The Best Writing Is Born From Anguish

I listened to David Wilkerson, a well-known fire and brimstone evangelist whose messages stir the emotion and bring most to their feet or their knees. Clips of his sermons are posted on You Tube. You can search for him there.

"True passion comes from anguish," he said. His words flew into me like a fiery arrow, illuminating my past. Wilkerson's message centered around anguish and how todays church is void of it. He's a big believer in, Cryin' Holy unto the Lord. He professes the church has gone soft, that we're basically a bunch of babies who want to be soothed and coddled. That we no longer tarry for hours before the Lord, prostrate at the altar. That God wants to see our anguish over the state of the world and our Godless nation. Wilkerson has that pastor voice. You know what I mean? He's learned how to wail when he speaks, allowing us to hear his heart as it breaks for the sins of mankind. And if you've grown up as a fundamentalist, it moves you. Even if you've never sat in a tent revival, I think it would move you.

Whether or not you agree with Wilkerson's message, you have to agree that true passion is definitely born from anguish. As a writer, I believe the heartaches and hardships we experience give us plenty to write about.

And plenty to talk about ...

But it's not about anguish over a fender-bender. It's not about a bad grade on a test. Or losing your wallet. Or a fight with your spouse.

Anguish, suffering, agony, grief, sorrow and angst ... comes from a break in your spirit. A temporary disconnection with yourself and the world around you. The loss of anything dear to you creates real, gut-wrenching anguish. The kind you feel down to the soles of your feet. Buckets of tears. Nobody wants to experience it. Nobody wants to go through something like that, and I hope and pray you never do.

But if you do, what you do with that anguish, how you channel it, will determine your future in many ways. And if you're a writer, it can propel you into another level. I've read books where I know, without a doubt, the writer has suffered at one point in his/her life. You can feel it in the way they put the story together. Raising the stakes isn't so hard, because they've lived it.

Not a pleasant topic to blog about, but I think it needs to be said. Personally, I hope I never see another drop of anguish as long as I live. I've had my share. David Wilkerson can wail as long as he wants about anguish, but I never want to experience it again. Ever. It's not a pleasant place to go to.

However, I want you to remember if you've closed the door on your anguish, the memories of it ... you may want to revisit that dark place again. Especially if you're a writer. Your writing changes. Something inside you clicks and literary takes on a whole new meaning.

My passion was truly born from the sorrow, grief, and the anguish of my life. Now, I can truly say, the joy of the Lord is my strength. A scripture phrase that has almost become a cliché in Christian circles, has power and new meaning in me. At some point the tears have to stop. The river of sorrow has to trickle to nothingness. We have to move out of that place and use what we've learned to write the story of our life. It's not something we want to think about, anguish, but be thankful for it. It's made you who you are.

And despite the fire and brimstone, that's a good thing.

Blessings to you and yours.

The Simple Secret To Writing

I've been thinking the more writers read how-to books, web sites, and blogs on writing, the more confused they can become. The more it stifles their energy to sit down and write that next story.

Most writers don't fear the first draft. We know it's a draft. It's not for public consumption. But what happens between writing that first draft and finishing the book? Hoping to find a nugget of truth, we pour over blogs and web sites and books that tell us what we "need to know" about pacing, voice, character development, on and on ... until it stops us in our tracks.

Writers are artists. As a whole, the doubt and fear we battle is like walking into a swarm of hornets. We just know we're going to get bit.

What happens as a result of that fear? If you are a writer, you've felt it. You know what I'm talking about.

But here is something to consider. Even Donald Maass started somewhere. And I'll bet he'll tell you he's still learning.

You've already gathered enough knowledge to write. You know the middle of the story matters, to show and not tell, to kill your darlings and prologues and keep backstory to a minimum. So while you're in the process of creating, as you write your next story, don't read any more blogs, how-to books, or web sites that tell you how to write. STOP IT.

