I appreciate the time and effort you’ve put into Ann Patchett and her latest book, which I can’t wait to read. When I read Tom Lake, I thought it was the most loving book I’d ever read, and it surprised me that I had the thought. I don’t usually rate books based on being loving, but was struck by it with this one. Also Orbital. And I felt it with Lincoln in the Bardo. Unbidden, but I think it matters. We need to put the love in the world to counteract all the stuff that’s being spewed around out there.
Agreed! And I think perhaps it has become difficult for authors to be interested in incorporating Love into their stories. I believe it will take a certain perspective to see it (love) operating and manifesting in the real world because many of us are deeply submerged in the muck that is sometimes 2026. There aren’t many people who are fully motivated by their love for other beings. I knew one. Do you?
The one thing I’ve noticed is that it’s very difficult for me to edit something I wrote yesterday. It’s much easier to edit something I wrote last week or even last month. Which I guess means that although I certainly do editing daily, the practice of slightly improving sentences day by day rarely results in a finished, good story. I often need to put a story away for weeks or months (sometimes years) before the big edits happen. Although of course I realize that these two approaches are complementary, not contradictory.
Hi, Wim. I can edit something I wrote yesterday, but it's generally re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic (sometimes also they really were a mess). On the other hand, if I wait too long, I find I'm out of touch with the whys and wherefores of what I thought I was doing. There seems to be an optimal wait time (a month, maybe six months, but no more than a year).
That sounds very much like my process, John. BTW, when I said “a finished good story,” I meant by my standards - my stories are very “mid” as the kids say 😄
Agree, to some extent. At times I need to fairly constantly tinker, especially with structure (I live and die by cut-and-paste between versions). But once I feel like I've "got it," then I need to let it lie for awhile. And return to either edit more or sigh, "It is finished."
I've heard that you should keep the writing and the editing as separate processes on separate days or even weeks. So this makes sense. Probably functionally has to do with long term potentiation, memory encoding, and working memory to long term memory pipeline.
The believability thing is all in the language isn't it? Again, voice and style, two sides of the same thing: ) And then what do we believe anyway? How about Goldilocks and the Three Bears? A fairy tale, and I'm asking if I believe it and I say yes. I also thought of this analogy for believability - that it's a big elastic stretching from the beginning of the story to the end, and you can stretch it here and there and play with it , like it's fun to stretch it to the edge of believability, maybe even go over, but then let it back and balance it out somehow. Another metaphor was a torque wrench, you know, put the screws to the story, but that's not very believable.
It's so interesting to discuss books with people, and come to find out a book you read and believed and got lost in was not that for someone else, or the exact opposite. "I didn't believe the character would..." do this or that, they say. So I'm not so sure, knowing this, what the secret sauce is.
My wife and I really look forward to another summer trip with her new book!
I am not really into audio books, but Ann Patchett's novels have become a "road trip tradition" for us since 2 ~ 3 years ago. Despite protests from our little one, whenever we drove up and down California we'd put on one of her books. So far we've finished:
The Dutch House
Tom Lake
The Patron Saint of Liars
Bel Canto
Common Wealth
All of her books were somehow associated (in our memories) with a certain trip that we got stuck in rush hour LA trying to get to Lego Land or a creepy drive through the redwoods at night with no light insight for miles, or that a character was dying when we were going downhill through crazy night fog.
Happy Summer everybody and happy reading (or listening to audio books!)
I'm super excited to read Whistler! Anne is one of those writers who gives me the "what am I even doing here, I'll never be this good" feeling while at the same time also giving me the "OMG, this is why I want to spend my life getting better at this!"
As for believability, I have a small observation about why:
“He slits open the bubble-wrap. Inside is this giant dirt clod. Sticking out of the clod is a shoe. In the shoe is a foot, a rotted foot, in a rotted sock.
“I don’t get it,” I say."
Is so much more believable than,
“He slits open the bubble-wrap. Inside are two dead bodies,”
Because the former takes us through the very real, very natural process our human brains go through when confronted with something unbelievable. We don't immediately conclude the truth:
"Huh, a dead body in the closet." We take it in bit by bit, trying to make sense of what we see. It may be only a matter of seconds, but the reality needs time to sink in. And, if something is truly awful, like say, a couple of dead bodies in the closet, we still might resist what our senses are telling us. Hence why "I don't get it," further enhances the believability for me here.
This also makes for suspense, this bit by bit, always a good thing in storytelling as opposed to the summarizing of, say, a police report, concise but not nearly as interesting.
I was struck by (and can relate to) this passage in particular: "I’ve always been a people-pleaser and I feel that I intuitively know how to make you believe me, even if (God forbid) what I’m telling you isn’t true. That’s a life-skill I developed, for better or worse, that is (I think and hope) being used for good in my stories (while I try to expunge it in real life)."
Ideally, I think it would be great if more writers could/would take this approach, especially the "expunge it in real life" part. I'm not a fiction writer, but, nevertheless, would also like to be better at the expunging part myself. I get a bit stuck, though, around questions of what is belief/believability? How do we come to our beliefs (if we have any) and/or make ourselves believable? In fact, coincidentally/ synchronicitously, I spent a good part of my morning today trying to read about these very things.
Can't say I'm much further ahead, but it seems to me a lot of it, or maybe all of it, has to do with what we think language is. I think for someone like Jhumpa Lahiri--if I understand her correctly (and I may be way off)--language is everything, there is nothing outside of language, language is us (humans) and we are language.
I've long thought that way myself. But I was recently reading an old interview with Robert Lepage about his play "Tectonic Plates" that I saw some years ago (late '80s or early '90s). In that interview, Lepage says, "Language is a costume." Wow. I don't think I've ever heard that before, or if I have, it didn't strike me as much. Not sure, but I'm guessing because there wasn't so much phony/fake language (and people?) back then as there is today.
Anyway, if language is indeed [just] a "costume," how do we use it for "good"? How do we expunge the "not good or not-so-good" from it in real life? Can we really do either thing? Does it matter?
I know this is kind of all-over-the-place, but does anyone have any thoughts?
I think Lahore is right when she says all we have is language. But language includes more than just words. As for Lepage’s assertion that language is costume, yes to that, too. We’re always wearing different suits, depending on people and circumstance. I think that how language, or anything else for that matter, can be used for good comes down to volition.
"All the worlds a stage..." The idea that language is our costume intrigues. How we wear it, use it, what difference does it make? To talk someone down from a high roof. To say I love you. I hate you. Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.
Yes, that costume idea really gave me a lot of pause. What difference does it make, indeed? Is it true that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet? And, yes, it would be nice to go along with that "sticks and stones" thing, and I held to it for a long time myself. You can't change society by changing language, I said. No one can be hurt by language, I said. Now I'm not so sure. My international students always had many counter examples to demonstrate how you could be. And look at all the examples we have daily from young people, women, racialized people, people of color, and socially marginalized and excluded people of all types of backgrounds who have very clearly been hurt by language. I still don't think that changing language is going to do much if the fundamental causes aren't changed, but perhaps it can help a little? I don't really know. It's a big question.
