The master jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins described his own practice regimen in a similar way. He’d spend hours going over scales, arpeggios, analyzing what other players did on classic recordings, studying harmony, etc. Then on the bandstand he did his best to let his mind go blank and trust that all that stuff would come out when needed, in interesting combinations. And often he came up with stuff that was totally new, a beautiful alchemy of all these influences combined.
This act of intense study/analysis coupled with a more intuitive approach to creation yields a unique and exciting sense for the listener that they are in on the act of creation. Which in fact they are.
That's so true about cooking. I kept trying new recipes during the past two COVID years and lately I've found myself "improvising" based on feeling and not a specific recipe that I remember.
What a great post. I am a great believer in your silo or hopper theory. When I used to be a writer (I don't think of myself as a writer anymore, because there isn't enough writing going on), I lived in a world that I loved so much. The world of words and sentences, and they way they became paragraphs and stories. Everything made me think of writing. All day long, each thing I looked at, every conversation i had (okay, maybe not EVERY conversation, but you get my point), every story I read, all of my daily writing--it was a fantastic way to live, and i could feel the contents of my hopper growing and composting. It was an exciting time, albeit completely inside of my own head. (If you're reading this, you may be wondering what happened, why this came to an end when I loved that world so much, and all I can tell you now is that it happened, for many reasons that one day perhaps I'll write about.) One thing I love about Story Club is that for the first time in a long time, I can feel that little hopper inside my head starting to perk up. I'm reading in a new way than ever before--call it respectfully. Last night, for instance, I read a Mavis Gallant story that in the old days I would have given myself permission to put down. I mean, I wasn't taken with the story. But then I told myself to slow down, listen to the sentences, figure out--as George has shown us--why one sentence follows another. Look for the clues. Oh, wow, it's a great world of words out there. (And I am writing again, albeit just a little bit. But enough that when i go on my old lady brisk walks each day, I'm in my writer's head again, which I think is my home country.)
Also love Flaubert, & although did not know this about him, can completely relate to writing thousands of words in letters, emails & posts first thing (sometimes filled with gripes) rather than getting down to business in that powerful morning, the sun's a-rising, moment . . . but it serves as a "palate cleanser" for me a lot of the time, so . . .
Mary, I know so little about you, and yet whenever I come across your comments here, I always feel drawn in. Am very much interested in what you have to say, and often marvel at the way you say it. And so often I feel like what you're writing is speaking directly to me.
Also, what is about walking that is so wonderfully stimulating? I find sometimes I have my clearest thoughts, or "aha!" moments, when out on a long walk. Or in the shower. Or driving (basically anytime I'm doing something where I can't scribble the thought down).
Manami! What a sweet message. Thanks for telling me this because, of course, I often worry that I am posting too much, or writing too much when I do post, or sounding dumb when I post, and on and on. So your support is greatly appreciated. As for those activities that we do that somehow put us in a writerly trance, I always think that it's because our conscious mind is occupied and responsible for making sure we don't crash the car, or being certain that we've gotten all of the conditioner out of hair, leaving our dream mind to simply...dream. We're off the hook, somehow, during those occupations. And it's a great feeling.
“We’re off the hook” - just an aside, but I was once asked what my life would be like if I took myself off the hook, and fireworks went off in my head when I contemplated the answer!!!
I'll go all Goldilocks here and say your posts are "just right!" (and then I'll worry about how dumb my post sounds while meaning to reassure you! Humans!)
I used to live in that world too, Mary. And it is wonderful. Trance-like. I find that I can step back into this world when I keep a notebook filled with random observations. Then, I start composing and revising sentences. Times like those, no experience is wasted
Oh, the number of notebooks I used to go through! It was full-on immersion for several years there. And yes, none of that time wasted. But I did learn that I am a slow learner as I had to keep learning the same things over and over again. Or maybe that's just part of being a writer.
Same. I kept so many notebooks when I was 18/19 and teaching ESL in Cambodia. A lot of insipid crap, but some gems. The great thing about notebooks is...they can't be leaked to the internet!
The only issue I have with notebooks is that I spend so much time writing in them that I neglect the actual writing. Sometimes, though, one bleeds into the other.
I have so many years of my life poured into notebooks: thoughts, musings, other things I've read that I want to remember. Little story snippets. About two bankers boxes full, that have gone through many moves with me. They haven't led to anything that I consider "real" writing, but I treasure them. I also seriously worry about what will happen to them when I die (the thought of someone going through them and trying to make sense of them is slightly mortifying :))
I just adore this idea of the home country of our writing headspace, the great world of words we can immerse ourselves in when we slow down and pay attention to the craft of a story unfolding. Thank you so much, Mary.
Thank you Mary g for mentioning Mavis Gallant! Her work was recommended to me so I got her book “Paris Stories” and read the first one and was not impressed. Read the second, same story (no pun intended.). But now, the idea of going back, looking closely, going slowly, makes me feel excitement. I may not be there yet, being newly arrived to this writing world, but George’s email today gives me hope and fresh courage that I can succeed at this endeavor. Thanks mary g for the invitation and reminder of Gallant!
Nancy: I know that for me, I've just been too impatient lately, and maybe a bit lazy, too. So I'm telling myself to give each story it's due, especially if a writer or a story has been recommended to me by someone I trust. I don't want to miss out on anything any more. I want to open my mind and learn instead of shutting down. Sounds like you feel the same way. Thanks for commenting!
Thanks for replying! Wanting to learn, absolutely. I’m taking a personal essay class along with this journey, and I’m delighted how the two feed into each other. Or maybe they don’t exactly, but do stimulate the enthusiasm and creativity of being alone with myself to write and see exactly what I think these days. Or maybe not exactly but close enough to spur me on to keep looking and finding my own thoughts. Add in the thoughts of great writers and our StoryClub here, not to mention our fearless leader George, and it’s a pretty sweet place to be in!
Thanks to both of you for reminding me of Mavis Gallant. I believe she is considered one of the best, though I may have only read one story of hers so far. And, what a beautiful name!
Mary, what a wonderful comment. Thank you for writing it. I am currently going through something like this. That world of words and sentences, that time when everything makes you think of writing--I miss that, I've been away from it for a long while now, feeling like I've lost it, feeling less vulnerable to the charms of sentences. I've also been away from Story Club for a while, and I've been trying to catch up on reading everything I've missed, reading as many comments I can, and, hopefully, like it's happening to you, that hooper of mine also starts to perk up.
Also, while I was reading the 200-word-story entries, I came across your post and all the wonderful praise it received. Since I missed it when you posted, I would love to read it when it gets published. Good luck, and do let us know when it happens! :)
It's such a relief to have made this return. It's sort of shocking when you realize you've lost something that once loomed so large in your life. I've got faith your hopper will soon begin to fill. The very fact that you're on this page, reading and commenting--you're already back, really. Thanks for commenting and see you here!
Oh, my gosh, Mary I LOVE this. This post alone is wonderful piece of writing. I hope you keep writing, because, well, you're a writer. (Didn't you write the "Normal" short piece that George loved?)
Thank you, Patti. (And yes, I did write a 200 word story here that got a lot of kind feedback, including from George.) I'm so thankful for this substack.
Hi Mary! I neglected to mention this earlier, but there was something amazing about the whole, "the man who is not their father" "the woman who is not their mother" "the man who is their father" part of that story, creating a big part of the mirror maze effect. My wife, who is a major Oscar Wilde fan, pointed out the echo from The Importance of Being Earnest, where one brother is Algernon in the city, but Earnest in the country, and the other one is Jack in the country, but Earnest in the city. You and Wilde both bent my mind in a most pleasurable and expansive manner.
David, i'm guessing that's the only time in my life I'll hear my name in the same sentence as Oscar Wilde's! Thank you so much for this comment. And so sweet to think of your wife also reading my little story!
Our monkeys chase the grown-ups is a great opener. (Thank you for saying you enjoy my posts. It's so nice to be able to converse with like minds around here, you included.)
Forain. That's amazing that you corresponded with her. If there's a story of hers that I should not miss, please let me know. And thank you for welcoming me back!
thank you! So many great lines in "Forain"! I think I was too tired when I started reading it, and that's why usually I would have just quit. But oh wow, what a writer.
