Why bother writing?

When I was little I spent an inordinate amount of time writing truly terrible fiction. I read frequently, but apparently much of what I read didn’t impact or improve my writing until I was much, much older. Meanwhile, ten-year-old me would craft story after story about heroines who were all named Laura or Elizabeth and all had extremely limited vocabulary, but somehow still managed to win the boy and defeat the evil headmistress at the orphanage.

Later, I reread my stories and realized that I was a terrible writer. I decided to spare the world any more attempts at authorial fame and stopped my creative writing efforts.

The older I got, the more the idea of writing a novel seemed absurd. I was far too practical for that. The odds of getting published were slim to none. The odds that I had talent even slimmer and I didn’t like the idea of doing of something that I was bad at. Sadly, this attitude has stopped me from doing many things in my life, from taking many risks that could have potentially been rewarded, and from learning things that would have helped me grow as a person.

I am not sure at what pivotal moment I started writing fiction again. I think one of my friends started talking about her own creative writing pursuits and in a nostalgic fit I broke out the laptop and tapped out some fairly decent – or at least not completely abysmal – prose. Then NaNoWriMo happened. I heard about NaNoWriMo from this same friend and was instantly intrigued – write a novel in a month? What’s more, write a novel in my FAVORITE month (November)? Why not! I made it to 22,000 words that month on a goal of 50,000. It was much harder than I’d anticipated. But the damage had been done and I was officially writing again. Not only that, I had two (TWO!) different story ideas bouncing around.

This was momentarily delightful, but soon writing began to seem like a waste of time – what purpose did it serve, after all? I certainly wasn’t going to be able to make a career out of it. The more research I did, the more evident it became that unless I was fast friends with someone in New York who happened to be an agent, it was unlikely that I would ever get published. So why rack up outrageous word counts on sub-par novels only to have them sit in a file on my computer?

My enthusiasm waned.

I trudged through a few different novel ideas, always running out of steam quickly once I reread my prose (once I was over 30,000 into a novel when I realized it was utter garbage and stopped the draft).

And therein lies my dilemma. I cannot separate the creative act of writing from my skill. I have the mistaken notion that art must well-done to be worth doing – a theory that complete ignores the artistic and creative process. A theory that ignores the pleasure derived from creating something out of your own head, with your own hands. A theory that claims that art is only worthwhile if it makes it out into the light to be appreciated (or despised) by others.

Recently however, I believe I discovered a cure to this debilitating viewpoint.  I read Chris Baty’s No Plot, No Problem, a manual on inspiration, the writing process, and quarantining your inner editor. Baty assures his readers that the joy of writing novels is found in using your imagination to tell stories, no matter how terrible, and just because you can. In short, writing is about the joy it brings you, not about any hoped for material gain or fame – and therefore, it doesn’t matter how good your novel is, it only matters that you wrote it.

And so, dear readers, I will henceforth no longer regard my writing as just verbal spewing on a page, but MY verbal spewing on a page, the spewing of which I very much enjoyed. I will find joy and entertainment in writing my novel instead of pride, which is far too fickle, and I will view novel writing as a new kind of literary therapy, as rewarding and entertaining as reading a book.

If you are lucky, perhaps I will treat you to a sample of my latest caper…it is about a young, dynamite blonde named Beth who works as an editor for Webster’s dictionary and therefore has an absurdly large vocabulary, but alas! her evil boss has it out for her and never lets her leave, which is why she has no love life -- until she decides to overthrow her boss and start her own dictionary!

Happy noveling to you all.

Book Review: Ender’s Game By Orson Scott Card

Three things you need to know about this book:

 1. The protagonist is a 6 year old child (it starts when he is 6) who is quite possibly wiser than I am.    
 2. I would categorize this book as epic science fiction. Because it’s epic.
3. This book is action-packed, but still has room for moments that make you want to cry. It deals with some mature themes - some of which might be lost on a younger audience. Watch out though. As soon as you start getting choked up, strap in, because the next thing you know you will be following an epic and incredibly intelligent battle game, all tears forgotten.