Yes words can be hurtful. The sticks and stones thing is of old, something we grew up with in the playground of youth. Not very helpful. Some Toltec wisdom from The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz: "Be impeccable with your word. Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of the word in the direction of truth and love." That's more like it.
I'm not sure what Lepage meant by "language is a costume," but of course, we all wear costumes every day, even if we don't mean or want to. Language is made up of referents that we all agree on in order to communicate. And so, it is something that we "put on" when using words. The words themselves are abstract replacements for the real thing but they are what we have--along with art, music, dance, etc. We add onto those words with style, tone, manner, body language, etc. We use our hands, or we raise our eyebrows. It's all a form of "costume." As far as Jhumpa Lahiri goes, I think she's right. Language is everything. It's what we do as humans (as Toni Morrison says). We use some kind of language for everything--otherwise we would be trapped and all alone. As far as "using it for good"--well, we do have to think when we speak. We do have to think when we write or create. What are we saying to others? Art is love, really. Creating is why we are here.
Well, that's the thing. I don't think Lahiri would say the words themselves are abstract replacements for the real thing. And if you look at someone like Charles Peirce, or other semioticians, they would say there is no real thing--only a bunch of signifiers and signifieds. No one agrees on what language is. There are similar arguments in music/sound studies. For some people, so-called musical sounds/sounds are abstract representations that reflect society/the world. For others, they are real, tangible, material entities that create/construct the world. Et cetera, et cetera. And I don't think any of us can really say what art is, what love is, or why we're here. But, I will go so far as to say it can be fun (and probably necessary) to pretend or indulge in those illusions/delusions, or acting as if they mattered.
Yes, signifiers. Referents. That's what words are. I've never heard that people don't agree on what language is, but I'll take your word for it. However, I'll disagree with you on whether or not any of us can say what love is, what art is, or why we are here. I'm not saying anyone has to have the same belief system as me, if that's what you mean. But I stand by my beliefs, I don't think I'm deluded, and to me, they matter.
Sure. I have my own personal thoughts, feelings, beliefs, experiences, actions, behaviors, etc. about all those things, too, and they matter very much to me on that level. But I also notice that for me, and for many others, they shift and change a lot, and can be very contingent, specific, and particular to particular times, places, and situations. I think the illusion/delusion comes in often when trying to generalize or universalize (and when using that problematic "we")--and I read your words (in your first response above) as doing that. In your second response, though, you use "I," "my," and "me," which I think I understand better. But in the grand "poof" :) scheme of things, it probably doesn't matter all that much. Who was it who said, "It's no matter, never mind?" :)
I'm not the all-knower around here (or anywhere). When I write in the comments, I'm always ever giving only my own thoughts and never speaking for anyone else. It is mortifying to me that you might think otherwise.
Thanks for clarifying, mary g., but oh my gosh please don't be mortified. I think I've been brought up and educated with a quite different understanding of/approach to language (and the ways it makes meaning) than you, but it's good to be able to talk about it, no? As I was trying to point out, your words in your first response did come across to me as "we" type generalizations in a more traditional argument style (which I've learned to be on the alert to, as in "Who's 'we'?"). So, sorry, but I didn't really "hear" you as speaking your own personal thoughts there. But in your second response, I heard you much better with your switch to I/me/my, as I said. Now I feel mortified.
Pulling this from current memoir writing, addressing the language questions inside the larger question of STORY: "One thing seems clear. The world has been in a continuous uproar my entire life, and was before my life, and will be after my life. How much more needs to be told in light of that? But then I realize that this is a story and the ability to tell it is a driver of life. Many computer files and journals I had kept on the system were lost or corrupted beyond help as I've explained. We'll see what emerges from reclaimed files, recall, sparse written notes and memory. There are my short stories and essays, too. Some went modestly into print times past. They’ve probably enjoyed more readers than this tome ever will. I like that last sentence. It reads as if the stories (themselves) enjoyed being read." Thanks for your thoughts and the opportunity to share mine,
Hi Penny. First of all, I am so sorry to hear about your computer files and journals. What a nightmare! But I'm sure lots will emerge from your "reclaimed files, recall...notes, memory," as you say. And for sure it will be a story, although perhaps not the one you imagined at the outset. I really like your ideas of a story as "a driver of life" and "as if the stories (themselves) enjoyed being read." That's cool. Thanks for sharing this. :)
I find my method and priorities for editing depend on what I'm writing. In history, with the conference papers and essays for publication I mostly produced, there was always a word limit that I had to keep in mind, in addition to making sure my thesis, arguments, etc., were structured in such a way that the thing flowed naturally.
For the former conference paper I'm re-writing in a lighthearted, anachronistic vein, I have to weigh what historical information the reader needs to know in order to understand the women I'm presenting to them, and how all of that can be presented in a way that's lively and clearly relates back to my praying, bitching ladies. And to do it without footnotes? (although I think I'll need to have at least one, the very bare basics of the English Civil War, since that did quite often provide the context for the complaining pleas to the Almighty, such as Dorothy Lady Pakington griping to God about God, for not smiting the Parliamentarians forthwith.)
To link back to Ruth's story, like her my fiction, especially what I'm currently working on, draws from my own life, and so I have keep asking if what I'm writing is believable not only to the reader but to me in terms of what I lived: am I softening it, or hardening it, beyond what the event actually felt like, or how I remember the characters actually being? Since I know what happened later, should that influence how I write about that particular moment?
Finally, my biggest project is virtually all editing: I inherited my great-grandfather's papers, which include copies of his contributions to his extended family's "circular letter," that went from one member to the next, eventually encompassing five continents (there were a lot of missionaries) from about the 1880s until his death early in 1936. He also had scrapbooks of his mentions in newspapers, his contributions to magazines, and there are miscellaneous items ranging from my great-grandmother's schoolgirl essays (one was on "the miseries of travel" -- she liked to stay put and did almost all of her life, while he travelled a great deal) to the card informing my grandmother that her husband, my grandfather, had safely arrived in France during WWI. (In an unusual bit of family luck, he arrived on Armistice Day.) The sheer volume of material (there are additionally lots and lots of photos) is hard to manage, much less wrangle into some kind of coherent narrative told in their own words -- but I'm trying.
Hi Sharon - Thanks for this. I've been writing the story of my dysfunctional nuclear family (The Half Dozen Roses) since I retired - it is mainly for my deceased elder brother's kiddos. They lost their dad when they were little. Both of my parents, and all grandparents, aunts and uncles, are gone. I have one surviving sibling but we are estranged at present - by my request. Inevitably, I've had to reach back into my deceased parent's lives, and their parent's and parent's siblings lives, then into my nuclear line in depth... and so on. In the course of the endeavor the volume of material is sometimes overwhelming and at other times insufficient. I'm especially curious to know how you deal with - I mean how you present or absent yourself from the narrative.