This is wonderful. I just checked out “The Collected Stories of Mavis Gallant” from the library few days ago. I haven’t started it yet, but I’m looking forward to it.
I have already picked up several tips that are useful in my writing, for example, putting myself in the reader’s shoes at each moment in the story and asking, “What does the reader know so far?” Another example is interest generated by an unreliable narrator.
'In The Cart' exercise, at one point George asks 'what does a writer want to know now?' - i answered that as myself being the writer of this story. The second question is 'what does the reader want to know' - and as a reader - i wanted to know things which didn't appear at all under the writer list. that opened my eyes a lot. A writer is always worried about how to advance story, plot points, what is reasonable, where as a reader is more real-world (he doesn't understand a writer has challenges) - they are more basic, their questions concern more background story as to how the protagonist got here and more - 'why why why', where as a writer jumps that question and asks 'how how how' can i achieve something he has thought should be the end.. hope i am making sense. .
Wasn’t it Victor Frankl who said there’s great power in a pause. In that moment between reacting and responding we can take time to choose our actions.
Thank you George for inviting us to step back. I was hit between the eyes by your comment that “what makes these times seem crazy is the sense the center is somehow not holding: truth, reason, kindness seem to have been overthrown. But in a story these reign supreme”.
This led me to a couple Story Club thoughts. First Lu Hsun wrote a century ago during Chinas revolution. At a time of massive unravelling, he chose to base his story around the core value of kindness. (Thanks to the person who posted the link to that amazing BBC podcast on his literary stature in China under Mao.)I do wonder if his approach to ‘shame’, and self compassion might not stand the test of time. Brene Brown might encourage a shifting of those parts of the frame.
Secondly - I’ve been trying to figure out why this place, this Story Club, has been so powerful for me now, at this point in time and in my life. As a visual artist in my sixties your principles hold true to my craft as well George, but it’s way more than that. This has been an oasis of insightful and compassionate discussion rooted in curiosity and kindness. This two month connection has helped me realize how powerful stories and community can be to not only help cope with the disillusionment and isolation of this time but to play, learn and grow too. There’s an extra sense of magic here - food for the hungry.
Wonderful thoughts, Jane, thank you. I love this idea that, through our time here, we can do some work to eradicate disillusionment. That's a big deal.
Love that "power in a pause" line. I think it will be my new bumper sticker. Also about eradicating disillusionment through compassionate discussion. Reminds me of what George said so powerfully in A Swim In The Pond about how the connection between a reader and a writer can help us learn to understand the "other." Whoever that is.
I have often thought that writing could help to heal the world; a thought usually followed immediately by thinking I am hopelessly naive. But to help to eradicate disillusionment would be the most valuable work on earth.
Jane, this is perfectly articulated and I feel much the same. I feel adrift, and this group gives me something to hold on to, to remind myself that all is not lost, that there are like minded people out there. That getting lost in writing and contemplating the written word has power and meaning in a world where we find ourselves powerless and meaningless. At least we feel that way right now in healthcare.
"'...truth, reason, kindness seem to have been overthrown.'" Eight words of truth like an arrow to the heart. I can't think of a better way to sum up the past five or six years.
Just went down a rabbit hole looking for the source of this quote. Looks as though Covey used those words in an effort to distill Frankl's views. But his source for how to articulate the idea came originally from Rollo May (the unknown author you mention, Hannah). In an essay entitled "Freedom and Responsibility Re-examined," May writes: "I would define mental health as the capacity to be aware of the gap between stimulus and response, together with the capacity to use the gap constructively." And with that, i will come up for air.
Thanks Mary! It is indeed a rabbit hole! As Covey couldn’t recall the author’s name, there seem to be several theories floating around!
Another theory: Covey read C Harold McCully paraphrasing May (McCully condenses May and adds a line about freedom). If so, the quote is Covey paraphrasing McCully paraphrasing May – and attributed to Frankl!
I do a bit of acting: it’s a similar process. Work hard on technique, on getting each line perfect, where you stand etc etc. Study the text, other actors, whatever it takes. Then let it all go and trust it will come back to you in performance, when you need it.
But what if it doesn't come back to us when we're writing, Jackie? What if we're hungover or post-Covid brainfogged and the silo simply refuses to offer up the relevant memory/tip/technique?
Imagine we had something like, not a Dictionary of Literary Devices, but a Thesaurus of Literary Devices, in which we search the database for a particular problem we're having (or even just some effect we'd like to achieve) and the thesaurus offers up twenty or thirty possible technical solutions, ideally with examples of each, from which we then select the solution best suited to our particular context. I've searched for such a thing for years but have never found it.
If anyone hereabouts has seen one a link would be much appreciated. It would help greatly, I think, with the more carefully engineered approach to writing that George recommends.
But isn’t that what George is suggesting? Read widely and consciously, create your own thesaurus/toolbox, then use your (insert word of choice here - unconscious/spirit/soul) to access it.
Then edit edit edit. Craft it with techniques you remember from the learning phase.
I’m pretty sure there are craft books out there that tell you how to create effects (no I can’t quote you one off hand) but if it was that easy someone would have generated a computer program to plug the different elements together and you’d be able to buy it as an add-on.
Writing is an art as well as a craft, in my opinion. And its us, the writers, who provide both, consciously and unconsciously.
PS: when it doesnt come back naturally on stage - first I panic and then I fake it. And I have, thus far, never been totally let down. Those times are a lot like flying.
Since we've gone from music to acting to writing, I'll bring it to architecture; hopefully dancing can be next.
Christopher Alexander's "A Pattern Language" is that kind of technical manual for the design and construction of buildings and cities. The book's "patterns" provided notions of solutions, heavily dependent on context, to a series of 253 recurring problems of design and construction.
Christopher later lamented that his book was the cause of a lot of ugly buildings. The tool is not the maker. The recipe is not the chef.
I was taken in particular by the line above, "When we read in this technical way, we may start to see that a story is really a system; a little machine for creating an intellectual/emotional response." I do some work in Systems Thinking, and one of the problems we run into there is the idea that you can tinker with a system, pulling a lever here, damming the flow of something there, and be able to predict an outcome. "A little machine."
Instead, I want to present them with a reversal of George's idea and say "a system is really a story." A story (or a log cabin, or a table, or a stew, or a performance) is complex, not complicated. Having a ton of technical support without the experience—hard-won rules-of-thumb, awareness of traps and tricks, even just a sense of where to look or when to leave it be—results in these strangely bad outcomes (McMansions as one great example). You really need both parts to make it work.
This is my first comment since signing on at the beginning of "An Incident." I'm grateful for how these essays have me thinking about writing, and more so for how much the lessons seem to apply more broadly.
Did someone say dance??? My instructor emphasizes technique and strength. The value of this level of teaching became evident when I came back to dancing 15 years later after a bad accident. My strength needed improving of course, but the technique stayed with me.
To have fun and add flair to the dance, the technique has be perfect otherwise you don't have enough time to pause, smile or flirt with the audience. You only concentrate on the next move.
No matter what art I'm involved in, good technique is always appreciated!
Thanks for mentioning architecture. I appreciate that, since it’s my day job. I wanted to share (paraphrase) a tidbit from one of my professors, oh so many years ago: “Many of you come here thinking architecture is an art. Soon you will realize it is a craft - a craft that takes an enormous amount of practice, especially if you want to do it artistically”
Hi Kurt, I'm an architect too! I see parallels between architecture and writing in that both pair creativity and analysis. That combination is fascinating.
… "a system is really a story." This reminds me of the writings of Clifford Geertz, whom I once idolized enough to write to him, and he wrote back! (There was white-out used in his return letter. This was the early 80s.)
Agree! I was at the Univ of Washington in the Ethnomusicology program. Took a “Geertz Seminar” in the Anthro dept and he flew in for a session. We were star struck!
"The tool is not the maker. The recipe is not the chef."
Indeed. But tools can still be useful, surely. When it comes to vocabulary, say, we can rely on our subconscious to provide the appropriate word, or we can use a thesaurus, or we can do both as we go along. I've frequently found words in a thesaurus way better than anything suggested by my own conscious/subconscious mind. Surely we can imagine something similar happening with narrative devices. If this imaginary thesaurus actually existed, with twenty or thirty potential solutions for every possible lit problem or effect, wouldn't you at least try it out?
