Ziff
Active Member
- Joined
- Nov 6, 2003
- Messages
- 2,366
- Gender
- Undisclosed
- HSC
- N/A
The plot thickens, if you use lots of adjectives and a garden guide
There's another way a few trees can make a book, writes Richard Glover.
With the Sydney Writers Festival under way, many readers have contacted me wondering how they might become writers, so as to be invited to the high-level soirees on offer. Happily, it doesn't seem too difficult. But remember, this is only a basic guide. You'll also have to employ a good publicist.
Procrastinate
This is an essential part of the writing game. There is nothing like beginning a novel to make housework appear a joy. Just sitting down and typing the words "Chapter One" can make tackling last night's washing-up look very attractive. Hanging out the laundry becomes a task that has to be done this very minute. Ditto cleaning out the bits of rice and meat stuck in the kitchen-sink strainer. Certainly it took Flaubert seven years to write Sentimental Education, but you should have seen his shower recess by the end of it. Absolutely sparkling!
Procrastinate some more
Having written your first sentence, sit back and marvel at its poise, economy and limpid intensity. Spend the next three hours mentally rehearsing your acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize for literature. Be sure to decide whom to thank, and whom to rather pointedly leave out. Perhaps, like Patrick White, you should donate the proceeds to fund a prize in your own name? But should it be for young playwrights, or for elderly poets? Spend time considering the advantages of each, before deciding that no, you deserve all the money yourself.
Write second sentence
Here's where you will start introducing your characters. Remember: the real skill in writing is avoiding too many "he saids" and "she saids". This is what separates a class act (publishers' receptions, prizes, offers of sex) from a basic literary failure (10 boxes of unsold books beneath the bed). Consider having your characters make a movement each time they speak, so as to tip off the reader as to who is talking.
"Jason turned to face her: 'I think I'm falling in love.' Jacinta swivelled her face towards that of her lover: 'I am, too.' Jason turned his head sharply, and looked towards the window: 'Are you? Are you really?' Jacinta jerked her head downwards to stare at her shoes: 'No, actually, I think it's just wind."'
Remember: if you are writing really fluidly, your characters should be in need of a chiropractor by the end of chapter one. By the end of the three-book deal, they'll both be in a neck brace.
Purchase a copy of Yates Garden Guide
In the real world, no one has known the names of trees and shrubs since the late 1950s, with the possible exception of Peter Cundall. Yet - for reasons I don't understand - all the characters in novels are horticulture experts. No way can your main character walk past something described as "a tree"; you need more detail. Even "he walked past a big tree" won't please the literary types. He has to walk past "a gnarled river gum", "a sweet-gum liquidambar", or perhaps "a vigorous hedge of hibiscus, just coming into flower". Frankly, it doesn't matter which: just flip open your Yates at random, pick something that sounds right, then flip back to the start of your novel to check it's not set in Antarctica.
Purchase a thesaurus
We couldn't help but notice that you had Jason "walking" back there. Clearly, you have yet to purchase a thesaurus. Do so, and immediately consult section 266: "locomotion by land". Next time we see Jason, we expect him to be trudging with the despair of a man who knows he that has lost Jacinta's love forever. Or, alternatively, promenading with the carefree long strides of a man full of hope, through air heavy with the smell of hibiscus. If you're going all out for an overseas prize, you could even have him perambulating.
Add weather
According to novelists, the weather reflects the emotional state of the characters. I have checked with the weather bureau, which describes this theory as "extremely unlikely". Still, it worked for Jane Austen, so get stuck in.
Throw in some adjectives
In the real world, the person who makes your sandwich is "a young guy, nothing special really, just average-looking, really". Mostly the sandwich tastes "much like what you would expect a tuna sandwich to taste". This is not the attitude which will get you invited to drinks at the Sydney Writers Festival. We want a sandwich which will push along the plot, and a sandwich-maker whose appearance will add to the novel's oppressive mood of despair. Also, once your protagonist receives the tuna sandwich, make sure he eats it in the street outside. That way he can be dramatically killed by a falling tree branch loosened by a bolt of lightning, the extreme weather curiously reflective of his state of mind.