Thanks, Penny. The family history I'm working on doesn't overlap with my own, unlike with you, so that helps. My great-grandfather died in 1936, and a final chapter continues until my great-grandmother's death in 1950, but even that is before my birth or even my parents' marriage. Also, I'm not really "writing" their story -- I'm editing the material they left behind, so the story is told in their own words. Even with my father, he left behind essays on "Growing Up in the Big Easy" (the family is from New Orleans) and on serving in WWII, so I can use his words. Thus I don't think I'm presenting or absenting myself from the narrative, at least at this point, which is what I call the "kitchen sink" version that includes everything. Of course, people are of their times and so I prepared myself for what a 19th-century white man, a German, might express about Jews and/or African-Americans, but thankfully I was pleasantly surprised. He refers to the latter as "colored," never using anything more derogatory, and, himself a minister, seems to have had good relations with the Black clergy -- at least, he took a visiting niece to a gospel music performance and since she was so enthralled by it, he took her to a Black church service. As for Jews, he wanted to convert them, not politically correct today but a far cry from the anti-Semitism of his times. (He did once criticize Reform Judaism as not being "pious enough"! -- but that likely reflected his own concerns with Christian rationalist theology.) He was no fundamentalist but did oppose Prohibition on the grounds that "Jesus drank."
Your project --actually writing a narrative from your material, perhaps looking for explanations or seeds for the dysfunction you experienced -- sounds much more challenging, but good for you for undertaking it, and the best of luck with it. If nothing else, your late elder brother's children will be grateful for it, and hopefully it will bring you some sense of closure or comfort as well.
Sharon - Thanks for your well wishes. Good fortune to find forbearance in your German line! I gather the source materials are in English, so you are not translating from German. My folks came out of the Midwest, Smiths (yikes) and Roses. I haven't delved into ancestry beyond the known so far - but I expect German, English and perhaps Irish roots? In any case, for my money, the story is the thing - stories are made of language (as Mary G. and Anne have been discussing) and for me - whether biography or fiction, stories as, language is another manifestation of true creative nature of infinity - worlds upon worlds - words upon words. Thanks including me here.
Thanks again, Penny and yes! Fortunately my great-grandfather himself translated his letters from German to English so I know the translation follows what he meant. He did so because only one of his 6 children knew German, none of his grandchildren did -- and so the couple of German relatives who wrote their cousins after World War II did so in English. (One touchingly wrote of her relief that her first letter had been answered, "I would understand if you never wanted anything to do with anything German ever again.")
I often find when I go back to revise a piece of writing, my main job is to tone down the desperate, defensive, caveat-riddled, apologetic tone that seems to be my native language? That looks like taking out parentheticals and qualifiers, shortening sentences, generally trying to sound less criminal.
Oh boy. Editing what I wrote yesterday is near-impossible. The only way I can edit my work is to pretend it’s someone else’s writing. Which is also hard. But I realize (at this very moment!) that when I change yesterday’s writing I implicitly am saying to myself: “Yesterday you sucked. And today you suck because if you look at this tomorrow you’ll change it again.” I don’t know how to edit my work without casting my past self into the waves as unworthy. And this is with therapy. Which is why I loved doing improvisational comedy (which I learned for a year and then stopped), because in that realm, your first is your only and therefore your best. No editing possible therefore no editing necessary.
This has nothing to do with your office hours post: I am just so excited that I have to tell you that for my birthday, My daughter today bought me tickets to Lincoln in the Bardo at the Met on November 14th. I cannot wait!
George, I keep reading this (partial) sentence you wrote: "I’d love to hear similar thoughts from you on the deep, hidden, perhaps shameful, private methods and feelings you apply when you are editing..." I'm trying to figure out what would be shameful. Or really, what would be hidden. I think I understood everything regarding your methods up until that sentence. I realize you wrote that you're a people-pleaser, and perhaps that has something to do with feelings of shame (maybe?) for you. When I edit something I've written, I edit for clarity and rhythm. I do a lot of deleting and moving things around. It doesn't feel deep or hidden to do this. (Maybe I'm simply completely misunderstanding you. If so, just ignore my comment here.) Of course, before I can edit, I re-write, and the re-write is all about figuring out what the story is trying to say, and then figuring out the best way to say/write it. I look at the plot, the causality, the crux, the heart. I make sure everything is pointing to that place--the heart, the question, the reason for the story in the first place. If I ever feel shame, it would be the personal feeling of shame that comes with feeling that my writing is mediocre. That's a hard thing to accept. It also means I have to work harder and write more and not give up. Now I'm rambling. If anyone reading this cares to weigh in on George's mention of "shameful, private methods," I'd love to hear it. My methods are private inasmuch as I am privately editing and re-writing. I am hiding the final product until it is ready. Other than that, my methods are not unusual, as far as I know. A lot of thinking, re-writing, re-reading. That's about it. (I'm going to go back in and re-read your piece here, George, to see if I missed something.)
On another note, yes, Ann Patchett is a true gift. I've loved her since her book about her friendship with Lucy Grealy. And then there is the story of the way she invited Tom Hanks' assistant to move in with her. She really is a good egg, a good person, a compassionate soul, and of course, a marvelous writer. Looking forward to reading her new one.
Being facetious there, with "shame" - I just meant that I was walking around the other day and it occurred to me that keeping the thing believable - "selling it to" the reader, is my whole thing. And it felt, at first, a little cheap. That's all.
And the people-pleaser thing, like all our tendencies, is a two-edged sword - can manifest as "tries too hard" or as "really tries to treat other people as if they are real."
Okay, so here is a (partial) shame story (or one of them). It's not exactly about editing, but it is about writing fiction in the first place. When I was in high school English lit, I often responded very strongly and emotionally to the things we read, and, from what I see of today's curriculum, we read both a lot and a lot of disturbing stuff (disturbing was a good thing back in those days). I also put a lot of strong emotions into the things I wrote. That got me good grades, but in the--let's say, practically minded and not very wealthy or forward-looking--farming community I grew up in, that was not encouraged. In fact, it was very discouraged. To make a long and complicated story short, several teachers and guidance counsellors decided that I should not be reading so many stories and (even worse for me, but who could I tell this to?) that I should also not be writing stories. These wonderful people (not) filled me with so much shame (you're wasting your time; you're making yourself sick; you should be thinking about a real job, etc. etc.) that I stopped with the fiction writing thing for years and even today can barely get beyond a paragraph before that shame sets in. So, you can imagine what editing is like for me when I can hardly even do the writing to begin with. But thanks to several creative writing courses, George and Story Club, and several writers and poets I've come to know, that shame is slowly lifting. I know this is not really the topic here but it seems I had to get it off my chest. Thanks for listening and see you in what now? tomorrow mary g. :)
How awful for you! I'm glad that the shame is lifting and you're finding writing more doable.
I once saw an interview with the actor Peter Ustinov (this must have been in the 1960s) where he claimed that as a child he was sent home with a report card saying something like "Peter has a vivid imagination, which must be curbed at all costs."