George is proposing a fairly analytical, methodical approach to writing, at least at certain points in the process. The imaginary thesaurus would just make some of this a little more organised -- i.e. the various potential techniques/solutions would actually be written down, categorised and searchable, rather than just floating around within our silos, waiting to be sent into action by our subconscious, or not.
When I get stuck or knotted up I try to consciously NOT write. Like trying not to sleep can put you out. And I have had some success with that. For me my writing pieces can often be fickle and needy and pouty. Ignore them for another piece and sure enough they are like - look at me, pay attention to me, don't you love me?
Sean I have been in that dark tunnel of what to write. It was at the start of a story. A friend gave me 101 stories by O. Henry. This I took with me along with other works of Art. So I took it up and fluttered through it till I came to ‘Blind Man’s Holiday’.
Bingo: I have it.
So I am a fan of GS since “A Swim in the Pond ———-“
When i go back to my own work after analysing a story here, it feels a bit clunky at first: I'm super self- conscious of what I'm doing. So, acknowledging that is really helpful. George Saunders - always one step ahead...:)
Mr. Saunders' essay (I always love a pause to look at the map for a minute, if you will, so thank you) makes me think of a tension I sometimes feel. As a writer (okay, a wannabe writer), I love the approach outlined by Mr. Saunders above. I want the full diagnostic package and, if necessary, to know why the writer used every word that he used, where he used it and how. But as a reader, I hate it. I love reading, and it has given me so many magical evenings and insights, and I don't want to know what makes the magic, I just want the magic. It really is an almost transcendent experience for me, in a way writing often isn't. If I am being honest and I only get to choose one activity for the rest of my life, reading or writing, I am choosing reading hands down. This probably means I will always be relegated to a wannabe writer, rather than a real one, and that's okay. But I guess my point is that sometimes it feels like looking under the hood and checking out the wires spoils the magic, just a little bit. And maybe that means I should join Oprah's Story Club instead of Mr. Saunders' Story Club, but I don't want to do that. It is just a tension I feel, that I don't think I ever noticed before until reading Mr. Saunders book (Swim in the Pond, which I adore) and reading the above. Anyway, I thought it was applicable to disclose this during the "pause," if it even makes sense. Love the Story Club and, despite the tension (or maybe because of?), hope it continues for years and years. And apologies for all the trite car metaphors, like I said, wannabe.
Yes, and I totally get this. The deal I've made with myself is that I read without judgement or anything the first time (for pleasure). Then, if I want to (and, honestly, only if I'm going to need to teach something) I turn the Analysis Mind on. For me, there's no contradiction or interference - the two operate independently - but, if it doesn't work that way for someone else, I'd say - no worries. The main thing is to be aware of it, I think.
Yes, I read much the same way; first for pleasure (and if that first graph or page doesn't work for my mind/mood, adios with that story), and then for analysis. If anything, knowing how fiction is built adds to the richness of the experience in that mulling-over period.
Also, in response to George's pause column, that line, “... intuit, with my full artistic sensibility, what this particular story needs, right at this moment,” sure hit my button. I believe that's why the Hopper Principle is effective. We have an enhanced toolkit.
I have learned to do this too, sort of separate mind into two different perspectives. It can be tricky. But I think one can love reading, which I am sure we all do, and love writing at the same time.
Look at it this way. You study rules and techniques and absorb them so that eventually they vanish into you. When you learn to touchtype, it's terrible to begin with, but eventually it becomes muscle memory and you don't even think about where the letters are when you type. Plotting and writing a story can be a slog when you're starting out, but eventually your mind absorbs what you've learned, story clicks into place easier, and when you're really in the "zone," you're not thinking about a story, you're watching the movie zoom through your head and just typing what you see. Just keep writing and you'll get there.
Aaron, you captured a fear I have about myself, too: that I'm always going to love reading/critical work (or "be better" at it) than I am at writing anything new. Then again, my "real life" of work and family is so busy right now that I also hope that when I have more mental and temporal bandwidth I'll find that's not actually true, that I *can* write. Perhaps this is a species of imposter syndrome. But I think about all the writers throughout history who didn't let their circumstances get in the way of their art and I doubt that it's imposter syndrome....I fear that I really am just an imposter, or lazy.
Let me offer an observation. How to tell a story can be taught. Finding the time and energy though is tough when you have real-world committments. A lot of writers usually carve out a time of day when they can write, usually early in the morning before everything happens. It also helps to find something that excites you to write about. I love animals so I write books with animals in them. Never hard to spend a little time as my egomaniac Siamese trying to get out of a jam. You also don't have to write a lot. I think Graham Green wrote 250 a day, and I mean that literally. He'd count to 250 and then stop even if it was in the middle of a sentence. Hemmingway also said he wrote and stopped at a point where he'd want to continue, so he'd want to get back to it the next day. How much you write isn't as important as doing it consistently. Something about doing a little every day makes it easier to fall back into the dream than doing it in fits and stops. Just doing a little bit regularly gets you there eventually.
I wanted to add that I recently made a goal to write every day. The important thing about that goal, though, is that I’ve given myself no pressure in regards to how much, or how long. Most days I end up writing a paragraph and spend about 10 minutes doing it, but that’s what is realistic for me right now and it’s felt really good to be consistently doing *something.*
I do something like this too. Even if I only write a sentence, I have written. And sometimes that is all that gets done but I find that production is more inclined to snowball without the self-critic nagging you about word counts.
That's good to hear. Sometimes it just takes awhile for the old writing engine to warm up but the important thing is to just keep going. You might also try an old writer's trick and start your time by rewriting the last paragraph you wrote. You might just write it word for word, or you might find a word or phrase you want to tweak. It won't take you very long and it will help lead you into the next paragraph.
Drawing, painting the same. Draw something every day. I’m always surprised to discover quite how many sketch books get filled that way. Maintaining a body of work will throw up plenty of mediocre alongside a surprisingly high count of good. And every now and then something that demands to be developed!
I can totally relate to that feeling of being an imposter and/or lazy. But I also believe that is a sign of how important you feel writing is. Overconfidence / arrogance is for my money far worse, if not entirely destructive to good writing
This! Feel it too, Aaron. Except after all the books read over a lifetime, there's that little voice whispering- 'you could write a story too....' and knowing there's a need to understand the non-magic structure aspect too...
Aaron, you also believe in the magic of writing stories... that delicious high when your pen finds paper and scribbles a story, and you are wondering you had no part in it, and it is pure magic, because it comes from subconsciousness, you would swear you did not write it - and that is magic, and it will happen as you write, and surprise your very self at every turn when the story turns...
As an older person and new writer, I found this post very inspiring. I'm a dedicated reader and feel like I have lots of stuff in my silo (or hopper). But, not only do need to analyze the features of the table I want to make and get into the mind of a master builder, I need to learn to use a saw and a hammer. It's a slow, difficult task and I'm trying to have patience with myself as I learn and not give up. It's helpful to be in this community.
This reminds me of Ira Glass and his thoughts on how we all start with creative work but feel like it's not quite what we want it to be, because those who get into creative work have good taste, so recognise when our output isn't what our ambitions want it to be, but that by working through that, we will eventually close the gap https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91FQKciKfHI
The Gap! A favorite of mine. Before I started writing in earnest I thought often of a different type of gap, the one between myself and “real” artists. After studying the space between us, I realized what made them writers, painters, and performers: the audacity of self belief. Now whenever I get lost in the taste/ability gap I remind myself: you write, therefore (a writer) you are.
Yup, Mr. Saunders, as you conclude here, this is why listening to you read 'Pond' out loud in the spring of 2021 on Audible, with loving kindness & appreciation for reason, pulled me out of the darkest period of my life when faced with the combination of TFG, Covid & aging. Can not thank you enough for returning me to my early passion for reading & my previously discarded dream of becoming a writer.
“A story’s too smart for that. It wants a solution organic to itself.” Brilliant.
Also explains why analyzing literature to death in our classrooms as is traditionally done, doesn’t necessarily produce good writers (or eventually even readers when students leave schooling). We have to create space for the awkward discomfort of showing up for (y)our own work. For those of us who are here and we still love reading (regardless of our writing journeys), somehow survived the analysis paralysis (usually one view) in schooling.
