If I didn't scare you away with yesterday's post, I'm curious to know if this one hits home.
The title of this chapter is "You're No John Updike!" Palumbo makes the same connection I made when I first read the title. If you're of a certain age, you may have immediately thought of Lloyd Bentsen's famous reply to Dan Quayle when Quayle was comparing his level of experience with that of John Kennedy in the 1988 vice presidential debates. You're No John Kennedy.
Palumbo calls our tendency to compare ourselves to other writers the major obstacle to sustaining a belief in ourselves as writers.
It's really a common sense thing to know we shouldn't compare ourselves - either in quality or quantity, but it's also human to do so.
What makes this chapter thought-provoking is that Palumbo claims the only writer you're really in competition with is yourself. "Think of it this way: Maybe every writer can't be Proust, but every writer can be a better writer." (p. 63)
Something else to think about - he posits that the time you're most likely to fall victim to unfavorable comparisons with others is when you're most unhappy with what you're doing. So conversely, that's the time you need to dig deeper, find and give creative expression to what you really think and feel.
No, you're no John Updike, Dan Quayle was no John Kennedy and I'm no Nora Roberts, but we are striving to be the best writers we can be.
Good luck with it.
Let's chat.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
We're all crazy
~Part of an ongoing series discussing Dennis Palumbo's Writing From the Inside Out (Transforming Your Psychological Blocks to Release the Writer Within).
Next time you're inclined to say you have writer's block, think of this - the man credited with inventing the term writer's block (Edmund Bergler) said about writers - the reason they write is psychic masochism.
I went and looked up a definition of psychic masochism:
Isn't that a happy thought to start your day?
To ease your mind, Palumbo is not a fan of Bergler. He includes him mainly to refute what he considers a commonly held opinion that "the creative impulse, with its accompanying emotional difficulties, is merely the product of a psychological disorder. " (p. 57) At the time he wrote this book, apparently it was in fashion to consider all artists bipolar. It strikes me that does a disservice both to writers and to people who genuinely suffer from bipolar illness.
Palumbo points out that certain artists (like Van Gogh) certainly suffered from some form of mental illness but he was also incredibly talented so to draw the conclusion that all artists are crazy reflects a narrowness of vision that betrays the "scope, imagination, and appreciation for the hidden ways of the artistic heart." (p. 59)
I don't know about you, but I prefer to think of myself not as a psychic masochist, but as someone who explores the hidden ways of the artistic heart.
Happy writing.
**Basic Neurosis, The—Oral Regression and Psychic Masochism." International Dictionary of Psychoanalysis. Ed. Alain de Mijolla. Gale Cengage, 2005. eNotes.com. 2006. 22 Jul, 2010
Next time you're inclined to say you have writer's block, think of this - the man credited with inventing the term writer's block (Edmund Bergler) said about writers - the reason they write is psychic masochism.
I went and looked up a definition of psychic masochism:
Psychic masochists unconsciously want refusal, rejection, humiliation, defeat. The genuine "wish to get" of infancy is now a defense. They believe they want normal pleasure, but a person "who unconsciously runs after disappointment cannot be consciously happy."**
Isn't that a happy thought to start your day?
To ease your mind, Palumbo is not a fan of Bergler. He includes him mainly to refute what he considers a commonly held opinion that "the creative impulse, with its accompanying emotional difficulties, is merely the product of a psychological disorder. " (p. 57) At the time he wrote this book, apparently it was in fashion to consider all artists bipolar. It strikes me that does a disservice both to writers and to people who genuinely suffer from bipolar illness.
Palumbo points out that certain artists (like Van Gogh) certainly suffered from some form of mental illness but he was also incredibly talented so to draw the conclusion that all artists are crazy reflects a narrowness of vision that betrays the "scope, imagination, and appreciation for the hidden ways of the artistic heart." (p. 59)
I don't know about you, but I prefer to think of myself not as a psychic masochist, but as someone who explores the hidden ways of the artistic heart.
Happy writing.
**Basic Neurosis, The—Oral Regression and Psychic Masochism." International Dictionary of Psychoanalysis. Ed. Alain de Mijolla. Gale Cengage, 2005. eNotes.com. 2006. 22 Jul, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Finding the reward in your writing
I know what happiness is for I have done good work. ~Robert Louis Stevenson
I love happy coincidences like this. Today's chapter in Writing From the Inside Out is about finding the reward in your work. Not financial or concrete rewards but the intangible satisfaction of having done good work.
As I write this blog at 6:48, I've already written over a thousand words this morning. I woke around 3:30 and after fighting insomnia for two hours, I finally got up, brewed some tea, and got to work. And it felt good!
