Author of award-winning, adventurous realistic and historical fiction

People are going to turn around and look up

Jul 29, 2010 | ,

I was at the Happiest Place on Earth on Monday, and it occurred to me that Disneyland is sort of live-action fiction. You wander through all of these very detailed, distinctive fictive neighborhoods, waiting in line to get on rides that simulate space or fairytale lands or somewhere under the sea (cue Sebastian), etc. The whole park is actually built above ground level–you’re walking over a series of tunnels that “cast members” use to travel to and from the different lands (in order to preserve the magic element of the park). I think the word for it is verisimilitude: everything has the appearance of truth but isn’t really true. It can feel a little like walking through a book.

But even if you immerse yourself totally in the experience, it’s easy to get to reminded that what’s going on around you isn’t real. All you have to do is turn around (or look up at the rafters) and you see carefully concealed emergency exits, strings of lights, security cameras, animatronic ghosts and pirates and animals repeating the same canned movements. Most rides depend on the rider keeping his or her butt in the seat (and hands safely inside the ride at all times!), facing forward, never turning to look back behind. Of course, people do turn around and look up.

Maybe there’s a lesson for writers in this: you need to assume that your reader is going to turn around, look back, glance upwards. Disneyland does a remarkably good job of creating an alternate world (except for It’s a Small World, which kind of looks like it was set up in an empty hotel ballroom, with track lighting on the ceiling and exposed staples and exit signs everywhere) but if you look closely, you can always see little signs to remind you that this is all Made Up. When you’re writing, you need to try to make sure that you conceal those types of signals. Sometimes that’s making sure you don’t miss continuity errors (“Jean” becomes “Joan;” a 14-year-old neighbor celebrates her 12th birthday, etc.); sometimes it’s making sure that your protagonist’s actions and emotions make sense based on how you have established him/her so far and where his/her arc is going. Make sure your readers aren’t asking (unintended) questions along the lines of, How come I can still see Captain Jack Sparrow inside the Pirate’s cave while directly in front of me he’s locked up in a jail cell? Such as, Why is Rachel suddenly attending the dance that she spent the last 30 pages trashing? And at all costs, avoid slowing down the pacing to a stall (the equivalent of the dreaded “The ride will be moving shortly” announcement); you don’t want your readers shifting in their seats, waiting for something to happen.

I am clearly not “waiting for
 something to happen” here.

Not all works are striving for verisimilitude with the real world, but whatever environment you are creating should be as seamless as possible. You want your reader to believe in its authenticity. Whether you’re building the world of a suburban high school or the kingdom of the Mer-people, remember that your readers will be looking in all directions.

Running and Writing

Jun 24, 2010 |

I never do my best writing at my desk. I don’t even do it at the computer.

I write best when I’m running.
I get my best ideas while running. (Running outside, at least. When I’m running on the treadmill I can’t think anything other than God, I hate this. Can I stop yet? Please? This is torture.) It’s while I’m doing laps around the reservoir or traversing the park loop that all of the things I can’t seem to figure out about my characters or the plot or the setting get solved. Whatever the knotty issue is, it perfectly untangles while I’m running. I’ve always loved how running can be meditative and that it has a unique ability to help you organize your thoughts. It has always helped me get creative, but it wasn’t until I started writing that I realized what an incredible tool running is for a writer.

My only problem is that by the time I get back home and take a shower, I have often forgotten certain truths uncovered while on the path.
Solving that is tricky. Obviously, I don’t run while holding a laptop or a notepad. I suppose I could get a voice recorder and tape any important thoughts that come to me while running, but really–that’s kind of insane. (Sorry if anyone does actually narrate to a Dictaphone while jogging–no offense.) I think it would make running less productive, too. I highly suspect that part of the reason why running helps me think so well is that while I’m doing it, I can’t be checking my phone, responding to an email, glancing at the TV, hearing my neighbors play Grand Theft Auto, getting interrupted by the oven timer, etc. While running your body is consumed (i.e. distracted) by the activity, so as long as you don’t run into a tree (which I’ve done) or trip and fall (also have done) or get crapped on by a bird (yup) or realize that you have to pee really badly and there are no bathrooms for 3 miles (uh huh) or pull a tendon in your foot (also yup), your mind is free to wander and ponder.

So I try to jot down any epiphanies when I come in the door, and if something still gets forgotten, I know that I can always go for a run the next day. Feet permitting.

How a Book Used to Be Made

Jun 22, 2010 | , , , ,

The Westing Game was my favorite books from fifth grade to–well, it’s still a favorite. If you haven’t read it, please go find a copy because it’s an amazing read.

I was perusing the [Cooperative Children’s Book Center] CCBC’s site today and unexpectedly discovered that they have an online archive of the manuscript of The Westing Game. Author Ellen Raskin donated her manuscript materials and provided audio and written commentary in 1978, around the time the book was published by Dutton. Her goal was to inspire those who used CCBC’s services, because she “often remarked during her career that she wished she had known ‘where children’s books come from’ while she was a young UW-Madison art student.”

I think this archive is really, really cool even if you don’t adore The Westing Game. The process Raskin describes for book production is very, very different from how it’s done today, so it’s a kick to see how publishing used to work. There are scores of her handwritten notes, outlines and planning (such as her notes on potential titles), research materials (such as a letter about Wisconsin Judges), marked-up drafts, and even her book cover designs. If you have any interest in manuscript history/the history of publishing, check it out! If you don’t care about book production, you still might be inspired by some of her methods for the writing process.

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