Hello Dear George Saunders. I Hope you re doing well. I think this time you can read my comment since it is Thursday. I am proud to announce you that I have translated your precious Lincoln in the Bardo into Farsi language and it is well received in Iran by the readers. I would be so happy if I could send you a copy of it.
I recoil from the needlessly complicated. Over-intellectualized blather bores me. I'm not a fan of the abstract. I'm drawn to simple, visual writing. I live for that sudden thrill you get from a bizarre yet perfect description. I love emotional resonance. The opening paragraph grabs me if there is a promise of some emotional nourishment or insight lying in wait. -- Great exercise. I knew this about my readerly preferences, but it was fun to see it confirmed!
I automatically rated them in order of which stories interested me enough to keep me reading.
The number one spot went to an opening that had a seed of a mystery in it. Someone knocked on the main character's door. So in my head, I went: "Who's that knocking on your door late at night? Who is this that you're not expecting?" Caught me! I'm interested!
Number Two went to a story that didn't have such an obvious catch. It didn't open with one of those sentences that grabs you. But it was enough to intrigue me with a voice, a personality. I could see that, most likely, the story was going to head someplace very soon. I'd probably keep reading this one. But it wasn't as well-done as story Number One.
Number Three just bored me. It was a story that i would call unconventional in form. But it was too "done." Too much thought went into being unconventional. And there was nothing there to hold onto. Still, it got more points than the story that came in last place, because at least the author was attempting to be interesting.
The bottom place (Number Four) went to a story that was also unconventional in form. But this one was just impossible to grasp. I'd have to read that paragraph over a few times to understand it. And that was asking too much of me.
So, what was obvious to me from this exercise is that I like a good opening, one that lets me know i'm in good hands. One that says: You are about to be taken off into a world and it's going to PAY OFF in the end. There is a confidence in the writing. There is a respect for me as the reader. There is none of this fucking around business of trying too hard. (Now i like an unconventional story as much as anyone--but not these particular ones. I had no confidence in them.)
I found this exercise not nearly as easy as it sounds, for some reason! I tried it with a random sampling from a stack of a well-known and highly regarded lit mag, the issues between 1-2 yrs old.
Full disclosure: no GS stories were harmed in the attempting of this exercise.
I only liked the opening of one story, and I can't even tell why, except that it was dialogue, in the form of a question, extremely short (one sentence), and a little bit funny, seemingly.
The other 8 (I actually did the exercise twice with two different random samplings, so in fact, more like 16 stories) didn't do much for me. I'm not sure I would have continued reading any of them unless forced somehow.
I'm just being honest here.
I know it sounds bad.
If I say I prefer good writing over not good, will that do it?
But I can't say that any of what I didn't particularly care about was not good writing.
Just kinda boring. To me.
The sense of bodily risk I am experiencing right now must be nothing but a ghostly shiver of lives I could have lived but didn't.
In any case, I was getting a little bit worried about how and why I could not care for so many story openings, and was relieved when I actually found one I liked.
Maybe it's something about a writer's relationship to their own writing that comes through somehow to the reader? Separate from content or subject matter? I'd say ease or command, if that made any sense. But the more I think about this the more mysterious the whole thing seems to be.
My number one paragraph had a vehicle that was accelerating and braking through traffic and the descriptions made me feel like I was in the vehicle myself. I could feel the stop-start in my own guts and that woke me up and sold me. I felt the most alive and trusting in this paragraph. Felt like something happening rather than a piece of writing.
Second place went to a first-person paragraph written out in a super casual texting style with wild punctuation and all-caps all over the place, tons of swearing, with an edgy, jocular vibe. Loose cannon feelings. The text was kind of hard to read but I dug that the narrative voice was so unafraid and I expected to hear interesting things going forward.
Weirdly enough, my third and fourth choice paragraphs were both descriptions of parties.
The third-place party paragraph painted a nice picture—really nice, I almost put the paragraph at number one because the details were so pleasing, like a great photographic magazine spread —but I couldn’t shake a who-cares feeling. Everything was pretty but nothing felt dangerous.
The party paragraph in fourth place was loooooooong, and it felt like we were moving through a fog of non-lively musing and generalities. I kept moving my eyes forward hoping for something to jump up. Took forever to arrive at one specific party with an interesting thing happening.
I’ve learned that I like to feel like I’m getting bounced around by some force from somewhere, shaken awake.
Based purely on this excercise (but not necessarily on what I believe about myself), I seem to be growing tired of those irony-laden, very Western, very modern, very urbane "observational" openings, and prefer things that immediately create tension and are slightly dark, strange or off-kilter.
