I know I have been quiet, and a bit slack with my writing lately. I am busy, but I can make all the excuses in the world. The fact is, I should make time to write.
I'm certainly making time to read.
Today, a friend sent me a great link; to Timothy McSweeney's Ultimate Guide to Writing Better Than You Normally Do. It's funny. It's inspired me again.
Please, help me. All those followers; keep reminding me why I'm doing this. Give me little tips. Ask me why I haven't posted for a while.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Monday, April 23, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Why I Read and Review
I have frequently commented in various posts that I am trying to read broadly to improve my writing. I am reviewing so that I am consciously doing something more than just enjoying the story. In doing so, I hope that I can also offer some guidance to other readers, but that is not my primary goal.
Part of my creative writing course with Griffith University has confirmed this practice:
The kind of reading practice that is beneficial to a writer involves something more complex than simply enjoying the story. As beginning writers, we may be content to read in our preferred genres, whether that is crime fiction, romance, spy, war, science fiction or fantasy, biography, memoir or other non-fiction writing. But if we continue to read only in our preferred genres we run the risk of reproducing exactly the same kinds of writing, necessarily devoid of the creativity that variety brings...
Maybe you've heard people say of Picasso's cubist or surreal periods that 'my daughter could have done that'. But the truth is that Picasso used these styles because he chose to, not because it was all he could do. He was an accomplished painter of conventional works [as well]. He was master of his tools and could paint in any style he chose.
Think of your writing skills in this way. The skilled writer is not the one who can product only children's books, or poetry, or reviews. The skilled writer is one who has mastered the skills of writing.
And, like a painter, you can expect that as your writing life progresses you will move from phase to phase, developing your technique as you go...
To achieve this you must step away from the comfort of what you know. If your favourite reading is science fiction, examine how thrillers use action and pace to drive narrative forward. If you favour biographies, explore the character development techniques of good historical novels. If you read only prose fiction, try a book of contemporary poetry to learn how other writers manipulate both language and structure...
Each new genre of writing you encounter, each foray out of your comfort zone into unknown territory can help you think more critically about your own writing, and give you new tools, ideas and techniques with which to improve your writing skills.
So my blog is less about the books I read and the reviews I make than my own writing. By reviewing others' writing, I am developing the skills to critically review my own writing, and develop more techniques and tools to improve my writing skills.
Part of my creative writing course with Griffith University has confirmed this practice:
The kind of reading practice that is beneficial to a writer involves something more complex than simply enjoying the story. As beginning writers, we may be content to read in our preferred genres, whether that is crime fiction, romance, spy, war, science fiction or fantasy, biography, memoir or other non-fiction writing. But if we continue to read only in our preferred genres we run the risk of reproducing exactly the same kinds of writing, necessarily devoid of the creativity that variety brings...
Maybe you've heard people say of Picasso's cubist or surreal periods that 'my daughter could have done that'. But the truth is that Picasso used these styles because he chose to, not because it was all he could do. He was an accomplished painter of conventional works [as well]. He was master of his tools and could paint in any style he chose.
Think of your writing skills in this way. The skilled writer is not the one who can product only children's books, or poetry, or reviews. The skilled writer is one who has mastered the skills of writing.
And, like a painter, you can expect that as your writing life progresses you will move from phase to phase, developing your technique as you go...
To achieve this you must step away from the comfort of what you know. If your favourite reading is science fiction, examine how thrillers use action and pace to drive narrative forward. If you favour biographies, explore the character development techniques of good historical novels. If you read only prose fiction, try a book of contemporary poetry to learn how other writers manipulate both language and structure...
Each new genre of writing you encounter, each foray out of your comfort zone into unknown territory can help you think more critically about your own writing, and give you new tools, ideas and techniques with which to improve your writing skills.
So my blog is less about the books I read and the reviews I make than my own writing. By reviewing others' writing, I am developing the skills to critically review my own writing, and develop more techniques and tools to improve my writing skills.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
The Five Second Shortcut to Writing in the Lyric Register
The writing exercise that I took on this week was one suggested by Steve Almond. He suggests that many young writers believe that if they throw enough beauty at the page, the results will be truth. In fact, he says, just the opposite is true. The effort to express complex emotional truths with precision is what leads language to rise into beauty. Steve goes on to say that writers need to slow down when their emotions are running their highest.
The exercise is to write a scene that captures an intense moment in your life. The bulk of the scene must be no longer than 5 seconds in real time. Rather than moving the action forward, the aim is to concentrate on slowing down and moving inward.
I chose to write about my first kiss. This is not really the most emotional piece ... almost comical. Here it goes:
His thigh was pressed against mine. He was so close. I hoped he wouldn't feel me shaking. I was shaking all over - involuntary muscle spasms, like I was shivering. But the air was so hot that my skin was covered in a fine film of sweat - or was that from nerves as well? I placed my sweaty palm flat on the concrete floor, trying to cool my body down through my hand. In doing so, I also lean closer to him, seemingly casually.
We were supposed to be a couple. Thirteen years old, and not having spoken much to each other before, our friends all decided that we were supposed to be an item. He was shorter than me, slightly fat around the waist, albino looking, and for some reason, quite popular.
Maybe he thought that I was quivering with desire, and that I was panting with lust. But it was the complete opposite. My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, none of which brought the air to my lungs. I was gulping air, and in my mind I was puffing up like a balloon: ready to burst.
