Don’t you hate that? You’re well into reading the latest novel you picked up at the bookstore or downloaded to your e-reader, and that character with whom you’ve become so comfortably infatuated does something that gives you that “uh-oh” feeling deep in your gut. A queasy sensation you want so much to hold at bay seeps through the cracks in your psychological armor, and you wonder, Who is this person? followed by the even worse, Did I ever know him?
Yes, you did know him, but that character is in fact changing right before your reading eyes. How dare he! You liked him just as he was. Or to paraphrase Jack Nicholson’s character in ‘A Few Good Men’, “You want him that way! You NEED him that way!” If he’s going to be different, if he was different all along, you don’t want to know. Could it be that, “You can’t handle the truth!”? I don’t believe that. Because the truth is, as everyone knows, people change. Why not characters?
I recently experienced this while reading George R.R. Martin’s epic fantasy ‘A Song of Ice and Fire‘. If you’ve read any of the five books published so far in this series (there will be seven when it’s done), then you know the character named Jaime Lannister.
From the moment he first appears on page, Jaime is someone you know you’re going to love to hate. Traitor, incestuous lover ... to silence an eight-year-old boy who “knows too much”, Jaime throws him from a castle tower (does he survive? read the series, and find out). There is NOTHING redeeming about this character. Nothing, that is, until somewhere in the third book (I think it was the 3rd; hey, I’ve read four volumes in this series--the shortest coming in at about 700 pages, the longest at 1200--so if I can’t remember exactly where my reaction to him began to change, give me a break already).
I don’t think I’ll spoil too much by saying that with a little back story here and there, a change of narrator granting a new perspective that casts doubts on the versions of Jaime’s life I’d come to know, and some personal development on his part due to shifting circumstances, I began to doubt my feelings about that character. Or I suppose I should say, my feelings about him, because by then I was so immersed in the story that Jaime wasn’t just a literary character. He was a very real person. And he was changing. Which demanded that I change also, and as we all know that’s not easy. In fact, it can be downright painful.
My pain came in the form of a frustratingly fascinating sense of self-doubt. Could I have really been that wrong in my initial assessment of Jaime? Could I be that far off as I began to look at him in a different light? Was something wrong with me that I could possibly see him as a character that was even the slightest bit sympathetic? What was George R.R. Martin doing to me? The answer is simple. Martin was exercising the author’s right--in the case of character development, I would go so far as to say, his responsibility--to have some fun with his readers in a sadistic sort of way. To hurt them ... just a little. And therein lies the rub. By the way in which Martin caused that discomfort, was he being too manipulative? Was I set up to be misled? Was it a case of being misled at all?
While presenting a chapter from a novel in progress to my writers group, one member commented about the main character, “I don’t like what he’s doing here. I don’t think I like him right now.” She said she’d found him to be a very sympathetic character up to then, and seemed apologetic about saying she didn’t much care for him at the moment. That was okay. I didn’t mind her saying that because I had plans for that character. He wasn’t going to be the same person by the novel’s end, and he needed a dubious baseline from which to make that change. It was that baseline my critic didn’t like. Hearing her told me I just might be on the right track.
Whether the piece of work involved is plot driven, character driven, or a slice-of-life vignette, to be true to life, by the end of the story the most important characters should go through some sort of profound change. It needn’t be for the better. They could come out the other end a substantially worse person than when they began, for that matter, as long as they’re different. But there must a limit to this somewhere, right?
So here are my questions for today--
How much change is tolerable in a character? How long can we leave a main character in the guise of an unsympathetic person, and expect the reader to continue caring what happens to him--in other words, to keep on reading? Can an unsympathetic character carry a story while remaining a son-of-a-bitch to the end?
P.S. - I must admit, when I write my not so likable--dare I say, evil--characters is when I have the most fun writing.
Until next time...
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Creationism
Think of a day at the art museum. Imagine going into one of the galleries--the impressionists, surrealists, pre-Raphaelites, a room of sculptures including a couple by Rodin, whatever. Picture yourself standing before your favorite work by your favorite artist. Or imagine you’re at a concert, or in your car with the radio up playing your favorite piece of music. It could be Bach, Bacharach, Bonnie Raitt, or the Beasty Boys--doesn’t matter as long as you love it. Put yourself in whichever of these scenarios speaks to you most, and consider this question: When you come to the instant when you are most absorbed in that work of art, most lifted up and carried away on the waves of that piece of music, what exactly is happening?