Plot synopsis that in no way does the story justice:

Ender is chosen to go to Battle School, a school for genius children to train for battle (who would’ve guessed?). What Ender doesn’t know, at first, is that he was chosen as mankind’s last hope to save earth from the buggers (aliens) – if he can survive the training and achieve his potential.

What I loved about this book:

Ender. He is smart – a genius – and often lonely. He is compassionate and ruthless at the same time. He doubts himself, growing in some incredible ways, and yet in other areas, stubbornly refusing to see things the way they are, or to grow or change at all – something that is profoundly true to life.

The battles. I can’t explain them, you just need to read them. Ender’s brain works out intelligent battle plans, sometimes in-the-moment. I was frequently astonished at the lucidity of his choices and the way he viewed things differently than others – something that caused his battle plans to be creative and surprisingly effective. Few authors can describe a battle and keep me interested. (Sorry, I know that is maybe girly of me, but I get bored with troop movements. Maybe that is why I never play Risk.) To date, there are only a few authors who have captured my interest in this area:  J.R.R. Tolkien is one; Orson Scott Card is another.

I’m a cynic at heart. I really am. I’m not all in-your-face about it like I was when I was a teenager, but I’m still very cynical deep inside (I just call it practicality now). This book appealed to the cynic within me. I can’t say more without giving important plot points away, but if you too like cold harsh reality (of made -up future worlds of course – not really real cold harsh reality) then you will appreciate this book.

I would recommend this book to children in middle school all the way up to adults of all ages.Younger kids wouldn't really be able to follow the plot, which is somewhat complex. There is some violence, but overall Card delivers a beautifully complex message about violence and war.

"We lived on love and books."

This interview with Ray Bradbury, author of Fahrenheit 451 and other famous novels and stories,  is enchanting and inspiring. He was truly a remarkable man. My second favorite quote (that was too long to use as the title for this post) is: "I am going to make a t-shirt. It is going to say: 'Stand on the edge of a cliff and jump off and build your wings on the way down.'" If they ever make that shirt, I will be sure to buy it.

7 Reasons Why You Need to Read the Harry Potter Series (*cough* for my sisters)

1. The magic. It doesn’t matter how old you are, there is something charming and delightful about the idea of magic. Rowling does it complete justice – it is never overly simplistic, it is never too easy, and it is always incredibly brilliant. I know some of you are refusing to read it because magic isn’t real; that is utter nonsense. Clearly you have forgotten that decades ago, most of our current technology would have been considered “magical,” and there is still a lot in the world that can’t be explained. So if you believe in any unproven scientific hypothesis, then by extension, you have to believe in magic. You don’t really have an option.

2. It is a national bestseller ten times over. If you haven’t read it yet, you are probably part of the 1% that hasn’t. Don’t be part of the 1%. Yes, I am shamelessly using peer pressure as an argument. Mainly because if you read 50 Shades of Gray – “just to see what all the hype was about” – then you can read Harry Potter.

3. Life is awful. Really awful sometimes. I can’t understand people who only like reading books about reality: death, war, despair, lust, and greed – and no happy endings. Take a break every once in awhile. The awfulness will still be there, waiting, once you’ve finished the book. Besides, doesn’t your brain EVER get tired of thinking? Go on a mental vacation into the world of wizards and witches. It is so much cheaper than any staycation – just think how jealous your friends will be when you say you spent a weekend at Hogwarts and they only went to the zoo and the movie theater. I know you are an adult. I know that hippogriffs don’t exist; there is no need to be snobby about it. Hippogriffs can make your life better rather they are real or not.

4. Rowling is funny. Chuckling-to-yourself-out-loud-in-the-coffee-shop kind of funny.

5. Surprising applicability. That’s right, you heard me. The topics, events, and ideas in Harry Potter are actually surprisingly applicable to our world (otherwise known as the wasteland of cold, hard reality). If anyone has told you that these books are all about important ideas such as love and friendship, they are correct, but those topics are not quite as startlingly applicable. Rowling’s discussion of death and grief is incredibly intense, accurate, insightful, and comforting. The parts of the story that I find most powerful are those that deal with the awfulness of the world – death, corruption, evil, selfishness. (Now hold on, you mutter, I thought reading these books would help me escape from these awful truths. Well, I was getting to that…) But through all of these difficult topics, Rowling always manages to give us hope. Hope that great sacrifices can make a difference, hope that death is not the end.