It came so suddenly. I wasn't even looking at him - I was fixated on my best friend engaged in a passionate kiss across the room with another boy. Somehow his face is suddenly on mine: his lips are suddenly all over my mouth. My eyes stay open and I see his ice-blue irises looking straight back at me. This embarrasses me, that I'm caught with my eyes open (aren't you supposed to kiss with your eyes closed, like in the movies?), but I'm too shocked to close my eyes.
There is a fat tongue in my mouth, and so much saliva. It is forcing itself in and out through my lips, filling my mouth with fluid. It tastes like vegemite toast. His cheeks seem to puff in and out, like a fish.
This must be the worst kiss in the world, I thought at the time. I don't think I helped make it any better. I was so shocked, I'm not sure I did anything in response to the sucking fish on my face. I probably just hung my mouth open, and stiffened my tongue, trying to force his out.
I was instantly disgusted. There was no rising desire, which I have felt with many subsequent kisses with other people. There was no touching, other than than the sucker fish on my lips. There was nothing but vegemite saliva.
I kept my eyes open the whole time, not engaging in the kiss, just a passive receiver. All I could see was the ice-blue eyes staring straight at me, which I started to feel was a very aggressive stare. The false confidence of a boy who had been told in the past that he was a good kisser.
I'm not sure if it was as bad for him as it was for me, because he broke away and gave me a dopey smile. I don't know what my face showed in response to that dopey smile (shock, disgust, amusement?), but he must have got the hint that I never wanted that kiss repeated. Because after I struggled up from the concrete floor, trying to keep my mini skirt as far down my legs as possible, he never tried to speak to me again!
The exercise is to write a scene that captures an intense moment in your life. The bulk of the scene must be no longer than 5 seconds in real time. Rather than moving the action forward, the aim is to concentrate on slowing down and moving inward.
I chose to write about my first kiss. This is not really the most emotional piece ... almost comical. Here it goes:
His thigh was pressed against mine. He was so close. I hoped he wouldn't feel me shaking. I was shaking all over - involuntary muscle spasms, like I was shivering. But the air was so hot that my skin was covered in a fine film of sweat - or was that from nerves as well? I placed my sweaty palm flat on the concrete floor, trying to cool my body down through my hand. In doing so, I also lean closer to him, seemingly casually.
We were supposed to be a couple. Thirteen years old, and not having spoken much to each other before, our friends all decided that we were supposed to be an item. He was shorter than me, slightly fat around the waist, albino looking, and for some reason, quite popular.
Maybe he thought that I was quivering with desire, and that I was panting with lust. But it was the complete opposite. My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, none of which brought the air to my lungs. I was gulping air, and in my mind I was puffing up like a balloon: ready to burst.
It came so suddenly. I wasn't even looking at him - I was fixated on my best friend engaged in a passionate kiss across the room with another boy. Somehow his face is suddenly on mine: his lips are suddenly all over my mouth. My eyes stay open and I see his ice-blue irises looking straight back at me. This embarrasses me, that I'm caught with my eyes open (aren't you supposed to kiss with your eyes closed, like in the movies?), but I'm too shocked to close my eyes.
There is a fat tongue in my mouth, and so much saliva. It is forcing itself in and out through my lips, filling my mouth with fluid. It tastes like vegemite toast. His cheeks seem to puff in and out, like a fish.
This must be the worst kiss in the world, I thought at the time. I don't think I helped make it any better. I was so shocked, I'm not sure I did anything in response to the sucking fish on my face. I probably just hung my mouth open, and stiffened my tongue, trying to force his out.
I was instantly disgusted. There was no rising desire, which I have felt with many subsequent kisses with other people. There was no touching, other than than the sucker fish on my lips. There was nothing but vegemite saliva.
I kept my eyes open the whole time, not engaging in the kiss, just a passive receiver. All I could see was the ice-blue eyes staring straight at me, which I started to feel was a very aggressive stare. The false confidence of a boy who had been told in the past that he was a good kisser.
I'm not sure if it was as bad for him as it was for me, because he broke away and gave me a dopey smile. I don't know what my face showed in response to that dopey smile (shock, disgust, amusement?), but he must have got the hint that I never wanted that kiss repeated. Because after I struggled up from the concrete floor, trying to keep my mini skirt as far down my legs as possible, he never tried to speak to me again!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Creative Writing Course - Stage 2 - Module 3
After Module 2, and the comments from the tutor, I had a good think about the story I'm writing. I have changed how I'm writing it ... almost completely.
Module 3 involved act structure, plot points, climax, the building of tension, and increasing the emotion that the reader feels for character as the story progresses. Great content, following on from last week, because it made me plot out my story in a new format, and from a new point of view.
Here's my assignment:
Here's the tutor's comments:
To Jacqui
Congratulations, Jacqui, you have passed the first big test of whether you’ll be a good writer! Being ruthless about your story is absolutely essential – you must be prepared to make fundamental changes if you need to. I am impressed that you have done so already! Since you are covering so much time, I think you are wise to move to 3rd person. It gives you much more flexibility.
Re your assignment: finding a body is always a terrific first plot point, and this one works well.
Well done!
Let's hope that I can make it work, now that the tutor thinks I'm on the right track!
Module 3 involved act structure, plot points, climax, the building of tension, and increasing the emotion that the reader feels for character as the story progresses. Great content, following on from last week, because it made me plot out my story in a new format, and from a new point of view.
Here's my assignment:
Hi Pamela. Thanks for your comments last week. I have changed my narrator, and will also be writing from a third person. My main character will also be different. My story will also be condensed in time, slightly, because I don't have a character that lives long enough to tell the whole story (150 years) of the Valley.
