Can you visualise your characters? Of course you can. So what do they carry in their pockets? How do they dance to their favourite song when nobody else is looking? What's their most treasured item of clothing? What kind of expression do they pull when faced with something that terrifies them?
Not so sure now? Whether you are writing poetry, prose or drama you must be able to visualise your characters clearly (not like that fuzzy memory of Aunt Mildred that hovers in the dusty corner of your mind). You need a portrait of a lady ... or a gentleman, or a child, or a retired traffic warden, or any character that will appear in your writing. These portraits are what make literature sink or swim. If readers can't see a realistic person within a character they won't engage with her. And for those of you who want to get stuck into stream of consciousness or fantastical narratives remember that you need to learn how to create realistic characters before you can bend the rules. Even Picasso was a master of the life drawing before he embarked on cubism.
Creating characters with a realistic depth of feeling and a believable, three-dimensional existence on the page is extremely difficult. It's like playing God. We conjure these 'people' from nothing and give them life, tell them what to wear, how to act. But like any good deity we also have to give them free will, otherwise they can appear staged, or lifeless. But there are tricks to making this complicated process much easier.
When you start to create a character keep the phrase 'you are what you own' to the forefront of your mind. Of course we are all more than the sum of our possessions, but the items that people wear or carry with them can reveal a great deal about who they are, and can be used to subtly convey information about them in your writing. Think about somebody dear to you; picture him or her in your mind. What does he carry in his pockets (or her handbag) at all times? An inhaler, a lucky rubber band, a photograph of a child, a pocket watch, a knife, the ear of an enemy killed in battle (unlikely, but you may have some odd friends)?
When we remember people we don't always recall snippets of information like this, but these tiny details are vital for creating a character that leaps off the page into the reader's consciousness. A character's possessions and clothes are an extension of their personality; by paying close attention to which of these details you reveal you can control how readers see and engage with your characters.
A person's items can reveal an element of their personality that is not directly evident: maybe an old lady is carrying the knife. They might give insights into a character's hidden emotional depths, for example, a young man who gives no clues as to how he is feeling could panic at the thought of losing a pocket watch given to him by his father. Or they can create a sense of mystery or surprise that adds to a character's depth. Take the photograph of the child: is she still alive; was she kidnapped/killed/abducted by aliens? Even when the details aren't directly relevant to the plot, being able to fine-tune the image of your characters on the page will allow them to emerge as individuals, not merely clusters of words.
If you're having trouble visualising a new character try this great trick. Write a list of twenty objects she might carry or wear. Don't think too deeply about this, just write down whatever comes to mind. Next, write a series of short sketches describing exactly how your character came by these items. Try to describe what the item means to her, and how she would feel if she lost it. You may never use these character sketches, but we guarantee they will give you (and your reader) a clearer sense of who your character is.
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
Friday, 15 April 2011
Is there any point in writers' groups?
Most publishers are aware of the fact that writing can be a lonely activity and the best of them try to provide some friendly advice. But let's be honest, most of the time writers sit alone, drinking coffee and watching the rest of the world interacting or frowning at the blank page muttering to themselves. Or maybe that's just our authors.
Working in isolation means that it's often hard to see your work objectively. There's only one real cure, and it can seem absolutely terrifying: joining a writers' group.
The thought of showing your work to a group of people, especially fellow writers, can be terrifying but every person there is in the same boat as you, and equally nervous about the process. The relief of getting to know like-minded writers with the same fears and neuroses as you have can be euphoric.
Why workshops? We can't see our writing the way another person would read it, and, as tough as it sounds, we need feedback from other people to make sure it works. Joining a workshop is difficult because it's an admission that perhaps our writing needs improvement. But workshops can make us view our work in a new light, provide us with original ideas and find more powerful ways of saying what we want to say. If you find the right workshop each session will make you more aware of your potential, more confident in your work; it will give you a better understanding of the process of writing, and of the techniques other people use for success; and it will leave you feeling exhilarated and impatient to write more. Plus, it will inspire you to write: you can't bring your material to a meeting until you've written it. There's every chance that actively engaging in a workshop will help you to get published.