That feeling is the topic of this chapter. Palumbo talks about how marketplace concerns can suck the heart out of a writer if we let them. To avoid the drain of the real world concerns, we need to allow the work, our practice of the craft itself, to become its own reward.
What do you think? Is he being unrealistic? Or are you able to separate industry concerns from craft? Is the act of writing enough for you?
I love happy coincidences like this. Today's chapter in Writing From the Inside Out is about finding the reward in your work. Not financial or concrete rewards but the intangible satisfaction of having done good work.
As I write this blog at 6:48, I've already written over a thousand words this morning. I woke around 3:30 and after fighting insomnia for two hours, I finally got up, brewed some tea, and got to work. And it felt good!
That feeling is the topic of this chapter. Palumbo talks about how marketplace concerns can suck the heart out of a writer if we let them. To avoid the drain of the real world concerns, we need to allow the work, our practice of the craft itself, to become its own reward.
Marketplace requirements change with the seasons. Fads come and go. But good work, from which writers have for centuries drawn sustenance and power, is a kind of "secret of happiness" residing solely in the artist's heart.
And it's yours to discover, if you choose to, every time you write.(p. 56)
What do you think? Is he being unrealistic? Or are you able to separate industry concerns from craft? Is the act of writing enough for you?
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
What Really Happened
Yesterday we talked about getting out of your own way and letting the writing happen. This next chapter, What Really Happened, expands on that and is really interesting from a psychological standpoint. Palumbo goes back to the theme of mining your own experiences, but insists that we must be willing to let go of our own endings and create what works for the story. Just because it really happened doesn't make it a good story.
It's all about the story.
My husband was watching a Mad Men Marathon on AMC last night. I'd never watched Mad Men before, but he fell asleep and I got drawn into it. What really caught my interest was the conversation breaks with Matt Weiner, creator of the series. I loved that chance to peek into his mind and his thought process as he created each episode. His focus was always on what worked for the characters and the story.
During one of the breaks, AMC played a commercial that featured the cast of Mad Men as themselves, discussing the show. Jon Hamm said, "Story Matters Here." That reminded me of a comment I'd read earlier in the year by one of the creators of GLEE. When asked if he could get a certain star onto the show, he responded that it depended on whether she fit the story, that story came first. With such strong emphasis on story, it's no surprise that these two shows have over 34 Emmy nominations between them.
It's all about the story.
So back to Palumbo and how we use our life experiences in developing story. He offers something to consider:
So why is this important?
Apparently writers are often loath to change details of something they experienced. Palumbo uses the example of one writer whose stories kept getting rejected because editors hated the ending. The writer couldn't conceive of changing it because, as she said, "That's what really happened."
This chapter is intriguing on a psychological level because Palumbo explores our reticence to change our experiences. Do we feel that we're betraying ourselves (or the people whose stories we are telling), if we use our(their) stories but change them?
I can't say I recall ever feeling this way. I'm probably more likely to write a scene the way I wish it had happened. Reading this chapter makes me wonder if I'm not falling into that same trap though. Don't I need to think like the creators of GLEE and Mad Men and write what makes a great story, not what I want to happen in it? If, as Palumbo states in the previous chapter, all writing is autobiographical, I need to consider if I'm trying to remake incidents in my life to fit my preferred outcome.
Food for thought.
For example, I've read many authors who say writing conflict is their most difficult task because they are peaceful people and they hate to have bad things happen to characters they like. Yet we know that without conflict, story fails.
What do you think? Do you put story first? Or is your subconscious making demands at the expense of your story?
It's all about the story.
My husband was watching a Mad Men Marathon on AMC last night. I'd never watched Mad Men before, but he fell asleep and I got drawn into it. What really caught my interest was the conversation breaks with Matt Weiner, creator of the series. I loved that chance to peek into his mind and his thought process as he created each episode. His focus was always on what worked for the characters and the story.
During one of the breaks, AMC played a commercial that featured the cast of Mad Men as themselves, discussing the show. Jon Hamm said, "Story Matters Here." That reminded me of a comment I'd read earlier in the year by one of the creators of GLEE. When asked if he could get a certain star onto the show, he responded that it depended on whether she fit the story, that story came first. With such strong emphasis on story, it's no surprise that these two shows have over 34 Emmy nominations between them.
It's all about the story.