Jacqui
ASSIGNMENT
[My main character, Harry, is now one of the main suspects in the double murder. He is also the man whom Jim Barclay's (the first murder victim) son goes to live with, and work for, when he grows up.]
Plot point one: Harry finds Jim's house abandoned, and suspects something is wrong. He finds Jim's dog starving and stressed. He then finds the partially decomposed body of Jim that has been unearthed and chewed on by dingos, buried in sand in a shallow grave beside the creek near the house.
Here's the tutor's comments:
To Jacqui
Congratulations, Jacqui, you have passed the first big test of whether you’ll be a good writer! Being ruthless about your story is absolutely essential – you must be prepared to make fundamental changes if you need to. I am impressed that you have done so already! Since you are covering so much time, I think you are wise to move to 3rd person. It gives you much more flexibility.
Re your assignment: finding a body is always a terrific first plot point, and this one works well.
Well done!
Let's hope that I can make it work, now that the tutor thinks I'm on the right track!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Creative Writing Course - Stage 2 - Module 2
Module 2 of the Creative Writing Course (Stage 2) with the Sydney Writers' Centre was about narration: how close is the main character to the narrator. where is the narrator positioned in the story timeline, and what tense will the narrator use?
The assignment was then to write the opening 200 words to our story, based on the character we had developed in the previous module. Here is my assignment:
Here are the comments from the tutor:
To Jacqui
Jacqui, I understand why you have started the story like this – you want to establish a frame story where the storyteller in the ‘story present’ looks back and narrates. Unless there is also something happening in the story present, however, this is a static approach – we already know what happens, in a sense, so why should we bother to read it? Ideally, the frame story character will also have a ‘character’s journey’ to follow in the frame story, a journey which will change our (and possibly his/her) perception of what has happened in the past. Otherwise, the frame becomes a weight on the story, like an overly ornate frame on a picture.
I suspect you will find, as you go further with this story, that while you have needed to write the frame, the reader may not need to read it.
If you do keep the frame, I wouldn’t give quite so much of the story away in the first paragraph!
The emotions are strong and the ideas complex and interesting, so be prepared to dole them out to the reader – don’t give it all away at the beginning.
I can see exactly the tutor's point. Why bother reading the story? The problem is that I'm writing a story based on real historic events, so the story is already known for any who want to look it up on Wikipedia! My other problem is that I'm not sure who should narrate the story, because no one lives long enough! Perhaps I need to just stick to the third person, take a different approach from what I originally intended, and rewrite the opening.
The assignment was then to write the opening 200 words to our story, based on the character we had developed in the previous module. Here is my assignment:
ASSIGNMENT
by Jacqui
by Jacqui
I long for peace. Little do we know during life, what death will hold for us. I am bound, heart and soul, to this Valley. The Valley that initially entranced me, that has been the centre of so much suffering, that has also been the place of some unbridled joy, and where I finally found the meaning of unconditional love. My love could not be returned, because he could not know that I existed. He was born after I had already died, but I knew him completely, and I loved what I knew. When his life was taken, I mourned for him, but also yearned that we could finally meet. His after life was elsewhere, though, and I am destined to remain in the Valley forever. At least with the passage of time, I have found some acceptance. But all stories have a beginning, and that is where I must start.
Here are the comments from the tutor:
To Jacqui
Jacqui, I understand why you have started the story like this – you want to establish a frame story where the storyteller in the ‘story present’ looks back and narrates. Unless there is also something happening in the story present, however, this is a static approach – we already know what happens, in a sense, so why should we bother to read it? Ideally, the frame story character will also have a ‘character’s journey’ to follow in the frame story, a journey which will change our (and possibly his/her) perception of what has happened in the past. Otherwise, the frame becomes a weight on the story, like an overly ornate frame on a picture.
I suspect you will find, as you go further with this story, that while you have needed to write the frame, the reader may not need to read it.
If you do keep the frame, I wouldn’t give quite so much of the story away in the first paragraph!
The emotions are strong and the ideas complex and interesting, so be prepared to dole them out to the reader – don’t give it all away at the beginning.
I can see exactly the tutor's point. Why bother reading the story? The problem is that I'm writing a story based on real historic events, so the story is already known for any who want to look it up on Wikipedia! My other problem is that I'm not sure who should narrate the story, because no one lives long enough! Perhaps I need to just stick to the third person, take a different approach from what I originally intended, and rewrite the opening.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Creative Writing Course - Stage 2: Module 1
I started the second Creative Writing Course with Sydney Writers' Centre last week. The first module was focusing on characters. It extended on what was discussed in Stage 1, but took the discussion a couple of steps further.
I learnt about 'flat' and 'round' characters, and the difference between a stereotypical character. Plot-based writing and character-based writing were compared, and I learnt that most novels are a combination of both, and it's the balance between the two that is important. A character must be developed to the point that you know the character intimately. So, when something in the plot happens, the character's reaction comes naturally. The choices that the characters makes should also come naturally. The choices and reactions of a character may not be typical or predictable to the reader, but the writer should know the character enough that what happens is believable.
It is also recommended that we not write from life. We shouldn't base a character completely on someone we know. This is because we can never know someone completely, and the character will either end up lacking something, or you will end up offending someone by making something up that is not true to your muse.
Our assignment was to do our own character development, and then shorten that to a synopsis. Here's mine:
Here's what the tutor said about my response:
To Jacqui
I very much like the amount of thought and detail you have brought to this character. I would like just a little more – in particular, where Jim is working and what he is doing (his ‘commitments’) at the time of the story. Is this a story set in the Diamantina, or in Victoria? Does he ever visit his son?