I realized that the stories I bristled against the most were the ones where the writing felt in any way confusing—where too many names, for example, were dropped in quick succession, or where specific details were offered in what, to my ear, came off in a clunky way. I've realized that the openings I respond best to are those that are clear, deeply evocative, and pique my curiosity (either by establishing some interesting tension or presenting a character or a scenario that seems off-kilter, strange or otherwise endearing).
I will note, a lot of the stories I love most are ones that drop me into a scenario that will take more than one paragraph to situate myself in, which I see as being distinct from having a sense of "confusion". In general, I think patience is a key thing for a reader to bring to any story. This exercise is making me consider the difference between stories that seem quietly assure me right from the start: "Your patience will be rewarded" and those that don't. I can feel largely unmoored for a couple of paragraphs and still have the sense that I'm in capable hands.
My First Post - I just liked the exercise so much I upped my subscription so I could join you! My top two had similar effects: both delivered something emotionally shocking or surprising, and I wanted *explanations* of what? wait! How did that happen? What are they going to do about it? Third place featured a Cadillac, a mystery, and finicky explanations about weather ("the coldest September in southern Wisconsin" isn't exactly the opening of Bleak House). Fourth - the nervous ramblings of a person who couldn't stop whining, and I didn't want to hear any more. This is interesting to me, as someone who generally resists "drop them into the action" openings - but it wasn't action so much as a situation, and I wanted to know WHY, not just "what happens next." The setting and voice in Three and Four pushed me away; One and Two pulled me toward them.
The story openings I was most attracted to were concerned with a singular character and told in a personal way. Less attractive were those whose voice tended toward the analytical, or far worse, cynical.
Sooo, after getting the instructions wrong again (good grief, how hard can it be?), one paragraph was try-hard (8 lines waxing lyrical) one not-try-hard-enough (8 lines of familiar tropes), and a third plain interminable (25 lines). But the fourth was a 6-line nugget of stillness, unease and suspense. And I can now pinpoint why it worked: escalation. Thanks, George!
I knew this about myself already, and about my reading habits, but the exercise was useful in reminding me that I prefer writing that feels authentic, and that is written in a voice I find believable. I look for that before I look for anything. My paragraphs were ranked according to that principle. Also, the writing in the paragraphs I preferred seemed to match the subject matter in a way, to respect it. First person narratives in particular have to have a voice I feel I can trust. Third person narratives that are related by an omniscient narrator had better be believable, too. In other words, the voice has to have some authority, or the language has to convey a special or intimate knowledge of what is being told. Another thing I noticed in doing this exercise is the importance to me of feeling compelled to continue to read, after the first paragraph has been consumed. The lowest ranked paragraph left me cold; I couldn't care less about what was next. Great assignment!
And by the way, in regard to the "favorite apple" thread, I want to cast my vote for a variety called "Ida Red". I buy them at a farmer's market in Lower Manhattan. They come from the Hudson Valley.
I was surprised by how random and silly my choices seemed. 1. had horses 2. a curious little boy and love between mother and son 3. Liked the opening quotes and how they juxtaposed and were funny. 4. too scientific, futuristic and confusing. Still I went on to read them all and in the end enjoy them:)))
The first paragraph of the first story just hooked me. The character is 72, feeling his age, and just had a stroke. He's saying his good-byes at work. That doesn't sound like something that would make you want to keep reading, but it does. (I also wonder why have I never read this story, sitting on my bookshelf, for God knows how long?) The second story also hooked me, but to a lesser extent. The third story confused me. I had to go back to see who was who. I was confused. The paragraph was long and then he or she went off on a meandering tangent and I was more annoyed than hooked.
My mentor and other readers accuse me of meandering all the time. They always tell me to cut, cut, cut. But in the back of my mind, I resist. I think all of my meanderings are gold. No, they're not. They're boring and they confuse people and it makes them want to stop reading. This exercise drove that fact home very well.
The two best of my random four were very close---characters in action, though the actions were small, one with a slower-paced opening, the other dropping me right into the scene. Both were immediately engaging because it was character plus action, however slight that action was. The remaining two were tied for dead last place. Two of the worst ever, in my opinion. One was in second person, the constant use of which I find annoying both to eye and ear, and the other was a first-person narrator determined to be, and seemingly remain, a giant pain-in-the-ass.
All rules should be enforced with two birds, a bear, and a deer.
