Crowbar Beats Hammer

Zestful Blog Post #275

Not long ago I was corresponding with friend and Zestful Writing subscriber Anne D., and the subject was current fiction. She said something that really struck me: “I don’t pleasure-read to change the world; I pleasure-read to escape it.”

There are implications here. I’m fond of quoting the distinguished author Cynthia Ozick, who, in conversation with Robert Birnbaum in 2004, said, of writing fiction: “And there is a conceptual underpinning and it’s invisible and so no one seems to know but the one who put it there. It’s got to be invisible, because as I said a moment ago, if the concept is going to be visible you have written an essay. You have written a tract of some kind.”

We are talking about pressing ideological points in fiction. I’ve preached against this before. I emphasize there’s nothing wrong with using, or messing around with, or preferably exploring, the current cultural, religious, and political zeitgeist in one’s fiction. But if you do it with a clear agenda, “the concept is going to be visible.” And some readers will be solidly with you, and others will be alienated. Readers prefer to come to their own conclusions. This is a delicate and subtle subject. We agree war is hell, we agree pollution is bad, we agree incest, prejudice, and abuse are wrong. All that is obvious. I love that Ozick used the word ‘tract’, which suggests religious proselytizing. Many of today’s ideologues pursue their points with condemnatory religious fervor.

Memoirists and essayists have it easy: They can and in fact must be transparent about their agendas, or nobody will know what they’re talking about. You can’t write a book that makes a case for something while beating around the bush.

[I rummaged in the garage and came up with a hammer and an anti-hammer.

Yeah. We like a tool that pries open instead of pounds shut.]

I think what my friend Anne meant was, “I don’t want to be hammered with ideology when I’m reading fiction.” Because in general, one reads fiction for pleasure, and one reads nonfiction to learn things—and possibly even to be preached to.

A fiction writer can go to all those interesting sociopolitical places successfully. All you need is an open mind and heart. That way, your characters’ paths will not be predictable, to you or your readers. Because there’s a difference between declaring something to be wrong—or right—and exploring the nuances and contradictions of the human mind and soul. There’s usually a lot more there than an ideologue would admit. Moreover, the best authors let their characters do the thinking.

Have you ever opened a wooden packing case with a crowbar? So satisfying, because you're not only releasing something you've never seen before, you're destroying, at least in part, the status quo of that packing case.

How fabulous is this journey!

Hey, before signing off, I want to give a shout-out to friend and ZW subscriber BJ Phillips, whose new book, Changing Seasons, is available from Desert Palm Press on Amazon. Check it out by clicking HERE. It’s her third book and it sounds intriguing. Congratulations, Beej!

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Showing vs Overshowing

Zestful Blog Post #219

A comment on my post ‘Extrapolation for Writers’ asked about sharing enough versus oversharing—a question of detail. What’s the perfect amount of detail to give your reader? You want enough so that he feels fully anchored in the scene, yet not too much that he gets bored or restless. (Thanks for prompting this post, Liz B.)

Of course, readers’ tastes and preferences vary, so Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, with its surpassing level of detail, is one reader’s heaven, another’s hell. Gregory McDonald’s Fletch books, with their paucity of description (yet fast action and plentiful dialogue), might represent the reverse. So, we are left with subjectivity.

I’ve thought and thought about this issue, and have come to realize that to get it right, an author needs experience writing and reading, especially close reading. And while there’s no master formula, I’ve come up with a couple of guidelines. Stick with me.

First, experience. A professional author must read not only for pleasure, but for self-education. That might seem obvious, but I’m always a little surprised when I’m discussing books with an aspiring author who says, “Oh, I didn’t like that book. Couldn’t get into it. Why? I don’t know why.” Or, “I just love all her novels!! Always have. Why? I guess—well, I can’t really say.”

