Active versus passive (verbs)!

In life there are those who “do” and those “who get done to”. Some of us work hard toward success, whether it is an educational goal, a career dream or simply a pursuit of happiness. Happiness comes in many different shapes and sizes and colors. For some, happiness is impossible without a constant turning of the wheels complete with a daily “to do” list in hand and feeling of being productive. On the other hand, there are others who rise late, move slowly and can not bear the thought of having an agenda to follow. The “active productive addicts” act. A thought comes to mind and they’re out the door before you can say “wait”. The “passive late risers” pass. A thought comes to mind and they say “maybe later” and procrastinate until someone comes along and pushes or pulls them through their tasks. Active versus passive.
Like people, verbs can be active or passive. With the active verb, the subject does something. However, with the passive verb, something is being done TO the subject. The subject lets it happen. No fight, no struggle, it just rolls over and allows it. Like some people, right?
Although there ARE some instances when passive verbs can be more appealing, they’re few and should be avoided whenever possible.
In Stephen King’s “ON WRITING” memoir on craft (Do NOT scoff at the idea of Stephen King if you do not like horror or thriller genre- the man is a GENIUS and MASTER of the craft of writing and knows his stuff!) he writes: “I won’t say there’s no place for the passive tense. Suppose, for instance, a fellow dies in the kitchen but ends up somewhere else. THE BODY WAS CARRIED FROM THE KITCHEN AND PLACED ON THE PARLOR SOFA is a fair way to put this, although ‘was carried’ and ‘ was placed’ still irk the shit out of me. I accept them but I don’t embrace them.” Sometimes it just works because it fits the way the writer wants his reader to see the scene.
BUT King warns us to be selective in our use of passive verbs. He reminds us ( I say “reminds” because we all knew this at one time…) that active verbs give life to the sentence. They make the sentence shine, dance, sing or whatever we- as writers and creators- want the sentence to “DO”. Active verbs are like active people (in my opinion); they are interesting and we want to hang around with them. They grab our attention and they hold it. They entertain, teach and enlighten. They do not get entertained to, taught to or enlightened upon. They are the leaders and we follow.
In King’s “On Writing” he tells us how E.B.White writes in his introduction to THE ELEMENTS OF STYLE,”A MAN FLOUNDERING IN A SWAMP, AND THAT IT WAS THE DUTY OF ANYONE TRYING TO WRITE ENGLISH TO DRAIN THIS SWAMP QUICKLY AND GET THIS MAN UP ON DRY GROUND, OR AT LEAST THROW HIM A ROPE.” And remember, King says” “The writer threw the rope, not The rope was thrown by the writer.”
Whether you are merely a regular person living your life, waking early to catch the worm or staying in bed until your husband or wife tells you its time to start your day, whether you are the active or passive verb of your life, you are the creator of your own destiny and will reap what you sow.
But if you are the writer and you want your story to glow, to sparkle and mostly to make the best sellers list, there is no getting woken up by someone else, because if you use mostly passive verbs, the worm will not be caught. It is the active verb who CATCHES the worm while its passive cousin still sleeps soundly waiting to be woken up.

The autonomy of the human experience turned into art

The autonomy of the human experience turned into art is key in the teaching of the famous poet, William Stafford. He has said “I don’t want to write good poems. I want to write inevitable poems.” He advocated that “the research for what you are writing is your whole life.” That applies to writing short stories, novels, poetry and just living out your dreams in your everyday life.
As complicated as life can be for all of us, Stafford reminded us that it’s ok to be simple, to use simple words to tell a story.” We do not need to make our work more complicated by looking so hard for the right words or the right way to express ourselves. It’s ok to make a mess when we are writing, just as long as we keep going and do not give up. Somewhere buried in that mess there is a neater line or a paragraph or story that we can use another day which has the potential to blossom into the artwork we had envisioned and thought we were not capable of producing.
Isn’t that true of life as well? Don’t we perpetually make a mess of things and then feel the overwhelming desire to give up, throw in the towel and walk away,or worse yet, make the situation worse by placing blame where it does not belong. Too often we neglect to find the value of life’s lessons and we forget that we do learn through our mistakes if we are only wise enough to dig through the mess of our consequences. To unbury the lesson deep down and despite however heavy it feels, to pick it up and carry it forward in our pursuit of creating happiness.
William Stafford said “Writing a poem is easy, like swimming into a fish trap. Analyzing a poem is hard, like swimming out of a fish trap.” We must not be afraid to live today messily if need be because tomorrow we must be able to see beneath the mess for the shining piece that works and revise it and mold it into the fine polished piece of art that we had dreamed about when we began our journey. It is autonomy of our human experiences that create the final piece of art work that we are left with to rejoice in and admire in the end.