Stop second-guessing yourself. Just write the story. Let it pour out of your heart. Weep over the keyboard. Burn the midnight oil until you've finished the second, even the third draft. Put your soul into it. Then, my writer friend, you have something to work with. To revise. To hone. To make beautiful. Then you can submit for critique, or to a professional editor for revision. Then you can refresh yourself in a how-to book as you EDIT.

Remember, there are a ton of "experts". Intimidation is a monster. Even the most seasoned writer questions their own talent from time to time. The secret is ... get the story out of you first. Overcome the fear of writing by writing for yourself first. It's the simple truth.

Blessings to you and yours.

Constipated Storylines

Here it is, the middle of August. Already. Where did this month go? Couple of family birthdays, mine included. But the bigger news, I've been working on a book proposal for The Sanctum. A literary agent is interested in shopping the book to the Christian publishers. I have to give it that chance. God always opens doors for me; sometimes I miss it, but sometimes I manage to step through it, in spite of myself.

I'm still struggling with the first draft of the next novel, but (and it's a big but) when I decided to get quiet and quit fretting over it, that's when the characters began to talk again. It's taking a new turn, and frankly, I'm surprised at the direction. Moved to tears over the last chapter, I tucked my tail between my legs and said to my protagonist, Okay, I'll shut up. You tell me the story. Use my fingers, and I'll just clean it up when you're done.

That's what happens when your writing hits a detour. A roadblock. You get constipated and it often becomes a test of wills between you and your characters. They always win with me. Eventually. I'm a storyline softie. I think until you understand the disappointments, the pain of life, you're not as open to the rough road of your characters. Writing the story in your head is difficult enough. Adding in the voices of the characters, it adds a new element. You either fight it, or yield to the seduction.

Sometimes I think that's why our writing improves in the midst of our own aging process. When I was younger, everything had to be perfect. Literally everything. Though I still battle with perfection on every level, I find my edges have softened. In my body, and in my writing. I'm not as hard on myself. I'm more open to my fellowman, and in the struggles of my characters. It's a nasty world out there. And as a Christian, I see many who shut their eyes to world Christ told us to save.

Writing reality is not like watching reality shows on TV. That's not real. They know there's a camera in the room. There's a producer on set. It's not real. Reality can only be found in books. Even if it's fiction. Think about it.

Allowing your characters to speak to you is necessary. Detouring from the outline of the story may save the story. Getting quiet is better than giving up. Wouldn't you agree?

Blessings to you and yours.

Is There Rhythm To Your Writing?

 

I’ve never written much poetry, nor have I tackled a song lyric. But I think I’ve been a writer long enough to hear the rhythm in my prose. Rhythm lends itself to your style, as well as your voice, which are two different things.

Voice is a unique way of putting words together. It's a deep feeling, a distinctive way of looking at the world, an outlook or belief that enriches an author’s work. How you develop your voice, to some extent, happens all by itself. Stories come from the subconscious. What drives you to write is often your own unresolved inner conflicts. Voice is a natural attribute. You no more control it than you control the color of your eyes. 

But don’t confuse voice with style. Style is more about the writing itself, than the story or characters.

As I write this, I'm thinking maybe rhythm is equally involved in both voice and style. I’ve been known to work a full week on one paragraph. For me, it must have a rhythm, a flow, almost like music. To get that, I have to read the paragraph, or the dialogue, or whatever it is—out loud. If it is dialogue, I must read it in the voice of the character, therefore, most of my “out loud reading” is done with no one around to hear me. When a writer reads their work out loud, much of what is corrected is the rhythm, the sound it makes—the music of the story we create that plays in the background of the reader’s mind. Music the reader is not aware of, but it’s there. It’s truly there. And sometimes that means adding words.

But here’s a shocker—it may not always be grammatically correct. Now, don’t get your panties in a wad over this. Writing in the voice of the character telling the story, the narrator, should always lend itself to the vernacular and not to the rules of the English language. A good example of this is in Wiley Cash’s new novel, a land more kind than home. A writer with a Ph.D. in English.