In the film ‘Immortal Beloved’--about Beethoven’s later years and specifically the composing of his masterful 9th Symphony--Beethoven says that when someone listens to a piece of his music, if he’s been successful as a composer, they will feel exactly what he felt when he put the notes down on the score sheet. In other words, they will recreate his moment of creation.
That is what’s happening in the above scenarios, and that’s what I want to discuss today: Creationism. No, not that creationism! The other one; the one in which we all take part time and again throughout our lives, most often without the least notice because we’re too involved in the act to ruin it with a real-time, sterile analysis. After all, creating requires focus, and at those moments described above we ARE creators every bit as much as the artist or composer who originated the individual piece of work.
Or as Paul Horgan put it in his jewel of a novel, ‘Things As They Are’:
“The artist must first create, and then communicate. But who would listen? Who would see?" ... and ... “For magic to succeed, there must be one who reveals and one who believes. I believed every word and every act he revealed to me.”
Now, fellow writer, let’s apply this to our craft. Let’s say you’re no longer a writer (yes, I know that may well be impossible to imagine, but try). You’re confined to being a reader only, and are immersed in the one novel that, no matter how many times you’ve read it, never fails to hold you spellbound. When you’re most immersed in the setting, characters, and drama of that novel, aren’t you doing the same thing; recreating for yourself what the author has already birthed. In the realm of writing, that’s the creationism I’m talking about: the act of Co-Creation.
It’s not enough for a writer to put his ideas down in words. We cannot type “End” or “Finis” at the bottom of the last page of the final draft and think the job is done. Our job may be done, but The job is not. Don’t we need someone to read what we’ve written? Of course we do. But as much as we might want to, we cannot determine how they will react to it. We can’t tell the reader what to think or how to feel at every plot turn along the way. It’s out of our hands. Readers become co-creators with us by bringing their life experience to the endeavor, and passing our work through that filter. All we can do as authors is try to provide material that’s refined enough to give every reader the opportunity to make their final product something worthwhile. Those who believe in us, and in the characters and worlds we create, deserve no less.
But to what extent do we let our readers determine what we write? Should we worry about the audience at all? Is it enough just to know that co-creators exist out there somewhere? Enough with the questions, already! Sheeesh! That’s the problem I run into when considering this issue--the “chicken or the egg” quality of it spins me round until I’m dizzy.
Many genres--romance novels; serial westerns, mysteries, or spy novels; young adult fiction, etc.--demand that the writer write for a specific audience, and that’s okay. Even then, the author has latitude as to how he approaches that audience, can include in his work varying levels of characterization and/or plot that can impart a sense of depth where it would otherwise not have been expected. In short, the author CAN be true to himself when writing for a specific audience ... if that audience is an audience of one: Himself. As creators, we are responsible for--and only for--our creation. Let the reader as he reads be responsible for his co-creation. In that way, the author and the reader are able to come together, without ever meeting, to produce a single, multifaceted living thing that can be beautiful in its own way to each of its parents who may well see in it two very different beings.
So here’s today’s question--
When you write, do you write for a specific audience, or do you write for yourself, confident that the audience will find you?
I may have been overly ambitious when I promised two new posts per week. I’m going to shoot for one and see what happens. Until next time...
In the film ‘Immortal Beloved’--about Beethoven’s later years and specifically the composing of his masterful 9th Symphony--Beethoven says that when someone listens to a piece of his music, if he’s been successful as a composer, they will feel exactly what he felt when he put the notes down on the score sheet. In other words, they will recreate his moment of creation.
That is what’s happening in the above scenarios, and that’s what I want to discuss today: Creationism. No, not that creationism! The other one; the one in which we all take part time and again throughout our lives, most often without the least notice because we’re too involved in the act to ruin it with a real-time, sterile analysis. After all, creating requires focus, and at those moments described above we ARE creators every bit as much as the artist or composer who originated the individual piece of work.
Or as Paul Horgan put it in his jewel of a novel, ‘Things As They Are’:
“The artist must first create, and then communicate. But who would listen? Who would see?" ... and ... “For magic to succeed, there must be one who reveals and one who believes. I believed every word and every act he revealed to me.”
Now, fellow writer, let’s apply this to our craft. Let’s say you’re no longer a writer (yes, I know that may well be impossible to imagine, but try). You’re confined to being a reader only, and are immersed in the one novel that, no matter how many times you’ve read it, never fails to hold you spellbound. When you’re most immersed in the setting, characters, and drama of that novel, aren’t you doing the same thing; recreating for yourself what the author has already birthed. In the realm of writing, that’s the creationism I’m talking about: the act of Co-Creation.
