Jesus, Son of the living God, anoint us with fire this day. Let your Word not shine in our hearts, but let it burn. Let there be no division, compromise, or holding back. Separate the mystics from the romantics, and goad us to that daredevil leap into the abyss of your love. (Amen)
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee., I hear.
In Prose Style with Dr. Allison, we learned the importance of imitation writing. Three of the essays we wrote that semester were imitation pieces. I wrote a short story imitating As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner, for example. It was about the death of the president and switched points of view all the time. It had the potential of being awesome.
Anyway, when you imitate someone’s writing, it’s not just about form. You aren’t just trying to use the same words as they or the same sentence structures. You’re taking on the mind of the writer. You adapt her philosophy.
It’s a lot of fun to do this, I tell you.
I’m trying it again right now with e.e. cummings/William Carlos Williams. I’m imitating both of them in a poem I’m writing. It’s very imagistic. Short. Lots of odd punctuation.
Why bother? Well, I realized that my best and favorite poems are ones that are different than how I usually write. I would never have written them if I were so stuck in my ways. You can’t be stuck in your ways. It’s great to have your own writing voice, but don’t let your devotion to it keep you from trying something new.
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Imagination
Sh*tty First Drafts
Cross-train
Go get a life
Wishing writing could change me
Install me in any profession
Tell all the truth but tell it slant–
Poetry to creative nonfiction and back again
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.–
No kiddin’, Ezra.
–
It’s getting to that point in the semester when I’m looking at my to-do list and most of it involves writing. I have an explication essay for American Poetry due soon. I have a news script to write for Tuesday. I have a big research paper I haven’t started, and another I’m not even going to attempt until a few days before it’s due.
My brain is fried.
But, I keep chugging on. Sometimes all you gotta do is write anyway — whether it turns into a masterpiece or just an Anne Lamott-style shitty first draft.
Here’s to writing.
Lauren
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Imagination
Sh*tty First Drafts
Cross-train
Go get a life
Wishing writing could change me
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.I want writing to bring me peace about a situation, but it’s only temporary. I think of my smoking poem from last month. I used it to implore my boyfriend to stop smoking. He still smokes, and I no longer have peace.
It’s not that I wanted the poem to change him. (I mean, yeah, a little.) I wanted it to make me feel better about the situation because at least I understood why I felt the way I did.
I want writing to revive my dry faith. I want to write a poem about how I feel about God (see “Eli, Eli“) and get myself out of my rut.
But, it doesn’t work like that. Writing helps, but it’s not a world changer.
Still, I wish it were.
–
Everything I Am
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Imagination
Sh*tty First Drafts
Cross-train
Go get a life
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.Let’s be honest here: I don’t have much of a “life.” Forgetting my Iraqi escapade, I’ve lived my whole life in the Midwest, I have a normal family, I go to college. I don’t have a lot of interesting things to write about.
So. What do I do?
I get a life. I find adventures to write about.
But I don’t think that means I have to travel abroad every summer either. I think I can find adventure here (okay, I’m in New York as I write this. Here as in Marion). I think that if I look hard enough (or broad enough) I can find adventure wherever I am.
I just need to find the excitement in the ordinary, everyday.
It’s not that I have to lie and pretend something’s exciting like I do on Twitter. (Whoa! #awesome sandwich I’m eating! #yummy!) I can just have a different perspective on something.
This trip I’m on, for example, has been quite the adventure. School trips are, in theory, supposed to be kind of lame. Or typical.
Well, we’re staying at a church in a rougher part of Brooklyn with the kindest church members taking care of us. We’re a group of students with very diverse personality traits. We have gotten lost who knows how many times. Our internet is shoddy, so we’ve been improvising with our homework. (I’ve had to dictate an email to my boyfriend over the phone so he could write and send it for me.)
It’s been an adventure.
And it’s something to write about.
So, in response to the Rilke quote, I’d say, yes. Find adventure. But don’t assume adventure only involves foreign countries, passionate romances or danger.
Adventure could be right in front of you.