I am having trouble imagining him in his three-piece suit shearing a sheep. (I’m not saying shearers didn’t wear suits – but usually they took off the jacket and the collar at the very least while they were working. And a shearer in a suit would stand out amongst the crowd; how did the other men take to him? Was he competent as well as good looking?)
I think you also need a bit more to explain the gap between Jim the shy introvert, and Jim the witty debonair social man. They can certainly be the same person, but it’s harder to write and portray.
Jim is a potentially tragic figure, and if he is indeed murdered then he becomes even more tragic. He is very engaging, so the reader should care a great deal when he is killed.
I’m hoping it’s the son who is trying to find out what happened to him!
It's a bit difficult, because I'm basing my character off a historical figure. So I have ideas about him from pictures that I have seen, but the tutor has raised some interesting points.
I'm finally starting to feel like my writing is improving, because the tutor has been questioning me and opening my eyes to things I haven't considered before.
I learnt about 'flat' and 'round' characters, and the difference between a stereotypical character. Plot-based writing and character-based writing were compared, and I learnt that most novels are a combination of both, and it's the balance between the two that is important. A character must be developed to the point that you know the character intimately. So, when something in the plot happens, the character's reaction comes naturally. The choices that the characters makes should also come naturally. The choices and reactions of a character may not be typical or predictable to the reader, but the writer should know the character enough that what happens is believable.
It is also recommended that we not write from life. We shouldn't base a character completely on someone we know. This is because we can never know someone completely, and the character will either end up lacking something, or you will end up offending someone by making something up that is not true to your muse.
Our assignment was to do our own character development, and then shorten that to a synopsis. Here's mine:
ASSIGNMENT
by Jacqui
by Jacqui
James ("Jim") Barclay is my murder victim.
He is 48 years old. He is the second son of Scottish immigrants, born in 1869 in country Victoria. He is intelligent, but not educated. He feels that he can't live up to his father's expectations. He left home at 17 years of age. He went gold mining. He wasn't successful, so he became a farm labourer. He followed the various gold rushes around the country, but always fell back on droving and shearing. At the age of 41, he married a 19 year old. She was 7 months pregnant when they married. She died 7 months after giving birth. Jim couldn't look after his own son, so he sent his son away to live with his sister in Vermont, Melbourne.
Jim is over six feet tall. He is handsome. Dark hair and dark brown eyes. He wears a thick moustache. He is elegantly groomed, always coming into society in his best three-piece suit and hat. He was always dressed in a suit whilst working.
Jim isolates himself. He is a blokes' bloke, but since his failure as a son, the death of his wife, and his failure as a father he thinks the best thing for everyone is to take himself far away. He gets lonely. He is shy and introverted. It takes him a while to open up to people. However, whenever he is in society, people gravitate to him because of his good looks. He is polite and good humoured. He is engaging in conversation, and witty. The ladies love him, but he doesn't seek their attention and doesn't take advantage of it. He prefers animals. He is great with animals, he can anticipate what they need and he has a calming effect on them.
He wants to be with his son. He wants to pass all his knowledge onto his son. He wants to earn enough money so that his son can have everything. He wants to be a provider. But he knows that his son is better off being cared for by others, with other children around. His son is too young, and needs too much attention which Jim knows he cannot provide. So he makes himself as busy as possible, stretches himself thin over his commitments, gives himself precious little time to think about his son or how lonely he really is.
He is 48 years old. He is the second son of Scottish immigrants, born in 1869 in country Victoria. He is intelligent, but not educated. He feels that he can't live up to his father's expectations. He left home at 17 years of age. He went gold mining. He wasn't successful, so he became a farm labourer. He followed the various gold rushes around the country, but always fell back on droving and shearing. At the age of 41, he married a 19 year old. She was 7 months pregnant when they married. She died 7 months after giving birth. Jim couldn't look after his own son, so he sent his son away to live with his sister in Vermont, Melbourne.
Jim is over six feet tall. He is handsome. Dark hair and dark brown eyes. He wears a thick moustache. He is elegantly groomed, always coming into society in his best three-piece suit and hat. He was always dressed in a suit whilst working.
Jim isolates himself. He is a blokes' bloke, but since his failure as a son, the death of his wife, and his failure as a father he thinks the best thing for everyone is to take himself far away. He gets lonely. He is shy and introverted. It takes him a while to open up to people. However, whenever he is in society, people gravitate to him because of his good looks. He is polite and good humoured. He is engaging in conversation, and witty. The ladies love him, but he doesn't seek their attention and doesn't take advantage of it. He prefers animals. He is great with animals, he can anticipate what they need and he has a calming effect on them.
He wants to be with his son. He wants to pass all his knowledge onto his son. He wants to earn enough money so that his son can have everything. He wants to be a provider. But he knows that his son is better off being cared for by others, with other children around. His son is too young, and needs too much attention which Jim knows he cannot provide. So he makes himself as busy as possible, stretches himself thin over his commitments, gives himself precious little time to think about his son or how lonely he really is.
Here's what the tutor said about my response:
To Jacqui
I very much like the amount of thought and detail you have brought to this character. I would like just a little more – in particular, where Jim is working and what he is doing (his ‘commitments’) at the time of the story. Is this a story set in the Diamantina, or in Victoria? Does he ever visit his son?
I am having trouble imagining him in his three-piece suit shearing a sheep. (I’m not saying shearers didn’t wear suits – but usually they took off the jacket and the collar at the very least while they were working. And a shearer in a suit would stand out amongst the crowd; how did the other men take to him? Was he competent as well as good looking?)
