On writing (and other semi-pompous thoughts)
Feb/100
For all the reasons the internet is bad: it makes you lethargic to true research, ruins your eyesight with all that reading (and pictures!), it may trick you into believing Fox News is a source of real information* and ultimately fills your head with enough hopscotch-induced sensory overload to make it pop Scanners-style, But, beyond those things, there actually are a some good things on the ‘net. A few sparkly bits, a cubic zirconium in the rough, if you will.
Today’s gem is a series of writers giving their 10 Rules for writing fiction. It’s a good read, yet another top 10 list, from a varied set of writers, some of whom I’ve never read.
In the odd chance you’re hopscotching through the web today and want only a snippet, here are my 10 favorite bits from that article:
Al Kennedy: Remember writing doesn’t love you. It doesn’t care. Nevertheless, it can behave with remarkable generosity. Speak well of it, encourage others, pass it on.
Neil Gaiman: Laugh at your own jokes.
Esther Freud: A story needs rhythm. Read it aloud to yourself. If it doesn’t spin a bit of magic, it’s missing something.
Geoff Dyer: Never worry about the commercial possibilities of a project. That stuff is for agents and editors to fret over – or not. Conversation with my American publisher. Me: “I’m writing a book so boring, of such limited commercial appeal, that if you publish it, it will probably cost you your job.” Publisher: “That’s exactly what makes me want to stay in my job.”
Al Kennedy: Defend yourself. Find out what keeps you happy, motivated and creative.
Roddy Doyle: Do not place a photograph of your favourite author on your desk, especially if the author is one of the famous ones who committed suicide.
Anne Enright: Imagine that you are dying. If you had a terminal disease would you finish this book? Why not? The thing that annoys this 10-weeks-to-live self is the thing that is wrong with the book. So change it. Stop arguing with yourself. Change it. See? Easy. And no one had to die.
Jonathan Franzen: It’s doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction.
Al Kennedy: Have humility. Older/more experienced/more convincing writers may offer rules and varieties of advice. Consider what they say. However, don’t automatically give them charge of your brain, or anything else – they might be bitter, twisted, burned-out, manipulative, or just not very like you.
Richard Ford: Don’t drink and write at the same time.
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* Only a few have been tricked. The weaker few.
The Curtis Scale
Feb/105
During a recent sojourn across the US there was so much time for kibitzing that the conversation turned (during a very late night, cold drive from Austin, Texas to Las Cruces, New Mexico, if you must know) to a topic I’ve had ruminating in my head for some time. I’ve often thought that drinkers of all types are working their way through a series of gates from simple inebriation to, ultimately, utter despair.
I floated the idea past my colleagues suggesting the first of several steps. They were eager to chime in, helping illustrate, refuting, reworking and eventually refining a scale. That scale, not named by yours truly, was finally dubbed The Curtis Scale.
Before continuing, I must illustrate that these steps, though written in sequential fashion, aren’t always. For a good majority of us they’re non-linear. We skip forward, move back, do the hokey-pokey and…well, sometimes, live to regret.
1. Euphoria – the buzz and desire just arrived. More you say?
2. Social lubrication – I never meet a stranger except that blonde…”Hey!”
3. Amourous – Sometime “I love you man”, sometimes a palm collides with a face from the blonde
4. Escalation - “We should do shots!”, “This place isn’t good enough for us, we should go to ____”
5. Saturation – Just walk down any main thoroughfare in Las Vegas
6. Poor risk assesment - “You guys wanna go bungee jumping?!”
7. Destruction – the bar throws you out for breaking another glass/writing your name in the carpet with a pocket knife/starting a fight
8. Catastrophic reversal – you rush back into the bar to right the wrong of being thrown out.
9. Regret – place your hand over one eye to hold the headache back while promising to God/Allah/Denise Crosby you’ll never do it again.
10. Sorrow – The hospital bill arrived, your wife has thrown you out and Mike Tyson is mad at you for stealing his tiger
I dare you to tell me this scale is A) incomplete or B) inaccurate… I’m sure it could use some help. But, please, not from the inexperienced.
The great snow-in of 2010
Jan/101
I should be wary of getting what I wish for…
While not horrible by northern ice and snow standards, any way out is impassible without a little help from a plow and some salt.
