Lessons from a Long-ago Writer's Workshop

Some years back I took a writer's workshop with Natalie Goldberg. I had just read her book “Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life”. One of the most useful lessons I learned during that workshop was the use of specific words in painting a scene instead of general words. A sentence like “he drove his car to the restaurant and read the paper while he waited for his lunch to be served” doesn't really tell the reader very much. Consider these sentences:

1. Dwayne drove his 1984 Ford pickup to the Rosalita's Diner and read yesterday's newspaper while he waited for his french fries with gravy to be served.

2. Edward drove his BMW to L'Bistro and read the Wall Street Journal while he waited for his Cesar Salad with grilled shrimp to be served.

The initial sentence conveys the same information found in the next two but what a different story a single sentence can tell. The writer who wants to paint a scene, create a world, tantalize the readers' imagination knows how to use words as specifically as possible to paint the scene. I learned this during Natalie's workshop as we rewrote the same paragraphs over and over using the same basic story but with different specific words. It was a great exercise and one I recommend.

However, there is a flip side to this. One of the things that a writer can never forget is that writing --- especially the writing of fiction --- is a symbiotic relationship. The writer writes to be read. When a reader opens a book s/he enters into a relationship with the writer, at least for the duration of the story, and, if the relationship is to be successful, certain conventions have to be respected. Granted it is not possible to write for every reader --- that would make for some terrible writing --- but most writers know their readership, if only in the abstract. If you want them to respect the relationship of the book you can't play tricks on them.

What made me think of this was a story I read recently in which the author described a character by comparing her to a popular actress. This is a stunt that too many writers do and which drives me batty. It drives me batty for the simple reason that once you say, “he looked like a young Harrison Ford” (ahem, Dan Brown) you immediately lose the sympathy of any reader who happens to dislike Harrison Ford. And, while I can't imagine why anyone would, it's not a chance worth taking and an easy way to instantly turn a segment of your audience off. I remember reading a story obviously written in the 1970s in which a character was described as having the “grace, natural good looks, and style of O.J. Simpson”. I'm sure at the time the author meant well but I suspect readers today would not understand what the author intended.

This is, of course, extreme but it is a chance a writer always takes when he decides to use specific words to describe a scene. When you want to anchor a scene in a time and a place there is nothing that can do the job quite so well as the music, movies, books, and popular culture of the time but always be mindful of the fact that contemporary culture has the power to change on you and that can not bode well for the longevity of your writing.

So how do you avoid potential literary pitfalls? There is a fine line the writer needs to consider, the power of a comparison to convey a concept that could not be done any other way, and taking a sloppy shortcut. You consider, reconsider, and re-reconsider the comparisons you use and if there really is no other way to convey what you want to convey then take the chance. But be mindful of how a reader may see what you write and it is up to you to assess the level of risk.

Author Mary Doria Russell, one of my literary luminaries, says that the novelist is akin to God in that you create a world, furnish it with everything it needs to survive, and populate it with people you create. When you think of it that way writing is, as Harlan Ellison says, holy.

Thanks for reading.