I think you also need a bit more to explain the gap between Jim the shy introvert, and Jim the witty debonair social man. They can certainly be the same person, but it’s harder to write and portray.
Jim is a potentially tragic figure, and if he is indeed murdered then he becomes even more tragic. He is very engaging, so the reader should care a great deal when he is killed.
I’m hoping it’s the son who is trying to find out what happened to him!
It's a bit difficult, because I'm basing my character off a historical figure. So I have ideas about him from pictures that I have seen, but the tutor has raised some interesting points.
I'm finally starting to feel like my writing is improving, because the tutor has been questioning me and opening my eyes to things I haven't considered before.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Now Write!
Whilst I'm in between courses, I am trying to keep up with short writing assignments. I bought a book called "Now Write", which is full of fiction writing exercises. Here's the exercise that I flicked open to:
Wedding Cake Assignment: an author called Debra Spark had heard of another writer's (George Garrett) experiment. He had chosen "the wedding cake in the middle of the road" as an image that is unlikely, but needed explanation. The assignments were turned into an anthology. Debra now has her own students brainstorm for puzzling images and then vote for a favourite for them to write about. She suggested the following images as exercises in "Now Write": the fish falling from the sky; or a lawn sign that reads "Wife Wanted, Inquire Within".
I decided to write on neither of the images that Debra Spark suggested, but when back and wrote on the wedding cake in the middle of the road. Here it is:
The main street of Lockingbarr is wide, with shady verandahs stretching out over the dusty footpath. The two blocks over which the shops march side by side are divided by a bridge spanning Frog's Hollow. The townsfolk all have their favourite end of town - the older residents and those who have lived their whole lives in Lockingbarr prefer the end south of the bridge, and those new to town preferred the north.
A breeze blew some dry leaves down the quiet street, but there was no other movement. Two cars were parked along the curb north of the bridge, their shadows extending far down the road in the early morning light. A bell jingled and a young woman stepped outside, pushing aside plastic streamers. She was followed out by a thin, short man who battled with the streamers that swung back at him.
The young woman took two long strides on her dainty heels, her skirt swinging around her calves as she pivoted around to face the short man.
"Thank God that's organised," the woman said briskly. The man nodded, causing some strands of fair hair to flick forward. "I'll tell Mum to cancel her order with Gaffney's Bakery down the south end. There's no way we're having that fusty fruit cake for our wedding."
The man had stopped abruptly, but now hurried to catch up as the woman pivoted again and strode off towards one of the nearby cars.
Inside the bakery, Amy was still trying to recover from her consultation. She stood with her hands extended in front of her across the shoulder-high cabinet full of pastries and slices. She chin rested on her chest and her whole body quivered.
Her business partner emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her white apron. "You ok, love?"
Amy raised her head and straightened up. "Guess who that was?" Amy didn't wait for Rachel to reply. "Megan Wright. Ordering a wedding cake."
Rachel's mouth fell open, and she moved over to the cabinet beside her friend. "Did she recognise you?"
"Of course not!" Amy snorted. It had been nearly fifteen years since Amy had been terrorised by Megan Wright in Lockingbarr Primary School. Amy had been a chubby child, to say the least. She had escaped Megan when they had gone to different high schools, and then Amy had left town to get her business degree. She'd met Rachel at university and they'd been inseparable ever since. Recently, Amy had convinced Rachel to move to Lockingbarr and open this bakery up the north end of town.
"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked.
"I'll make the friggin' cake! Double chocolate mud. Three square tiers. White icing. Red roses," Amy reeled off the directions she'd been given.
"Fine," Rachel shrugged. "You should have told her to piss off. But, anyway. When does she need it?"
"Two weeks."
"Jeez she's leaving it a bit late."
"Her mother had ordered a cake from Gaffney's, down the other end of town." Amy gazed across her counter. She shook her head. "She hasn't changed at all."
"Lucky guy!" Rachel's sarcasm was like a mist that lingered after she had returned to the kitchen.
Amy rotated the cake slowly, tweaking a rose here and there, turning her head from side to side. Megan Wright was due to collect the cake in an hour, to take it to the function centre before she went to Tiffany's Salon to get her hair done.
Rachel had wanted to push the cake to the back of the fridge the night before and put a box of lamingtons on top. To hell with the cake - there's nothing Megan could have done about it, anyway. But Amy couldn't wreck her creation on purpose.
But as she continued to rotate the cake, making tiny adjustments, some of the terror and helplessness crept back into her. She remembered her bruised scalp and trying to cover bald patches where her hair had been yanked out. She remembered being sneered at and pushed aside. She remembered getting surrounded and pinched all over. Most of all, she remembered being the terror of being chased and always knowing that she wasn't fast enough to get away. All at the hands of Megan Wright.
An hour later, when Megan was driving north across the bridge, she could see something sitting in the middle of the road. She couldn't make out what it was. It was about level with the bakery, so she was slowing the car down when she realised it was a cake. White, three-tiered, with red roses. Her cake!
She stopped the car in the middle of the road, gripping and wringing the steering wheel as she peered through the window, unable to fully comprehend ...
Eventually, she shook herself and threw the door open. She stomped up to the cake - was it ok? Someone was going to pay for this!
The cake would have been beautiful, if it wasn't for the ants trailing over it, and the bees eating the sugar icing.
Megan swept the cake up and stalked towards the bakery, ignoring the cars trying to negotiate hers, still sitting where she had left it, with the door open.