To read. To want to understand. To care. To have this love. To have this connection with the words of another and to come away a richer fuller human as a result. To know all these amazing others are reading with me. To see this as an act of kindness and an affirmation of our humanity.
This is a wonderful gift. Your creation of this group with this task and this connection has made these winter days and this life so much fuller.
Thanks, George, for clarifying this. I was wondering how I was going to apply what we’ve learned here during the initial creation of my stories. Now I understand that it’s not to be a rigid set of rules to follow when first putting words on the page. That it should happen intuitively as we write and revise sounds perfectly natural and right.
There've been so many times when reading a really great story that I've thought, "How does he or she do it?" and then immediately realize that I can't ever really know the answer unless I become that person—in other words, I can only write like Lorrie Moore if I am Lorrie Moore. But I have definitely had the experience of being inspired by a technique or turn of phrase in another author's work which suddenly pops up from my subconscious as I write, opening the door to a whole world I might have missed otherwise.
A brilliant young faculty-member at Bennington pooh-poohs one of her first collections of short stories as simply a series of imitations of her favorite writers—she says she examined the templates of favorite stories and applied them to the stories she wanted to tell. The book is quite renowned and won multiple awards, and she won the the 5 Under 35 Award. I believe her stories are hers alone—those other writers simply inspired and enriched them.
So, I love this idea of infusing ourselves with beauty, so that we recognize it when we, ourselves, produce it—and when we don't.
Patti, I believe I know which writer you're referring to, and I found her collection so moving and original. But I think if I'm remembering an essay she later wrote correctly, she admits that in that collection she was driven by a motivation to impress and please the types of writers she was imitating. And perhaps this type of approval-seeking sullied how she later felt about what she had produced? I think her mixed feelings had less to do with imitation, and more to do with the feeling that she had been pandering (to use the word from her essay). I think what I'm trying to say but am struggling to find the words for has something to do with: we can pull influence and even imitate (hopefully in an original way), but that something in that process has to stay truthful to us and our art for it to truly feel like it's "ours."
Thank you so much for posting this, Manami. Had not heard of this writer and her words immediately resonated: e.g. 'But I remind you that people at the periphery will travel to accept and even love things not made for or toward them: we have been trained to do so our entire lives.' Recently I realised the stories I've was taught to love and appreciate don't express my experience. We were taught 'white male geniuses' always. Heart of Darkness/Conrad. Donne. Wordsworth. Shakespeare. Dickens. Austen was taught but I couldn't relate to that mannered english upper class world. There are writers now that sing to me- Rooney, Gaitskill, Cusk, Ferrante, Plath, Morrison, Lorde, Oliver, Baldwin. Had to find them by word of mouth, research. Was wondering why I would read things and feel a yearning for something more, something that reflected my experiences of life. Like when 'Wonderwoman' the movie came out, seeing a training ground full of self-sufficient warrior women for the first time on screen, I burst into tears! Reading this link gave me an immediate visceral feeling of recognition of that kind too.
(and I'm a bit excited that George used the teaser word 'her' re: the next short story writer....)
Emma, I expect I'll mention this more formally, in a future post, but do you know the book "Silences," by Tillie Olsen? It's an amazing book about how certain classes of people have been silenced by the culture and in there, as an Appendix, is a list of forgotten or overlooked or silenced 19th Century women writers. It's astonishing. And apparently, because of Olsen's list, many of them were "rediscovered" - had their works republished...
Hi George and all: I found "Silences" as an e-book in my university's library, so I was able to read it right away (ProQuest Ebook Central for anyone who has library access to this service)... What a jewel of a text! I had never heard of this book, but I am so glad to know about it now, and to share it with others (including many of my university's students).
Is there a writer/work you would add to her list? (I vote for Martha Gellhorn's short story "Miami-New York," 1948 in The Atlantic Monthly and The Best American Short Stories of the Century.)
Emma, it's so nice to read your thoughts on this, and I'm grateful that the essay resonated with you. When I went to bed last night, I had this nagging feeling that I had steamrolled Patti's comment (I'm so sorry if it felt that way, Patti). This is my first time interacting on the internet with people I don't personally know, so I may fumble here and there, but I'm also grateful for the feeling of . . . safety this distance creates. If this were an actual class, I'd probably be that person who never raises their hand.
I love so many of those writers you've mentioned. And like you, I had to find writers who spoke to me on my own, but doesn't that feel magical when that discovery happens? Also, there are so many stories out there that weren't written for me or reflect my experience but still contributed to forming me and my world view. I love that those kinds of connections are possible . . .
George's mention of the book "Silences" has stirred something in me. I have not read it, but it sounds amazing. I reread Watkins's essay after sharing it (I feel like I remembered the sentiment but had missed the point), and when she mentions Rebecca Solnit I also think of silence, or how voicelessness = powerlessness. And it has also left me thinking of all the silences that are self-imposed (I am guilty of this) . . .
Manami- It feels like these threads are like conversations in a seminar room, where it goes from one person to another. The point Patti made about 'becoming' another writer to write was new to me. To see the Watkins essay describing that same process as a way to be accepted as a writer, a continuation of Patti's idea, was a great connection...
It is hard to know ettiquette online, guess we learn as we go along? But glad you are interacting on here - glad everyone is :)
Hear you re; the love. So many writers, not all fiction- Solnit yes, and Didion, Strayed, Heti, Roy, Oates, Smith. It does feel like magic every time a new voice is discovered, or teaches me something about life. I'd not heard of George either until the NYT piece on the Club!
Am looking forward to reading 'Silences'- suspect it will challenge whether that silence you describe is 'self-imposed' or a more complex question altogether.
Manami, I can't thank you enough for this link. Just finished reading her essay. It set me on fire... Especially loved this, "Let us embrace a do-it-yourself canon, wherein we each make our own canon filled with what we love to read, what speaks to us and challenges us and opens us up, wherein we can each determine
our artistic lineages for ourselves, with curiosity and vigor, rather than trying to shoehorn ourselves into a canon ready made and gifted us by some white fucks at Oxford."
I'm so glad you addressed this issue because this kind of analysis does hang me up when I write. I want to keep all these gems in mind, but it is impossible. However I am growing more trusting of my unconscious. So when you say "you can just forget about it," I know it is not gone. I am just decluttering my conscious mind and letting the air in. My unconscious mind has my back. Thank you!
The master jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins described his own practice regimen in a similar way. He’d spend hours going over scales, arpeggios, analyzing what other players did on classic recordings, studying harmony, etc. Then on the bandstand he did his best to let his mind go blank and trust that all that stuff would come out when needed, in interesting combinations. And often he came up with stuff that was totally new, a beautiful alchemy of all these influences combined.
This act of intense study/analysis coupled with a more intuitive approach to creation yields a unique and exciting sense for the listener that they are in on the act of creation. Which in fact they are.
Yes, this is so true of music. I’m sure of sport too. Getting into perfect shape so you can let yourself go.
Any kind of honed skill....Whiplash the movie comes to mind....What is the MIX between raw talent and practice???^^
TX
This reminds me of improv. The more you play the games, the easier they come when you're in scene work. And listening is soooooo important.
Also true of cooking!
That's so true about cooking. I kept trying new recipes during the past two COVID years and lately I've found myself "improvising" based on feeling and not a specific recipe that I remember.
That was a wonderful example. So true.
it’s also true of acting. Rehearse your ass off then forget everything once you hit the stage.
What a great post. I am a great believer in your silo or hopper theory. When I used to be a writer (I don't think of myself as a writer anymore, because there isn't enough writing going on), I lived in a world that I loved so much. The world of words and sentences, and they way they became paragraphs and stories. Everything made me think of writing. All day long, each thing I looked at, every conversation i had (okay, maybe not EVERY conversation, but you get my point), every story I read, all of my daily writing--it was a fantastic way to live, and i could feel the contents of my hopper growing and composting. It was an exciting time, albeit completely inside of my own head. (If you're reading this, you may be wondering what happened, why this came to an end when I loved that world so much, and all I can tell you now is that it happened, for many reasons that one day perhaps I'll write about.) One thing I love about Story Club is that for the first time in a long time, I can feel that little hopper inside my head starting to perk up. I'm reading in a new way than ever before--call it respectfully. Last night, for instance, I read a Mavis Gallant story that in the old days I would have given myself permission to put down. I mean, I wasn't taken with the story. But then I told myself to slow down, listen to the sentences, figure out--as George has shown us--why one sentence follows another. Look for the clues. Oh, wow, it's a great world of words out there. (And I am writing again, albeit just a little bit. But enough that when i go on my old lady brisk walks each day, I'm in my writer's head again, which I think is my home country.)