Thank you, Masha. It never ceases to amaze me how creative, artistic imaginations are so regularly crushed in North America/the west (for lack of better terms), while destructive, capitalist (and attendant religious, political) ones--are so regularly supported and vaunted.
So glad to read you are writing and have found your tribe. Masha's comment reminds me of the story of the late John Curry, gold medal ice-skater who brought balletic dance to what was just a formulaic technical sport until he burst onto the scene and revolutionised it. Why? His father crushed his dream of becoming a ballet dancer when he was a boy (not a manly enough career.....) so he took up ice skating and expressed himself there to the fullest.
What awful messages to receive. I'm sorry that happened to you. Feelings of shame are so soul-destroying. (And yes, see you tomorrow on What Now--when, ironically, I tell a shameful story about myself!)
thanks for telling us that Annemarie, its interesting, and awful. Mostly awful, people were such idiots. I'm glad it's starting to lift. My parent were told it was important I not learn piano as my hards would never be big enough to reach a chord and it would destroy me. ( after I'd written an experiemental composition and played it to my teacher the week before, horrifying her, as we werent supposed to write apparently. I was five.
I think it was called Every note on piano, because I didnt want to leave any out, poor things, but it was mostly a weird tune I wrote. The Big Thing you werent supoosed to do was be creative, it could only lead to trouble, that's what people used to think AM. My parent ended up selling the piano and buying a Yamaha organ, which had a small drum machine in it and those Bossas and Sambas and Rhumbas got rinsed, with me kneeling playing bass with my hands on the foot pedals. Good times. But I felt shame about my chord disability and sad musicless future for years.
Jeepers, the things we are told! I bet you were the most amazing five year-old. Thank god, I have lived long enough to prove all the naysayers wrong about my own future, talents, and physical attributes!
Thank you, J.D.A. and your story sounds awful, too. At five years old! What was wrong with people?!?! You are so right about people thinking creativity could only lead to trouble. I'm so glad you could turn it around. And to paraphrase a famous person, albeit in very different circumstances, but perhaps a bit related: Here's to trouble! :)
I want that pianola and all of that music! I love Cole Porter. I used to listen to an album called Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook over and over again. I think I'll go download it now--thanks for the reminder!
Yes, it's always good to see the other side/sides of shame. Here's "Night and Day" with Ella just for you and anyone else who wants a listen. It's one of my faves, too. Also "Over the Rainbow." But I can't listen to "Over the Rainbow" without tearing up and no time for that right now. :)
There's a fabulous edition of BBC Book Club with Ann Patchett looking back at Bel Canto. She speaks about the Annotated Edition that she did with margin notes looking back at what she was thinking, plot etc, and berating herself for "bad craft". She is a lovely soul.
Mary - you might be alarning people who were just about to tell us their shameful methods. Perhaps G has a drag on a menthol cigarette when things are dire.
I had written something else here originally, but since you changed what you wrote, I had to "edit" accordingly. I gave up on the menthol, but find that cigarettes are still a pretty good (if shameful) method sometimes, especially since things are always dire. :)
Well I do know what I mean in Canada by tortes and torts, but I don't know if it's the same as what you mean in Australia. We do have some vocab diffs now and again. :)
Oh, absolutely! i've been MORTIFIED by my own writing. I've done my best to destroy the truly awful stuff so that no one sees it when I'm dead and laughs at me! So much embarrassing writing in my life! But George mentioned "shameful, private methods and feelings YOU APPLY when you are editing." So I took that as the methods themselves felt shameful. Like, "oh my god, don't watch me edit, the way I'm editing is so shameful!" But yes, he probably meant what you are saying and I'm being a dork. Wouldn't be the first time. Gene Wilder and the sheep! (Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex....) Too funny!
George, thank you for this sharing. It's really chock full o' nuts (so to speak). Meaning it's really brilliant and useful advice on writing. Perhaps particularly for stories that contain potentially unbelievable things, but that just might be the case of all and every story.
Shameful?? Shameful methods I might apply when editing? Wow. Regrettable, ill-considered, stupid—oh, guilty here. But shameful? Guilt, I think, concerns the action, but shame condemns the person. And that’s something I can’t get behind, this shame, which can shut down all forms of creativity. Because now it’s become personal. And hurtful. And so of no help. I guess you could say I don’t believe in shame, though I think guilt is plenty instructive and so has value. Guilt can show you that what you did was a mistake; shame says that you yourself are the mistake. To this I cannot cotton.
I have only two rules when it comes to editing: 1. Let the thing rest, at least a day but longer if possible. After a little distance the mistakes will be apparent. And almost always, so will the fixes. 2. Never show work in progress, especially a first draft. You put the reader in a terrible bind, not knowing what it is exactly that they’re reading. And the response can either kill the thing before it’s had a chance to live or fill you will false hope. I don’t believe in showing any work until it’s as good as I can make it up to that point. It’s kinder to the reader and any response is more reliable, based on more solid ground.
What a relief that (it seems) you also wondered about that word, shameful. I asked George about it and he said he was being facetious. Like you, I couldn't "cotton" to feeling shame when editing!
For me revising is a kind of play, not always fun but often challenging, and so in that way engaging. No room there for shame, which tends to paralyze. I don’t know that you can be engaged and ashamed at the same time.
Happy that Guin is doing so well. She looks happy.
On what's plausible in a story, Aristotle in Poetics said the great author can get away with 1-2 mistakes. But then the rest of the story has to be so great that the reader will overlook a mistake or two, or if hidden well enough while the rest is so good, they might not even notice. When I see a mistake in an old beloved movie, I just accept it as part of the movie. Of course even one bad mistake will get your story trashed by an editor.
Hooray! This is just what I needed to hear. Drafting an older story into something a little weirder I shall take this gift on reader believability into my next run through. I also give current drafts to my slave girl and watch her as she reads. I feel no shame in doing this, she cost me enough.
I appreciate the time and effort you’ve put into Ann Patchett and her latest book, which I can’t wait to read. When I read Tom Lake, I thought it was the most loving book I’d ever read, and it surprised me that I had the thought. I don’t usually rate books based on being loving, but was struck by it with this one. Also Orbital. And I felt it with Lincoln in the Bardo. Unbidden, but I think it matters. We need to put the love in the world to counteract all the stuff that’s being spewed around out there.
Agreed! And I think perhaps it has become difficult for authors to be interested in incorporating Love into their stories. I believe it will take a certain perspective to see it (love) operating and manifesting in the real world because many of us are deeply submerged in the muck that is sometimes 2026. There aren’t many people who are fully motivated by their love for other beings. I knew one. Do you?
Two brilliant musicians / composers: Jon Batiste and Eric Whitacre. Love for humanity oozes through every note.