Amy stood in the window, watching. Megan wasn't distraught, that was clear, and this annoyed her. As Megan approached, Amy slowed turned the lock over in the door, and displayed the "closed" sign in the window. She know Megan had seen her, and heard her call out, but Amy slowly turned away and walked behind her display cabinet, into the kitchen.
The cake hit the window with a squwelshing thud.
Please workshop my piece, and give me some feedback.
Wedding Cake Assignment: an author called Debra Spark had heard of another writer's (George Garrett) experiment. He had chosen "the wedding cake in the middle of the road" as an image that is unlikely, but needed explanation. The assignments were turned into an anthology. Debra now has her own students brainstorm for puzzling images and then vote for a favourite for them to write about. She suggested the following images as exercises in "Now Write": the fish falling from the sky; or a lawn sign that reads "Wife Wanted, Inquire Within".
I decided to write on neither of the images that Debra Spark suggested, but when back and wrote on the wedding cake in the middle of the road. Here it is:
The main street of Lockingbarr is wide, with shady verandahs stretching out over the dusty footpath. The two blocks over which the shops march side by side are divided by a bridge spanning Frog's Hollow. The townsfolk all have their favourite end of town - the older residents and those who have lived their whole lives in Lockingbarr prefer the end south of the bridge, and those new to town preferred the north.
A breeze blew some dry leaves down the quiet street, but there was no other movement. Two cars were parked along the curb north of the bridge, their shadows extending far down the road in the early morning light. A bell jingled and a young woman stepped outside, pushing aside plastic streamers. She was followed out by a thin, short man who battled with the streamers that swung back at him.
The young woman took two long strides on her dainty heels, her skirt swinging around her calves as she pivoted around to face the short man.
"Thank God that's organised," the woman said briskly. The man nodded, causing some strands of fair hair to flick forward. "I'll tell Mum to cancel her order with Gaffney's Bakery down the south end. There's no way we're having that fusty fruit cake for our wedding."
The man had stopped abruptly, but now hurried to catch up as the woman pivoted again and strode off towards one of the nearby cars.
Inside the bakery, Amy was still trying to recover from her consultation. She stood with her hands extended in front of her across the shoulder-high cabinet full of pastries and slices. She chin rested on her chest and her whole body quivered.
Her business partner emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her white apron. "You ok, love?"
Amy raised her head and straightened up. "Guess who that was?" Amy didn't wait for Rachel to reply. "Megan Wright. Ordering a wedding cake."
Rachel's mouth fell open, and she moved over to the cabinet beside her friend. "Did she recognise you?"
"Of course not!" Amy snorted. It had been nearly fifteen years since Amy had been terrorised by Megan Wright in Lockingbarr Primary School. Amy had been a chubby child, to say the least. She had escaped Megan when they had gone to different high schools, and then Amy had left town to get her business degree. She'd met Rachel at university and they'd been inseparable ever since. Recently, Amy had convinced Rachel to move to Lockingbarr and open this bakery up the north end of town.
"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked.
"I'll make the friggin' cake! Double chocolate mud. Three square tiers. White icing. Red roses," Amy reeled off the directions she'd been given.
"Fine," Rachel shrugged. "You should have told her to piss off. But, anyway. When does she need it?"
"Two weeks."
"Jeez she's leaving it a bit late."
"Her mother had ordered a cake from Gaffney's, down the other end of town." Amy gazed across her counter. She shook her head. "She hasn't changed at all."
"Lucky guy!" Rachel's sarcasm was like a mist that lingered after she had returned to the kitchen.
Amy rotated the cake slowly, tweaking a rose here and there, turning her head from side to side. Megan Wright was due to collect the cake in an hour, to take it to the function centre before she went to Tiffany's Salon to get her hair done.
Rachel had wanted to push the cake to the back of the fridge the night before and put a box of lamingtons on top. To hell with the cake - there's nothing Megan could have done about it, anyway. But Amy couldn't wreck her creation on purpose.
But as she continued to rotate the cake, making tiny adjustments, some of the terror and helplessness crept back into her. She remembered her bruised scalp and trying to cover bald patches where her hair had been yanked out. She remembered being sneered at and pushed aside. She remembered getting surrounded and pinched all over. Most of all, she remembered being the terror of being chased and always knowing that she wasn't fast enough to get away. All at the hands of Megan Wright.
An hour later, when Megan was driving north across the bridge, she could see something sitting in the middle of the road. She couldn't make out what it was. It was about level with the bakery, so she was slowing the car down when she realised it was a cake. White, three-tiered, with red roses. Her cake!
She stopped the car in the middle of the road, gripping and wringing the steering wheel as she peered through the window, unable to fully comprehend ...
Eventually, she shook herself and threw the door open. She stomped up to the cake - was it ok? Someone was going to pay for this!
The cake would have been beautiful, if it wasn't for the ants trailing over it, and the bees eating the sugar icing.
Megan swept the cake up and stalked towards the bakery, ignoring the cars trying to negotiate hers, still sitting where she had left it, with the door open.
Amy stood in the window, watching. Megan wasn't distraught, that was clear, and this annoyed her. As Megan approached, Amy slowed turned the lock over in the door, and displayed the "closed" sign in the window. She know Megan had seen her, and heard her call out, but Amy slowly turned away and walked behind her display cabinet, into the kitchen.
The cake hit the window with a squwelshing thud.
Please workshop my piece, and give me some feedback.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Module 3 - Creative Writing Course
This week, we were told about the value of 'workshopping'. Basically, it's having a few people, or a group that helps each other, to read your work and provide criticism. Which also means that I have to tell people that I'm writing, and have to let people read what I'm writing ... !! I know this is important - to be a writer, someone needs to read your work. But I was hoping that I could hide was I was writing until it was all neatly bound into a printed novel. I have to overcome that, obviously, and I think that is what this blog is about, in part. I want feedback, and I am putting myself out there.
