Write What You Know

I've been made to feel extraordinarily unwelcome somewhere. And it struck me that the feelings are not too far from being told you are no longer welcome at your usual lunchroom table in middle school.

And THAT is writing what you know.

Research can cover a lot of ground. I know writers who take classes on firearms or do ride-alongs with cops, who talk to morgue workers. I personally would be lost without Google. There is some "research" that is intuitive, or that you get better at as you hone your ear for dialogue. THIS guy is setting some of his next book in Russia, and I think I mentioned to him once in the comments section, that Russians converse VERY differently from Americans. They have absolutely NO fear of "awkward" silence. There is no patter. We Americans seem to have the market on that. They will drop a very pointed (to Americans, very, very blunt) statement in the middle of small talk that leaves you breathless. And I find that there is a brooding nature to many that I know. If I read a book that patterned dialogue the way Americans talk while set in Russia . . . I would "go with it," I suppose, but there is a research component to the cadence of their speech.

Writing as the opposite sex. Writing as a teen voice. It all requires slipping into some sort of alter ego and finding the space to be that voice.

But . . . back to writing what you know. Emotions. That's a commonality. The big themes. Betrayal. Revenge. Loneliness. Exile. We all know that. And I think writing what you know can be making sure those elements whisper throughout the pages in the background of the plot and story.

I find myself, in the midst of holiday happiness and the most excited 5-year-old boy known to mankind in anticipation of The Claus . . . grieving. I don't know why. I know I'm not alone. I burst into tears at odd moments of missing people no longer here. I know grief has a universality. Particularly at the holidays.

Write what you know.

Thoughts?

Yoda

In Diary of a Blues Goddess, the wise grandmother tells the drag queen and Georgia Ray (when Georgia is nursing a broken heart), "If the Lord takes you to it, he'll take you through it." This is not the advice Dominique, the drag queen, is searching for. Dominique wants instant relief for Georgia, something to soothe her heart, but the real truth is Nan is right. Nan is Yoda.

Well, not really of course. But in every book I've ever written--I am pretty sure every single one--there is a Yoda character. The character may be older or simply wiser by virtue of pain and suffering honed to wisdom. Their advice is usually as simple as a sentence or a paragraph, tossed-off dialogue that contains the gem of truth my main character must learn.

While recovering from surgery, I watched the Star Wars episode with Yoda . . . and I started thinking about all the wise ones I have implanted in my books. And what their wisdom was.

In Spanish Disco, Lou tells Cassie the reason she is such a bitch is she is angry at LIFE. At the existential existence. That people leave--they either abandon us or they die, but THAT is the truth of life. We love and then we lose love, one way or the other. Cassie needs to learn to accept that she is mad at life and then move on.

In Magickeepers, Theo is my Yoda, always reminding Nick that a true heart is his strongest magic.

My Yodas usually carry the theme.

Does your book have a Yoda?

Your Theme

Growing up in my house as a little girl, dissent was not tolerated. It just wasn't. I don't know if it had to do with my dad being Russian and dissent not being tolerated in HIS house growing up, but I certainly knew better than to talk back, argue, disobey or rebel. And after a while, I think it manifested as simply not talking. My private life became increasingly private until I didn't confide in anyone.

Somewhere along the way, as I went grew up, married, divorced, as I get very, very sick, and had four children and became a mother, as life unfolded . . . I opened up. I could come up with a dozen reasons why . . . but now I pretty much wear my heart on my sleeve. This can mean anything from sobbing at Kodak commercials (!!), oh, and Hallmark ones, too, to very heartfelt talks with the people in my life who matter. I don't hold back.

Recently, I started getting my usual fall inquiries. Will I come speak at various schools. And of course I will. I am always available to schoolkids. But I don't like to just blather there in the front of the class, so I usually ask some questions. [What is my favorite part about being a writer? Secret answer: Getting to work in my pjs.] And recently, one AP English teacher (hi BB!!) said she would like me to talk about my purpose . . . my theme. And I knew exactly what I would talk about.

Which got me thinking today. How far I have come since I attempted my first novel at 22.

Me as writer then? Definitely a lot of passive voice. If I included symbolism, it was often accidental, and then when I figured out it was there, I would emphasize it to be sure no one missed it. Lots and lots of back story. Theme? I never considered that a book I wrote might SAY something beyond an interesting plot.

