A while back, Eri
ka Dreifus had recommended John Gardner’s On Moral Fiction, a slim volume dedicated to writing and literary criticism from the POV that an artist has a moral responsibility to their audience, and that art criticism should in part address how well the creator of a work of art has met that responsibility. The book dates from 1978, and it’s amazing how well it (thus far in my reading) stands up over time.
I’m only about three chapters in, and what strikes me most Continue reading
I’m still not entirely back into my writing schedule, but Passover is over, and the kids are back in school.
Returning to writing after a yom tov is always a bit sketchy, but Passover is the worst. The prolonged break — due to the need to clean for the holiday, shop, plan and cook the meals, and then celebrate the entire 8 days — somehow transforms my brain. It doesn’t act like a writer’s brain does anymore. I almost feel like I am not myself. Not in a sad way, in an “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” way. Like I’m a different person at this time of year.
Thank G-d, I’ve had a little editing work to get me at my desk, and that means I have been somewhat productive the last two days. And I know from the past that, eventually, the writing will come. It better: I’ve got a book review to write tonight or tomorrow, and then I would like to return to my latest project.
I keep thinking about my “not writing” brain, which appears sporadically throughout the year. Even on Shabbos, my brain doesn’t switch to this state, at least, not entirely. Vacations sometimes do it even when not accompanied by religious holidays. Prolonged contact with my kids, and the need to take care of them with few breaks, often flips the switch.
In my “not writing” phase, I don’t really get many writing ideas, and if an idea somehow confronts me, I don’t feel an immediate impulse to get it down, which is my usual reaction to a good idea. I often feel preoccupied by housework in this state, not just by necessity (a holiday looming just ahead or guests on the way) but because I actually crave it. In a down moment, I find myself repairing the torn knee of my 9 year-old’s pants, not scribbling a poem in my notebook.
It’s different than being “blocked.” If I’m blocked, it’s distressing. If I’m blocked, I WANT to write, or at least to be able to say I’ve written something at the end of the day, but the words aren’t coming. On the other hand, when I’m just “not writing,” I don’t care if I didn’t write. It’s like I’m not a writer any more.
Does anyone else ever get this way? Just temporarily?
I’m very excited to be visiting one of the local day schools tomorrow. For a change, I won’t be doing a read-aloud of Raizy. Raizy may not even come up, due to the age of the kids involved. Instead I’ll be talking about “Storytelling,” to coincide with the current unit the students are studying in school.
Fishing for a few stories on this fine morning
Breaking down storytelling in forty-five minutes will be challenging, especially at the upper-elementary school level. After a little intro, I plan on making an extended metaphor connecting storytellers to fishermen. I’m hoping it will be both instructive and age-appropriate. I’ve spent quite a bit of time preparing and concocted a whole series of visuals, and the like.
The truth is, everyone is a storyteller. Continue reading
After reading my earlier posts on STORY, you might think I’m 100% sold on the book. I have to admit that I’m a fan, but I do have some quibbles, largely on the adoption of screenwriting techniques for short story or novel writing.
1) (The only one I noticed pointed out by McKee) You may get inside the characters heads and explore their thoughts in literature. This creates a greater intimacy between the narrator and the reader. It also means the conflict can be much more subtle and much more interior.
2) Some readers like descriptive, sensory details that can’t be experienced with film — smell and touch can be better evoked, for example (unless you’re viewing in smell-o-rama).
3) The audience must work harder when reading print–in a good way.
4) When contrasted with other useful literary guides, you see some shortfalls. Continue reading
Last week, I resubmitted the Lame-O story that stressed me out a couple weeks ago. I found an ending that was logical, got some advice from my husband and my writing buddies about how to make the main character more sympathetic, and cut a lot of material that just seemed to distract from the main focus of the story.
I’m hoping the editor will now find it publishable, because I am simply sick of the story. Continue reading
I’ve got a treat here today: an interview (conducted via email) with award-winning author, Ruchama King Feuerman. Her latest book, In the Courtyard of the Kabbalist, just came out in September as an ebook. Recently, she signed a contract to expand the release to paperback. I became acquainted with Ruchama through Tablet Magazine online, where both of us have published essays. She was gracious enough to send me a copy of her new book and even more gracious to answer a few questions the novel left me with.
R.K. – In your first book, Seven Blessings, the central figure is a very strong female character. In this new book, you primarily follow two male, unmarried characters. What was that like for you as a married woman?
In the Courtyard of the Kabbalist, now out from NYRB LIT
R.K.F. – I prefer writing from the male point of view. This way I don’t worry about slippage, about parts of my personality leaking into my characters, it’s just cleaner — what’s me is me, and what’s them is them. I feel much freer to invent and have fun when I write as a man. I do tend to prefer singles maybe because they are inherently dramatic. Continue reading
Rebecca Klempner 