November 21st, 2011
Goodbye Love draft annotated for an author reading
Reading a story outloud changes the way it was written as much as grinding your own coffee changes the way your coffee tastes. Experience heightens awareness.
I read Goodbye Love, an unpublished monologue, at the 2011 Tin House Summer Writer’s Workshop student readings because I wanted to feel what it would be like to be this character and tell this story.
I wanted to tell it really slow as if the character was editing her memory of the event before she spoke. If I did it right, it would feel like a poem and the audience would experience some discomfort as the character finished the story.
I constructed a quick backstory using the following factors which would influence and guide my tone:
- Time of Day
- Place
- Audience
- Time Elapsed Since Story Occurred
I read and re-read the story outloud four or five times prior to the actual reading, sometimes to other people in the workshop to get feedback on timing and pace. Underlined words got more of a pause. Certain words changed when I read.
I planned to stay flexible during the final reading, especially in the parts that didn’t seem to have a definitive wording.
After the reading, one of my fellow workshop participants whispered in my ear, “did that really happen to you?” I steal bits and pieces from reality, but the story happens for the character, not me.
November 2nd, 2011
Whenever I’ve written dialogue by a non-American, I’ve primarily focused on the rhythm of their speech to approach a comfortable accuracy.
Certain words sound like punctuation, even in the middle of a sentence. Repetitive words hint at lazy spots in thinking, which become parenthesis for the actual intent or meaning. Volume can be erratic and modulate based on comfort rather than emphasis on meaning.
However, certain rules may apply when the dialogue hits the page. For example, a friend from Sweden sent me an e-mail, in English, with the following explanation because he used the word “forever” which Swedes type as one word in English.
There is a huge difference between Swedish and English. There’s even a page called ‘typeittogether’ in Swedish just to guide people.
Here’s a little joke about how newswedes speak and write words. In English the sentence should be ‘A brown haired nurse’. In Swedish a nurse is called ‘sicknurse’. So the proper Swedish would be ‘A brownhaired sicknurse’. When people englify or just don’t know they usually fuck it up and it turns in to ‘a brown haired sick nurse’ but what you’re really writing, the actual meaning then turns into ‘A brown hairy nurse that is sick’ or actually to put it plainly ’A sick black nurse that has hair on her body’. Not quite the same.
August 11th, 2011
I brought my latest short story to this year’s Tin House Summer Workshop hoping for an ending.
I had no intention of writing another scene. The characters were going to have to work it out within the bounds of the current version. I had four scenes. A luxury, really, but I just couldn’t break open the main character so she’d take the bait, like the guy, and freak-out at the end. This was the map I wanted to draw.
Everything I threw at these characters was thrown back at me.
- White hot story pacing
- Character banter like battle armor
- Insecurity traps and mind games
- A robbery
After the workshop, the first thing I did was tighten the noose with setting descriptions. This slowed down the dialogue, built a little more tension and helped anchor the reader in the last scene. I couldn’t figure out plot, but I knew they got out of a car and walked so I described that in detail. At least I was fixing something, even if I didn’t know what was supposed to happen at the end.
The main character still wouldn’t break, but the workshop had validated my hunch on where she would break in the banter. I tested those spots after each round of edits. Nothing.
A friend from the workshop reread the draft and suggested that I should draw out the first scene (do more show than tell). This helped set the trap and open up some opportunities. I also spun in some quirks and mind games. Threading them through the story helped me to bust up the banter to show some character vulnerability.
When the character finally broke, I touched up the ending and deleted a lot of the new stuff to get back to the bones of the story. The whole process reminded me of Piranha.
June 6th, 2011
A writer’s life is littered with break-ups. Each story is meant to have an ending. But, endings are subjective.
Re-read. Re-read.
The frequency of edits wanes. Punctuation ceases to draw your attention. All the options presented in the beginning of the story have been explored. The characters have gotten where they needed to go. Your edits are the only things you’re editing.
It’s time to start another story, but new stories lead to new details that accumulate into almost cohesive sections that could be added to your finished story to make it better.
Better, but different. Different and better. Maybe not better, but different.
You’ve finally . . . → Read More: Only People from Finland Finnish
May 12th, 2011
Dialogue creates white space and movement. I often use it to outline scenes.
At first, it is exciting. I can hear the conversation’s rhythm and volume. I know how the characters feel when they talk to each other and how they move. Intentions are obvious.
I’m not listening to people actually talking. This is all in my head. No green screen visual effects. Nothing visual, at all. I have no sense of their identity, appearance or location. I’m negligent with these details in real life so why would I expect more from my imagination?
All the concrete details which make a story accessible to a reader . . . → Read More: Sketching with Dialogue
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