Showing posts with label The Writing Process. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Writing Process. Show all posts

Thursday, 21 May 2015

The Writing Process: Faces and Fiction

Newsletter 14:Thursday 21st May 2015

Hello again.

Brilliant that you have returned to my Newsletter If this is your first time, you are most welcome.

The Writing Process: Faces and Fiction

One useful thing as we write is to think how we refer to the face in our prose. Clearly the term face is already loaded with metaphor and ulterior meaning.

Consider: putting a good face on it; facing someone down; facing it; facing up to things; being two facedfacing the consequences 

The physiology of the faces has its own message system: We refer to the eye being the
window to soul; hollow eyes; haunted eyes; shadowed eyes; bright eyes; folded lips; wide smile; rigid jaw.


We use faces in our prose to indicate feeling, drama and action.  
His eyes made a person think that he heard things that no one else had ever heard, that he knew things no one had ever guessed before. He did not seem quite humanCarson McCullars  


Aspects of the face are part of the action in our prose 

Is there an art in finding the mind's construction in the face? Frowning, raising eyebrows; smiling widely; grinning, winking, smirking, winking, leering, sneering, glowering, eyes narrowing. Every micro expression has meaning that you may use.


Of course the face is a work in progress. It tracks the passage of time: faces seem to remain the same yet alter through time: plain faces become handsome, distinguished with time; pretty people become plain with the passage of years. Faces are the place where the act of living maps your experience: he had the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom.  P G Wodehouse. 

A child's face is hard to paint and hard to write. How do you paint or write a blank canvas? Even great painters have problems with children, Look at the work of Van Gogh! We can portray children more through their emanations and actions, their wriggling and rolling, their screaming and chattering.


Distinctive genres do use direct description to establish the character so that we know very quickly the appearance of the hero/ine so we can  fit them into the shorthand stereotype of handsome hero, surly but good-looking  detective, beautiful maiden, sultry temptress, dark but handsome villain; or/burly but attractive action man. Guidelines for purely genre fiction assert quite rightly that we need to see our main characters early in the novel. Straight description can be very efficient for this kind of fiction.  

My own preferred way is to use the face in the process of the story-telling. I prefer not to describe directly but to allow the reader to infer indirectly as the narrative develops. What happens in the face is part of the gradual unfolding package of the novel as we get to know the characters, their age and demeanour, their motivation, their transitory meaning as part of the ongoing narrative.

What different things happens in your characters’ faces as they speak to someone they love, they hate, they despise, they admire, they desire, they need

What happens when your character focuses on a particular task? e.g. the tip of my tongue shows when I am concentrating on drawing or writing
My comfort is that old age,
that ill-layer up of beauty
can do more spoil
upon my face
                                                       Shakespeare.

Of course the face can tell lies. God has given you one face and you make yourself another.

Here’s Shakespeare again:
False face must hide what false heart must know
and 
I never see thy face but I think on hellfire.
And one from JG Salinger: - She was not one for emptying her face of expression.
Of course we don't have to make our characters gurning, grinning puppets but the use of the mobility of the face to indicate character, drama and action is available to us and if we use it artfully and with restraint it will add vivid layers to our prose.

To illustrate: here are some words from The Pathfinder my very newest title  
'... He spoke to them in the old tongue but both brothers answered in Latin. Kynan grinned at Magnus’s surprise. ‘Our father had us spend two seasons in the house of a merchant in Rome, an agent who sold our lead right across the great inland sea...'

(In the context of the narrative the word  grinned has much more meaning here than said. See also the significance of the face for the cover design. W)



(In the context of the narrative the word 'grinned' has much more meaning here than the baring of teeth,..,,)

Thursday, 12 March 2015

4 WRITING PROCESS: WRITING BY HAND

Wendy’s Newsletter No. 4 Thursday March 12 2015

Hello again. Thank you for returning to my Newsletter.

If this is your first time, welcome.


Being a writer demands acts of courage, large and small, such as:

·         
Working entirely alone and sustaining your self belief

·         Writing with honesty and telling the truth
·         Tapping into strong elements of your own experience and telling some kind if truth that will relate to more generic human experiences.
·         Having faith in your vision of the world even if it doesn’t fit the genre-ridden business model of modern publishing,
·         Most of all I have discovered other small acts of courage which involve opening a new notebook and making a start on new work.  