You are a writer, dear Mary G. Only a writer registers not writing!
Ha! I suppose there's a lot of truth in that.
I love Flaubert so much. He would write 15,000 words a day in letters to a few friends telling them in writerly detail how he could no longer write~~
hahah, thank you for this tidbit... so interesting
Also love Flaubert, & although did not know this about him, can completely relate to writing thousands of words in letters, emails & posts first thing (sometimes filled with gripes) rather than getting down to business in that powerful morning, the sun's a-rising, moment . . . but it serves as a "palate cleanser" for me a lot of the time, so . . .
love that.
So well said.. Bravo!
Mary, I know so little about you, and yet whenever I come across your comments here, I always feel drawn in. Am very much interested in what you have to say, and often marvel at the way you say it. And so often I feel like what you're writing is speaking directly to me.
Also, what is about walking that is so wonderfully stimulating? I find sometimes I have my clearest thoughts, or "aha!" moments, when out on a long walk. Or in the shower. Or driving (basically anytime I'm doing something where I can't scribble the thought down).
Manami! What a sweet message. Thanks for telling me this because, of course, I often worry that I am posting too much, or writing too much when I do post, or sounding dumb when I post, and on and on. So your support is greatly appreciated. As for those activities that we do that somehow put us in a writerly trance, I always think that it's because our conscious mind is occupied and responsible for making sure we don't crash the car, or being certain that we've gotten all of the conditioner out of hair, leaving our dream mind to simply...dream. We're off the hook, somehow, during those occupations. And it's a great feeling.
“We’re off the hook” - just an aside, but I was once asked what my life would be like if I took myself off the hook, and fireworks went off in my head when I contemplated the answer!!!
Yes, I was once told (by my therapist), "You know, you don't HAVE to do anything," and my mind was completely blown.
Wow. This thread resonates with me so strongly.
I'll go all Goldilocks here and say your posts are "just right!" (and then I'll worry about how dumb my post sounds while meaning to reassure you! Humans!)
I'm so glad I'm not the only "human" here. Ha.
hahah, thanks to us humans..
sound like me, thank you for stating this :)
I used to live in that world too, Mary. And it is wonderful. Trance-like. I find that I can step back into this world when I keep a notebook filled with random observations. Then, I start composing and revising sentences. Times like those, no experience is wasted
Oh, the number of notebooks I used to go through! It was full-on immersion for several years there. And yes, none of that time wasted. But I did learn that I am a slow learner as I had to keep learning the same things over and over again. Or maybe that's just part of being a writer.
Same. I kept so many notebooks when I was 18/19 and teaching ESL in Cambodia. A lot of insipid crap, but some gems. The great thing about notebooks is...they can't be leaked to the internet!
The only issue I have with notebooks is that I spend so much time writing in them that I neglect the actual writing. Sometimes, though, one bleeds into the other.
I have so many years of my life poured into notebooks: thoughts, musings, other things I've read that I want to remember. Little story snippets. About two bankers boxes full, that have gone through many moves with me. They haven't led to anything that I consider "real" writing, but I treasure them. I also seriously worry about what will happen to them when I die (the thought of someone going through them and trying to make sense of them is slightly mortifying :))
My notebooks are the first thing I'll save in a fire!
I'm with you, Jackie! Although I'd also suspect the pile of being its cause ;)
Part of being good at anything^^
I just adore this idea of the home country of our writing headspace, the great world of words we can immerse ourselves in when we slow down and pay attention to the craft of a story unfolding. Thank you so much, Mary.
Thank you Mary g for mentioning Mavis Gallant! Her work was recommended to me so I got her book “Paris Stories” and read the first one and was not impressed. Read the second, same story (no pun intended.). But now, the idea of going back, looking closely, going slowly, makes me feel excitement. I may not be there yet, being newly arrived to this writing world, but George’s email today gives me hope and fresh courage that I can succeed at this endeavor. Thanks mary g for the invitation and reminder of Gallant!
Nancy: I know that for me, I've just been too impatient lately, and maybe a bit lazy, too. So I'm telling myself to give each story it's due, especially if a writer or a story has been recommended to me by someone I trust. I don't want to miss out on anything any more. I want to open my mind and learn instead of shutting down. Sounds like you feel the same way. Thanks for commenting!
Thanks for replying! Wanting to learn, absolutely. I’m taking a personal essay class along with this journey, and I’m delighted how the two feed into each other. Or maybe they don’t exactly, but do stimulate the enthusiasm and creativity of being alone with myself to write and see exactly what I think these days. Or maybe not exactly but close enough to spur me on to keep looking and finding my own thoughts. Add in the thoughts of great writers and our StoryClub here, not to mention our fearless leader George, and it’s a pretty sweet place to be in!
Thanks to both of you for reminding me of Mavis Gallant. I believe she is considered one of the best, though I may have only read one story of hers so far. And, what a beautiful name!
Mary, what a wonderful comment. Thank you for writing it. I am currently going through something like this. That world of words and sentences, that time when everything makes you think of writing--I miss that, I've been away from it for a long while now, feeling like I've lost it, feeling less vulnerable to the charms of sentences. I've also been away from Story Club for a while, and I've been trying to catch up on reading everything I've missed, reading as many comments I can, and, hopefully, like it's happening to you, that hooper of mine also starts to perk up.
Also, while I was reading the 200-word-story entries, I came across your post and all the wonderful praise it received. Since I missed it when you posted, I would love to read it when it gets published. Good luck, and do let us know when it happens! :)
It's such a relief to have made this return. It's sort of shocking when you realize you've lost something that once loomed so large in your life. I've got faith your hopper will soon begin to fill. The very fact that you're on this page, reading and commenting--you're already back, really. Thanks for commenting and see you here!
Oh, my gosh, Mary I LOVE this. This post alone is wonderful piece of writing. I hope you keep writing, because, well, you're a writer. (Didn't you write the "Normal" short piece that George loved?)
Thank you, Patti. (And yes, I did write a 200 word story here that got a lot of kind feedback, including from George.) I'm so thankful for this substack.
Hi Mary! I neglected to mention this earlier, but there was something amazing about the whole, "the man who is not their father" "the woman who is not their mother" "the man who is their father" part of that story, creating a big part of the mirror maze effect. My wife, who is a major Oscar Wilde fan, pointed out the echo from The Importance of Being Earnest, where one brother is Algernon in the city, but Earnest in the country, and the other one is Jack in the country, but Earnest in the city. You and Wilde both bent my mind in a most pleasurable and expansive manner.
David, i'm guessing that's the only time in my life I'll hear my name in the same sentence as Oscar Wilde's! Thank you so much for this comment. And so sweet to think of your wife also reading my little story!
Ah, I was like, you have to read this. She loved it.
Don’t give up hope, you may be paired with Oscar several more times before we’re all history!
ha!
I hope you continue with that story, Rosanne. Something fantastic is already happening there.
Our monkeys chase the grown-ups is a great opener. (Thank you for saying you enjoy my posts. It's so nice to be able to converse with like minds around here, you included.)
But I love that first line, Rosanne. Surely you can use it somewhere?
I feel you❤️
I welcome you to home country ! :)
I love that! In my writer's head again, which is my home country. 'Writer' or not, the writer's internal life is the pivot point
Forain. That's amazing that you corresponded with her. If there's a story of hers that I should not miss, please let me know. And thank you for welcoming me back!
thank you! So many great lines in "Forain"! I think I was too tired when I started reading it, and that's why usually I would have just quit. But oh wow, what a writer.
This is wonderful. I just checked out “The Collected Stories of Mavis Gallant” from the library few days ago. I haven’t started it yet, but I’m looking forward to it.
Awww...
I have already picked up several tips that are useful in my writing, for example, putting myself in the reader’s shoes at each moment in the story and asking, “What does the reader know so far?” Another example is interest generated by an unreliable narrator.
Thank you, William - good to hear it.