It’s not enough for a writer to put his ideas down in words. We cannot type “End” or “Finis” at the bottom of the last page of the final draft and think the job is done. Our job may be done, but The job is not. Don’t we need someone to read what we’ve written? Of course we do. But as much as we might want to, we cannot determine how they will react to it. We can’t tell the reader what to think or how to feel at every plot turn along the way. It’s out of our hands. Readers become co-creators with us by bringing their life experience to the endeavor, and passing our work through that filter. All we can do as authors is try to provide material that’s refined enough to give every reader the opportunity to make their final product something worthwhile. Those who believe in us, and in the characters and worlds we create, deserve no less.
But to what extent do we let our readers determine what we write? Should we worry about the audience at all? Is it enough just to know that co-creators exist out there somewhere? Enough with the questions, already! Sheeesh! That’s the problem I run into when considering this issue--the “chicken or the egg” quality of it spins me round until I’m dizzy.
Many genres--romance novels; serial westerns, mysteries, or spy novels; young adult fiction, etc.--demand that the writer write for a specific audience, and that’s okay. Even then, the author has latitude as to how he approaches that audience, can include in his work varying levels of characterization and/or plot that can impart a sense of depth where it would otherwise not have been expected. In short, the author CAN be true to himself when writing for a specific audience ... if that audience is an audience of one: Himself. As creators, we are responsible for--and only for--our creation. Let the reader as he reads be responsible for his co-creation. In that way, the author and the reader are able to come together, without ever meeting, to produce a single, multifaceted living thing that can be beautiful in its own way to each of its parents who may well see in it two very different beings.
So here’s today’s question--
When you write, do you write for a specific audience, or do you write for yourself, confident that the audience will find you?
I may have been overly ambitious when I promised two new posts per week. I’m going to shoot for one and see what happens. Until next time...
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Why I'm Here To Begin With
Seems I got ahead of myself with my first blog post yesterday. In ‘I’m Here, Now What?’, I did introduce myself--a little. But then, with no further explanation as to why I was here, I plunged right in with a burning (to me, at least) writerly question. Today I’m going to backtrack and fill in some of the blanks.
In yesterday’s post, I stated that I was a writer. I am. And that brings me to one reason I’m here. For the longest time, I resisted the forward momentum of the digital writing realm, declaring that, by God, I wanted to do it old school--you know, the traditional path with agents, hard copy publishers, the whole book-in-the-hand experience. I still want that, but I’m not so dense as to miss what’s going on around me. After hearing time and again that authors had to put themselves out there on the internet, had to have an online presence, I finally experienced a slow motion epiphany. So I claimed my author page at amazon.com/author/dbclifton, and then started this blog. My hope is that through this digital interaction, I can not only broaden my professional exposure, but also meet some interesting fellow writers and gain a better understanding of what this writing life really means.
Hi, my name is Doug, and I’m a writer. I figured I should begin this part of my explanation as to why I'm here as if it were a meeting of a twelve-step program. After all, for me writing is more than a habit, more than an addiction. It’s a compulsion. I MUST write! But I didn’t always find it easy to say, “I am a writer.” Beginning in adolescence and throughout my adult life I’ve been compelled to concretize in words certain impressions and images that came to me unbidden. Odd, sometimes troubling, little gifts I didn’t know how to handle any other way. But if asked by someone what I did, my reply would be something like, “I just got out of the Air Force.” or, “I work at a fiberglass fabricating shop.” or, “I’m a postal worker.” Which was all true at one time or another. All the while, though, I really wanted to say something else. If that something else ever came out, it was in a stunted form such as, “I do some writing.” or, “I play around at writing a little.” I could not bring myself to say, “I am a writer.” as if that would be too presumptuous, too pretentious. I was unworthy. What bullshit! And I’ll let a well known author tell you why.
“There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.” - Anais Nin.
Like anyone else who ever lived, with each decision made and every act committed, I was always working on my personal book. I've been a writer my entire life.
In my first post, I stated that I finally became serious about writing a few years ago. It was at that time--slowly over time--that I came to be able to say, “I am a writer.” And it felt so good. Never mind my publishing success, or lack of it, I had arrived at a place where I could embrace that label. Or so I thought.
