On Friday, Slate.com published a fantastic piece by Chad Harbach titled “MFA v. NYC : America now has two distinct literary cultures. Which one will last?”
The question he should have asked was “Which one can last?” because the MFA culture he describes clearly exhibits characteristics of the same sort of inadvertant pyramid scheme I have already described in regard to the consumerization of writing.
I tried watching a documentary on St. Anæsthesius the other day, but fell asleep about ten seconds into it.
You guys know that I am a grouch, in the sense that I am natural-born critic. I can’t even simply listen to the radio without thinking to myself that Daughtry’s latest song would have much more emotional and metrical punch if the title line were “in the last days of September” rather than the vague and flaccid “in the middle of…”
So, when I say something is a great read — full stop, no caveats — you know I must have been impressed.
Suzannah Windsor Freeman‘s recent post (at the Write It Sideways blog) on the difference between good and bad literary fiction is one of those great reads. It pulls together information from multiple sources, and takes a stand with which some might disagree. I happen not to disagree, and recommend it to any writer who strives for the literary.
pinguescent (ping-GWES-ent) becoming fat
_an old friend now almost unrecognizably pinguescent
– Endangered English Dictionary: Bodacious Words Your Dictionary Forgot
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
&
BON APPÉTIT!
So, I walked to work today.
Those of you who know me RT might be saying, “Why did you walk so far?!” Well, it’s only eight and a half miles, and I had several good reasons — all of which can help improve your writing.
An assertion we often read on book trade blogs is that the process of selecting a book for representation and publication is subjective. I have to confess that this idea raises major red flags for me, not necessarily as an author, but as writing professional who has worked as both a writer and an editor.
In order to support the historical fiction writers out there, let me suggest a few books on The Longhouse, the confederacy of “Iroquois” nations (they called themselves Haudenosaunee) during the colonial period preceding the American Revolution.
In late November of 1183 AD, the Crusader castle of Kerak was beseiged by a Muslim army led by Sultan Saláh al-Dín, or صلاح الدين — better known in English as Saladin. It was a retaliatory assault, in response to Christian knights attacking merchants.
During the seige, Saláh al-Dín made a very curious decision: he forbade his forces from bombarding part of the castle where he knew his enemies would be gathered. Why? Because he also knew they were gathering for a wedding.
Imagine the possibilities of an anecdote like this for advancing a narrative and/or character development. In the actual event, the Sultan’s leniency was the result of negotiations between the Muslims and Crusaders but. as inspiration for fiction, the possible explanations for such a decision are as open as the writer’s creativity.
Even if you are not inclined to write historical fiction about the Crusades, or you don’t want to include a wedding in your novel, just imagine the literary punch of a powerful character (hero, villain, or otherwise) who withholds violence, refusing to press a clear tactical advantage, for reasons of sentiment or principle.
Is it a redeeming incident, one of Blake Snyder‘s Save The Cat
Or, is there a deeper psychological reason, crouching like a spider in some dark corner of the psyche of your novel’s Saláh al-Dín analog, an emotional scar staying his or her hand?
In the larger narrative, does this incident function as a moment of weakness, a noble yet ill-considered gesture or a pained reaction to a nearly forgotten trauma, which ultimately unravels an otherwise mighty character’s plans … or sanity?
As a writer, one can never allow anecdotes like this to go un-noticed, un-tagged, and un-filed. Note them, analyze them, and find ways to use them to deepen the emotional impact of your fiction.
On this day in 461 AD, a man named Hilarius became Pope of the Roman Catholic Church.
And, for the life of me, I cannot think of a way to articulate this as a joke.
From The Cultural Life of the American Colonies
Not all seventeenth-century readers confined their interests to solemn treatises, but one should always remember that the prevailing attitude toward literature was so distinctly purposeful that many of our ancestors made themselves believe that they could gain instruction even when reading romances … Continue reading
