“You knew you wanted to do it, but you’d never had the courage…:” Writing in the second person

For some people, it’s bungee-jumping. For others, it’s swimming with dolphins, getting a tattoo, or eating fugu.

What am I talking about?

The thing you’ve always wanted to do, but were too chicken to try.

For me, it’s writing in the second person. When it’s done well, it’s so, so compelling. The reader is naturally drawn into the narrative, as they are a part of it. But when it’s bad, it’s like a poor imitation of a Choose Your Own Adventure book (I loved them as a kid, by the way). I remember reading a book that teaches writing which suggested that only the most gifted of writers should attempt writing in the second person.

Over the last few months, the second person narrative has appeared on my radar quite a bit. And for the first time, it’s in non-fiction.

I’m a huge fan of Erika Dreifus’s blogs, and that led me to some of her other writing. Among her corpus of work are several interlocked true short stories about her (yikes!) mugging in Central Park.

(You can read them, too:

What really interested me about the stories was Dreifus’s handling of her misadventure. While the events actually happened to her, she writes them as if they happened to the reader. Whether this was intentional or serendipitous, she discovered a way of writing about a traumatic event that happened to her with greater objectivity.

My new POV

A couple months back, I wrote a very self-revelatory story. It was the kind of thing that is so embarrassing to myself that I can’t be at all objective about it. When I wrote piece, I thought it was completely unpublishable, but shared it at my writing group nonetheless.

Surprise! Several members of the group had a very strong reaction to it, not because it was exceptionally well-written (it wasn’t), but because they felt the feelings I portrayed were very universal. So, they encouraged me to revise it.

Struggling to handle material that was a little too close for comfort, I tried Dreifus’s technique and rewrote my story entirely in the second person. I’d describe it as highly therapeutic. I was able to laugh at my foibles and not take the behavior that elicited my negative response so personally. I have no idea if the story will ever make it to publication. But the process definitely gave me a new perspective on my behavior.

The process also gave me a bit more confidence in writing the second-person. Now, I’m looking for the right opportunity to use it again.

Have you read notable works in the second person? Have you ever tried to write in the second person? Share your experiences as a reader or a writer below.

Pesach Limericks for Maggid (because I need a break from my kitchen right now)

pyramid of giza, exodus

On the way outta there!

Many of us have memories of childhood seders. Even when the memories are fond ones (like these shared recently by Jessica Soffer on the Prosen People blog), we were often confused by the Maggid section of the Haggadah. I’ve pried myself from the kitchen to share some wacky Passover poetry to read a the seder during Maggid, hoping it’ll help.

Chag kasher v’sameach, chaverim! (“Have a kosher and joyous holiday, friends!”) Continue reading

Be childlike, not childish–What we can learn about writing from kids

We now—joyfully—have 2 1/2 literate kids in our household. (The 1/2 is only 5. Cut her some slack.) One of the interesting things in my life lately has been watching them become writers, as well. I think we adults can learn a thing or two from their learning curve.

1) Kids enjoy writing about what they like. However, one of the things that makes them better writers is writing about things outside their comfort zone.  It’s a lot easier to get my 10 year old to write about cars or maps, but his writing skills have been built up greatly by writing all those friendly letters, book reports, essays, and so on that get assigned as homework or classwork. When was the last time you wrote something outside YOUR comfort zone? I know professional writers who only write personal essays, or those who have always exclusively written for kids. Try a little of everything. Mix it up. It’ll surprise you.

Watch out! Your bookworm might just become a writer!

2) Kids try to copy what they like to read. They’ll borrow liberally from Captain Underpants, Tintin, and the like. They recognize excellence and strive to emulate it. Of course, we want writers to develop their own voice (and never, ever plagiarize), but there’s nothing wrong from learning from the greats. So do a little pastiche–you’ll get a childlike pleasure from it, and brush up your skills, too.

3) There might be obstacles in the way. The right tools can help. One of my kids has a graphomotor problem. Upon advice, we bought him pencils with fatter leads. What a difference. And now he usually types writing assignments. So much easier for him. Another of my kids is so young, she hasn’t learned to spell yet. Relying on invented spelling allows her to communicate on paper, and she’s so pleased with the result she does a little dance (really, she does). If your inner kid has problems with writing, break it down and see if there’s a solution. Don’t just give up. Continue reading

Wavering

NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month, running for the month of November each year. By November 30th, participants hope to finish writing a 50,000-word (approximately 175-page) novel. Some people try to fly solo, but most participants sign up on the official website. The website offers guidance about pacing, tracks your progress, and provides support. NaNoWriMo has resulted in some book sales for participants, but many others say it taught them discipline, skills and persistence that helped them with future projects.

If your book idea is Jewish and for kids, there’s also (mentioned in a previous blog) the “Write Your Own Megillah” event.