Hello Dear George Saunders. I Hope you re doing well. I think this time you can read my comment since it is Thursday. I am proud to announce you that I have translated your precious Lincoln in the Bardo into Farsi language and it is well received in Iran by the readers. I would be so happy if I could send you a copy of it.
Best Regards,
Yashin Azadbeigi
I recoil from the needlessly complicated. Over-intellectualized blather bores me. I'm not a fan of the abstract. I'm drawn to simple, visual writing. I live for that sudden thrill you get from a bizarre yet perfect description. I love emotional resonance. The opening paragraph grabs me if there is a promise of some emotional nourishment or insight lying in wait. -- Great exercise. I knew this about my readerly preferences, but it was fun to see it confirmed!
I automatically rated them in order of which stories interested me enough to keep me reading.
The number one spot went to an opening that had a seed of a mystery in it. Someone knocked on the main character's door. So in my head, I went: "Who's that knocking on your door late at night? Who is this that you're not expecting?" Caught me! I'm interested!
Number Two went to a story that didn't have such an obvious catch. It didn't open with one of those sentences that grabs you. But it was enough to intrigue me with a voice, a personality. I could see that, most likely, the story was going to head someplace very soon. I'd probably keep reading this one. But it wasn't as well-done as story Number One.
Number Three just bored me. It was a story that i would call unconventional in form. But it was too "done." Too much thought went into being unconventional. And there was nothing there to hold onto. Still, it got more points than the story that came in last place, because at least the author was attempting to be interesting.
The bottom place (Number Four) went to a story that was also unconventional in form. But this one was just impossible to grasp. I'd have to read that paragraph over a few times to understand it. And that was asking too much of me.
So, what was obvious to me from this exercise is that I like a good opening, one that lets me know i'm in good hands. One that says: You are about to be taken off into a world and it's going to PAY OFF in the end. There is a confidence in the writing. There is a respect for me as the reader. There is none of this fucking around business of trying too hard. (Now i like an unconventional story as much as anyone--but not these particular ones. I had no confidence in them.)
I found this exercise not nearly as easy as it sounds, for some reason! I tried it with a random sampling from a stack of a well-known and highly regarded lit mag, the issues between 1-2 yrs old.
Full disclosure: no GS stories were harmed in the attempting of this exercise.
I only liked the opening of one story, and I can't even tell why, except that it was dialogue, in the form of a question, extremely short (one sentence), and a little bit funny, seemingly.
The other 8 (I actually did the exercise twice with two different random samplings, so in fact, more like 16 stories) didn't do much for me. I'm not sure I would have continued reading any of them unless forced somehow.
I'm just being honest here.
I know it sounds bad.
If I say I prefer good writing over not good, will that do it?
But I can't say that any of what I didn't particularly care about was not good writing.
Just kinda boring. To me.
The sense of bodily risk I am experiencing right now must be nothing but a ghostly shiver of lives I could have lived but didn't.
In any case, I was getting a little bit worried about how and why I could not care for so many story openings, and was relieved when I actually found one I liked.
Maybe it's something about a writer's relationship to their own writing that comes through somehow to the reader? Separate from content or subject matter? I'd say ease or command, if that made any sense. But the more I think about this the more mysterious the whole thing seems to be.
My number one paragraph had a vehicle that was accelerating and braking through traffic and the descriptions made me feel like I was in the vehicle myself. I could feel the stop-start in my own guts and that woke me up and sold me. I felt the most alive and trusting in this paragraph. Felt like something happening rather than a piece of writing.
Second place went to a first-person paragraph written out in a super casual texting style with wild punctuation and all-caps all over the place, tons of swearing, with an edgy, jocular vibe. Loose cannon feelings. The text was kind of hard to read but I dug that the narrative voice was so unafraid and I expected to hear interesting things going forward.
Weirdly enough, my third and fourth choice paragraphs were both descriptions of parties.
The third-place party paragraph painted a nice picture—really nice, I almost put the paragraph at number one because the details were so pleasing, like a great photographic magazine spread —but I couldn’t shake a who-cares feeling. Everything was pretty but nothing felt dangerous.
The party paragraph in fourth place was loooooooong, and it felt like we were moving through a fog of non-lively musing and generalities. I kept moving my eyes forward hoping for something to jump up. Took forever to arrive at one specific party with an interesting thing happening.
I’ve learned that I like to feel like I’m getting bounced around by some force from somewhere, shaken awake.
Based purely on this excercise (but not necessarily on what I believe about myself), I seem to be growing tired of those irony-laden, very Western, very modern, very urbane "observational" openings, and prefer things that immediately create tension and are slightly dark, strange or off-kilter.
