. Spinning .

Tossed around the idea of resurrecting the old Narratives Tunxis Writers Group with Jim yesterday, but in the meantime, for anyone interested, attached below is the introduction flyer to the newly forming writers group under the Fine Arts Connection of Thomaston to which all are welcome. 

Please do feel welcome and come check out the possibilities here–there is no obligation, no mandatory membership, and hopefully, no poems about daffodils.

FACT_intro_flyer.pdf

To expand a bit on the notion brought up in the class notes, I would think that there is a balance–not a compromise–that a writer may wish to strive to achieve in his writing, and that is one that is best exemplified by Carver’s Cathedral.  There is a simple story told about a man whose outlook is changed by his guest.  Powerful, and plenty fulfilling, complete with conflicts, plot structure, climax and resolution.  Then there is the nuance within the narrative that both amend and confirm the vision of the characters.  Several readings past the first, the story becomes richer.

It’s not then a case of targeting writing to a specific reader type, but attempting to provide an enjoyable experience for as diverse a group of readers as possible.  And it may be considered not the reader as an individual ‘type’ but rather the reader as he chooses to read a particular story in a particular time (meaning, for entertainment/escapism value or for deep-reading).  Carver is accomplished at this, as are so many of the literary authors who did not plan perhaps to set their stories to this purpose, but manage through skill and experience to do so.  Neat.

I once belonged to an online critique group.  I gradually left the group because except for just one or two members, they appeared to be tied in to the beginning rules of writing, adamant about sticking to them and disdainful of any who crashed beyond the borders.  One of the major rules I immediately broke with my submission was starting the story out at the end.  To them, there was no arc, ergo, no reason to read the story.

To me, there is purpose to revealing an ending right up front and one of them is to ask not what happens next, but how did it get to this?  Thus, an excellent chance to expose character and interaction.  How a series of simple events can lead to an explosion.  A boom is the result of a wick, a stick, and a match.

There are really several ways that the ending served as appetizer behooves the story.  Sometimes it is just to diffuse a situation and bring it back up again–extreme foreplay, perhaps.  In some instances we can carry the story a bit further than the climax to not end just at the beginning/end, but to provide a resolution that results from that major event. 

If the opening scene holds impact, it may interfere with the following narrative as the image remains fixed in the mind.  I try to make the story powerful enough to overcome that image, to make the reader forget that brief introduction so that it’s not merely a completed puzzle, but so it can emerge again with full force.  Not an easy thing to do and I don’t believe I’ve yet accomplished that with this particular piece.  One method is to build back up to the moment; another is to lull the reader onto a path that doesn’t appear to relate unless one is reading closely enough to pick up on what should be subtle hints of direction.

Breaking the rules of writing is a fun thing to do; but it takes two things: first, knowing the rules, and second, having the skill to know how to go about it successfully.

An example (one of many) of editing out unnecessary information:

Old version:

“Well it must work.” It was what he had to say because twelve days out of a year
couldn’t overcome the influence of the others. These days he treaded lightly, for
Jenny’s sake. Behind him, the screen door whined open.

New version:

“Well it must work.”  It was what he had to say because he only had twelve days out of a year.  Behind him, the screen door whined open.

We already know that this has been an unfriendly divorce, a messy custody battle.  We’ve felt Jed’s discomfort and resentment, know that he is overcautious.  If I were a really good writer, his answer alone would be enough. 

I’ll work on that.

Even the submitting doesn’t halt the editing process.  While I’ve naturally saved a copy of the piece as submitted for class workshop, I’ve gone ahead and done some rewriting on my own.  Hopefully I’ve already picked up on some of the details the class is likely to spot–it’s a good group, eagle-eyed and with a fine sense of story.

Mostly awkward phrasing here, but there’s a need to build character to understand what’s going on.  That I’m trying to accomplish with more dialogue and interaction.  One thing I do realize with experience of both writing and of living, not everything needs to be explained–one of my biggest writing errors to overcome and slowly getting used to brevity and showing versus telling.

In this story, as in any, there are always reader questions as how something could have happened, many readers needing more information.  This is what the writer seeks to supply in minimalist terms.  The longer I’ve lived the more I’ve seen that almost anything can happen.  Unless physically impossible, the most otherwise unlikely circumstances can and do combine sometimes to create an event.  Thus, tragedy barely averted on most occasions one time will pass the point of unrealistic and become the real. 

So no, I don’t feel I need to explain a gun and fire.  Shit happens.

Was a bit strange to write straight narrative, to keep typing have it automatically run onto another ‘page’ rather than visually gauge what size limitations a Writing Space in hypertext may offer. (They can go on as long as you want, really, but there’s a satisfaction in keeping within constraints.)

So I’ll rewrite this last one afterwards, but today, with some things accomplished, I can treat myself to heading back into the wide world of hypertext.

Finished a story that I started just the other day and turned it in for workshop.  Did my best to catch things as they were written but I’d really consider this a first draft.  Won’t say what I’ll be working on as far as repairs in the second draft, but there’s much work to be done and it’s not a matter of cutting out, but emphasizing and building the character and the story.

Deadlines are deadlines, however, and I should’ve shoved my muse a bit harder into working sooner to get a more relevant story line.

Odd indeed, the way a story rolls itself out.

The scene could have been from battle, though I vaguely thought it could have been a camping trip gone bad.  Instead, the beginning of the ending–which is told at the beginning–seems to have occurred to a man picking up his daughter at his ex-wife’s house.

Hmmph.

Appropriately coming right after Carver’s Cathedral and our discussion of the blind man, we find we can take heart that in this audio-visual world of today’s story, there are still new possibilities open for the lowly writer:

Porn for the Blind.

Here’s the story developing:

The night rumbled as if dark was a sound.  A slight breeze blew from no particular direction.  It carried a pale scent of smoke.  A wood fire sort of smoke.  He forced himself onward through the trees, one arm limply held in front of him to acknowledge a clear path.

The man was bleeding, red soaking through the t-shirt he’d wrapped around his belly like a cumber-band when he felt the wind wet and cold in his guts.  At first, there had been no pain.