For some reason the screenplay only came to 40 pages, though I know it's a complete story.
I did not work on Kells this year except continuing research.
I also started taking comedy writing classes at Second City.

2007:
Started making progress in earnest. Wrote the first chapter of Part Three, "Cellach."
Wrote a draft of Part One after struggling so long with the opening.
Wrote about 190 pages.

2008:
Wrote drafts of Part Three and Part Four, taking the plot to the end.
Wrote about 170 pages.
I also wrote some articles for an on-line newspaper, finished the Second City classes (writing about 20 five-minute sketches).
I wrote a one-act play called Leda.
I finally shot two of my short film scripts.

What's next:
I still have a lot to add to the middle of the book, especially about Alcuin, Charlemagne, and Liutgard.
In February I'm putting on a staged reading of Leda.

A Post-Modern Dream?

Last night I dreamt that I accidentally deleted myself. I was doing something on the computer, some kind of editing, and I was on the screen and accidentally deleted. It was definitely me that was deleted, not just an image of me.

There was a big wall of wooden file cabinets to the side, and I was in one of those files somewhere. I couldn't continue doing anything until I found which file I was in. I opened a drawer thick with paper files. It was going to be a huge search to find myself. I called to my husband in the next room for help, because he knew about computers and might know which file I was in.

I wasn't scared to be deleted, but frustrated and worried about how long it was going to take to recover myself.

Then I woke up.

Little by Little

I am someone who likes to have something finished. I count pages and say "I wrote 5 pages today." I'm not process-oriented, I'm product-oriented. I have to change. Working on a long novel is a very gradual thing. Doing something so gradual, in such small increments, is not in my nature. My husband says things get done by persistent, small efforts.

Recently I finished shooting a video I started to shoot 3 years ago. The time went by somehow, it seemed fast. And I shot another video I wrote years ago, 3 or 4 years ago. They were done by little persistent efforts. There was getting a cast, working out the storyboard, putting the black wrap over the windows (probably the hardest part), writing out the shot list. I wanted to be very prepared--preparation is everything. And they got done. Now I can edit, which is the fun part.

It's a new feeling, to accomplish. In the past, I rushed. I rushed ahead, I tried to skip steps. And I gave up on things, I quit if I couldn't do them quickly. I remember one night in college, I had an idea to write a book, and I felt: if I can't write it all in one night, I don't want to write it at all.

It's an odd thing, a different thing, this incremental effort. It should keep me from feeling overwhelmed. Even shooting a short video is daunting, and writing a long historical novel feels overwhelming at times. The only thing to do is divide it into increments. But it doesn't feel like I'm really working, sometimes, doing things in these small bits. But bit by bit is the only way it will get done. I'm glad for my husband's words about incremental effort. I'm glad to see these words coming true.

Fame and Fortune and Something Else

There was something in my childhood that gave me the impression that if you're famous you're important. That talent and fame go together. I wasn't conscious of this assumption until at college I went to a concert given by a fairly obscure Scots-Irish folksinger named Robin Williamson. He played many instruments, told a story with expert acting, and it was a great show. It was a show that had greatness. And it hit me hard, because of my deep assumptions, that there are very many talented people who do not become famous, do not go on tv, are not household names. My eyes were opened. Now I live in a city full of hundreds of actors who aren't famous and who don't even support themselves by acting, but work nine to five during the day and then go out at night to act. They're talented, professional, and experienced. I'm awed by their dedication.