The one thing I’ve noticed is that it’s very difficult for me to edit something I wrote yesterday. It’s much easier to edit something I wrote last week or even last month. Which I guess means that although I certainly do editing daily, the practice of slightly improving sentences day by day rarely results in a finished, good story. I often need to put a story away for weeks or months (sometimes years) before the big edits happen. Although of course I realize that these two approaches are complementary, not contradictory.
Hi, Wim. I can edit something I wrote yesterday, but it's generally re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic (sometimes also they really were a mess). On the other hand, if I wait too long, I find I'm out of touch with the whys and wherefores of what I thought I was doing. There seems to be an optimal wait time (a month, maybe six months, but no more than a year).
That sounds very much like my process, John. BTW, when I said “a finished good story,” I meant by my standards - my stories are very “mid” as the kids say 😄
Agree, to some extent. At times I need to fairly constantly tinker, especially with structure (I live and die by cut-and-paste between versions). But once I feel like I've "got it," then I need to let it lie for awhile. And return to either edit more or sigh, "It is finished."
I've heard that you should keep the writing and the editing as separate processes on separate days or even weeks. So this makes sense. Probably functionally has to do with long term potentiation, memory encoding, and working memory to long term memory pipeline.
The believability thing is all in the language isn't it? Again, voice and style, two sides of the same thing: ) And then what do we believe anyway? How about Goldilocks and the Three Bears? A fairy tale, and I'm asking if I believe it and I say yes. I also thought of this analogy for believability - that it's a big elastic stretching from the beginning of the story to the end, and you can stretch it here and there and play with it , like it's fun to stretch it to the edge of believability, maybe even go over, but then let it back and balance it out somehow. Another metaphor was a torque wrench, you know, put the screws to the story, but that's not very believable.
also its a bad time for wrench theoies generally
It's so interesting to discuss books with people, and come to find out a book you read and believed and got lost in was not that for someone else, or the exact opposite. "I didn't believe the character would..." do this or that, they say. So I'm not so sure, knowing this, what the secret sauce is.
Too many palettes for one sauce to satisfy all. Which is a good thing.
My wife and I really look forward to another summer trip with her new book!
I am not really into audio books, but Ann Patchett's novels have become a "road trip tradition" for us since 2 ~ 3 years ago. Despite protests from our little one, whenever we drove up and down California we'd put on one of her books. So far we've finished:
The Dutch House
Tom Lake
The Patron Saint of Liars
Bel Canto
Common Wealth
All of her books were somehow associated (in our memories) with a certain trip that we got stuck in rush hour LA trying to get to Lego Land or a creepy drive through the redwoods at night with no light insight for miles, or that a character was dying when we were going downhill through crazy night fog.
Happy Summer everybody and happy reading (or listening to audio books!)
I loved The Dutch House read by Tom Hanks as an audio book. I am usually not a huge “audio” fan either!
Same and that book is so good. We also love the cover art that we bought the book.
And also Meryl Streep read Tom Lake so give it ago too! IMO not as moving as the Dutch House but the graft is still there to enjoy
Agree!
I'm super excited to read Whistler! Anne is one of those writers who gives me the "what am I even doing here, I'll never be this good" feeling while at the same time also giving me the "OMG, this is why I want to spend my life getting better at this!"
As for believability, I have a small observation about why:
“He slits open the bubble-wrap. Inside is this giant dirt clod. Sticking out of the clod is a shoe. In the shoe is a foot, a rotted foot, in a rotted sock.
“I don’t get it,” I say."
Is so much more believable than,
“He slits open the bubble-wrap. Inside are two dead bodies,”
Because the former takes us through the very real, very natural process our human brains go through when confronted with something unbelievable. We don't immediately conclude the truth:
"Huh, a dead body in the closet." We take it in bit by bit, trying to make sense of what we see. It may be only a matter of seconds, but the reality needs time to sink in. And, if something is truly awful, like say, a couple of dead bodies in the closet, we still might resist what our senses are telling us. Hence why "I don't get it," further enhances the believability for me here.
This also makes for suspense, this bit by bit, always a good thing in storytelling as opposed to the summarizing of, say, a police report, concise but not nearly as interesting.
I was struck by (and can relate to) this passage in particular: "I’ve always been a people-pleaser and I feel that I intuitively know how to make you believe me, even if (God forbid) what I’m telling you isn’t true. That’s a life-skill I developed, for better or worse, that is (I think and hope) being used for good in my stories (while I try to expunge it in real life)."
Ideally, I think it would be great if more writers could/would take this approach, especially the "expunge it in real life" part. I'm not a fiction writer, but, nevertheless, would also like to be better at the expunging part myself. I get a bit stuck, though, around questions of what is belief/believability? How do we come to our beliefs (if we have any) and/or make ourselves believable? In fact, coincidentally/ synchronicitously, I spent a good part of my morning today trying to read about these very things.
Can't say I'm much further ahead, but it seems to me a lot of it, or maybe all of it, has to do with what we think language is. I think for someone like Jhumpa Lahiri--if I understand her correctly (and I may be way off)--language is everything, there is nothing outside of language, language is us (humans) and we are language.
I've long thought that way myself. But I was recently reading an old interview with Robert Lepage about his play "Tectonic Plates" that I saw some years ago (late '80s or early '90s). In that interview, Lepage says, "Language is a costume." Wow. I don't think I've ever heard that before, or if I have, it didn't strike me as much. Not sure, but I'm guessing because there wasn't so much phony/fake language (and people?) back then as there is today.
Anyway, if language is indeed [just] a "costume," how do we use it for "good"? How do we expunge the "not good or not-so-good" from it in real life? Can we really do either thing? Does it matter?
I know this is kind of all-over-the-place, but does anyone have any thoughts?
I think Lahore is right when she says all we have is language. But language includes more than just words. As for Lepage’s assertion that language is costume, yes to that, too. We’re always wearing different suits, depending on people and circumstance. I think that how language, or anything else for that matter, can be used for good comes down to volition.
Lahiri! Aaargh, spell check!
"All the worlds a stage..." The idea that language is our costume intrigues. How we wear it, use it, what difference does it make? To talk someone down from a high roof. To say I love you. I hate you. Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.
Yes, that costume idea really gave me a lot of pause. What difference does it make, indeed? Is it true that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet? And, yes, it would be nice to go along with that "sticks and stones" thing, and I held to it for a long time myself. You can't change society by changing language, I said. No one can be hurt by language, I said. Now I'm not so sure. My international students always had many counter examples to demonstrate how you could be. And look at all the examples we have daily from young people, women, racialized people, people of color, and socially marginalized and excluded people of all types of backgrounds who have very clearly been hurt by language. I still don't think that changing language is going to do much if the fundamental causes aren't changed, but perhaps it can help a little? I don't really know. It's a big question.
Yes words can be hurtful. The sticks and stones thing is of old, something we grew up with in the playground of youth. Not very helpful. Some Toltec wisdom from The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz: "Be impeccable with your word. Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of the word in the direction of truth and love." That's more like it.
I grew up with the sticks and stones thing, too. Good words from Don Miguel. Thanks.