  

Bear down when you read. Intuition is good, but don’t stop there. Drill into what makes a passage work or not work. Very often, you respond to the details of a scene, whether in description or dialogue. (Examples to follow.) There’s no right or wrong here—just what seems right or wrong to you. In this way, close reading helps you get to know your own style. I keep recommending the practice of copying passages of good books, longhand or on the keyboard. I call it ‘Writing with the Masters,’ though I’m not the first to ever think of it. And keep writing, and keep showing your work to readers you respect. Listen to what they say.

Going, now, beyond those general admonitions, which really apply to any aspect of writing, and into the showing of details. I’m a believer in learning from examples, so here are some:

Which of the following three do you prefer?:

“Consider it a loan, then,” I said. “Let’s be real.”

She said OK.

“Consider it a loan, then,” I said. “Let’s be real.”

She blew a strand of her dyed-red hair out of her eyes and poured some brandy into my coffee cup. “All right, then.”

“Consider it a loan, then,” I said. “Let’s be real.”

She got up and went to the cabinet above the sink on the left-hand side. She opened the cupboard door with her right hand, took out a bottle of brandy with her left, and returned to the table. She took the cap off the bottle and tipped it so that some brandy ran into my coffee cup. After that, she set the bottle down on the table and sat down. The chairs had blue vinyl coverings. Blowing a strand of her dyed-red hair out of her eyes, she said, “All right, then.”

We agree. Number two, right?

The key I’ve used for so long that it’s become almost unconscious, is to give at least one, and rarely more than two details, per chunk of story. The first example above gives zero details. The second gives two: the dyed-red hair and the pouring of the brandy, which bring that portion of the scene to life. The third gives like a thousand, and the preponderance makes the passage heavy and boring. (The second passage is from a long short story I’m finishing up, involving Lillian Byrd and some deep trouble…)

Furthermore, I’ve found that pace is an important regulator for making decisions about detail. If you need to pick up the pace, just show us the punch to the jaw and get on with it. But if things are moving along nicely, you might have the punchee see the fist coming as if in slow motion, before knuckles contact lower mandible. If the punch is going to be an important one, and the action has already been fast, you might wish to decelerate further by having the punchee also realize his back is already against the wall, and it’s going to be impossible to roll with this one—just gonna have to brace for it and keep looking for a way out. And then the impact, and you might want to describe the feeling of that.

So, in sum:

Give at least one or two details per chunk of story (and of course you are the one to decide what makes a chunk);

When in doubt, limit yourself to one or two details per chunk; and

Permit pace to help with decisions of detail.

And that’s enough for today. Is there anything you’d like to share about this topic? We’re all keen to learn!

Lastly, a note from one of us. Faithful reader and commenter BJ Phillips has a new novel out called

SNOWBIRD SEASON. We think it could appeal to the romantic side of women-lovin' women!

If you’d like me to mention your new book, just shoot me an email with a link. And if I’ve overlooked posting your link, please nudge me again. It was inadvertent.

To post a comment or question, click below where it says, 'No Comments,' or '2 Comments,' or whatever. [photo by ES]

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Inside Interior Dialogue

Zestful Blog Post #167

Before getting on to today’s post, here are a few announcements about new books by friends:

Congratulations to BJ Phillips, whose first novel, Hurricane Season, is now out from Desert Palm Press! That first one is always so special… We hear there’s more in the pipeline from BJ. (See the book and more about her at her web site, linked to her name just above.)

And it’s high time for a plug for my buddy and all-around gentleman (hey, those two things are not mutually exclusive) Neil Plakcy, who keeps writing and publishing top-selling books in several genres. A slew of his new books are featured on the front page of his website. I admire Neil’s work ethic and prodigious output. He’s really a role model for me, and what’s more, he’s a fellow Floridian—as is BJ, coincidentally.

I might add that both Neil and I will be at the Novelists, Inc. conference at St. Pete Beach later this year. We’ll be participants, not presenters. Novelists, Inc., or NINC, is an association of professional authors who are committed to a) writing quality fiction and b) selling the hell out of it. I’ll let you know how that conference goes!