6. Rowling does an excellent job with character development, and not just with the major characters. Anything else I say here will sound cliché (“it’s like the characters are real – like they are your friends – like they are 3D – like everyone else already used up all the words in the world to talk about well-developed characters and they didn’t save any for me”). So I will leave it at that.

7. World building. The details about the wizarding world are perfect – the smaller the detail, the more delightful it is. From butterbeer to quidditch, from the pamphlets released to the public about protecting your home from Death Eaters to the completely amusing jumble of departments that make up the Ministry of Magic, these glimpses into this alternate universe are one of my favorite parts of reading these books.

Appreciating Voice: The lost art of subtlety

I think I might be living my life backwards. When I was younger, I read the classics: Dickens, Lewis, Tolkien, Collins, Austen. When I went to college I read Faulkner, Hemingway, Morrison, and Shakespeare. I didn’t start reading Harry Potter until I was around 20 and in the last few years I started reading Young Adult books. So I’m definitely regressing.

There is nothing exactly wrong with Young Adult (YA) literature, except that, not surprisingly, I am discovering that I’m too old for it. In this statement I exclude the Harry Potter series because that is one of the most well-crafted beautiful stories of our time. But the rest of the books that cater to the dystopian/fantasy craze that is sweeping the nation are disappointingly lacking. Just the other day I picked up a book that a friend had recommended and I couldn’t even get through the first chapter. It wasn’t that I could tell this was the same story I’d read in every other YA book – as discussed in an earlier blog post, no one really writes new stories – it was something else. There was something missing that wasn’t missing from Rowling’s books. 

So naturally I went back and began rereading the series. While reading, I came across a section that lifted the veil ever so slightly and it was as though I could see Rowling at her desk writing, and chuckling as she did so at the witty words she was penning. (I know she probably uses a computer, but when I picture authors, they are always handwriting the story, usually with a quill and dressed like they are from the 19^th century for some reason.) This happened often when I was reading Dickens as a child. I’m pretty sure the image below was burned into my brain long before I ever actually saw it:

Credit: Google Images

You see, what these YA popular fiction books are missing is voice. Not just those delightful moments where the author can get away with commenting almost directly to the reader, but in general. I know that voice varies depending on point-of-view and a number of other things, and I’m not trying to argue that every author should insert their authorial presence all over the book. I am arguing that stories need a voice (narrative, authorial, anything) like my dog needs food in the morning: without it they are dead.

Since I’ve been reading these rather dull tales crafted for today’s youth, I have realized that there is nothing like the voice of Dickens filling the space after the cruel and unjust act of a character with a rant against the social evils of his day. It is like the chorus of a song, heightening the tension and unifying the reader, the writer, and the characters.

And there is nothing quite like Rowling’s quiet voice asserting that “it is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow time down, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up” (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire 317).

So this is what was missing and I think I know why. 

I had one of the best classes of students last year that I think I am ever likely to have; often, while trudging through Julius Caesar, my students would be sitting with brows furrowed, trying to decipher the language (they were honors students, so I’m not making this up, they really were trying). Shakespeare is a very funny man, so sometimes I would read a line and pause, waiting for them to chuckle. Silence. “It’s a joke guys. It’s ok, you can laugh.” They would look up confused. I’d explain it to them. A rather lame attempt at a laugh would circulate briefly and we’d continue. I don’t blame them in the slightest for not understanding Shakespeare, but I do blame them for missing the humor in easier pieces. I blame them for missing the subtle humor often layered in the tone of a sentence. Because there is a grave result from the fact that much of the younger generations don’t read: they’ve lost the art of subtlety. They are used to everything being violently overt, thanks to sitcoms, televisions, and movies. And with that loss of the understanding of subtlety goes the voice of authors everywhere as they write novels that cater to the youth of today.

I don’t believe that every author should always launch into rants about the state of the world or constantly lift the veil to wink at their reader. But I do think that every author needs a well developed voice that is grounded in the subtleties of tone, that supports their narrative, and, quite frankly, makes their book worth reading. 

Then again, maybe we just need to add laugh tracks to books.