Thoroughly modern me

Sometimes as I try to become a modern writer I have to laugh at myself -- sure, I'm on Facebook and Twitter and Youtube and here on Blogger but, honestly, do I really think I've mastered the technology to the point where I can actually be creative, even avant garde with it?


My writing partner, Mary E. O'Keefe, and I are putting the final touches on the six new stories that will make up Abigail Massey at McAdam Station, Volume 5, set for publication this fall. As usual, we've had a lot of fun with the project, bouncing first story ideas then story drafts off each other as we try to produce the best new tales of McAdam Railway Station that we can.


And we've come up with some really interesting new material -- a couple of new characters with fascinating back stories, some exciting and heart-warming new stories and, yes, even an attempt to be cutting edge with the final story in the book.


The first fun idea we came up with actually came from my partner. When I told her I was struggling to come up with something really unique for the sixth story in the collection, she suggested I consider writing the story from several different points of view. Abigail stories, she pointed out, are always told with a third-person limited narrator, from Abigail's point of view -- why not tell a single tale from the points of view of several characters?


She mentioned several examples from literary and film history (The Sound and the Fury, for example) to illustrate her point.


I liked the idea immediately and set to writing. And I came out with a pretty fair story -- a story in which conflict arises between Abigail and Martha, in particular, in relation to the differences in how they experience and understand several events in their lives.


I wrote the original story from Abigail's point of view, then the same story from Martha's point of view. Mary agreed to write the story once again, this time from Jenny's point of view. Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?


Well, it does until you realize that the original Abigail story is already longer than any other Abigail story I've written (with the exception, of course, of the Christmas novella) and the Martha story is almost as long. Add in Jenny's point of view and you will have basically doubled the length of the book.


Wow. That's maybe too much for one collection of stories. And the first five stories in the collection were written specifically to lead in to the final tale so it's not as if we can just leave one out to shorten the book


In other words, unless we want to produce a book that is too big to sell for the price at which we are aiming, we need to find a solution.


We tried to cut each version of the story down a bit. It helped. But not enough.


So, trying to be ultra modern, I proposed another solution: what if we printed only the Abigail version in the book, then put a note at the end of the story that says, "To read Martha's side of the story, go to www.abigailmassey.ca and, to hear Jenny's version, visit youtube"?


You know, multiple platforms for different versions of the story. Use one medium to draw readers to the other media. Who knows, maybe Miss Pierce can tweet her response to the entire thing?


See what I mean? I'm already laughing at myself. How silly is this proposal? Especially considering the fact that a good portion of our readership are older people who might not be particularly savvy about using social media. Talk about alienating your audience!


Or... could it work?

Lessons learned from lessons offered

As I have posted in this space before, I am from time to time asked to read something a friend or colleague has written and to give "honest feedback".


I am always wary on these occasions because, all too often, the written piece is awful and the writer is lying when she/he says she wants me to be honest. On more than one occasion, I've read through truly abysmal writing, only to find myself being forced by the person's wide, fearful, hopeful, frightened eyes to say "It shows real promise", "there's a lot to like here", "but for a couple of minor tweaks here and there, I think you've got a real winner".


And I hate doing that. Both the reading and the lying.


So, when a work colleague approached me the other day with a similar request, I hesitated for quite a long time. Did I really want to risk ruining what is a good, enjoyable friendship for this? Did I really want to spend my time reading what could, quite probably, be an awful piece of fiction?


But he is a good guy and a very good colleague and I felt he was at least psychologically prepared to hear something in the neighbourhood of the truth, good or bad.


So I read his work.


Despite his promises to the contrary, he actually seemed quite anxious about what I would say. He texted me several times and, when I agreed to meet with him to chat, he booked a meeting room for the purpose.


Fortunately, his writing was quite interesting. Sure, there were issues but, as I read it, I got the strong feeling that I was reading something that was not too far from really good.


The only challenge was: his writing is about as far away in approach and style from my writing as you could get and still be working in narrative fiction.