Have I mentioned that I’ll be doing the Florida Writers Conference in Altamonte Springs this year? Sorry if this is a repeat, but they’ve put up much more information on their website now. I’ll be presenting a couple of workshops, participating in a panel discussion, and will also be available for individual conferences. They cost extra, but all the money goes to FWA and its special programs for aspiring authors.

Oh, and gosh, local friends alert! Join me at the Selby Library in Sarasota (the main one with the pudgy white columns downtown) at 6 p.m. this coming Tuesday, July 5. I’ll be doing “Looking for Trouble: Doing Research for Fiction is not for Sissies.” More here. It’s free.

OK, so the latest compendium from Writer’s Digest Books is freshly available, Crafting Dynamic Dialogue: The Complete Guide to Speaking, Conversing, Arguing, and Thinking in Fiction. It has four chapters by me, as well as multiple chapters from other WD stalwarts such as James Scott Bell, Jeff Gerke, and Gloria Kempton. And hey, gosh, the first reviewer on Amazon said this, in part: "The two chapters on Dialogue and Suspense by James Scott Bell and Internal Dialogue by Elizabeth Sims, are worth twice the price of this fine volume."

So, cool. Two of my chapters are excerpts from You’ve Got a Book in You, and a third is a reprint of one of my articles for WD magazine. The fourth, “Understanding Internal Dialogue,” is original to the book. The excellent Cris Freese, editor of the book, invited me to write something on internal dialogue, and I gladly took up the challenge.

I see this post is already getting long, but I wanted to include an in-depth excerpt from the chapter, and here it is:

[Excerpt begins]

For both form and format, you can select something that feels right for you and your manuscript’s style and voice. Read closely to distinguish the differences in the six versions of this passage:

Saturday night came, and still Sheila didn’t call. Marco sat at the window, drumming his fingers on the gritty sill. He felt like robbing a liquor store. Would a knife be sufficient? He didn’t know. [Entire passage, including inner voice, is third person, past tense.]

Saturday night came, and still Sheila didn’t call. Marco sat at the window, drumming his fingers on the gritty sill. I should hold up that liquor store tonight, I really should. Be something to do, anyway. I have my knife. [Narrative is third person, past tense; inner voice is first person, present. And the inner voice is rendered in direct thought-speech.]

Saturday night came, and still Sheila didn’t call. Marco sat at the window, drumming his fingers on the gritty sill. I should hold up that liquor store tonight, I really should. Be something to do, anyway. I have my knife. [The identical passage as above, with Marco’s thoughts in italics.]

Saturday night came, and still Sheila didn’t call. I sat at the window, drumming my fingers on the gritty sill. I should hold up that liquor store tonight, I really should. Be something to do, anyway. I have my knife. [Narrative is first person, past tense. The inner voice, in direct thought-speech, is first person, present.]

Saturday night came, and still Sheila didn’t call. Marco sat at the window, drumming his fingers on the gritty sill. I should hold up that liquor store tonight, I really should, he thought. Be something to do, anyway. He had his knife. [Narrative is third person, past tense. The inner voice is first person, past (though verging on present), and the narrative resumes in third person, past, in the final sentence.]

Saturday night comes, and still Sheila doesn’t call. I sit at the window, drumming my fingers on the gritty sill. I should rob that liquor store tonight, I really should. Be something to do, anyway. I have my knife. [Everything is first person, present.]

Any of these forms are correct, and they all have slightly different flavors—some seem more formal, some less. First person always reads as more informal and immediate. Just be as consistent as you can, once you’ve made your choice.

[End of excerpt]

This is the kind of attention to detail that marks out serious authors!

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This Should Make You Feel Better

Zestful Blog Post #122

The other day I was listening to a published author complain about various aspects of our business, like we’re supposed to do social media, blog, write a book every two months, not mind that some jackass who writes cruddy books is really famous and rich, etc. And yeah, one is entitled to complain about anything and everything. But it got me to thinking about my contacts in show business, and how they have it worse than any author who ever lived.

