Mark Saha's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"
Right and Wrong in Fiction
Goodreads has a somewhat peculiar policy, in that they allow an author to rate and review his own book. For a while I resisted this for what seemed to me sound ethical reasons. First, it felt blatantly wrong to boost the ratings of your own book by voting for it. And second, I’ve always felt a story has failed somehow if its author has to explain it. Any work that aspires to artistic merit is a statement that speaks for itself. The public is entitled to think of it whatever they will, because the author has had his say, and it is now their turn. He should not be entitled to further elaborate or defend himself.
Nonetheless, the weakness of human flesh being what it is, I eventually succumbed to temptation. So here is my review:
LOST HORSES – 5 stars
I notice in retrospect that my narrator’s voice in these tales advocates nothing, takes no sides, and passes no judgment upon the characters.
That’s not to say I don’t care, because I know these people extremely well, or like to think I do, and certainly have my opinions about them. But what I think doesn’t matter here, because my purpose was to recreate them artistically, hopefully well enough that the reader is left with something to ponder, and will want to pass his own judgment.
The same goes for issues like horse slaughter. “Wide River” raises some of the moral conundrums of that economic paradox, which is what I wanted to do. But rather than tell readers what they “ought” to think, I simply raise awareness of the issue in passing, during the course of what is essentially a coming of age story.
“Why Men Cheat in August” is likely inspired in part by Eric Rohmer’s French comedy Pauline at the Beach (1983), a depiction of how differently young people and supposedly mature adults see the same world.
“Whiskey Creek” is a stark depiction of the power of alcohol to destroy the moral fabric of a human being. It advocates neither the “disease” nor the “moral failing” theory of alcoholism, yet exploits that dichotomy to play a little trick on the reader. We first see Gus as a reprobate bereft of redeeming qualities, likely causing most to despise and dismiss him as unworthy of a story. Then he is unjustly deprived of his beloved Misty, and we feel whipsawed by an unexpected rush of compassion. The reader is left to work out what is to be made of this conundrum.
Call me old fashioned, but I like to use the omniscient third person voice with no point of view and without prejudice so that a reader is left with something to grapple with personally. That goes against the grain of much contemporary genre fiction in which we expect the author to leave no doubt about what we are supposed to think or how we ought to feel. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the pleasures of sincere genre fiction as much as anyone. But it is good to remember an author has a lot more choices than that; see, e.g., Booth’s The Rhetoric of Fiction (1961).
I’m not a calculating writer and didn’t do any of these things deliberately. The book just came out this way. Looking back, I guess it must have seemed to me the best way to write these stories.
If anyone wants to kick the above literary comments around further, I’m open to discussion on my author’s page.
Nonetheless, the weakness of human flesh being what it is, I eventually succumbed to temptation. So here is my review:
LOST HORSES – 5 stars
I notice in retrospect that my narrator’s voice in these tales advocates nothing, takes no sides, and passes no judgment upon the characters.
That’s not to say I don’t care, because I know these people extremely well, or like to think I do, and certainly have my opinions about them. But what I think doesn’t matter here, because my purpose was to recreate them artistically, hopefully well enough that the reader is left with something to ponder, and will want to pass his own judgment.
The same goes for issues like horse slaughter. “Wide River” raises some of the moral conundrums of that economic paradox, which is what I wanted to do. But rather than tell readers what they “ought” to think, I simply raise awareness of the issue in passing, during the course of what is essentially a coming of age story.
“Why Men Cheat in August” is likely inspired in part by Eric Rohmer’s French comedy Pauline at the Beach (1983), a depiction of how differently young people and supposedly mature adults see the same world.
“Whiskey Creek” is a stark depiction of the power of alcohol to destroy the moral fabric of a human being. It advocates neither the “disease” nor the “moral failing” theory of alcoholism, yet exploits that dichotomy to play a little trick on the reader. We first see Gus as a reprobate bereft of redeeming qualities, likely causing most to despise and dismiss him as unworthy of a story. Then he is unjustly deprived of his beloved Misty, and we feel whipsawed by an unexpected rush of compassion. The reader is left to work out what is to be made of this conundrum.
Call me old fashioned, but I like to use the omniscient third person voice with no point of view and without prejudice so that a reader is left with something to grapple with personally. That goes against the grain of much contemporary genre fiction in which we expect the author to leave no doubt about what we are supposed to think or how we ought to feel. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the pleasures of sincere genre fiction as much as anyone. But it is good to remember an author has a lot more choices than that; see, e.g., Booth’s The Rhetoric of Fiction (1961).
I’m not a calculating writer and didn’t do any of these things deliberately. The book just came out this way. Looking back, I guess it must have seemed to me the best way to write these stories.