Truthfully, I have a few novel ideas out there, and it would be good to have an outside source telling me to crank out a draft in one month. But I’m still working on my last novel, still hoping to sell it, and still have deadlines for my magazine work to meet. Plus, I probably need to add another part-time job to my plate for financial reasons.

So I keep wavering. Should I or shouldn’t I? Should I or shouldn’t I? It’s like balancing two different categories of responsibility.

More crazy ideas from yours truly

I’m sorta infamous among my friends for having lots of whacked-out, creative-but-slightly-off-kilter, usually (but not always) impractical ideas. Here’s my latest:

Rabbi Aryeh Leib Nivin–a motivational speaker/life coach/teacher/rabbi–speaks of everyone having a yeod, a unique life mission with which they are supposed to serve G-d (and people), and a tikkun, a soul correction they have to make in order to maximize their potential (by fulfilling their yeod). Also, a person has short-term lessons that must be learned as stepping stones to reach their yeod and tikkun. This self-development paradigm is very useful for those of us who want to build ourselves (especially now that we’re in Elul, the introspective month that leads up to Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur).

“That wacky Mrs. Klempner has some weird idea again!”

As I mentioned in a post last week, I’m going to be rewriting (yes, again!) the novel I wrote last year. One of the areas I want to focus on is character, really fleshing each one out better and more coherently. Many expert authors suggest strategies about developing character such as:

1) Learn about Myers-Briggs personality types and assign one to each of your characters.

2) Consider what each character most wants, most fears, their biggest secret, and what they have to learn.

3) Use drawing, cut-and-paste, or the like to assign an appearance for your character. Brainstorm their likes, dislikes, etc. Paste such items on your character chart.

4) Pretend to interview your character for a magazine.

All these strategies make sense, but they didn’t appeal so much to me. Then I thought, “Hey! Why don’t I apply Rav Nivin’s rules to fictional characters?” Assign a tafkid, a yeod, to each one, and a tikkun, as well?

So that’s what I think I’m going to be doing. Maybe not exclusively, but I think it will bring a Jewish approach to my mostly Jewish characters and subject matter.

Has anyone else out there tried “unorthodox” (pun definitely intended) ways of developing characters or doing other work that usually isn’t done in a “spiritual” or “religious” way?

How to Cope with Rejection When Your Colleagues are Coping with Success

“Expect rejection.”

     That’s what I was told as I entered the field of the professional writer. Sure enough, the vast majority of us do experience it—and in varied and often humiliating forms–and I was not exempt. I no longer sulk for days if I receive a rejection later (although it might cast a fog of discontent over an hour or two). The more mature of us move beyond tolerating rejection and even learn to appreciate it, and maybe someday I’ll reach that stage. Recently, however, I discovered a facet of the rejection experience that has been less commonly addressed, but needs some attention.
    In the space of a few days, two of my colleagues received contracts for their first books. These are two hard-working artists with talent and skill, who worked very hard to reach this point. I’d shared all the ups-and-downs of these particular manuscripts, so each phoned with their good news soon after they received it.
Meanwhile, I’d been tapping away endlessly on my first novel. I had come to a point where I feared it was unpublishable. What made it worse was that I’d been so preoccupied with writing that novel, I’d sent out far fewer pieces of writing than usual. Not one submission had resulted in a sale. I’d been feeling stuck and frustrated that week when my friends phoned with their exciting book deal news.
     In this situation, I had to make a decision.
     I could have hung up the phone and sneered, “But his book isn’t any better than mine!” or “Why is it always someone else?” I could have given the cold shoulder to my recently-successful friends. But the pleasure would be tiny, and it would be brief. Worse, it could cause the loss of a collaborator, colleague, or friend.
     But there was another choice. It’s best described by one (Yiddish) word: farginen.
     To fargin is the opposite of schadenfreude. Whereas the sufferer of schadenfreude delights in the misfortune of others, the person who fargins another delights in their good fortune.
     There is a tendency in artists of all kinds—writers are not exempt—to experience envy, envy in a deeply unattractive shade of green. Somehow, someone else’s success feels like it has prevented your own. Or maybe you believe your work is more deserving than your friend’s.
     You hear about “fair weather friends,” but some people are “foul weather friends.” There are individuals who like having other people around only when they can feel equal or even superior to them. They feel life is a competition, and they always want to be the one on top.  Taking pleasure in someone else’s successes and good fortune, regardless of your own state of being, is just as much of an expression of unconditional love as is sticking it out with a friend in need.
     To be fargin isn’t always a spontaneous emotion. In most people, it requires practice. You remind yourself that your friend’s success doesn’t prevent your own. You cheer for your friend. You spread the word about their new project. You buy the book as a gift for other friends. You let their success remind you that yours is possible at a future date. After all, G-d can hand out as many book deals (or sales or whatever) as there are people, all at the right time. 
     The more you practice this spiritual muscle, the stronger it will become.


(Update: I wrote the original draft of this piece a couple months ago. Don’t worry–I got some writing/coaching gigs after the dry spell.)