All of this brings me to the age old question, is less really more? Writers, how many times has that been drilled into your head? It’s a staple of every writer’s conference. We’ve had it pounded into us for decades now. Less is more. Kill your babies. Slice your novel in half. Hogwash. I’m here to tell you that may not always be the case. Sometimes, more is more.

Careful, now. If you accept that, it may change you. Creating rhythm may mean adding words …

From my new novel, The Sanctum (coming soon) …

I wiped condensation from my eyeglasses and shook the snow from my coat, imagining bulbs of daffodils and hyacinths, sleeping in her brown flowerbeds, and then blooming come spring. Winter’s wind blew cruel and steady. An occasional vicious gust burned my face as it shoved fog off the mountain.

Facing the porch steps, I wiped condensation from my eyeglasses and shook the snow from my coat. I imagined bulbs of daffodils and hyacinths sleeping in her brown and dormant flowerbeds, and then blooming come spring. Greeted by a dozen rocking chairs strewn over the wide porch, I saw myself sitting in one, drinking lemonade while my grandmother snapped peas. But at that moment, winter’s wind blew cruel and steady. An occasional vicious gust burned my face as it shoved the fog across the mountain.

I didn’t feel the flow, the rhythm, the music, until I wrote the second paragraph with more words. Truly, some editors would prefer the shorter one, but to me there’s music in the second. Poetry. Balance. The trick is not to go overboard, but find the balance.

Again, the best way to hear it is to read your work out loud. You’ll not only catch mistakes, you’ll create the magic needed to hold your readers in the palm of your hand.

Only you know your characters inside and out. Who they are, where they came from, and what they think. You must find not only the rhythm of your character, but within the entire narration. This comes with writing every day and discovering the rhythm in other great novels. But once you master it, it will carry your work to a whole new level. 

 

 

The Middle Of The Book

 

 

Back in the ‘sixties when geezers over fifty drove DeSotos and watched Lawrence Welk and kids under twenty drove Volkswagen vans and painted peace signs on their faces and me and my sisters were the only ones on our block who wore bobby socks and saddle shoes, this girl moved two doors down with poker-straight hair and Bob Dylan records and no mother.

Well. Talk about your run-on sentence.

First sentences of any novel should do that. They should pin you to the wall and hold you like super-glue. A first sentence is filled with magic and pierces your heart or peaks your interest to the point that before you know it, you're five chapters in.

But what about the middle of the book? Doesn't it deserve the same?

Lately, I'm finding I've spent as much time on the arc of the story and the chapters following it as I have on that first sentence. Some novels I've read lately have left me flat in the middle. As if the writer had a great idea for the beginning and end, then just filled in the middle the best they could. Sometimes with paragraphs and chapters that have very little to do with the actual story. As a result, my eyes skim over a third of the middle just to find out what happens at the end.

I think the middle of any story should be every bit as thrilling as the beginning. It sometimes answers questions, agreed. Maybe even ties up a few loose ends. But a skilled writer knows how to up the ante, raise the stakes, and turn the tide in the middle pages in ways the reader never sees coming. A good writer can introduce a new character (another rule breaker) or change point of view all while keeping the tone and voice throughout. Keep me enthralled through page 200 and I'll be your biggest fan.

The middle should set up the ending without giving it away. But it's often the most overlooked. It is also where readers find giant pauses. A place they can stuff in their bookmark and put down the book. The question is, are they anxious to get back to it or do they hesitate to pick it back up again?

The middle of the story is where the heart is. Writers, by all means, pay attention to it. Give it as much love as the rest.

Blessings to you and yours.

What Is Raw, Honest Writing?

… continuing part II of What Do You As A Writer Bring To The Page?

Are you able to bring your heartbreak to the page? The pain of loss, rejection, abandonment, can you write about it? Can you pull from your most horrific memories, as well as your most joyous? What I’m talking about has nothing to do with your writing degree or your awards. Although commendable, and certainly admirable, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m asking, what do you--as a living, breathing, human being--bring to the page?