When I decided to approach writing in a serious manner, I was lucky enough to find an exceptional writing group. I depend on that group. Their feedback is vital to my finished product (is any author’s individual piece of writing ever really finished). But they’ve given me something else of immense value. After one meeting, a fellow member stopped me long enough to say, “You’re a true wordsmith.” Another time, during a critique of one of my stories, another member said, “This shows a fearless writer.” Even considering my publishing successes, those are the two greatest compliments I’ve received as a penman. But along with those kind words--especially being called a "wordsmith"--came a responsibility that made me see embracing the label of “writer” was not enough.
The name of this blog is ‘Word Wright’. I chose the word “wright” for a very specific reason. Like the word "smith"--as in "wordsmith" or "blacksmith--the word "wright" usually doesn’t stand alone, but is most often attached to another such as in “wainwright”, a wagon maker; or “wheelwright”, the person who makes the wheels for the wain. The point is, like a smith, a wright is a craftsman, one who is very good at his work. I would even say an artisan. Someone who turns their work into art.
THAT’S the sort of writer I want to be; not a tradesman, but a craftsman. That’s the responsibility I MUST bring to my trade. And that brings me to what may be the most important reason I’m here. As I continue to write my short stories, occasional poems, and maybe that breakthrough novel, this blog is another step on the path. In the spirit of the above quote by Anais Nin, it's another page in the book of my life.
And now, another question--
When, and for what reason, were you able to embrace the full meaning of the word "writer"?
I’m going to try to offer two new posts each week; on Tuesday and Friday. So, until next time...
In yesterday’s post, I stated that I was a writer. I am. And that brings me to one reason I’m here. For the longest time, I resisted the forward momentum of the digital writing realm, declaring that, by God, I wanted to do it old school--you know, the traditional path with agents, hard copy publishers, the whole book-in-the-hand experience. I still want that, but I’m not so dense as to miss what’s going on around me. After hearing time and again that authors had to put themselves out there on the internet, had to have an online presence, I finally experienced a slow motion epiphany. So I claimed my author page at amazon.com/author/dbclifton, and then started this blog. My hope is that through this digital interaction, I can not only broaden my professional exposure, but also meet some interesting fellow writers and gain a better understanding of what this writing life really means.
Hi, my name is Doug, and I’m a writer. I figured I should begin this part of my explanation as to why I'm here as if it were a meeting of a twelve-step program. After all, for me writing is more than a habit, more than an addiction. It’s a compulsion. I MUST write! But I didn’t always find it easy to say, “I am a writer.” Beginning in adolescence and throughout my adult life I’ve been compelled to concretize in words certain impressions and images that came to me unbidden. Odd, sometimes troubling, little gifts I didn’t know how to handle any other way. But if asked by someone what I did, my reply would be something like, “I just got out of the Air Force.” or, “I work at a fiberglass fabricating shop.” or, “I’m a postal worker.” Which was all true at one time or another. All the while, though, I really wanted to say something else. If that something else ever came out, it was in a stunted form such as, “I do some writing.” or, “I play around at writing a little.” I could not bring myself to say, “I am a writer.” as if that would be too presumptuous, too pretentious. I was unworthy. What bullshit! And I’ll let a well known author tell you why.
“There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.” - Anais Nin.
Like anyone else who ever lived, with each decision made and every act committed, I was always working on my personal book. I've been a writer my entire life.
In my first post, I stated that I finally became serious about writing a few years ago. It was at that time--slowly over time--that I came to be able to say, “I am a writer.” And it felt so good. Never mind my publishing success, or lack of it, I had arrived at a place where I could embrace that label. Or so I thought.
When I decided to approach writing in a serious manner, I was lucky enough to find an exceptional writing group. I depend on that group. Their feedback is vital to my finished product (is any author’s individual piece of writing ever really finished). But they’ve given me something else of immense value. After one meeting, a fellow member stopped me long enough to say, “You’re a true wordsmith.” Another time, during a critique of one of my stories, another member said, “This shows a fearless writer.” Even considering my publishing successes, those are the two greatest compliments I’ve received as a penman. But along with those kind words--especially being called a "wordsmith"--came a responsibility that made me see embracing the label of “writer” was not enough.
The name of this blog is ‘Word Wright’. I chose the word “wright” for a very specific reason. Like the word "smith"--as in "wordsmith" or "blacksmith--the word "wright" usually doesn’t stand alone, but is most often attached to another such as in “wainwright”, a wagon maker; or “wheelwright”, the person who makes the wheels for the wain. The point is, like a smith, a wright is a craftsman, one who is very good at his work. I would even say an artisan. Someone who turns their work into art.