So back to Palumbo and how we use our life experiences in developing story. He offers something to consider:
As the impulse to use this incident for a story arises, something happens. Your imagination and craft - even your desire to use the incident - renders it no longer merely a memory from your past, but a story to be shaped. Events are changed, truncated, altered in sequence... In other words, what started as a poigant moment from your childhood has become a scene in your novel or screenplay and therefore fodder for the sometime ruthless demands of aesthetic and craft.(p. 51)
So why is this important?
Apparently writers are often loath to change details of something they experienced. Palumbo uses the example of one writer whose stories kept getting rejected because editors hated the ending. The writer couldn't conceive of changing it because, as she said, "That's what really happened."
This chapter is intriguing on a psychological level because Palumbo explores our reticence to change our experiences. Do we feel that we're betraying ourselves (or the people whose stories we are telling), if we use our(their) stories but change them?
I can't say I recall ever feeling this way. I'm probably more likely to write a scene the way I wish it had happened. Reading this chapter makes me wonder if I'm not falling into that same trap though. Don't I need to think like the creators of GLEE and Mad Men and write what makes a great story, not what I want to happen in it? If, as Palumbo states in the previous chapter, all writing is autobiographical, I need to consider if I'm trying to remake incidents in my life to fit my preferred outcome.
Food for thought.
For example, I've read many authors who say writing conflict is their most difficult task because they are peaceful people and they hate to have bad things happen to characters they like. Yet we know that without conflict, story fails.
What do you think? Do you put story first? Or is your subconscious making demands at the expense of your story?
Monday, July 19, 2010
Get out of your own way
"There is only one type of story in the world - your story." ~ Ray Bradbury
Dennis Palumbo opens the second section* discussing the above quote by Ray Bradbury. I'd love to know what people think of it.
Palumbo uses it to illustrate a particular point - that despite all the how-to books, all the conferences, workshops, classes, tapes, etc., when all is said and done, YOU have to write YOUR story.He uses a really interesting story of a young man in one of his classes who had obvious talent, but whose writing was falling flat. He asked the man to retell the scene as if he were the protagonist instead of his fictional character. Palumbo says the story came alive - it was gripping, funny, scary - it reflected the man in a way his previous writing had not. He had been trying to write too much like he thought he had to.
Palumbo's point - which refers back to Bradbury's quote - is that all writing is autobiographical. What you choose to write about, what perspective you write from, what you include, what you leave out, your world view, your experiences and feelings - all is reflected in your writing. Palumbo suggests that to make your writing unique and powerful, you need to embrace that, not fight it.
Mine your life to enrich your writing.
The title of the chapter is Simple, but Not Easy because he says the concept is simple but it's not an easy one for us to accept or explore, hence the growth industry of "how-to-write" media.
He promises it's worth it to get out of the way of your own writing and let yourself emerge through your writing. "Getting out of your won way means being with who you are, moment to moment, whether you like it or not. And then being with your liking or not liking it, and writing from that place." (p. 48)
Sounds like a good challenge. Anyone have any experiences or thoughts about writing like that?
*Part of an ongoing series discussing Dennis Palumbo's Writing From the Inside Out (Transforming Your Psychological Blocks to Release the Writer Within).
Dennis Palumbo opens the second section* discussing the above quote by Ray Bradbury. I'd love to know what people think of it.
Palumbo uses it to illustrate a particular point - that despite all the how-to books, all the conferences, workshops, classes, tapes, etc., when all is said and done, YOU have to write YOUR story.He uses a really interesting story of a young man in one of his classes who had obvious talent, but whose writing was falling flat. He asked the man to retell the scene as if he were the protagonist instead of his fictional character. Palumbo says the story came alive - it was gripping, funny, scary - it reflected the man in a way his previous writing had not. He had been trying to write too much like he thought he had to.
Palumbo's point - which refers back to Bradbury's quote - is that all writing is autobiographical. What you choose to write about, what perspective you write from, what you include, what you leave out, your world view, your experiences and feelings - all is reflected in your writing. Palumbo suggests that to make your writing unique and powerful, you need to embrace that, not fight it.
Mine your life to enrich your writing.
The title of the chapter is Simple, but Not Easy because he says the concept is simple but it's not an easy one for us to accept or explore, hence the growth industry of "how-to-write" media.
He promises it's worth it to get out of the way of your own writing and let yourself emerge through your writing. "Getting out of your won way means being with who you are, moment to moment, whether you like it or not. And then being with your liking or not liking it, and writing from that place." (p. 48)
Sounds like a good challenge. Anyone have any experiences or thoughts about writing like that?
*Part of an ongoing series discussing Dennis Palumbo's Writing From the Inside Out (Transforming Your Psychological Blocks to Release the Writer Within).
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