I'm not sure what Lepage meant by "language is a costume," but of course, we all wear costumes every day, even if we don't mean or want to. Language is made up of referents that we all agree on in order to communicate. And so, it is something that we "put on" when using words. The words themselves are abstract replacements for the real thing but they are what we have--along with art, music, dance, etc. We add onto those words with style, tone, manner, body language, etc. We use our hands, or we raise our eyebrows. It's all a form of "costume." As far as Jhumpa Lahiri goes, I think she's right. Language is everything. It's what we do as humans (as Toni Morrison says). We use some kind of language for everything--otherwise we would be trapped and all alone. As far as "using it for good"--well, we do have to think when we speak. We do have to think when we write or create. What are we saying to others? Art is love, really. Creating is why we are here.
Well, that's the thing. I don't think Lahiri would say the words themselves are abstract replacements for the real thing. And if you look at someone like Charles Peirce, or other semioticians, they would say there is no real thing--only a bunch of signifiers and signifieds. No one agrees on what language is. There are similar arguments in music/sound studies. For some people, so-called musical sounds/sounds are abstract representations that reflect society/the world. For others, they are real, tangible, material entities that create/construct the world. Et cetera, et cetera. And I don't think any of us can really say what art is, what love is, or why we're here. But, I will go so far as to say it can be fun (and probably necessary) to pretend or indulge in those illusions/delusions, or acting as if they mattered.
Yes, signifiers. Referents. That's what words are. I've never heard that people don't agree on what language is, but I'll take your word for it. However, I'll disagree with you on whether or not any of us can say what love is, what art is, or why we are here. I'm not saying anyone has to have the same belief system as me, if that's what you mean. But I stand by my beliefs, I don't think I'm deluded, and to me, they matter.
Sure. I have my own personal thoughts, feelings, beliefs, experiences, actions, behaviors, etc. about all those things, too, and they matter very much to me on that level. But I also notice that for me, and for many others, they shift and change a lot, and can be very contingent, specific, and particular to particular times, places, and situations. I think the illusion/delusion comes in often when trying to generalize or universalize (and when using that problematic "we")--and I read your words (in your first response above) as doing that. In your second response, though, you use "I," "my," and "me," which I think I understand better. But in the grand "poof" :) scheme of things, it probably doesn't matter all that much. Who was it who said, "It's no matter, never mind?" :)
I'm not the all-knower around here (or anywhere). When I write in the comments, I'm always ever giving only my own thoughts and never speaking for anyone else. It is mortifying to me that you might think otherwise.
Thanks for clarifying, mary g., but oh my gosh please don't be mortified. I think I've been brought up and educated with a quite different understanding of/approach to language (and the ways it makes meaning) than you, but it's good to be able to talk about it, no? As I was trying to point out, your words in your first response did come across to me as "we" type generalizations in a more traditional argument style (which I've learned to be on the alert to, as in "Who's 'we'?"). So, sorry, but I didn't really "hear" you as speaking your own personal thoughts there. But in your second response, I heard you much better with your switch to I/me/my, as I said. Now I feel mortified.
Pulling this from current memoir writing, addressing the language questions inside the larger question of STORY: "One thing seems clear. The world has been in a continuous uproar my entire life, and was before my life, and will be after my life. How much more needs to be told in light of that? But then I realize that this is a story and the ability to tell it is a driver of life. Many computer files and journals I had kept on the system were lost or corrupted beyond help as I've explained. We'll see what emerges from reclaimed files, recall, sparse written notes and memory. There are my short stories and essays, too. Some went modestly into print times past. They’ve probably enjoyed more readers than this tome ever will. I like that last sentence. It reads as if the stories (themselves) enjoyed being read." Thanks for your thoughts and the opportunity to share mine,
Hi Penny. First of all, I am so sorry to hear about your computer files and journals. What a nightmare! But I'm sure lots will emerge from your "reclaimed files, recall...notes, memory," as you say. And for sure it will be a story, although perhaps not the one you imagined at the outset. I really like your ideas of a story as "a driver of life" and "as if the stories (themselves) enjoyed being read." That's cool. Thanks for sharing this. :)
it’s interesting is my only thought
Thanks. :) For the time it took me to write that, I probably could have written a short story haha. :)
I find my method and priorities for editing depend on what I'm writing. In history, with the conference papers and essays for publication I mostly produced, there was always a word limit that I had to keep in mind, in addition to making sure my thesis, arguments, etc., were structured in such a way that the thing flowed naturally.
For the former conference paper I'm re-writing in a lighthearted, anachronistic vein, I have to weigh what historical information the reader needs to know in order to understand the women I'm presenting to them, and how all of that can be presented in a way that's lively and clearly relates back to my praying, bitching ladies. And to do it without footnotes? (although I think I'll need to have at least one, the very bare basics of the English Civil War, since that did quite often provide the context for the complaining pleas to the Almighty, such as Dorothy Lady Pakington griping to God about God, for not smiting the Parliamentarians forthwith.)
To link back to Ruth's story, like her my fiction, especially what I'm currently working on, draws from my own life, and so I have keep asking if what I'm writing is believable not only to the reader but to me in terms of what I lived: am I softening it, or hardening it, beyond what the event actually felt like, or how I remember the characters actually being? Since I know what happened later, should that influence how I write about that particular moment?
Finally, my biggest project is virtually all editing: I inherited my great-grandfather's papers, which include copies of his contributions to his extended family's "circular letter," that went from one member to the next, eventually encompassing five continents (there were a lot of missionaries) from about the 1880s until his death early in 1936. He also had scrapbooks of his mentions in newspapers, his contributions to magazines, and there are miscellaneous items ranging from my great-grandmother's schoolgirl essays (one was on "the miseries of travel" -- she liked to stay put and did almost all of her life, while he travelled a great deal) to the card informing my grandmother that her husband, my grandfather, had safely arrived in France during WWI. (In an unusual bit of family luck, he arrived on Armistice Day.) The sheer volume of material (there are additionally lots and lots of photos) is hard to manage, much less wrangle into some kind of coherent narrative told in their own words -- but I'm trying.
Sorry to have been rambling on like this.
Hi Sharon - Thanks for this. I've been writing the story of my dysfunctional nuclear family (The Half Dozen Roses) since I retired - it is mainly for my deceased elder brother's kiddos. They lost their dad when they were little. Both of my parents, and all grandparents, aunts and uncles, are gone. I have one surviving sibling but we are estranged at present - by my request. Inevitably, I've had to reach back into my deceased parent's lives, and their parent's and parent's siblings lives, then into my nuclear line in depth... and so on. In the course of the endeavor the volume of material is sometimes overwhelming and at other times insufficient. I'm especially curious to know how you deal with - I mean how you present or absent yourself from the narrative.