'In The Cart' exercise, at one point George asks 'what does a writer want to know now?' - i answered that as myself being the writer of this story. The second question is 'what does the reader want to know' - and as a reader - i wanted to know things which didn't appear at all under the writer list. that opened my eyes a lot. A writer is always worried about how to advance story, plot points, what is reasonable, where as a reader is more real-world (he doesn't understand a writer has challenges) - they are more basic, their questions concern more background story as to how the protagonist got here and more - 'why why why', where as a writer jumps that question and asks 'how how how' can i achieve something he has thought should be the end.. hope i am making sense. .
That has been valuable to me too. And I have passed it along to my daughter, also a writer
Wasn’t it Victor Frankl who said there’s great power in a pause. In that moment between reacting and responding we can take time to choose our actions.
Thank you George for inviting us to step back. I was hit between the eyes by your comment that “what makes these times seem crazy is the sense the center is somehow not holding: truth, reason, kindness seem to have been overthrown. But in a story these reign supreme”.
This led me to a couple Story Club thoughts. First Lu Hsun wrote a century ago during Chinas revolution. At a time of massive unravelling, he chose to base his story around the core value of kindness. (Thanks to the person who posted the link to that amazing BBC podcast on his literary stature in China under Mao.)I do wonder if his approach to ‘shame’, and self compassion might not stand the test of time. Brene Brown might encourage a shifting of those parts of the frame.
Secondly - I’ve been trying to figure out why this place, this Story Club, has been so powerful for me now, at this point in time and in my life. As a visual artist in my sixties your principles hold true to my craft as well George, but it’s way more than that. This has been an oasis of insightful and compassionate discussion rooted in curiosity and kindness. This two month connection has helped me realize how powerful stories and community can be to not only help cope with the disillusionment and isolation of this time but to play, learn and grow too. There’s an extra sense of magic here - food for the hungry.
Wonderful thoughts, Jane, thank you. I love this idea that, through our time here, we can do some work to eradicate disillusionment. That's a big deal.
Love that "power in a pause" line. I think it will be my new bumper sticker. Also about eradicating disillusionment through compassionate discussion. Reminds me of what George said so powerfully in A Swim In The Pond about how the connection between a reader and a writer can help us learn to understand the "other." Whoever that is.
The underlying purpose of writing: to stretch the mind and heart as much as possible, toward understanding and action.
I have often thought that writing could help to heal the world; a thought usually followed immediately by thinking I am hopelessly naive. But to help to eradicate disillusionment would be the most valuable work on earth.
Jane, this is perfectly articulated and I feel much the same. I feel adrift, and this group gives me something to hold on to, to remind myself that all is not lost, that there are like minded people out there. That getting lost in writing and contemplating the written word has power and meaning in a world where we find ourselves powerless and meaningless. At least we feel that way right now in healthcare.
So I thank you ❤️
"'...truth, reason, kindness seem to have been overthrown.'" Eight words of truth like an arrow to the heart. I can't think of a better way to sum up the past five or six years.
I agree about this kind and curious space of community! And I love that quote:
“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
It almost always gets attributed to Victor Frankl, but from what I’ve read, it’s Stephen R. Covey paraphrasing an unknown author.
Just went down a rabbit hole looking for the source of this quote. Looks as though Covey used those words in an effort to distill Frankl's views. But his source for how to articulate the idea came originally from Rollo May (the unknown author you mention, Hannah). In an essay entitled "Freedom and Responsibility Re-examined," May writes: "I would define mental health as the capacity to be aware of the gap between stimulus and response, together with the capacity to use the gap constructively." And with that, i will come up for air.
Thanks Mary! It is indeed a rabbit hole! As Covey couldn’t recall the author’s name, there seem to be several theories floating around!
Another theory: Covey read C Harold McCully paraphrasing May (McCully condenses May and adds a line about freedom). If so, the quote is Covey paraphrasing McCully paraphrasing May – and attributed to Frankl!
It feels like a Borges story!
A Borges story showing how much words matter.
oh my god, that's hilarious. A labyrinth, indeed!
I do a bit of acting: it’s a similar process. Work hard on technique, on getting each line perfect, where you stand etc etc. Study the text, other actors, whatever it takes. Then let it all go and trust it will come back to you in performance, when you need it.
But what if it doesn't come back to us when we're writing, Jackie? What if we're hungover or post-Covid brainfogged and the silo simply refuses to offer up the relevant memory/tip/technique?
Imagine we had something like, not a Dictionary of Literary Devices, but a Thesaurus of Literary Devices, in which we search the database for a particular problem we're having (or even just some effect we'd like to achieve) and the thesaurus offers up twenty or thirty possible technical solutions, ideally with examples of each, from which we then select the solution best suited to our particular context. I've searched for such a thing for years but have never found it.
If anyone hereabouts has seen one a link would be much appreciated. It would help greatly, I think, with the more carefully engineered approach to writing that George recommends.
But isn’t that what George is suggesting? Read widely and consciously, create your own thesaurus/toolbox, then use your (insert word of choice here - unconscious/spirit/soul) to access it.
Then edit edit edit. Craft it with techniques you remember from the learning phase.
I’m pretty sure there are craft books out there that tell you how to create effects (no I can’t quote you one off hand) but if it was that easy someone would have generated a computer program to plug the different elements together and you’d be able to buy it as an add-on.
Writing is an art as well as a craft, in my opinion. And its us, the writers, who provide both, consciously and unconsciously.
PS: when it doesnt come back naturally on stage - first I panic and then I fake it. And I have, thus far, never been totally let down. Those times are a lot like flying.
Since we've gone from music to acting to writing, I'll bring it to architecture; hopefully dancing can be next.
Christopher Alexander's "A Pattern Language" is that kind of technical manual for the design and construction of buildings and cities. The book's "patterns" provided notions of solutions, heavily dependent on context, to a series of 253 recurring problems of design and construction.
Christopher later lamented that his book was the cause of a lot of ugly buildings. The tool is not the maker. The recipe is not the chef.
I was taken in particular by the line above, "When we read in this technical way, we may start to see that a story is really a system; a little machine for creating an intellectual/emotional response." I do some work in Systems Thinking, and one of the problems we run into there is the idea that you can tinker with a system, pulling a lever here, damming the flow of something there, and be able to predict an outcome. "A little machine."
Instead, I want to present them with a reversal of George's idea and say "a system is really a story." A story (or a log cabin, or a table, or a stew, or a performance) is complex, not complicated. Having a ton of technical support without the experience—hard-won rules-of-thumb, awareness of traps and tricks, even just a sense of where to look or when to leave it be—results in these strangely bad outcomes (McMansions as one great example). You really need both parts to make it work.
This is my first comment since signing on at the beginning of "An Incident." I'm grateful for how these essays have me thinking about writing, and more so for how much the lessons seem to apply more broadly.
Did someone say dance??? My instructor emphasizes technique and strength. The value of this level of teaching became evident when I came back to dancing 15 years later after a bad accident. My strength needed improving of course, but the technique stayed with me.
To have fun and add flair to the dance, the technique has be perfect otherwise you don't have enough time to pause, smile or flirt with the audience. You only concentrate on the next move.
No matter what art I'm involved in, good technique is always appreciated!
Thanks for mentioning architecture. I appreciate that, since it’s my day job. I wanted to share (paraphrase) a tidbit from one of my professors, oh so many years ago: “Many of you come here thinking architecture is an art. Soon you will realize it is a craft - a craft that takes an enormous amount of practice, especially if you want to do it artistically”
Hi Kurt, I'm an architect too! I see parallels between architecture and writing in that both pair creativity and analysis. That combination is fascinating.
And revision after revision, to hone the results. Lots of parallels, yes?
… "a system is really a story." This reminds me of the writings of Clifford Geertz, whom I once idolized enough to write to him, and he wrote back! (There was white-out used in his return letter. This was the early 80s.)
I had the great joy of being in the anthro dept. during Geertz's time at U of C. Exciting times they were...
Agree! I was at the Univ of Washington in the Ethnomusicology program. Took a “Geertz Seminar” in the Anthro dept and he flew in for a session. We were star struck!
Clifford Geertz, the anthropologist, who talked about 'deep hanging out'?
Yes. Thick description, when is a twitch a wink… that guy.
"The tool is not the maker. The recipe is not the chef."