THAT’S the sort of writer I want to be; not a tradesman, but a craftsman. That’s the responsibility I MUST bring to my trade. And that brings me to what may be the most important reason I’m here. As I continue to write my short stories, occasional poems, and maybe that breakthrough novel, this blog is another step on the path. In the spirit of the above quote by Anais Nin, it's another page in the book of my life.
And now, another question--
When, and for what reason, were you able to embrace the full meaning of the word "writer"?
I’m going to try to offer two new posts each week; on Tuesday and Friday. So, until next time...
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
I'm Here, Now What?
To blog or not to blog: that was the question. Not any more. I am a writer, not a blogger, although I have gotten into a few pseudo-blogging discussions (some might call them arguments) on Facebook that have forced me to not only examine many of my social and political beliefs, but to become more proficient at defending them. In short, writing about them in a clear concise manner. But that's not the point of this blog. Here I intend to write about writing, hopefully interact with other writers, and in the interaction learn a few things about both the craft and the craftspeople involved. It should be intriguing. After all, we writers are a strange lot.
First, let me tell you a little about myself--
I'm a native Kentuckian (for fun, I like to say I was born in the first half of the last century), a Postal Service retiree, and a veteran of the Vietnam War. A lifelong reader and dabbler in writing, I finally got serious about the craft a few years ago, and in that time have produced two novels--as yet unpublished--and have had publishing success with several works of short fiction. My short story, 'Angel of the Wal-Mart Big-and-Tall', appeared in the anthology NOT FROM AROUND HERE, ARE YOU?, a literary review published by The Cincinnati Writers Group. And my stories, 'The Last Watcher', 'The Night Of The Spear', 'The Lady And The Shield', and 'The Shield And The Shadow' are currently available from mindwingsaudio.com/the-last-watcher-by-d-b-clifton/--an online audio publisher--and are also listed at http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=d.b.+clifton+the+last+watcher&rh=n%3A283155%2Ck%3Ad.b.+clifton+the+last+watcher&ajr=0 for Amazon.com, at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/D-B-Clifton?store=ebook&keyword=D.+B.+Clifton for Barnes and Noble, and at several other online sources. Together, these four stories form a complete, serialized novel. While continuing to produce numerous pieces of short fiction and poetry as the muse directs, I still pursue that illusive first published stand-alone novel. After all, hope, as well as a ready supply of words, does spring eternal.
But enough about me, let's talk about a subject of which I'm interested. I have a couple of questions based on something I've noticed in my own writing (see, even more about me; isn't this fun).
As a writer, do you find that the majority of your work--fiction, nonfiction, poetry, whatever--seems to often return to one recurring theme? If so, why?
Can't wait to hear the digital cry of, "Incoming!" when all the feedback begins to pour in. Until next time...
First, let me tell you a little about myself--
I'm a native Kentuckian (for fun, I like to say I was born in the first half of the last century), a Postal Service retiree, and a veteran of the Vietnam War. A lifelong reader and dabbler in writing, I finally got serious about the craft a few years ago, and in that time have produced two novels--as yet unpublished--and have had publishing success with several works of short fiction. My short story, 'Angel of the Wal-Mart Big-and-Tall', appeared in the anthology NOT FROM AROUND HERE, ARE YOU?, a literary review published by The Cincinnati Writers Group. And my stories, 'The Last Watcher', 'The Night Of The Spear', 'The Lady And The Shield', and 'The Shield And The Shadow' are currently available from mindwingsaudio.com/the-last-watcher-by-d-b-clifton/--an online audio publisher--and are also listed at http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=d.b.+clifton+the+last+watcher&rh=n%3A283155%2Ck%3Ad.b.+clifton+the+last+watcher&ajr=0 for Amazon.com, at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/D-B-Clifton?store=ebook&keyword=D.+B.+Clifton for Barnes and Noble, and at several other online sources. Together, these four stories form a complete, serialized novel. While continuing to produce numerous pieces of short fiction and poetry as the muse directs, I still pursue that illusive first published stand-alone novel. After all, hope, as well as a ready supply of words, does spring eternal.
But enough about me, let's talk about a subject of which I'm interested. I have a couple of questions based on something I've noticed in my own writing (see, even more about me; isn't this fun).
As a writer, do you find that the majority of your work--fiction, nonfiction, poetry, whatever--seems to often return to one recurring theme? If so, why?
Can't wait to hear the digital cry of, "Incoming!" when all the feedback begins to pour in. Until next time...
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