Thanks, Penny. The family history I'm working on doesn't overlap with my own, unlike with you, so that helps. My great-grandfather died in 1936, and a final chapter continues until my great-grandmother's death in 1950, but even that is before my birth or even my parents' marriage. Also, I'm not really "writing" their story -- I'm editing the material they left behind, so the story is told in their own words. Even with my father, he left behind essays on "Growing Up in the Big Easy" (the family is from New Orleans) and on serving in WWII, so I can use his words. Thus I don't think I'm presenting or absenting myself from the narrative, at least at this point, which is what I call the "kitchen sink" version that includes everything. Of course, people are of their times and so I prepared myself for what a 19th-century white man, a German, might express about Jews and/or African-Americans, but thankfully I was pleasantly surprised. He refers to the latter as "colored," never using anything more derogatory, and, himself a minister, seems to have had good relations with the Black clergy -- at least, he took a visiting niece to a gospel music performance and since she was so enthralled by it, he took her to a Black church service. As for Jews, he wanted to convert them, not politically correct today but a far cry from the anti-Semitism of his times. (He did once criticize Reform Judaism as not being "pious enough"! -- but that likely reflected his own concerns with Christian rationalist theology.) He was no fundamentalist but did oppose Prohibition on the grounds that "Jesus drank."
Your project --actually writing a narrative from your material, perhaps looking for explanations or seeds for the dysfunction you experienced -- sounds much more challenging, but good for you for undertaking it, and the best of luck with it. If nothing else, your late elder brother's children will be grateful for it, and hopefully it will bring you some sense of closure or comfort as well.
Sharon - Thanks for your well wishes. Good fortune to find forbearance in your German line! I gather the source materials are in English, so you are not translating from German. My folks came out of the Midwest, Smiths (yikes) and Roses. I haven't delved into ancestry beyond the known so far - but I expect German, English and perhaps Irish roots? In any case, for my money, the story is the thing - stories are made of language (as Mary G. and Anne have been discussing) and for me - whether biography or fiction, stories as, language is another manifestation of true creative nature of infinity - worlds upon worlds - words upon words. Thanks including me here.
Thanks again, Penny and yes! Fortunately my great-grandfather himself translated his letters from German to English so I know the translation follows what he meant. He did so because only one of his 6 children knew German, none of his grandchildren did -- and so the couple of German relatives who wrote their cousins after World War II did so in English. (One touchingly wrote of her relief that her first letter had been answered, "I would understand if you never wanted anything to do with anything German ever again.")
I often find when I go back to revise a piece of writing, my main job is to tone down the desperate, defensive, caveat-riddled, apologetic tone that seems to be my native language? That looks like taking out parentheticals and qualifiers, shortening sentences, generally trying to sound less criminal.
Oh boy. Editing what I wrote yesterday is near-impossible. The only way I can edit my work is to pretend it’s someone else’s writing. Which is also hard. But I realize (at this very moment!) that when I change yesterday’s writing I implicitly am saying to myself: “Yesterday you sucked. And today you suck because if you look at this tomorrow you’ll change it again.” I don’t know how to edit my work without casting my past self into the waves as unworthy. And this is with therapy. Which is why I loved doing improvisational comedy (which I learned for a year and then stopped), because in that realm, your first is your only and therefore your best. No editing possible therefore no editing necessary.
Interesting, because I like your work precisely because it is inherently unbelievable and slapstick as well as satiric.
This has nothing to do with your office hours post: I am just so excited that I have to tell you that for my birthday, My daughter today bought me tickets to Lincoln in the Bardo at the Met on November 14th. I cannot wait!
George, I keep reading this (partial) sentence you wrote: "I’d love to hear similar thoughts from you on the deep, hidden, perhaps shameful, private methods and feelings you apply when you are editing..." I'm trying to figure out what would be shameful. Or really, what would be hidden. I think I understood everything regarding your methods up until that sentence. I realize you wrote that you're a people-pleaser, and perhaps that has something to do with feelings of shame (maybe?) for you. When I edit something I've written, I edit for clarity and rhythm. I do a lot of deleting and moving things around. It doesn't feel deep or hidden to do this. (Maybe I'm simply completely misunderstanding you. If so, just ignore my comment here.) Of course, before I can edit, I re-write, and the re-write is all about figuring out what the story is trying to say, and then figuring out the best way to say/write it. I look at the plot, the causality, the crux, the heart. I make sure everything is pointing to that place--the heart, the question, the reason for the story in the first place. If I ever feel shame, it would be the personal feeling of shame that comes with feeling that my writing is mediocre. That's a hard thing to accept. It also means I have to work harder and write more and not give up. Now I'm rambling. If anyone reading this cares to weigh in on George's mention of "shameful, private methods," I'd love to hear it. My methods are private inasmuch as I am privately editing and re-writing. I am hiding the final product until it is ready. Other than that, my methods are not unusual, as far as I know. A lot of thinking, re-writing, re-reading. That's about it. (I'm going to go back in and re-read your piece here, George, to see if I missed something.)
On another note, yes, Ann Patchett is a true gift. I've loved her since her book about her friendship with Lucy Grealy. And then there is the story of the way she invited Tom Hanks' assistant to move in with her. She really is a good egg, a good person, a compassionate soul, and of course, a marvelous writer. Looking forward to reading her new one.
Being facetious there, with "shame" - I just meant that I was walking around the other day and it occurred to me that keeping the thing believable - "selling it to" the reader, is my whole thing. And it felt, at first, a little cheap. That's all.
And the people-pleaser thing, like all our tendencies, is a two-edged sword - can manifest as "tries too hard" or as "really tries to treat other people as if they are real."
Ah, okay. Thank you. I am just soooo literal. And clearly the only person who got stuck on that sentence. Thanks for getting back to me.
Okay, so here is a (partial) shame story (or one of them). It's not exactly about editing, but it is about writing fiction in the first place. When I was in high school English lit, I often responded very strongly and emotionally to the things we read, and, from what I see of today's curriculum, we read both a lot and a lot of disturbing stuff (disturbing was a good thing back in those days). I also put a lot of strong emotions into the things I wrote. That got me good grades, but in the--let's say, practically minded and not very wealthy or forward-looking--farming community I grew up in, that was not encouraged. In fact, it was very discouraged. To make a long and complicated story short, several teachers and guidance counsellors decided that I should not be reading so many stories and (even worse for me, but who could I tell this to?) that I should also not be writing stories. These wonderful people (not) filled me with so much shame (you're wasting your time; you're making yourself sick; you should be thinking about a real job, etc. etc.) that I stopped with the fiction writing thing for years and even today can barely get beyond a paragraph before that shame sets in. So, you can imagine what editing is like for me when I can hardly even do the writing to begin with. But thanks to several creative writing courses, George and Story Club, and several writers and poets I've come to know, that shame is slowly lifting. I know this is not really the topic here but it seems I had to get it off my chest. Thanks for listening and see you in what now? tomorrow mary g. :)
How awful for you! I'm glad that the shame is lifting and you're finding writing more doable.