Reading a first good line is like falling in love…

A writer must hook her reader immediately. It will not matter if the pages beyond the first five or so are so compelling and so well written that it could compete with some of the top novels of all time. Capturing the reader and before that- the editor, is the only way to keep the book from never seeing the light of day.
In the words of Seattle librarian Nancy Pearl, “I think when you read a first good line, it’s like falling in love with somebody.”
Imagine sitting by a roaring fire while the snow falls continuously outside the large picture window at your house on the lake. A steaming cup of coffee or hot chocolate sits on the table by your side. You can not wait to open the first page of the book your neighbor recommended so highly. Ah- but as you read the first couple of lines you are instantly disappointed yet you continue on- hoping for redemption. By the end of the first five pages you are done. Its time to do the laundry anyway.
There is no falling in love there, only disappointment. And as “they” say- people make their first impressions within the first two minutes of meeting someone. After that a lot of hard work needs to be done to change that newly formed opinion.
In the case of a reader looking to “get into” a new book, there usually won’t be a second chance. First impressions are everything. The writer must do her best to create a dynamic opening or she will lose the chance to impress her reader forever.
According to Nancy Lamb in her book “The Art and Craft of Storytelling”, she says a survey conducted in Great Britain for Costa (which sponsors the prize formally known as the Whitebread Book Award for the most enjoyable book of the year) confirms Nancy Pearl’s theory of falling in love. The survey found that 43 percent of readers know by the end of the first chapter whether they will finish a book. One third of readers know by the time they have read the first fifty pages.
I have found that trying to write the first few pages of the book is one of the most difficult parts of writing. Because I am a perfectionist I would re-write it and re-write until I would become so sick of the whole thing that I’d rip it up and forget it completely. I would edit as I go and never be happy.
One way to overcome this is to keep writing and writing- letting the ideas flow from your mind to your paper, not paying attention to which line will actually end up as the actual opening hook. Keep going and later when you are ready to go back and edit, long after you first started, well into the rest of the book- perhaps even after you have finished the first draft, you can go back. Then as you read it with fresh eyes, as if you are the reader by the roaring fire, the real first line will pop out, staring at you like the first budding flower in your garden. You may find it hidden in a tangle of sentences on the second page or even in the beginning of the second chapter. It won’t matter if you place it first without any background information attached and in fact, that may grab your reader’s attention even more. The need to know what it means or what has happened before that will push him on through your story. And it is at that time that you- the writer, will cut and revise so that the first impression you give your reader will surely get him to fall immediately head over heals in love.

Identification with the protagonist

To heighten the reader’s identification with the protagonist of the story, the writer must create some kind of breakthrough for the protagonist by the story’s conclusion. Either the protagonist has succeeded at attaining his object of desire despite the opposing forces he encountered along the way or he has done the exact opposite- failed miserably, or perhaps his quest has even changed completely. But regardless, the writer must ensure that the protagonist has transformed in some way whether spiritually, emotionally or at least in some way he is a changed person. The transformation is what gives depth to the story and by relating it to a larger issue or theme that many can relate to, it elevates the story from the personal quest of one person to one that is more universal.
At some point of our lives, every one of us faces some kind of journey- from the pursuit of love, to facing the loss of a loved one to the need to know what the meaning of life is and many others in between. Therefore, each of our readers struggles with similar journeys faced by other readers, making the themes of their quests universal. And if we, as writers, are able to resolve some of their questions or perhaps even echo their concerns, validating them in our stories, we will have not only achieved the difficult task of fueling our readers’ curiosity and thereby leading them on to finish the story, but we will have gained our own new insight into what we have learned as writers. And so by our own desire to set out on a journey to transform as we move the protagonist forward, we beckon our readers to identify with our protagonist and we all become connected, transforming one by one, together.

The magic of Books

For many of us worlds unfold through the pages of books as we visit places that were once too far away; we meet new people who were once strangers and we learn how to understand who we are and how we should behave. In Anne Lamott’s “Bird by Bird”, we learn that books show us ” what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.”

In life we tend to be so wrapped up in our own lives and in the difficulties we face that we overlook the details that comprise each day of our lives: the sky that looks so vivid and flawless in the morning, the overgrown grass at the sides of the road that sways in the breeze, the warmth of the sun on our arms. Through the magic of books we are forced to pay attention, to stop and take notice. The writer distracts us from our daily challenges and takes us on journeys away from our lives -allowing us to look around at the sights we pass along the way. Through the writer’s story we find magic and hope and we come alive.

Anne Lamott tells us it is a miracle that these “small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort, and quiet or excite you.” She tells us that books are “full of all the things that you don’t get in real life- wonderful, lyrical language right off the bat!” she tells us that her gratitude for good writing is unbounded.