A very common question for me and other writers when we meet writers and readers is’

How do you set about it? What is the process?


After saying very carefully that all writers evolve their own idiosyncratic method I usually admit that I write my first draft by hand.

These days this admission is met by a degree of disbelief and a kind of pity that one feels for a bag lady in the road. There is sometimes a frown. 'I would have thought computers would have been a Godsend for you! Make things easier.' Then (add in kind tone of voice) 'They're very easy to use you know,'

Well, I do know. 

I love my computer(s).They are brilliant for instant researching, for blogging and Facebooking and now Newslettering. I think I might have been a pioneer in that field.  I remember the joy of my first word-processer, an Amstrad 9512 - such a brilliant improvement after my electric typewriter and my bottles of SnoPake.  

I shudder at the thought of the state of my original manuscripts - which were accepted by publishers. Never mind. Daphne du Maurier sent her publishers scribbled hand-scripted drafts…
I do like to write in ink pen or, when pushed, a sweetly flowing gel-pen.


These days I own and make use of an office computer, a standard laptop and more recently a tablet.  So nowadays my drafts, well edited and neatly transcribed, reach the publisher in the immaculate computer-rendered form that I always recommend to all my students.


So, why, you may ask  do you not write now straight onto the screen? 


That is a non-starter for me.  I have experimented with drafting straight onto the screen and rejected is as far too rigid, too self-limiting. For me, staring at a screen neutralises the diverse energy of the creative mind. It hinders the nascent surprise of the millions of word in your head clustering around an idea, a concept, an inspiration as it leaps into the imagination in sentence form.


But as blocks and pages of screen-rafts build up on the screen, clearly they are too finished too complete, too self-referring, and insufficiently open. They have too much authority and too little vulnerability.

These blocks of print in the screen utterly lack the liquidity of blood transferred from the brain, down the arm to the ink or the gel that makes the mark on the page.

So for me, although computers are a wonderful gift for the end process, in the beginning the work must exist in a fluid, tentative state in notebook – always available for changing, imagining, creating and re-creating your story.

So, the only way for me to write the first draft of a novel is in a bound notebook (NOT loose pages, not ring bound…) with an ink or a gel pen.

Everyone has their own protocols.


But normally I write in bound hardback A4 notebooks. I only write on the right-hand side of the page, leaving the left-hand space for insertions, scribbled self-instructions and amendments. This often evolves into a kind of dialogue with myself about the story. The empty left hand page is crucial to my process.

At first it’s like writing my way up a hill, my ink-pen finding its way through a new landscape, dislodging here and there a tiny pressed petal or a strand of grass. The ink suffices, makes its mark.

In the end, like many things that have seemed hard, almost impossible, it has been easy. 


After drafting 20 thousand words of a new novel I embark on the first lot of transcription onto the computer, (It’s important to wait until there is this bank of original drafting before it gets onto a rigid screen.) Firts I write on a fresh page in my notebook all the queries and questions, changes and modifications that have emerged in the process of transcription

It is important not to be tempted into a full blown edit at this point. Leave that to the very end.


Then more ink drafting in 20,000 blocks. Then more transcription. I sometimes find that I have scenes and scraps, brainstorms and locations in other notebooks. I can blame that on my habit of writing on trains, in cafes, pubs and parks on whatever is to hand. So the transcribing of this first part of the novel can extend to time hunting down scenes out of sequence.

This is when I say to myself that EVERYTHING – whether or not I think it is really part of the novel - should go somewhere into the three notebooks 

As I follow these protocols, the contents of my three A4 notebooks, will organically emerge as an 80,000 word novel, give or take. Two A4 notebooks can emerge as a 40,000 novella. 

As I have said, it takes acts of courage to embark on a large writing project in this fashion. Trying my protocols might help you in these acts of courage:
·         Working entirely alone and sustaining your self belief
·         Writing with honesty and telling the truth
·         Tapping into strong elements of your own experience and telling some kind if truth that will relate to more generic human experiences.
·         Having faith in your vision of the world even if it doesn’t fit the genre-ridden business model of modern publishing,

For me the smallest and the largest acts of courage involve opening a new notebook and making a start on new work.



Next week – The benefits of the computer as a creative tool for self-editing.