Serves him right, I guess, for standing underneath a scarlet-flowered gum. With his horticultural knowledge, you would think he would know better.
http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/05/21/1085120115380.html
There's another way a few trees can make a book, writes Richard Glover.
With the Sydney Writers Festival under way, many readers have contacted me wondering how they might become writers, so as to be invited to the high-level soirees on offer. Happily, it doesn't seem too difficult. But remember, this is only a basic guide. You'll also have to employ a good publicist.
Procrastinate
This is an essential part of the writing game. There is nothing like beginning a novel to make housework appear a joy. Just sitting down and typing the words "Chapter One" can make tackling last night's washing-up look very attractive. Hanging out the laundry becomes a task that has to be done this very minute. Ditto cleaning out the bits of rice and meat stuck in the kitchen-sink strainer. Certainly it took Flaubert seven years to write Sentimental Education, but you should have seen his shower recess by the end of it. Absolutely sparkling!
Procrastinate some more
Having written your first sentence, sit back and marvel at its poise, economy and limpid intensity. Spend the next three hours mentally rehearsing your acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize for literature. Be sure to decide whom to thank, and whom to rather pointedly leave out. Perhaps, like Patrick White, you should donate the proceeds to fund a prize in your own name? But should it be for young playwrights, or for elderly poets? Spend time considering the advantages of each, before deciding that no, you deserve all the money yourself.
Write second sentence
Here's where you will start introducing your characters. Remember: the real skill in writing is avoiding too many "he saids" and "she saids". This is what separates a class act (publishers' receptions, prizes, offers of sex) from a basic literary failure (10 boxes of unsold books beneath the bed). Consider having your characters make a movement each time they speak, so as to tip off the reader as to who is talking.
"Jason turned to face her: 'I think I'm falling in love.' Jacinta swivelled her face towards that of her lover: 'I am, too.' Jason turned his head sharply, and looked towards the window: 'Are you? Are you really?' Jacinta jerked her head downwards to stare at her shoes: 'No, actually, I think it's just wind."'
Remember: if you are writing really fluidly, your characters should be in need of a chiropractor by the end of chapter one. By the end of the three-book deal, they'll both be in a neck brace.
Purchase a copy of Yates Garden Guide
In the real world, no one has known the names of trees and shrubs since the late 1950s, with the possible exception of Peter Cundall. Yet - for reasons I don't understand - all the characters in novels are horticulture experts. No way can your main character walk past something described as "a tree"; you need more detail. Even "he walked past a big tree" won't please the literary types. He has to walk past "a gnarled river gum", "a sweet-gum liquidambar", or perhaps "a vigorous hedge of hibiscus, just coming into flower". Frankly, it doesn't matter which: just flip open your Yates at random, pick something that sounds right, then flip back to the start of your novel to check it's not set in Antarctica.
Purchase a thesaurus
We couldn't help but notice that you had Jason "walking" back there. Clearly, you have yet to purchase a thesaurus. Do so, and immediately consult section 266: "locomotion by land". Next time we see Jason, we expect him to be trudging with the despair of a man who knows he that has lost Jacinta's love forever. Or, alternatively, promenading with the carefree long strides of a man full of hope, through air heavy with the smell of hibiscus. If you're going all out for an overseas prize, you could even have him perambulating.
Add weather
According to novelists, the weather reflects the emotional state of the characters. I have checked with the weather bureau, which describes this theory as "extremely unlikely". Still, it worked for Jane Austen, so get stuck in.
Throw in some adjectives
In the real world, the person who makes your sandwich is "a young guy, nothing special really, just average-looking, really". Mostly the sandwich tastes "much like what you would expect a tuna sandwich to taste". This is not the attitude which will get you invited to drinks at the Sydney Writers Festival. We want a sandwich which will push along the plot, and a sandwich-maker whose appearance will add to the novel's oppressive mood of despair. Also, once your protagonist receives the tuna sandwich, make sure he eats it in the street outside. That way he can be dramatically killed by a falling tree branch loosened by a bolt of lightning, the extreme weather curiously reflective of his state of mind.
Serves him right, I guess, for standing underneath a scarlet-flowered gum. With his horticultural knowledge, you would think he would know better.
http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/05/21/1085120115380.html