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Imagination
Sh*tty First Drafts
Cross-train
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.Last Sunday I got to. I got most of my homework done for Monday and Tuesday, so I spent the day writing poetry. Some of it turned out interesting.
I’m not entirely finished with the following poem. I think its metaphor was lost a little. But I’ll let you read it. (You’re welcome.) Ha.
–
As I began writing this post, I wanted to pose a goal for myself: write a poem a day. As I thought about it, I decided to shorten that to a poem a week. Then, I gave up on the goal completely. Do I have time?
I should make time.
Like anything else, writing gets better with practice. And like anything, variety is key. When you exercise your body, you don’t spend all your energy on one set of muscles. Even those training for marathons cross-train.
I need to cross-train my writing. That may mean putting aside my homework to slave over a poem — but that’s okay. (I’d probably rather being doing that anyway.)
Lauren
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Imagination
Sh*tty First Drafts
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.–
Author Anne Lamott encourages what she calls “shitty first drafts.” Sometimes you just have to write. You don’t feel it. You don’t think you’re producing anything worthwhile. But it doesn’t matter all that much. You just need to write.
I’m there right now. As a writing and journalism double major, I spend most of my life writing. I write commercial scripts. I write essays. I write memoirs. I write nonfiction, fiction, creative nonfiction. I write news articles. I write emails.
Sometimes I can’t keep myself going. My writing seems so very forced. For the most part, that’s okay. I’ve learned that for newswriting, there’s a formula that I can follow. My stories on online registration or a student’s creative writing prize may not be interesting, but they’re written correctly. Sometimes my scriptwriting rough drafts truly are shitty.
I like Don Miller’s metaphor. Writing is like farming. It’s habitual, first of all. You don’t get plants without the process of tilling, planting, watering. Sometimes you don’t get anything. Sometimes you get lush vegetation.
So right now, when I could care less about writing, I will write. I will finish this blog post. I will finish the essay I’ve hardly started. I’ll keep thinking about the memoir piece I’m starting.
Lauren
–
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Imagination
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.
This weekend my friend Caitie and I went to see The Decemberists perform in Chicago. The Decemberists is one of my favorite bands, particularly because of lead singer/songwriter Colin Meloy’s imaginative writing.
I think Colin was probably like me as a child: instead of paying attention in class, he stared out the window and wrote stories in his head. An imagination like his has to develop over time. There’s no way he became the writer he is now without having a childlike imagination, since being a child.
Not familiar with The Decemberists? You have no idea what I’m talking about? Well. Let’s look at lyrics from “A Cautionary Tale.”
There’s a place your mother goes
When everybody else is soundly sleeping
Through the lights of Beacon Street
And if you listen you can hear her weeping
She’s weeping because the gentlemen are calling
And the snow is softly falling on her petticoats
And she’s standing in the harbor
And she’s waiting for the sailors in the jolly boat
See how they approach?
With dirty hands and trousers torn
They grapple until she’s safe within their keeping
A gag is placed between her lips
To keep her sorry tongue from any speaking, or screaming
And they row her out to packets
Where the sailor’s sorry racket calls for maidenhead
And she’s scarce above the gunwales
When her clothes fall to a bundle
And she’s laid in bed on the upper deck
And so she goes from ship to ship
Her ankles clasped, her arms so rudely pinioned
Until at last she’s satisfied
The lot of the marina’s teaming minions
And their opinions
And they tell her not to say a thing
To cousin, kindred, kith, or kin, or she’ll end up dead
And they throw her thirty dollars and return her to the harbor
Where she goes to bed, and this is how you’re fed
So be kind to your mother
Though she may seem an awful bother
And the next time she tries to feed you collard greens
Remember what she does when you’re asleep
This is one of the band’s most bizarre songs lyrically, and for that reason, one of my favorites. I love the twist ending. You kind of forget the narrator’s addressing someone’s child, but you’re reminded again at the end.
Whenever I hear this song, I imagine a kid eating dinner with wide-eyed shock, perhaps dropping his fork at the last beat of the song.