Now? I can point to a single line in each of my books where the theme manifests. In Magickeepers, it's on page 62, a line of dialogue spoken by Theo. "Each magician must find his own words."

Of course, as a writer, I try to ruthlessly cut back story, passive voice, all the rest of it that I've learned since I started writing in earnest. But I realize, now, too . . . that the theme of the Magickeepers is MY theme. It's a writer's theme. The whole journey of becoming a writer, and really evolving is precisely that.

So that's the theme of my life, I think. My writing life. My real life, too. How about you? What's your theme?

Infinite Choices

I typed THE END.

And by the time I did, the theme was so clear I had goosebumps.

And I wrote my pal Lurker Monkey. He also writes YA and Middle Grade. He also has had editors ask him, "So what's the theme?"

And I told Monkey Man that had I not known on a core level the theme of this book I would have been lost. And he said something brilliant (as he often does). It's about whittling down infinite choices.

And he's right.

In this second Magickeepers book, there appears the following: Alexander the Great, the Library of Alexandria, Anubis (the jackal-god), D.B. Cooper (yes, the guy who jumped out of the plane), Sir Isaac Newton, Edgar Allan Poe, Rasputin . . . pickled punks. Yes, I could go on, but there's a LOT of history and action. And every time someone speaks in the book, they could say anything, couldn't they?

I mean . . . even characters have freedom of speech.

Except . . . out of the realm of infinite choices, I CHOSE for them to speak words that included fragments of the theme. The symbolism . . . fragments of the theme. So that when I typed "THE END" there was a clear path. From the opening word to the last, once it was all done, there was the Yellow Brick Road the whole time.

If you've ever seen The Wonder Boys, you know that Grady was working on a Magnum Opus and could NOT STOP until it was a bloated wreck of a novel. He was lost in infinite choices.

Thoughts?

And how do YOU celebrate typing THE END?

Story and Theme

The other day, over at Lurker Monkey's place (and I really do think of a Monkey having a coffee shop on the Internet when I am there, just as I think of this blog as my own personal diner--and I control the tunes, since, as of the moment, David Bowie's Ashes to Ashes is on), there was a discussion of Story versus Theme. It sort of evolved into a "versus" situation because some debate was occuring, but really, they are intrinsically united.

And so I started thinking about it. At the beach this weekend, I was reading two books simultaneously. Both clock in over 1,000 pages, give or take, I think. The first is this one by Dostoyevsky. I've read it before, but it's been a while, and like a lot of Dostoyevsky, it's a very involved story. However, unlike modern stories, there's tons of telling. And it's all about theme. Big, grand themes that almost fry your brain because they are so complex and debate-inducing. It's a story, but it's told in an old-fashioned way. Dostoyevsky didn't create a page turner, yet every character is compelling.

And then, I am reading this, a book recommended to me by someone I know, a Muslim. And he is right. There are universal truths no matter your religion, and this book . . . you know the theme in the FIRST sentence. The very first one.

"It took me a long time and most of the world to learn about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured."

And all of this brings me to an exciting new project of Lurker Monkey's. A storytelling project you can read about in the two links below.

http://1-millionmonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/07/storytellers.html
http://1-millionmonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/07/july-prompt.html

As I worked on a short-short story this week (400 words only), it started with a theme. It told a little story. They are united. But had I excluded theme, I would have 400 words that said nothing. I think of a novel as a church now. There is the altar of story. Any words not serving the story are tossed on a pyre. But the the hallowed few, there is an even greater altar. It is Theme. Any parts of the story that do not serve the theme, that's where they are burned.

Thoughts? Are you a storyteller? How do you know?

On the Couch

So Stephen and I got frisky on the couch.

Not exactly. But he did some Freudian analysis of Freudian Slip.

Not exactly either. But we discussed some really in-depth theme and philosophy over at his blog. If you ever wondered what REALLY goes on in my brain (and it ain't pretty), come on over and discuss.

http://stephenparrish.blogspot.com/

Thuban . . . Polaris

One theme in many of my books is "true north." A character will think it or speak the actual words. It seems to be a guiding theme, that which is longed for. That we each have a true north that guides us. Whether that's a soul mate, a cause, a belief, a hope, a wish. True north is that you set your eyes on . . . you follow the north star like the Magi.