I feel the same way; grateful for good writing and for the unbounded magic of books and of the talented writers who continuously find new stories to pull out of their hats, er , I mean “heads”!

Building Character

Lately, all of my discussions have led back to this topic. Whether I am engaged in a political discussion about the rights people should have or the direction the administration is taking us, or a discussion about a child being bullied at school- ignored by that administration, it seems it all comes down to character.
Recently, I finished taking a class in hypnotherapy, primarily to fulfill a growing need inside me to help people to like themselves, to be more tolerant of themselves and subsequently of others. As I noted on a recent post on my facebook page, if we were to clear out all the bugs hiding deep within the subconscious levels of our minds, think of how much nicer the world would be. Our mind is like a computer, sponging up whatever ideas and beliefs are fed to us right after we are born (and some say even before we are born)like a software program downloaded into our hard drive.. If we could clear out the damaging bugs in that program and replace them with a new program of fresh, positive thoughts and beliefs, imagine how wonderful that new hard drive would be. And imagine if all the hard drives (our minds) in the world became positive, happy, confident thinking, ultimately ridding people of their insecurities, negative fears (I say negative because some fears are good.. think danger falling off a cliff), anxieties, and all negative thoughts toward others and themselves, imagine how wonderful our world would be. There would no longer be a need to hurt, destroy, kill others ….physically, mentally, or professionally.
In fiction, human life is depicted more fully than any scientific or otherwise theoretical rendering out there. David Corbett says in his book “The Art of Character” that “the importance of character to story lies in this open endedness at the core of our lives. Stories that emphasize ideas or problems- the conundrums of philosophy, the lessons of history, the truths of science, the consolations of religion- invariably hit rough sailing the further they drift from the shore of character. Ideas too often serve as a digression from the messy stuff of life- ourselves, each other. For some they provide a kind of false salvation. But the core reality of life remains: We die. Ideas, no matter how “eternal”, can’t save us. And because we can only honestly stand on one side of death, we can never know for certain how our lives will turn out, which is why we experience our existence most profoundly in the interrogative mode,situated in a world premissed on, as Constantin Stanislavski put it, the magical “What if?” Mr. Corbitt goes on to explain that the craft of characterization in our stories is the writer’s attempt to expore the truth of human nature. As we do this, we see ourselves in our characters.
As we write, we are constantly asking the question “what if?” both as the writer constructing the tale and as the reader who comes along on our journey. Just as the clinical hypnotherapist hopes to change a negative thought or experience to a good one, as a small step toward changing the world, one person at a time, the writer hopes to open her reader’s mind to ask a question that counts- at the very least. And as we ask ourselves those questions, exploring our possibiities, we take one more step toward building character.

How revision can fix the “messiness of overwriting” and other weaknesses.

All writers have both strengths and weaknesses. In the “Guide to Revision” May/ June 2013 Writers Digest issue, David Corbett points out that all writers have strengths and weaknesses in their personalities which will naturally come out in their writing. He reveals that his own weakness of overwriting is “from a misbegotten devotion to being thorough, when in fact restraint is necessary to lure the reader in.” Because this is a weakness in his personality, where he has the tendency to cross every ” t” and dot every “i” in his everyday life, it also comes out in his writing. But he has learned to let it go, let his writing flow and then later because he recognizes his weakness, he can fix it during revision.
It is much easier to allow our mind to flow at the initial first draft stage and revise later than to struggle and risk not writing anything at all.
Just as Mr. Corbett saw students who were shy or introverted reflect their personalities in their writing by avoiding all conflicts in the texts as they do in their lives while conversely, he saw compulsive talkers “write dialogue comprised of a jabbering onslaught of empty words.”
These weaknesses are part of us and will come out in our writing. It is natural and we shouldn’t expect anything else. No writer writes perfectly without flaws during the initial writing stage. No writer has strengths without weaknesses.
With regard to my own weakness of overwriting, I no longer feel alone when Mr. Corbett writes “Jokes you explain are never funny. Stories you explain are never interesting. The key is to provide enough so the reader feels engaged, but not so much she can feel you trying to control how she responds to the text.”
Since I do overwrite, overexplain, and write “redundantly” and I know it (I have probably repeated myself and overexplained here in this blog!) and I sometimes, no -often let that block me, I am now learning to let the words spill and then later, through the process of revision I will clean up the mess and wipe it clean. At least then I will have SOMETHING written in the end. Something that pulled the reader in but left her feeling grateful that I trusted her enough to fill in the pieces and get it all on her own!