Also, the course was about description. It was about scenes and summary in writing. It was about dialogue, and it was about using all five senses.
Here is my assignment that week:
Here are the tutor's comments:
To Jacqui
This starts off a little awkwardly, but then you get into your stride and it comes alive.
Look at the difference in ‘feel’ between the first three sentences and what comes after ‘But I’. At the beginning, you are trying for effect, but your character is absent. Your sentences are all constructed the same way (for example, they all start with ‘The’).
Then your character enters the scene and suddenly it comes alive. After that, we are so firmly in the moment as she/he walks across the paddock that we are utterly convinced it’s a real place. The rhythm is stronger and the sentences flow.
Why not have a try at rewriting the first three sentences so that they feel the same way? Then it would be really terrific.
Well done.
By the way, the research for my novel has begun!
Also, the course was about description. It was about scenes and summary in writing. It was about dialogue, and it was about using all five senses.
Here is my assignment that week:
The gusty breeze brought the smell of lemon-scented gums when it billowed past. The winter sun was bright, but the heat that could roast the earth at other times of the year did not seem to reach me. The air was icy, causing goosebumbs to break out in tight little lumps across my arms and scalp. But I continued to trudge through the wet grass, bracing against the wind and hugging myself. I always felt like I was the last person on earth out here. This paddock was completely closed in by hills and thick grey-green gums rising steeply up the slopes, their shadows stretching halfway across the clearing. The only sign of humanity was the post and wire fence that run across my path in the distance, and the occasional jet tracing its slow passage across the blue sky. Bell birds whipped their greeting to me from the gums, and a willy-wagtail danced ahead of me before perching on a large cow pat and twirling his tail in a black and white blur. Faintly, I was eventually able to hear the low hum of a tractor, as I crossed the paddock towards the rusty wire gate that hung lopsided from its hinges.
Here are the tutor's comments:
To Jacqui
This starts off a little awkwardly, but then you get into your stride and it comes alive.
Look at the difference in ‘feel’ between the first three sentences and what comes after ‘But I’. At the beginning, you are trying for effect, but your character is absent. Your sentences are all constructed the same way (for example, they all start with ‘The’).
Then your character enters the scene and suddenly it comes alive. After that, we are so firmly in the moment as she/he walks across the paddock that we are utterly convinced it’s a real place. The rhythm is stronger and the sentences flow.
Why not have a try at rewriting the first three sentences so that they feel the same way? Then it would be really terrific.
Well done.
By the way, the research for my novel has begun!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Module 2 - Creative Writing Course
Module 2 of the creative writing course with Sydney Writers' Centre was about developing characters.
For our assignment, we had to develop a character, then write a personals ad for him or her. The second part of the assignment was that the character had to explain/defend the personals ad to someone who found out about it. Here's my effort:
For our assignment, we had to develop a character, then write a personals ad for him or her. The second part of the assignment was that the character had to explain/defend the personals ad to someone who found out about it. Here's my effort:
PART ONE
Man seeks wife. 32yo Mallee boy seeks country girl for future together. I am a family man, self employed, living in a great community. Must love utes, animals, and fishing. Send a photo to helen@live.me for a first date.
PART TWO
"Fuck! Who told you? She can't keep her mouth shut. I s'pose I shouldn't have expected it to stay a secret 'round here. You know how me mum and sisters get after a few wines. This ad was their latest idea. You should've seen their first effort. No way was I letting them post that! It was cross between a romance novel and an ad for a housekeeper! Mum's even getting the emails sent to her, so she can go through them first.
"But mate, I'm getting old. How long've you and Jode been together now? Twelve years? You'll be a fuckin' Pop before I had kids. I don't wanna be an old dad. I wanna be able to kick a footy around with me son. I wanna come home to a meal around the table with a family. I want my name passed on, and the property to stay in the family. There are no girls around here my age that haven't been through every guy already. How else am I gunna meet someone? I never get away from here. Mate, this has to work."
Here's the tutor's feedback:
Jacqui, I just love the mum getting the emails first to vet them!
That tells us more about the family than anything else could. It’s lovely details like this which build up a picture of the character’s background and environment. If you really write this story the mum and the sisters have to be vivid and funny but with their own stories and issues.
Is he talking to his brother-in-law? Who is the ‘she’ who can’t keep her mouth shut?
That will determine the relationship with the other guy, which I’d like to see develop a bit – can you have him say something your main character doesn’t expect?
That tells us more about the family than anything else could. It’s lovely details like this which build up a picture of the character’s background and environment. If you really write this story the mum and the sisters have to be vivid and funny but with their own stories and issues.
Is he talking to his brother-in-law? Who is the ‘she’ who can’t keep her mouth shut?
That will determine the relationship with the other guy, which I’d like to see develop a bit – can you have him say something your main character doesn’t expect?
Because the assignments don't ask for much detail, I prefer to be subtle. I like leaving a lot of questions open for the reader, some mystery in the character, that will unfold gradually.
So far, so good.
Friday, March 4, 2011
To Kill A Mockingbird
As part of my Creative Writing course with the Sydney Writers' Centre, I had to reread To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee.
It really is a great piece of literature. Very subtle, because the narration is by a child. The girl Scout is a beautiful character - she is real, innocent, and so intelligent. But the events are a loss of innocence for Scout, and more so for her older brother, Jem. It is significant for Scout to look back on those years, but she did not have a full understanding at the time. Jem, who was just reaching puberty, experienced the trial through the eyes of a young man - I can only imagine how it shaped him in years to come. I hope he still became a lawyer, and wasn't disheartened.