Except that true north has varied between stars . . . Thuban . . . Polaris. Those two stars have each represented "true north," centuries apart.

I think that can happen in life, too. We have a true north, only to discover that true north has actually changed a bit and we have a new guiding star.

So it is with my latest story drafts. Suddenly, I have a clearer eye for the true north, and it allows me to focus with an intensity I have never had before . . . knowing what to cut, what to keep, what words, what character flaws. No more meandering. No false stars.

How about you? Do you have a true north in your manuscript? And does true north ever change during the course of the writing journey?

When a Theme Emerges

I don't ever sit down and think, "The theme for this book is . . . the search for truth." Or the battle against good and evil. Or . . . whatever it is that the theme ends up being.

However, there are certain recurring themes in nearly all my books. Themes of created families and loyalty, themes of redemption. They emerge, or they are always there. They're themes in my own life, and themes in the lives of nearly everyone I know.

And yesterday, I had one of those extraordinary writing moments. I am working on my 2010 Penguin release, which is about doomed love and a lost illuminated manuscript. And near the very end, scribbled in the margin, my editor asked a totally fair question (what one might term--A PLOT HOLE). "Why doesn't the original owner just pull the manuscript from the auction house?" Without going into all the ins and outs, this rare manuscript is being auctioned, and by doing so, its secrets are coming to light.

And really? If the manuscript's owner doesn't want the secrets revealed, why not pull it? You could drive a truck through that plot hole. I could land a friggin' plane in that hole. And then I realized . . . let him pull it. Because the theme had emerged already--the search for truth and for justice and redemption. And the type of heroine my character is, the type of characters the two men raising her are . . . they would stop at nothing to get at the truth. They would find out the truth about the manuscript just to find out the truth--and for no other reason. Because it was the right thing to do.

Plot and theme just intersected, thereby closing the Plot Hole Tunnel. All traffic has been diverted to theme. Thank you for flying Fiction Airlines. Come fly with us again soon.

As a writer, I love when I have those moments. And you? Got any themes lately? Intersecting with plot? Landing any planes on plot-hole-ridden runways?

Agenda

If you are a long-time reader of this blog--I mean going back nearly three years . . . then you know once in a while I reference being slammed on a board associated with my publisher. The person who slammed me didn't denigrate my writing--just my "agenda." She felt my book The Roofer should have come with a "warning label." Like most things on the Internet, it kind of digressed, on the thread, into a free-for-all, at times nasty, about censorship, but at the heart of it, this woman didn't agree with writing about child abuse, didn't believe the statistics on child abuse . . . and felt writers like me had an agenda.

She didn't mean it as a compliment.

At the time, I disagreed. Vehemently. I was so outraged that someone felt I deserved a warning label, not for language but content. I was insulted. Hurt. Took it personally. We're all adults, I reasoned. And if you read the back cover or page one, you knew what you were getting. Not every plot twist, no. But murder. Now, I'd be a lot more likely to walk away.

And to agree. Oh, not with the warning label. But what she called an agenda, I call my themes.

I think a writer can make a BIG mistake in trying to be all things to all people. My characters are very imperfect and will remain so. No halos on their heads.

My "agenda" is that good people can make horrid decisions when backed into a corner. And "bad" people--even murderers and thieves--sometimes love their family with a ferocity that looks very much like how much I love my own kids. My agenda is that child abuse happens even in white-picket homes. That men in suits can be rapists. And that the alcoholic itinerant handyman could very well be a hero waiting to emerge. My agenda is that the world would be a better place if people stopped judging . . . particularly when they haul the Bible into it. The Bible is a beautiful piece of writing--and may well be how I choose to live my life--not that it's anyone's business and THAT is precisely the point. My agenda is that some things are unforgivable, but if you choose--CHOOSE--to forgive, and not just mouth the words, it can be freeing. But that's not the ONLY path to freedom--just one. My "agenda" is that, in the end, I believe God doesn't care WHO you love so much . . . as THAT you love. Michael and George in Do They Wear High Heels in Heaven are a BEAUTIFUL love story. My agenda is just because you contributed a sperm to a baby doesn't make you a father. Same goes with egg and mother. The words MEAN something.