Dorothy Allison’s words at the Maui Writer’s Conference year ago were piercing. Delivered with pastoral fire and an urgency she said, “I’m here to deliver black coffee, I’m here to leaven your experience. I’m here to tell you part of why I’m a writer is that it’s one of the professions where you can be a fat girl and make it! Writers come to the page for many, many reasons. In fact, many of us DO come in the hope of justice, we DO come in the hope of balance, we DO come with an agenda of love, but I’m TELLING YOU NOW, lots of us start with a desire for genuine REVENGE.”

Do you bring revenge to your written pages? Anger? Truth?

“Lighten up,” you say? Okay. Sure.

You don’t need some deep, dark reason to write. You can definitely write for fun. Many do. Except that in my honest and humble opinion, the writing that lasts for generations is gathered from the cobwebbed corners of a writer’s mind. Those basements and attics where most writers fear to tread, but some go anyway.

“But,” you say, “I write humor.”

Ah, yes.  Well, dissect that funny stuff. Where does it come from? Most of it comes from pain. You know that old cliché, usually spoken in the midst of fear or anger. “We’re going to laugh about this later.” Laughter through tears ... is it not a powerful emotion? Many believe the angrier you are, the funnier you need to be. Take that to the page.

So don’t just write what you know. Write what you care about, what you feel deep in your gut. What you’ve seen. The heart-wrenching moments that cut deep into your mind and heart. Write about that. Write about the scars. Who gave them to you, and how you healed, or how you still suffer from those scars. Those hurts that won't heal. Give your character a piece of your life story you want to share with the world. Dig out the best and worst of your memories, and include them in your stories. It’s called raw, honest writing.

Write not just what you know, but what matters most to you. What has brought you out of a deep, dark spot? What makes you uncomfortable? Write your passions, your desires, what moves you. Write that.

Those are the guts of a good story. Bring that to the page.

In the late ‘nineties, I clawed my way out of a long, bleak period in my life. It not only developed an edge in my writing, but throughout those years, what kept me sane was journaling and reading every piece of fiction I could get my hands on.

I had secretly studied the craft of writing. When my friends and family found out about it, they adamantly let me know that writing was a big waste of my time. That because of my circumstances I needed to put my nose to the grindstone, and continue to collect that paycheck. “Don’t be a fool, Pam … few make it as writers … you’ll never write a book … are you crazy?”

I’m here to tell you, if it hasn’t happened already, someone along the way will question your commitment. Your work will continue to be rejected by not only those you know, but the publishing community. On your way to publishing, you will question your ability, your purpose, and your sanity. Even after you're published, you're still bombarded with the same mental anguish. I’m telling you so when it hits, you’ll recognize it for what it is. It’s part of the job. 

Writing is a profession where you pour your guts out on the page, bleed over every chapter, spend years writing the best story your mind, heart, and fingers can produce, labor days and nights on perfecting work that may or may never be seen ... and somebody is always waiting in the wings to tell you how bad you suck.

Sometimes, after reading over your work for the millionth time, you will still find mistakes. You cry, pound your fist on the keyboard, run your hand through your hair and think -- they’re right. I suck. Which is how I felt when the above picture was taken. I was at that Southern restaurant, Sticky Fingers, talking about how bad I sucked as a writer and had one too many cold ones.

 

Anway, you get my point. You begin to understand that perfection can only be born out of rejection and mentors pointing out the obvious. Obvious to everyone but you. And yet, even then, the perfect manuscript does not exist.

Rejection is not only part of becoming a bonifide writer, it’s crucial that it happens. And often. Each “Thanks but no thanks” – each “NO” is a brick upon which we build our tower to Publishing Glory. A writer who has not experienced the critical reviews of their peers, the public, and those within the industry is missing something special. They’re missing the chance to experience the rush of adrenaline that fuels the fire inside to never give up. It’s a writer’s high. A necessary surge of energy to survive in this business.

Come back again soon … there’s more to come in this series … What Do You Bring To The Page?

Blessings to you and yours.