If anyone wants to kick the above literary comments around further, I’m open to discussion on my author’s page.
Opening Lines and Voice in Fiction
Compare The Great Gatsby with The Catcher in the Rye for an example of two novels with strikingly different but distinctive voices. It occurred to me the voice of each has probably contributed much to its endurance as a literary classic.
These thoughts came to mind after reading some comments by Stephen King which I pass along for anyone interested. (This is my good deed for today.)
Stephen King on Openings and Voices:
… for me, a good opening sentence really begins with voice. … People come to books looking for something. But they don't come for the story, or even for the characters. They certainly don't come for the genre. I think readers come for the voice.
With really good books, a powerful sense of voice is established in the first line. An opening line should invite the reader to begin the story. It should say: Listen. Come in here. You want to know about this.
How can a writer extend an appealing invitation -- one that's difficult, even, to refuse?
We've all heard the advice writing teachers give: Open a book in the middle of a dramatic or compelling situation, because right away you engage the reader's interest. This is what we call a "hook," and it's true, to a point. This sentence from James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice certainly plunges you into a specific time and place, just as something is happening:
“They threw me off the hay truck about noon.”
Of course, it's a little do-or-die here for the writer. A really bad first line can convince me not to buy a book -- because, god, I've got plenty of books already -- and an unappealing style in the first moments is reason enough to scurry off.
https://www.theatlantic.com/entertain...
These thoughts came to mind after reading some comments by Stephen King which I pass along for anyone interested. (This is my good deed for today.)
Stephen King on Openings and Voices:
… for me, a good opening sentence really begins with voice. … People come to books looking for something. But they don't come for the story, or even for the characters. They certainly don't come for the genre. I think readers come for the voice.
With really good books, a powerful sense of voice is established in the first line. An opening line should invite the reader to begin the story. It should say: Listen. Come in here. You want to know about this.
How can a writer extend an appealing invitation -- one that's difficult, even, to refuse?
We've all heard the advice writing teachers give: Open a book in the middle of a dramatic or compelling situation, because right away you engage the reader's interest. This is what we call a "hook," and it's true, to a point. This sentence from James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice certainly plunges you into a specific time and place, just as something is happening:
“They threw me off the hay truck about noon.”
Of course, it's a little do-or-die here for the writer. A really bad first line can convince me not to buy a book -- because, god, I've got plenty of books already -- and an unappealing style in the first moments is reason enough to scurry off.
https://www.theatlantic.com/entertain...
Santa Monica Daily Press reviews Lost Horses
A neighbor passed along a copy of my Lost Horses to columnist Jack Neworth of the Santa Monica Daily Press.
https://www.smdp.com/laughing-matters...
https://www.smdp.com/laughing-matters...
Two Scots in an Elevator
Ask any TV writer and he’ll tell you the hardest kind of writing to bring off is comedy. Yet it looks so wonderfully easy, and is such a pleasure to watch, when it clicks. Something like this …
Two Scots in an Elevator
https://youtu.be/J3lYLphzAnw
Two Scots in an Elevator
https://youtu.be/J3lYLphzAnw
My Santa Monica Writers Group
Write Away is a writing group to which I have belonged for many years, sponsored by the Santa Monica Public Library which occasionally publishes a collection of members’ works.
Ed Seaward is a Canadian novelist who discovered us on a visit to California a few years back, and now winters in Santa Monica for three months of every year to participate in our meetings.
FAIR is his first published novel, released by The Porcupine’s Quill Press in Ontario last month. Set among the 50,000 homeless in Los Angeles County, it is the compelling tale of twenty year old Eyon, a toothless and autistic high school dropout who delivers drugs around the city for a local drug kingpin.
Ed is writing biographical profiles of Write Away members on his blog and started the series with mine. If interested in Ed’s novel or his Write Away bios, paste the link below into your browser.
Obviously my girlfriend is very pleased with him right now. But my younger brother in Texas told me, “Ed makes your life look a lot more interesting than it really was.”
http://www.edseaward.com/
Ed Seaward is a Canadian novelist who discovered us on a visit to California a few years back, and now winters in Santa Monica for three months of every year to participate in our meetings.
FAIR is his first published novel, released by The Porcupine’s Quill Press in Ontario last month. Set among the 50,000 homeless in Los Angeles County, it is the compelling tale of twenty year old Eyon, a toothless and autistic high school dropout who delivers drugs around the city for a local drug kingpin.
Ed is writing biographical profiles of Write Away members on his blog and started the series with mine. If interested in Ed’s novel or his Write Away bios, paste the link below into your browser.
Obviously my girlfriend is very pleased with him right now. But my younger brother in Texas told me, “Ed makes your life look a lot more interesting than it really was.”
http://www.edseaward.com/