I think the key to being a good writer is having a broad imagination. No matter how good your mechanics are, if you can’t think of an interesting idea or storyline, no one cares what you have to say. (Ah, I mean, in creative writing, not technical writing.)
–
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.Going back to my MacDonald quote about poetry being the utterances of men’s thoughts, I think poetry is one of the best ways to express emotion. That is, if writing’s your thing.
Back in high school, when my friend Austin had some anger issues, I told him to write it out. Instead of lashing out at people, he should write in a journal. It served him well.
Poetry and writing is therapeutic to me, but for artists, painting is. For musicians, playing is. Whenever Nathan’s in a bad mood, I make him play his guitar.
–
This post is meant to be a reminder — mainly to myself. Instead of ranting, instead of venting to everyone I know, I need to write my feelings down. My journal is an awfully good listener.
–
Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.
“Being a writer is a strenuous marriage between careful observation and just as carefully imagining the truths you haven’t had the opportunity to see. The rest is the necessary, strict toiling with the language; for me this means writing and rewriting the sentences until they sound as spontaneous as good conversation.” – John Irving, emphasis mine
I read this in my creative nonfiction class Friday as a preface to a memoir by John Irving. Immediately it reminded me of scriptwriting and the importance of writing conversationally.
The first half of Irving’s quotation is referring to fiction or creative nonfiction: you tell the truth, but let your imagination play a role. (In creative nonfiction, unlike fiction, you can’t use your imagination without first prefacing it. You don’t lie.)
In scriptwriting, I see this “strenuous marriage” — even only a few weeks into my scriptwriting course.
The radio spot writer wants to tell facts: WHAT is the product? WHERE can I buy it? HOW is this product special? WHY is it worth buying? etc.
But at the same time, it’s done in a creative way:
PERSON 1: Man, oh, man. It’s gone — it’s all gone!
PERSON 2: What is–
PERSON 1: Quick! Someone call 9-1-1!
SFX: DIAL TONE
OPERATOR: 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?
PERSON 2: Jimmy, Jimmy. What’s happening? What should I tell them?
PERSON 1: Someone ate all my Doritos!
For me, I favor one partner or the other in this marriage of sorts. I’m noticing that for this class, I’m favoring the Facts and ignoring Creativity. The danger of this is endless: I could write a boring spot; I could write something that’s supposed to be funny; but falls flat, I could overwhelm people with facts.
The opposite is just as true: If I focus too closely on creativity, I may forget to add important facts, like WHAT the product even is.
As for the second part of the quote, about writing something as “spontaneous as good conversation,” I can’t help but think of scriptwriting. That means stripping writing from very “Englishy” language. That means I don’t write sentences like:
Though my love for Doritos is vast, I only have fifty cents — not enough to buy a bag.
You write the way people talk. How do people talk? Well, go back to the beginning of the quote again. You figure it out through observation. When I’m writing dialogue for short stories, there’s always one character who has an overuse of the word well, because that’s what I do.
An excerpt:
Then he likes you?
Not exactly.
You just said the rest was history, like it’s the end of the story. So it’s not?
Well, that was a month ago. So much has happened.
Like what?
The date.
You went on a date with him?
Sort of.
Tell me!
It was nothing. We just watched a movie at his apartment.
Alone?
Well, yeah alone. It was a date … I think.
I write wells in only because when I was writing this piece, I was saying the dialogue outloud. (I even cut out some of them, because it was a little too over the top. Good writing doesn’t mean you add in speech flaws for effect. Apparently I say well too much.)
Thanks, John, for the insights.
I don’t know about the rest of you, my dear Scriptwriting class, but it’s a lot easier to talk about something (writing) when you have something to base it on, i.e. a quotation.
Just a thought.
(Now I’m hungry for Doritos.)
–
Scriptwriting archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
Lauren is a college graduate with degrees in journalism and writing. This summer she is westward bound to Seattle, Washington, in order to pursue graduate school ... and good coffee.