I’m talking about actors and actresses who are not household names, who haven’t played romantic leads, who haven’t won Oscars, but who go out on auditions every day and pretty much take any role they’re offered, be it a character modeling job for an ad photo shoot or a part in a commercial, TV show, or feature film. The journeymen and -women out there who put together a living, sometimes a good living, but sometimes they’re on unemployment.

A favorite story is when I asked an actress friend of mine about the proverbial ‘casting couch’.

[It’s a couch, but it’s the wrong color.]

I’d noticed, when spooking around casting studios doing research for The Actress, that each and every separate studio had a black leather couch on chrome legs, upon which would sit the producer, director, casting director, assistant, and whoever else, in various combinations, to watch the auditions. It was so remarkably consistent: almost identical black leather couches, in casting studios all across Los Angeles.

Which prompted me to ask about the you know, casting couch. My (gorgeous) friend said, “Here’s how it works today. You go to an audition, and the director and everybody are there. You do the audition and they tell you, very nice, thank you very much. Afterward, your agent doesn’t get a call; you do. You get a call on your personal cell phone, and it’s the director, and he says, ‘You did a wonderful job yesterday in the audition! By the way, I’m going up to San Francisco this weekend. Would you like to come?’”

I asked if she ever said yes.

“No. If you do, there’s no end to it.”

Disrespect seems to be the order of business. “They f*ck with you because they can,” said one friend, who had gotten jerked around doing a seven-second shot in a commercial shoot, asked to do it one way, then another, then another, then another. Seven seconds.

Incompetence comes up as well. An actor acquaintance related how he was the principal actor in a TV commercial that was shot over two days. He had been asked to bring his own wardrobe of khaki pants and polo shirt, which he did. After the first day’s shoot, he asked if he needed to bring the same pants tomorrow. The director told him no, just bring the shirt, because the next shots would all be from the waist up.

But when he arrived at the next day’s shoot wearing black pants, they were like, no, man, you’ve got to have the same pants as yesterday! The director had been wrong; they needed to retake some full-length shots. Go home and get em! The film studio was in Santa Monica. This poor bastard lived in Pasadena, 25 miles away. If you have even a passing knowledge of Los Angeles, its traffic patterns and population, you know he was in for probably at least two hours of driving, sitting in traffic, dealing with alternate routes around whichever crashes du jour, etc. He was like, can’t wardrobe come up with something here? And they were like no, you miserable nitwit. Go!

Another time I arrived to have lunch with an actor friend at his house, to find him on the phone, feverishly trying to come up with a jester costume he could borrow from somebody. Because yeah, you’re supposed to costume yourself for auditions (and sometimes even roles, as above), and he wanted this jester role in a commercial, auditions tomorrow. Nobody had an outfit he could borrow. Did he want to rent one for $200? No, man. I believe in the end he bought a jester hat, nailed the audition, and got the part.

It’s a jungle out there.

I’ve never heard of an author being offered a publishing contract in exchange for, well, going along on that weekend to San Francisco, though I suppose it’s not beyond imagination. But really, when we think we have it tough, let’s just remember our friends in Hollywood. May they get residuals for life. And always bring the khaki pants, just in case.

Now for some publishing news from pals around:

Tate Volino, a new local friend, just sent me a copy of his book The Front Nine, a collection of short stories on the golf world. From a first look, I can see the authenticity—behind the scenes at a private club, for instance.

Peter Frickel, another local buddy (with a fabulous South African voice), has been busy publishing on Amazon, most recently Lilies of the Vlei and River, both set in his native continent of Africa.

From Christina Gross, one of my friends from Port Angeles, here’s Rescue the Innocent, a geopolitical thriller with an intriguing plot.

Lastly, buddy BJ Phillips landed a publishing contract with Desert Palm Press for her novel Hurricane Season. Will let you know when that’s available.

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