I really worried that, in providing constructive feedback from my own set of expectations and preconceptions, I might actually damage his work.


His story was told from an extremely limited third person position and his protagonist was a down-and-out young man going through an extremely troubling period in his life. The narrative was almost stream-of-consciousness in approach, with long sentences, detailed descriptions and often creative metaphors. It meandered from subject to subject in a way that was, for me, disconcertingly real for the character.


In other words, exactly the opposite of my own style: third person omniscient, with a young, female protagonist, fairly easy on the exposition with lots of dialogue and lots happening.


And I really felt like there was something magic in his work, something really really good that any constructive criticism a writer like me could give might just ruin.


Now that was an interesting conversation!


I very carefully explained to him what I've just written here: that, although I think there are ways to improve the piece, he should take anything I had to say with a grain of salt.


He was great about it, however. I think he was just delighted that I was so positive about his work that he was willing to listen to my blather.


A technical guy by nature (he's some kind of an engineer), he approaches writing as if he is building something. He told me, for example, that his research into writing the kind of piece he wanted to create indicated that his sentences should be between 70 and 140 words in length!


He also told me that he came up with the plot by writing a paragraph, then starting what I pictured as a flow chart of information derived from that first para. "OK, he's wearing a t-shirt, so he's young. He's upset. Why? Maybe because he's lost his job. And he's got a son. But where's his wife? They broke up. She broke up with him... no, he broke up with her and he regrets it. And he needs money. He's lost his job. He's upset because he's lost his job, he's lost his wife, he has a son to raise and he needs money. How does he get money? He has to pawn something. OK, he has to pawn..."


And, once the flow chart was completed in his mind, he began to write the rest of the story.


Again, that's about as different from my approach as you can get. And yet, it worked for him.


I learned a lot from him in this conversation. Probably more than he did from me!


For one thing, I learned to be more optimistic when a friend asks me to read his writing.

Being true to your own voice

Sometimes, as a writer, you know exactly how a section of your novel should be written. You know exactly the narrative tone, the diction, the kinds of sentence structure, the paragraphing that would make the scene that exists so vividly in your mind come to life on the page.

And then you have to accept that you are simply not capable of writing it that way.

Sure, J.K. Rowling could. J.R.R. Tolkien could pull it off. Even Franklin W. Dixon , Carolyn Keene or Roald Dahl would handle it with ease.

But not you. That's not to say you can't write the scene effectively. It's just to say that, in order to write it to the best of your own abilities, you have to write it your own way. You have to play to your strengths rather than attempt to adopt an approach that, even if it seems perfectly suited for the scene as you imagine it, is not in your wheelhouse.

I went through that precise, difficult process this morning with the opening scene of my new middle-grade novel. I had written a first page earlier this week, using short, choppy sentences to establish a quick pace, blunt, one-syllable adjectives (used sparingly, of course) to create atmosphere and rapid, almost break-neck movement to create suspense.

I don't think it was bad, what I produced. No, not bad at all. But it wasn't me. And, as a result, it wasn't great. It felt to me like I was trying too hard to be what I'm not and, as a result, the scene felt fake.

So, while I was out walking the dog this morning, I told myself: Even if you don't think the approach is the absolute best for this scene, you have to write this in your own voice, in your own way.

I started again, out there in the neighbourhood, and created a first line that was more me. Perhaps not so quick of pace, not so sparse of diction... but me. And, I think, really good.

I knew I was on the right track when I sat down at my little netbook and input that first line, only to find the second line flowing immediately into my imagination. Then the third. And the fourth.

Before I knew it, I had three full pages of writing with which I am really pleased. Sure, it needs editing. Sure, I need to revise and rethink.

But it's a great start. And it's me there on the page.

The earlier draft was an important step in the process, no doubt. By writing and rejecting it, I gained a clearer idea both of the events as they should be presented but also the way in which I wish to present them.

And now I have a better start to my novel and that tingling feeling in my stomach that says I'm going in the right direction.