Inner Conflict

People do not go through life plunging ahead, knowing exactly what to do without fear nagging at them. We all have doubts that get in our way. Similarly,characters in our stories would not interest the readers if they had none of their own doubts, fears, inner conflicts. Their struggles are what connects readers to the story.
James N. Frey writes in his “How to Write a Damn Good Novel II” : “inner conflict” can be thought of as a battle between two voices within a character: one of reason, the other of passion- or of two conflicting passions.” Haven’t we all been torn at some point in our lives between following what our “head” tells us to do rather than what our “heart” says- or vice versa.
James Scott Bell (one of my very favorite writer’s advice experts) tells us in his book “Plot and Structure”: “Many times it is fear on one side, telling the lead not to act. Inner conflict is resolved when the lead, by listening to the other side- duty, honor, principle, or the like- overcomes doubt and acts accordingly.”
This inner conflict that people struggle with should be reflected in our protagonist as a sure way to create an emotional bond with our readers. When the reader identifies with the protagonist, we create that awesome feeling that the story – at some level- is actually happening to the reader.
Subsequently, the more the reader identifies with the lead character’s inner struggle, the more attached the reader becomes to the book and the less likely she will be to put it down.

The Iceberg

Nothing slows down the plot more quickly than the information dump. Did you ever find yourself in a conversation with someone when you suddenly realize you have no idea what he just said and you find that you no longer even care? He just dumped a whole lot of meaningless information on you as you waited patiently for him to get to the point. A friend of mine would say, in this situation, “Could you please just land the plane.” What he wants is something to keep him interested, something to make him want to keep listening.
This is a typical mistake new writers make according to James Scott Bell, when beginning their novels.
To avoid boring the readers with too much exposition, and losing their interest in the novel- especially in the beginning of the story where it is vital to “hook the reader”, Mr. Bell suggests to “do the iceberg”. He tells us “Don’t tell us everything about the character’s past history or current situation. Give us the 10 percent above the surface that is necessary to understand what’s going on, and leave 90 percent hidden and mysterious below the surface. Later in the story, you can reveal more of that information. Until the right time, however; withhold it.”
This is only one of several rules he has, however; this one stood out to me as a rule I would use both in my writing and in my daily life. As a reader, wondering why a character feels the way she does or acts the way she acts is a big part of what compels me to keep reading. As the author drops one piece of information at a time that slowly paints a picture of the character’s motivations, we can not help but yearn to see the finished product at the end. What caused this character to carry so much guilt? What makes her want to move away from her family and friends? What happened that made him pick up the gun and shoot his best friend? These answers lie beneath the surface of the story, beneath the water- too deep for us to see anything yet. All we can see so far is the tip of the iceberg, until little by little the sea level subsides revealing a larger piece of the ice as it does.
If the reader is given too much information too soon, what reason would she have to continue reading. In Vanessa Diffenbaugh’s “The Language of Flowers” we are introduced to the protagonist Victoria when she is 18 years old. Immediately, on the first page she alludes to something that happened when she was 10 years old, something bad. But we are not told what it was until much later in the story when we are so hooked that nothing or no one can pry us away from the book. And when we are finally let in on the big secret after having been fed little bits and pieces along the way like bread crumbs along a trail, we are so emotionally connected to the story and the character that we could never imagine anyone landing that plane even a second sooner.
By revealing only the tip of the iceberg until the time is right, we keep our readers in suspense wondering about the hidden part below the surface. And then once they’ve been prepared enough, we hit them with the other 90% that they could not see – knocking them over with its full strength.

We all have a quest…

“The quest may be the oldest plot pattern of all” says James Scott Bell in his wonderfully written book ” Plot & Structure- Techniques and exercises for crafting a plot that grips readers from start to finish”. He explains that in a “quest plot” story a hero goes out into a dark world and searches for something; a sacred item, a person, knowledge or some sort of inner peace.
This is evident when Holden Caulfield in J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye searches for a reason to live in a world “of phony people”. Similarly, in life , we are all searching for something; a reason to live in a world of something we do not like, something that makes life difficult. And along the way, like Holden, we face a series of encounters -suffering setbacks as we move another step closer to our own objectives.

Many times our quest does not go well as we struggle to overcome those setbacks yet we carry on in perpetual search anyway. As our hero Holden begins his series of encounters with different people in the city we watch him fail in each connection. We see Holden get drunk after his date with Sally ends badly and we watch him freeze in Central Park at night where he thinks he will die of pneumonia.

Finally,when Holden sees his sister Phoebe, she asks him what he wants to be one day and he says ” a catcher in the rye” – someone who saves children from falling off a cliff. This statement reveals Holden’s uncertainty about his place in the world and makes us wonder if he even makes it in the end. Causing us to think , Salinger’s plot touches us -just as the author had hoped it would do.

“The quest mirrors our own journey through life”- James Scott Bell tells us. Like Holden, we also face different challenges in life and suffer setbacks (and even enjoy victories), and we strive to carry on ahead despite it all. So in life, just as Mr. Bell tells us in his book, we all have our own quest- whether we recognize it or not.