Indeed. But tools can still be useful, surely. When it comes to vocabulary, say, we can rely on our subconscious to provide the appropriate word, or we can use a thesaurus, or we can do both as we go along. I've frequently found words in a thesaurus way better than anything suggested by my own conscious/subconscious mind. Surely we can imagine something similar happening with narrative devices. If this imaginary thesaurus actually existed, with twenty or thirty potential solutions for every possible lit problem or effect, wouldn't you at least try it out?
George is proposing a fairly analytical, methodical approach to writing, at least at certain points in the process. The imaginary thesaurus would just make some of this a little more organised -- i.e. the various potential techniques/solutions would actually be written down, categorised and searchable, rather than just floating around within our silos, waiting to be sent into action by our subconscious, or not.
I love the idea of an 'imaginary thesaurus'!
When I get stuck or knotted up I try to consciously NOT write. Like trying not to sleep can put you out. And I have had some success with that. For me my writing pieces can often be fickle and needy and pouty. Ignore them for another piece and sure enough they are like - look at me, pay attention to me, don't you love me?
Sean I have been in that dark tunnel of what to write. It was at the start of a story. A friend gave me 101 stories by O. Henry. This I took with me along with other works of Art. So I took it up and fluttered through it till I came to ‘Blind Man’s Holiday’.
Bingo: I have it.
So I am a fan of GS since “A Swim in the Pond ———-“
Thanks for this, Ciaran.
This is so helpful to me right now as I work with an 8th grader doing a poetry reading. Thanks.
When i go back to my own work after analysing a story here, it feels a bit clunky at first: I'm super self- conscious of what I'm doing. So, acknowledging that is really helpful. George Saunders - always one step ahead...:)
Mr. Saunders' essay (I always love a pause to look at the map for a minute, if you will, so thank you) makes me think of a tension I sometimes feel. As a writer (okay, a wannabe writer), I love the approach outlined by Mr. Saunders above. I want the full diagnostic package and, if necessary, to know why the writer used every word that he used, where he used it and how. But as a reader, I hate it. I love reading, and it has given me so many magical evenings and insights, and I don't want to know what makes the magic, I just want the magic. It really is an almost transcendent experience for me, in a way writing often isn't. If I am being honest and I only get to choose one activity for the rest of my life, reading or writing, I am choosing reading hands down. This probably means I will always be relegated to a wannabe writer, rather than a real one, and that's okay. But I guess my point is that sometimes it feels like looking under the hood and checking out the wires spoils the magic, just a little bit. And maybe that means I should join Oprah's Story Club instead of Mr. Saunders' Story Club, but I don't want to do that. It is just a tension I feel, that I don't think I ever noticed before until reading Mr. Saunders book (Swim in the Pond, which I adore) and reading the above. Anyway, I thought it was applicable to disclose this during the "pause," if it even makes sense. Love the Story Club and, despite the tension (or maybe because of?), hope it continues for years and years. And apologies for all the trite car metaphors, like I said, wannabe.
Yes, and I totally get this. The deal I've made with myself is that I read without judgement or anything the first time (for pleasure). Then, if I want to (and, honestly, only if I'm going to need to teach something) I turn the Analysis Mind on. For me, there's no contradiction or interference - the two operate independently - but, if it doesn't work that way for someone else, I'd say - no worries. The main thing is to be aware of it, I think.
Yes, I read much the same way; first for pleasure (and if that first graph or page doesn't work for my mind/mood, adios with that story), and then for analysis. If anything, knowing how fiction is built adds to the richness of the experience in that mulling-over period.
Also, in response to George's pause column, that line, “... intuit, with my full artistic sensibility, what this particular story needs, right at this moment,” sure hit my button. I believe that's why the Hopper Principle is effective. We have an enhanced toolkit.
I have learned to do this too, sort of separate mind into two different perspectives. It can be tricky. But I think one can love reading, which I am sure we all do, and love writing at the same time.
Look at it this way. You study rules and techniques and absorb them so that eventually they vanish into you. When you learn to touchtype, it's terrible to begin with, but eventually it becomes muscle memory and you don't even think about where the letters are when you type. Plotting and writing a story can be a slog when you're starting out, but eventually your mind absorbs what you've learned, story clicks into place easier, and when you're really in the "zone," you're not thinking about a story, you're watching the movie zoom through your head and just typing what you see. Just keep writing and you'll get there.
Aaron, you captured a fear I have about myself, too: that I'm always going to love reading/critical work (or "be better" at it) than I am at writing anything new. Then again, my "real life" of work and family is so busy right now that I also hope that when I have more mental and temporal bandwidth I'll find that's not actually true, that I *can* write. Perhaps this is a species of imposter syndrome. But I think about all the writers throughout history who didn't let their circumstances get in the way of their art and I doubt that it's imposter syndrome....I fear that I really am just an imposter, or lazy.
Let me offer an observation. How to tell a story can be taught. Finding the time and energy though is tough when you have real-world committments. A lot of writers usually carve out a time of day when they can write, usually early in the morning before everything happens. It also helps to find something that excites you to write about. I love animals so I write books with animals in them. Never hard to spend a little time as my egomaniac Siamese trying to get out of a jam. You also don't have to write a lot. I think Graham Green wrote 250 a day, and I mean that literally. He'd count to 250 and then stop even if it was in the middle of a sentence. Hemmingway also said he wrote and stopped at a point where he'd want to continue, so he'd want to get back to it the next day. How much you write isn't as important as doing it consistently. Something about doing a little every day makes it easier to fall back into the dream than doing it in fits and stops. Just doing a little bit regularly gets you there eventually.
I wanted to add that I recently made a goal to write every day. The important thing about that goal, though, is that I’ve given myself no pressure in regards to how much, or how long. Most days I end up writing a paragraph and spend about 10 minutes doing it, but that’s what is realistic for me right now and it’s felt really good to be consistently doing *something.*
I do something like this too. Even if I only write a sentence, I have written. And sometimes that is all that gets done but I find that production is more inclined to snowball without the self-critic nagging you about word counts.
That's good to hear. Sometimes it just takes awhile for the old writing engine to warm up but the important thing is to just keep going. You might also try an old writer's trick and start your time by rewriting the last paragraph you wrote. You might just write it word for word, or you might find a word or phrase you want to tweak. It won't take you very long and it will help lead you into the next paragraph.
I could have written this word for word! You are not alone in feeling this way.
Drawing, painting the same. Draw something every day. I’m always surprised to discover quite how many sketch books get filled that way. Maintaining a body of work will throw up plenty of mediocre alongside a surprisingly high count of good. And every now and then something that demands to be developed!
I can totally relate to that feeling of being an imposter and/or lazy. But I also believe that is a sign of how important you feel writing is. Overconfidence / arrogance is for my money far worse, if not entirely destructive to good writing
This! Feel it too, Aaron. Except after all the books read over a lifetime, there's that little voice whispering- 'you could write a story too....' and knowing there's a need to understand the non-magic structure aspect too...
Aaron, you also believe in the magic of writing stories... that delicious high when your pen finds paper and scribbles a story, and you are wondering you had no part in it, and it is pure magic, because it comes from subconsciousness, you would swear you did not write it - and that is magic, and it will happen as you write, and surprise your very self at every turn when the story turns...
As an older person and new writer, I found this post very inspiring. I'm a dedicated reader and feel like I have lots of stuff in my silo (or hopper). But, not only do need to analyze the features of the table I want to make and get into the mind of a master builder, I need to learn to use a saw and a hammer. It's a slow, difficult task and I'm trying to have patience with myself as I learn and not give up. It's helpful to be in this community.
Writers of the world unite!
Lacerate the myth of genius!
We have nothing to lose but our reins!
Writers are workers, too!
There is some genius out there....but we all know about that rabbit and tortoise^^
You ever tried to unite writers? It's herding cats until you put some tuna (ie money) in front of them.
BTW, I think a brief survey of what passes for good storytelling and is praised these days has already punctured that myth.
Cats are fine what ever they do^^
This reminds me of Ira Glass and his thoughts on how we all start with creative work but feel like it's not quite what we want it to be, because those who get into creative work have good taste, so recognise when our output isn't what our ambitions want it to be, but that by working through that, we will eventually close the gap https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91FQKciKfHI
The Gap! A favorite of mine. Before I started writing in earnest I thought often of a different type of gap, the one between myself and “real” artists. After studying the space between us, I realized what made them writers, painters, and performers: the audacity of self belief. Now whenever I get lost in the taste/ability gap I remind myself: you write, therefore (a writer) you are.