I once saw an interview with the actor Peter Ustinov (this must have been in the 1960s) where he claimed that as a child he was sent home with a report card saying something like "Peter has a vivid imagination, which must be curbed at all costs."
Thank you, Masha. It never ceases to amaze me how creative, artistic imaginations are so regularly crushed in North America/the west (for lack of better terms), while destructive, capitalist (and attendant religious, political) ones--are so regularly supported and vaunted.
So glad to read you are writing and have found your tribe. Masha's comment reminds me of the story of the late John Curry, gold medal ice-skater who brought balletic dance to what was just a formulaic technical sport until he burst onto the scene and revolutionised it. Why? His father crushed his dream of becoming a ballet dancer when he was a boy (not a manly enough career.....) so he took up ice skating and expressed himself there to the fullest.
Thank you, Barbara. John Curry, yes. Another great story.
What awful messages to receive. I'm sorry that happened to you. Feelings of shame are so soul-destroying. (And yes, see you tomorrow on What Now--when, ironically, I tell a shameful story about myself!)
Thank you. And perfect timing then. :)
thanks for telling us that Annemarie, its interesting, and awful. Mostly awful, people were such idiots. I'm glad it's starting to lift. My parent were told it was important I not learn piano as my hards would never be big enough to reach a chord and it would destroy me. ( after I'd written an experiemental composition and played it to my teacher the week before, horrifying her, as we werent supposed to write apparently. I was five.
I think it was called Every note on piano, because I didnt want to leave any out, poor things, but it was mostly a weird tune I wrote. The Big Thing you werent supoosed to do was be creative, it could only lead to trouble, that's what people used to think AM. My parent ended up selling the piano and buying a Yamaha organ, which had a small drum machine in it and those Bossas and Sambas and Rhumbas got rinsed, with me kneeling playing bass with my hands on the foot pedals. Good times. But I felt shame about my chord disability and sad musicless future for years.
Jeepers, the things we are told! I bet you were the most amazing five year-old. Thank god, I have lived long enough to prove all the naysayers wrong about my own future, talents, and physical attributes!
I think I might be older than you and I certainly have not proved anything of the sort. :)
I hope that's not really true. You seem pretty amazing to me.
Thank you. Well, I do think it's true, but maybe there's still time. :)
I stopped believing one could do anything one thought one could do that very year I think
haha
ha! I wont toast trouble but the problems Ive seen on this world had nothing to do with music
Thank you, J.D.A. and your story sounds awful, too. At five years old! What was wrong with people?!?! You are so right about people thinking creativity could only lead to trouble. I'm so glad you could turn it around. And to paraphrase a famous person, albeit in very different circumstances, but perhaps a bit related: Here's to trouble! :)
I want that pianola and all of that music! I love Cole Porter. I used to listen to an album called Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook over and over again. I think I'll go download it now--thanks for the reminder!
Yes, it's always good to see the other side/sides of shame. Here's "Night and Day" with Ella just for you and anyone else who wants a listen. It's one of my faves, too. Also "Over the Rainbow." But I can't listen to "Over the Rainbow" without tearing up and no time for that right now. :)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mADgdwlyjFM&list=RDmADgdwlyjFM&start_radio=1
There's a fabulous edition of BBC Book Club with Ann Patchett looking back at Bel Canto. She speaks about the Annotated Edition that she did with margin notes looking back at what she was thinking, plot etc, and berating herself for "bad craft". She is a lovely soul.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b08zzygt
Mary - you might be alarning people who were just about to tell us their shameful methods. Perhaps G has a drag on a menthol cigarette when things are dire.
I had written something else here originally, but since you changed what you wrote, I had to "edit" accordingly. I gave up on the menthol, but find that cigarettes are still a pretty good (if shameful) method sometimes, especially since things are always dire. :)
Dire meaning Dis Is Really Enjoyable . see what I can do with words. cant be taught.
Maybe not taught. But in your case, your words are certainly taut.
And your thoughts are more like tortes than torts. that might only make sense in Aust. not sure
Well I do know what I mean in Canada by tortes and torts, but I don't know if it's the same as what you mean in Australia. We do have some vocab diffs now and again. :)
Oh, absolutely! i've been MORTIFIED by my own writing. I've done my best to destroy the truly awful stuff so that no one sees it when I'm dead and laughs at me! So much embarrassing writing in my life! But George mentioned "shameful, private methods and feelings YOU APPLY when you are editing." So I took that as the methods themselves felt shameful. Like, "oh my god, don't watch me edit, the way I'm editing is so shameful!" But yes, he probably meant what you are saying and I'm being a dork. Wouldn't be the first time. Gene Wilder and the sheep! (Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex....) Too funny!
I was thinking it was Mel Brookes
George, thank you for this sharing. It's really chock full o' nuts (so to speak). Meaning it's really brilliant and useful advice on writing. Perhaps particularly for stories that contain potentially unbelievable things, but that just might be the case of all and every story.
yes sometimes I feel Im dreaming to hear such gems
Shameful?? Shameful methods I might apply when editing? Wow. Regrettable, ill-considered, stupid—oh, guilty here. But shameful? Guilt, I think, concerns the action, but shame condemns the person. And that’s something I can’t get behind, this shame, which can shut down all forms of creativity. Because now it’s become personal. And hurtful. And so of no help. I guess you could say I don’t believe in shame, though I think guilt is plenty instructive and so has value. Guilt can show you that what you did was a mistake; shame says that you yourself are the mistake. To this I cannot cotton.
I have only two rules when it comes to editing: 1. Let the thing rest, at least a day but longer if possible. After a little distance the mistakes will be apparent. And almost always, so will the fixes. 2. Never show work in progress, especially a first draft. You put the reader in a terrible bind, not knowing what it is exactly that they’re reading. And the response can either kill the thing before it’s had a chance to live or fill you will false hope. I don’t believe in showing any work until it’s as good as I can make it up to that point. It’s kinder to the reader and any response is more reliable, based on more solid ground.
And a big yay for dear heart Guin!
Like the distinction here between guilt and shame, Rosanne. Also like your two rules. Thanks!
What a relief that (it seems) you also wondered about that word, shameful. I asked George about it and he said he was being facetious. Like you, I couldn't "cotton" to feeling shame when editing!
For me revising is a kind of play, not always fun but often challenging, and so in that way engaging. No room there for shame, which tends to paralyze. I don’t know that you can be engaged and ashamed at the same time.
Happy that Guin is doing so well. She looks happy.
On what's plausible in a story, Aristotle in Poetics said the great author can get away with 1-2 mistakes. But then the rest of the story has to be so great that the reader will overlook a mistake or two, or if hidden well enough while the rest is so good, they might not even notice. When I see a mistake in an old beloved movie, I just accept it as part of the movie. Of course even one bad mistake will get your story trashed by an editor.
Hooray! This is just what I needed to hear. Drafting an older story into something a little weirder I shall take this gift on reader believability into my next run through. I also give current drafts to my slave girl and watch her as she reads. I feel no shame in doing this, she cost me enough.