It's the third time that I've read this book, and I have got something different from it each time I've read it. Having been a lawyer myself, for 4 years now, I could sympathise with Atticus Finch much better. Particularly when he never took on another criminal matter after Tom Robinson's trial. The justice system is soul destroying. Atticus believed in morality and justice. His views were advanced for his time and for the place his lived in.
The racism is shocking, and the class division is almost unthinkable - and it wasn't that long ago. The life in southern USA is shocking. But then I think of what the Aboriginals suffered in Australia, as recently as in my parents' life times. And the continuing inequality - are we that much different?
Prejudice and racial injustice - what would Atticus Finch think of us now? Would he be proud that so much has changed, or would he be disappointed that so little has changed?
It really is a great piece of literature. Very subtle, because the narration is by a child. The girl Scout is a beautiful character - she is real, innocent, and so intelligent. But the events are a loss of innocence for Scout, and more so for her older brother, Jem. It is significant for Scout to look back on those years, but she did not have a full understanding at the time. Jem, who was just reaching puberty, experienced the trial through the eyes of a young man - I can only imagine how it shaped him in years to come. I hope he still became a lawyer, and wasn't disheartened.
It's the third time that I've read this book, and I have got something different from it each time I've read it. Having been a lawyer myself, for 4 years now, I could sympathise with Atticus Finch much better. Particularly when he never took on another criminal matter after Tom Robinson's trial. The justice system is soul destroying. Atticus believed in morality and justice. His views were advanced for his time and for the place his lived in.
The racism is shocking, and the class division is almost unthinkable - and it wasn't that long ago. The life in southern USA is shocking. But then I think of what the Aboriginals suffered in Australia, as recently as in my parents' life times. And the continuing inequality - are we that much different?
Prejudice and racial injustice - what would Atticus Finch think of us now? Would he be proud that so much has changed, or would he be disappointed that so little has changed?
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Module 1 - Creative Writing Course
I did the first module of my creative writing course.
It was all about voice, narrative, and tense. Good start. These things are basic, but something that you seem to take for granted.
After listening to the module, and reading the handouts, the group had to write a first paragraph. We had to write it to make is stand out from the 'slop' pile of manuscripts that a publisher might get.
This was mine:
Quiet. Got to be quiet. The darkness is solid black, but her eyes are wide open. Her little body is curled up in the womb of her sheets. Wet. The acrid smell of her own urine, but she lays still, unable to move. There is one strip of light, shadows moving across it, where the voices are coming from. Her father's rage. Her mother's screams and sobs. She is frozen on her mattress, listening for what seems like ages, her heartbeat rocking through her whole body. Then the thumping began, the pounding into the soft flesh of her mother. The shrieks. Then silence.
I wasn't conscious of some of the things that we learnt in the module, though. I obviously used the third person, but tried to get a personal narrative happening. I tried to keep the sentences short, so the speed of the paragraph flowed fast and created more tension. However, I jumped around with my tenses a bit, and my grammar wasn't fantastic.
Here's the comments from the online tutor:
Oh, Jacqui, this is heartbreaking. And technically very well done except for some small niggles.
Good use of sentence fragments and internal discourse. Nice pace and good suspense.
The niggles? You shift tense. You are in present tense the whole time until ‘began’, which is past tense. It should also be ‘lies there’, not ‘lays there’.
Otherwise, this is working well. However, I want you to think about why you are using present tense, which is more demanding both of readers and of you. It is technically harder to tell a story in present tense, so if you choose it you should know why. I’m not saying ‘don’t use it’ – but make it a conscious choice, not something you just fall into.
Good work.
So far, so good. I'm learning, which is the main thing. Just got to write!
It was all about voice, narrative, and tense. Good start. These things are basic, but something that you seem to take for granted.
After listening to the module, and reading the handouts, the group had to write a first paragraph. We had to write it to make is stand out from the 'slop' pile of manuscripts that a publisher might get.
This was mine:
Quiet. Got to be quiet. The darkness is solid black, but her eyes are wide open. Her little body is curled up in the womb of her sheets. Wet. The acrid smell of her own urine, but she lays still, unable to move. There is one strip of light, shadows moving across it, where the voices are coming from. Her father's rage. Her mother's screams and sobs. She is frozen on her mattress, listening for what seems like ages, her heartbeat rocking through her whole body. Then the thumping began, the pounding into the soft flesh of her mother. The shrieks. Then silence.
I wasn't conscious of some of the things that we learnt in the module, though. I obviously used the third person, but tried to get a personal narrative happening. I tried to keep the sentences short, so the speed of the paragraph flowed fast and created more tension. However, I jumped around with my tenses a bit, and my grammar wasn't fantastic.
Here's the comments from the online tutor:
Oh, Jacqui, this is heartbreaking. And technically very well done except for some small niggles.
Good use of sentence fragments and internal discourse. Nice pace and good suspense.
The niggles? You shift tense. You are in present tense the whole time until ‘began’, which is past tense. It should also be ‘lies there’, not ‘lays there’.
Otherwise, this is working well. However, I want you to think about why you are using present tense, which is more demanding both of readers and of you. It is technically harder to tell a story in present tense, so if you choose it you should know why. I’m not saying ‘don’t use it’ – but make it a conscious choice, not something you just fall into.
Good work.
So far, so good. I'm learning, which is the main thing. Just got to write!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)