"the audacity of self belief" -- Isn't it the truth? Something to ponder and cultivate.
I *love* that, the audacity of self belief! :)
Yup, Mr. Saunders, as you conclude here, this is why listening to you read 'Pond' out loud in the spring of 2021 on Audible, with loving kindness & appreciation for reason, pulled me out of the darkest period of my life when faced with the combination of TFG, Covid & aging. Can not thank you enough for returning me to my early passion for reading & my previously discarded dream of becoming a writer.
So good to hear this, Wendy.
“A story’s too smart for that. It wants a solution organic to itself.” Brilliant.
Also explains why analyzing literature to death in our classrooms as is traditionally done, doesn’t necessarily produce good writers (or eventually even readers when students leave schooling). We have to create space for the awkward discomfort of showing up for (y)our own work. For those of us who are here and we still love reading (regardless of our writing journeys), somehow survived the analysis paralysis (usually one view) in schooling.
Thank you very much for this, George Saunders.
your analysis here of how we are taught, and that term 'analysis paralysis' is so apt, Annie.
Oh George -
This final paragraph fills my heart.
To read. To want to understand. To care. To have this love. To have this connection with the words of another and to come away a richer fuller human as a result. To know all these amazing others are reading with me. To see this as an act of kindness and an affirmation of our humanity.
This is a wonderful gift. Your creation of this group with this task and this connection has made these winter days and this life so much fuller.
Thank you.
Thanks, George, for clarifying this. I was wondering how I was going to apply what we’ve learned here during the initial creation of my stories. Now I understand that it’s not to be a rigid set of rules to follow when first putting words on the page. That it should happen intuitively as we write and revise sounds perfectly natural and right.
There've been so many times when reading a really great story that I've thought, "How does he or she do it?" and then immediately realize that I can't ever really know the answer unless I become that person—in other words, I can only write like Lorrie Moore if I am Lorrie Moore. But I have definitely had the experience of being inspired by a technique or turn of phrase in another author's work which suddenly pops up from my subconscious as I write, opening the door to a whole world I might have missed otherwise.
A brilliant young faculty-member at Bennington pooh-poohs one of her first collections of short stories as simply a series of imitations of her favorite writers—she says she examined the templates of favorite stories and applied them to the stories she wanted to tell. The book is quite renowned and won multiple awards, and she won the the 5 Under 35 Award. I believe her stories are hers alone—those other writers simply inspired and enriched them.
So, I love this idea of infusing ourselves with beauty, so that we recognize it when we, ourselves, produce it—and when we don't.
what is better than finishing a story and thinking, oh my god, how did they do that? It's just the best.
Having that exact feeling right now reading the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation of Gogol (via Swim Pond Rain). Exhilarating!
Patti, I believe I know which writer you're referring to, and I found her collection so moving and original. But I think if I'm remembering an essay she later wrote correctly, she admits that in that collection she was driven by a motivation to impress and please the types of writers she was imitating. And perhaps this type of approval-seeking sullied how she later felt about what she had produced? I think her mixed feelings had less to do with imitation, and more to do with the feeling that she had been pandering (to use the word from her essay). I think what I'm trying to say but am struggling to find the words for has something to do with: we can pull influence and even imitate (hopefully in an original way), but that something in that process has to stay truthful to us and our art for it to truly feel like it's "ours."
Patti, Can either you or Manami who this writer is?
I'm not entirely sure, but I thought Patti might be referring to Claire Vaye Watkins (Her essay: https://tinhouse.com/on-pandering/)
Thank you so much for posting this, Manami. Had not heard of this writer and her words immediately resonated: e.g. 'But I remind you that people at the periphery will travel to accept and even love things not made for or toward them: we have been trained to do so our entire lives.' Recently I realised the stories I've was taught to love and appreciate don't express my experience. We were taught 'white male geniuses' always. Heart of Darkness/Conrad. Donne. Wordsworth. Shakespeare. Dickens. Austen was taught but I couldn't relate to that mannered english upper class world. There are writers now that sing to me- Rooney, Gaitskill, Cusk, Ferrante, Plath, Morrison, Lorde, Oliver, Baldwin. Had to find them by word of mouth, research. Was wondering why I would read things and feel a yearning for something more, something that reflected my experiences of life. Like when 'Wonderwoman' the movie came out, seeing a training ground full of self-sufficient warrior women for the first time on screen, I burst into tears! Reading this link gave me an immediate visceral feeling of recognition of that kind too.
(and I'm a bit excited that George used the teaser word 'her' re: the next short story writer....)
Emma, I expect I'll mention this more formally, in a future post, but do you know the book "Silences," by Tillie Olsen? It's an amazing book about how certain classes of people have been silenced by the culture and in there, as an Appendix, is a list of forgotten or overlooked or silenced 19th Century women writers. It's astonishing. And apparently, because of Olsen's list, many of them were "rediscovered" - had their works republished...
Hi George and all: I found "Silences" as an e-book in my university's library, so I was able to read it right away (ProQuest Ebook Central for anyone who has library access to this service)... What a jewel of a text! I had never heard of this book, but I am so glad to know about it now, and to share it with others (including many of my university's students).
Is there a writer/work you would add to her list? (I vote for Martha Gellhorn's short story "Miami-New York," 1948 in The Atlantic Monthly and The Best American Short Stories of the Century.)
Thanks for the recommendation, George- I'm not familiar with that book. Will check it out. Looking forward to that future post!
Thank you for mentioning this!
Emma, it's so nice to read your thoughts on this, and I'm grateful that the essay resonated with you. When I went to bed last night, I had this nagging feeling that I had steamrolled Patti's comment (I'm so sorry if it felt that way, Patti). This is my first time interacting on the internet with people I don't personally know, so I may fumble here and there, but I'm also grateful for the feeling of . . . safety this distance creates. If this were an actual class, I'd probably be that person who never raises their hand.
I love so many of those writers you've mentioned. And like you, I had to find writers who spoke to me on my own, but doesn't that feel magical when that discovery happens? Also, there are so many stories out there that weren't written for me or reflect my experience but still contributed to forming me and my world view. I love that those kinds of connections are possible . . .
George's mention of the book "Silences" has stirred something in me. I have not read it, but it sounds amazing. I reread Watkins's essay after sharing it (I feel like I remembered the sentiment but had missed the point), and when she mentions Rebecca Solnit I also think of silence, or how voicelessness = powerlessness. And it has also left me thinking of all the silences that are self-imposed (I am guilty of this) . . .
Manami- It feels like these threads are like conversations in a seminar room, where it goes from one person to another. The point Patti made about 'becoming' another writer to write was new to me. To see the Watkins essay describing that same process as a way to be accepted as a writer, a continuation of Patti's idea, was a great connection...
It is hard to know ettiquette online, guess we learn as we go along? But glad you are interacting on here - glad everyone is :)
Hear you re; the love. So many writers, not all fiction- Solnit yes, and Didion, Strayed, Heti, Roy, Oates, Smith. It does feel like magic every time a new voice is discovered, or teaches me something about life. I'd not heard of George either until the NYT piece on the Club!
Am looking forward to reading 'Silences'- suspect it will challenge whether that silence you describe is 'self-imposed' or a more complex question altogether.
Emma, I also resonated with your words, too. Thank you.
(And I hope it's all right that I'm sharing this, but I found this essay so thought-provoking)
Manami, I can't thank you enough for this link. Just finished reading her essay. It set me on fire... Especially loved this, "Let us embrace a do-it-yourself canon, wherein we each make our own canon filled with what we love to read, what speaks to us and challenges us and opens us up, wherein we can each determine
our artistic lineages for ourselves, with curiosity and vigor, rather than trying to shoehorn ourselves into a canon ready made and gifted us by some white fucks at Oxford."
Now to work through my self-doubt...
I'm so glad you addressed this issue because this kind of analysis does hang me up when I write. I want to keep all these gems in mind, but it is impossible. However I am growing more trusting of my unconscious. So when you say "you can just forget about it," I know it is not gone. I am just decluttering my conscious mind and letting the air in. My unconscious mind has my back. Thank you!