What do you think?
Rate this book
272 pages, Hardcover
Published March 8, 2022
I have forgotten much about living with a puppy, but I do have a dim recollection that it is all-consuming, and that a quiet, contemplative writing life is almost impossible to balance with the chaotic energy of a young dog. So, I am thinking that while my life is upended by the puppy, it might be a good opportunity to write about that experience — to think about my writing life in relation to the dogs I have lived with, and to explore other writers’ relationships with their dogs. What does a dog bring to the writing life? My writing life has mostly included dogs, but I have never spent time thinking about what this has meant to my creative journey.
Just as a dog has no trouble moving from one scent trail to another, twisting easily from the path she is on with no backwards glance, so a writer needs to be able to take off on another trail of ideas without worrying that they are heading in the wrong direction. To a dog, there is no wrong direction. There is just this moment and these interesting smells and sights, and then this next moment with more fascinating experiences. A dog is constantly in process, and I have learned much from their approach.
When you know a dog well, and they know you, much is understood between you. It’s not telepathy but something else, some deep understanding that is perhaps the place that human language is always aimed towards but never really arrives at.
I started Early - Took my Dog -
- Emily Dickinson - epigram used for And a Dog Called Fig
I remember an elderly friend of mine telling me with great authority that when you are young, you like the bright lights and excitement of a city, but when you get older, the excitement at the bird feeder is more than enough. I laughed at the time, but I can see that the dog walk might devolve into a similar kind of contentment for me. - pg. 151 excerpt from And a Dog Called Fig
Another example of the way a dog tells us what to do with them, and if we’re paying attention and not fixated on having our way, by listening to what they’re trying to communicate, we could get along with them better. This is not dissimilar to writing, where it is more effective to listen to intuition instead of trying to force your will upon a piece of work. - excerpt from pgs. 183-184 about SETTING from And a Dog Called Fig
Pacing in a book is what moves the story along. In poetry, I learned that a line will carry the rhythm of the body and will break where the poet takes a breath. Prose doesn’t have the same parameters as poetry, but I believe that its lines also echo the rhythm of the writer and that the metre of the prose holds within it the breath and heartbeat of the writer. That becomes the natural pacing of a story, and sometimes that is adequate, just to go with how a narrative moves organically. Sometimes, though, it is necessary to manipulate the prose, to alter the pacing. If a story is without much action or drama, a writer can speed up the pacing to give the narrative more tension and urgency, to literally make it go faster. This is done by shortening the sentences, chopping things up, rushing the rhythm along. This can also be done by cutting out some of the linkages. A writer once told me to delete every third sentence, as this will remove some of the natural transitions and enliven the language. Though it seems an odd thing to do, it actually works surprisingly well. - pg. 200 excerpt about PACING from And a Dog Called FigI enjoyed And a Dog Called Fig immensely and I think fans of books and writers and dogs will also have the same reaction.