I realize now that . . . all along I have had an agenda. It's there, in all my books. I don't think I am trying to "convert" people to my way of thinking. But I suppose if someone wrote me and said they thought of gay people differently because of Michael and George, that would be all right by me. In fact . . . I got several such emails after the book was released and each of them made me feel as if there was a tiny bit less hatred in the world because of something I wrote. Maybe THAT is my agenda.

So . .. do you have an agenda?

Why Fiction Matters

This is a true story.

When I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, I had not yet gotten my diagnosis of Crohn's disease. In one awful night, while I was unaware I was pregnant, I was rushed to the hospital for a host of x-rays on my stomach, truly in horrific pain, heart rate up near 180, blood pressure through the roof in pain. Long story short, between those x-rays and the medications prescribed . . . again, I had no idea I was pregnant (thus I am a lesson for high school-age girls everywhere who believe in their birth control), when I DID find out I was pregnant, the doctor urged me to have an abortion. In fact, she refused to keep me as a patient unless I at least considered it, and was pretty rough on me.

But that was NOTHING compared to what was in store for me. You see, at the time, I went to . . . hmm, a church of Christian faith. I won't name it, except that I guess I kind of have to as priests are involved so that singles it out somewhat. And so, in a crisis of faith, I called my priest. And in between sobbing, and pain, and pouring out what had happened, and how sick I was . . . he told me that I would, basically, go to hell for even CONSIDERING such a thing. In fact, I wasn't considering it, not because of religion but because of . . . wanting a baby. But . . . nonetheless he was nasty to me. And on Sunday, two days later, when I showed up for church, he looked at me in the third row as he delivered the most scathing and condemining sermon I had ever heard on "murderers." Women who considered or had abortions. And he used the word. Murderer. Over and over. And I remember looking around and thinking I couldn't be the only woman who had health issues related to pregnancy.

But that's not all. As I went on to decide to have my baby despite all the risks to my health, I left the church. In fact, I refused to have anything to do with religion for five years or more. I didn't pray. I didn' t have much faith in anything. But . . . interestingly, within two weeks of delivering that sermon, that priest took a leave of absence. Within a month, he was dead.

Of AIDS complicated by alcoholism.

None of this is meant to condemn a church, a religion, a person, a closeted gay man, a political position, a moral position. Before anyone bombards me with messages or hate mail or anything, I said this was a true story and it was my story. I was left, as I went through my pregnancy overwhelmed with fears over my unborn child's health, to deal with the nuclear fall-out of this information in light of how viciously I had been condemned. And it meant my journey as a spiritual person was very complicated. It's perhaps a testament to faith that I am who I am now, a praying person.

But here's the thing . . . when I think of why fiction matters, I think of how I touched on--however briefly--the issues of Catholicism and faith in Do They Wear High Heels in Heaven. Michael was a devout Catholic, struggling with his faith in light of his homosexuality, while Lily was facing the prospect of death without any faith at all. I wanted to explore faith as part of my characters' world. Fiction gives us a vehicle to do that. I think about books like The Kite Runner exploring politics and the Taliban and definitely haunting me. I think of The Handmaid's Tale and its more-realistic-than-ever tale of oppression of women. I think of Waiting, and its story of oppression and political allegory in China.

And I am aware of how compassion and anger and debate and mourning and grieving and empathy are stirred by novels. Fiction matters because it can make a world so foreign from your own seem real. It can bend your compassion and help you understand, in perhaps a way that journalism can't always. It can make you uncomfortable as you try to determine where you stand on an issue. It can bring you into a world where you have to look around and feel something. It can help you understand the "other" side of a debate. I think Jodi Picault does that in many of her books. Talk about going somewhere gray, somewhere where "right" and "wrong" have no meaning and are in a sticky middle ground.

This really isn't about my story . . . but it is about how I worked through some of my story through my fiction. I no longer think back on that time in anger at all. I think back with compassion and sorrow and a peaceful heart. But this post is about that part of my fiction and it's about how my worldview has been shaped by some fiction authors. How I feel things deeply when I read.

Sometimes fiction is pure escapism. But sometimes, simply, it matters. It unites us, it divides us, it makes us debate, it makes us cry. And that's a good thing, I think.

Has some work of fiction helped you? Has it meant more than simply "a book"? Have you explored something that in "real" life you hadn't quite figured it out, but in your fictional world you have?