I realized that the stories I bristled against the most were the ones where the writing felt in any way confusing—where too many names, for example, were dropped in quick succession, or where specific details were offered in what, to my ear, came off in a clunky way. I've realized that the openings I respond best to are those that are clear, deeply evocative, and pique my curiosity (either by establishing some interesting tension or presenting a character or a scenario that seems off-kilter, strange or otherwise endearing).
I will note, a lot of the stories I love most are ones that drop me into a scenario that will take more than one paragraph to situate myself in, which I see as being distinct from having a sense of "confusion". In general, I think patience is a key thing for a reader to bring to any story. This exercise is making me consider the difference between stories that seem quietly assure me right from the start: "Your patience will be rewarded" and those that don't. I can feel largely unmoored for a couple of paragraphs and still have the sense that I'm in capable hands.
My First Post - I just liked the exercise so much I upped my subscription so I could join you! My top two had similar effects: both delivered something emotionally shocking or surprising, and I wanted *explanations* of what? wait! How did that happen? What are they going to do about it? Third place featured a Cadillac, a mystery, and finicky explanations about weather ("the coldest September in southern Wisconsin" isn't exactly the opening of Bleak House). Fourth - the nervous ramblings of a person who couldn't stop whining, and I didn't want to hear any more. This is interesting to me, as someone who generally resists "drop them into the action" openings - but it wasn't action so much as a situation, and I wanted to know WHY, not just "what happens next." The setting and voice in Three and Four pushed me away; One and Two pulled me toward them.
The story openings I was most attracted to were concerned with a singular character and told in a personal way. Less attractive were those whose voice tended toward the analytical, or far worse, cynical.
Sooo, after getting the instructions wrong again (good grief, how hard can it be?), one paragraph was try-hard (8 lines waxing lyrical) one not-try-hard-enough (8 lines of familiar tropes), and a third plain interminable (25 lines). But the fourth was a 6-line nugget of stillness, unease and suspense. And I can now pinpoint why it worked: escalation. Thanks, George!
I knew this about myself already, and about my reading habits, but the exercise was useful in reminding me that I prefer writing that feels authentic, and that is written in a voice I find believable. I look for that before I look for anything. My paragraphs were ranked according to that principle. Also, the writing in the paragraphs I preferred seemed to match the subject matter in a way, to respect it. First person narratives in particular have to have a voice I feel I can trust. Third person narratives that are related by an omniscient narrator had better be believable, too. In other words, the voice has to have some authority, or the language has to convey a special or intimate knowledge of what is being told. Another thing I noticed in doing this exercise is the importance to me of feeling compelled to continue to read, after the first paragraph has been consumed. The lowest ranked paragraph left me cold; I couldn't care less about what was next. Great assignment!
And by the way, in regard to the "favorite apple" thread, I want to cast my vote for a variety called "Ida Red". I buy them at a farmer's market in Lower Manhattan. They come from the Hudson Valley.
I was surprised by how random and silly my choices seemed. 1. had horses 2. a curious little boy and love between mother and son 3. Liked the opening quotes and how they juxtaposed and were funny. 4. too scientific, futuristic and confusing. Still I went on to read them all and in the end enjoy them:)))
I'm having A Day, and this exercise made me happy. I put everything down, got up go do it, with pleasure and relief! It's spring! What fun!
The first paragraph of the first story just hooked me. The character is 72, feeling his age, and just had a stroke. He's saying his good-byes at work. That doesn't sound like something that would make you want to keep reading, but it does. (I also wonder why have I never read this story, sitting on my bookshelf, for God knows how long?) The second story also hooked me, but to a lesser extent. The third story confused me. I had to go back to see who was who. I was confused. The paragraph was long and then he or she went off on a meandering tangent and I was more annoyed than hooked.
My mentor and other readers accuse me of meandering all the time. They always tell me to cut, cut, cut. But in the back of my mind, I resist. I think all of my meanderings are gold. No, they're not. They're boring and they confuse people and it makes them want to stop reading. This exercise drove that fact home very well.
The two best of my random four were very close---characters in action, though the actions were small, one with a slower-paced opening, the other dropping me right into the scene. Both were immediately engaging because it was character plus action, however slight that action was. The remaining two were tied for dead last place. Two of the worst ever, in my opinion. One was in second person, the constant use of which I find annoying both to eye and ear, and the other was a first-person narrator determined to be, and seemingly remain, a giant pain-in-the-ass.