Which workshops? Take your time to find the right environment, and don't be afraid to try more than one group. There are many groups and courses available for writers: ranging from groups that meet informally to postgraduate courses offering an intensive series of exercises and feedback sessions. If you're thinking of joining a group take some time to work out what you're looking for. Most groups look at several pieces of work a week, usually by different writers, whoever's got something new, the aim being to help a piece of work evolve and grow. Other workshops set exercises to help improve a writer's grip of technique and expression. A good workshop will always feel co-operative not competitive: you are all there to find out how to write successfully, and if you don't work at it as a group you'll all falter.
For academic courses, visit the websites of colleges and universities. Adult education colleges also often offer workshops. Contact your regional arts association for a list of writers' groups in your area open to newcomers or ask local people if they know of any good groups. If all of the above fails, start your own group with any writers you know.
Writers' groups demand that you learn to accept constructive criticism: there's no point attending if you don't want to hear other people's opinions. Listen carefully to what people are saying, don't try to argue or contradict, just write it down. Criticism in workshops should always acknowledge the integrity and value of the writing it's aimed at. It shouldn't pick at the flaws, it should point out how the good parts of a piece of writing are weakened by less desirable elements. Criticism should also always be specific; if it's too general, the critic risks giving the impression that it's a writer or his ability to write that is being rejected. Learn to let your work go, to acknowledge the divide between you and your writing, if you want to make the most out of criticism. Be aware that people will interpret your work differently from how you intended, and that this might not necessarily be their fault, or even a bad thing.
Working in isolation means that it's often hard to see your work objectively. There's only one real cure, and it can seem absolutely terrifying: joining a writers' group.
The thought of showing your work to a group of people, especially fellow writers, can be terrifying but every person there is in the same boat as you, and equally nervous about the process. The relief of getting to know like-minded writers with the same fears and neuroses as you have can be euphoric.
Why workshops? We can't see our writing the way another person would read it, and, as tough as it sounds, we need feedback from other people to make sure it works. Joining a workshop is difficult because it's an admission that perhaps our writing needs improvement. But workshops can make us view our work in a new light, provide us with original ideas and find more powerful ways of saying what we want to say. If you find the right workshop each session will make you more aware of your potential, more confident in your work; it will give you a better understanding of the process of writing, and of the techniques other people use for success; and it will leave you feeling exhilarated and impatient to write more. Plus, it will inspire you to write: you can't bring your material to a meeting until you've written it. There's every chance that actively engaging in a workshop will help you to get published.
Which workshops? Take your time to find the right environment, and don't be afraid to try more than one group. There are many groups and courses available for writers: ranging from groups that meet informally to postgraduate courses offering an intensive series of exercises and feedback sessions. If you're thinking of joining a group take some time to work out what you're looking for. Most groups look at several pieces of work a week, usually by different writers, whoever's got something new, the aim being to help a piece of work evolve and grow. Other workshops set exercises to help improve a writer's grip of technique and expression. A good workshop will always feel co-operative not competitive: you are all there to find out how to write successfully, and if you don't work at it as a group you'll all falter.
For academic courses, visit the websites of colleges and universities. Adult education colleges also often offer workshops. Contact your regional arts association for a list of writers' groups in your area open to newcomers or ask local people if they know of any good groups. If all of the above fails, start your own group with any writers you know.
Writers' groups demand that you learn to accept constructive criticism: there's no point attending if you don't want to hear other people's opinions. Listen carefully to what people are saying, don't try to argue or contradict, just write it down. Criticism in workshops should always acknowledge the integrity and value of the writing it's aimed at. It shouldn't pick at the flaws, it should point out how the good parts of a piece of writing are weakened by less desirable elements. Criticism should also always be specific; if it's too general, the critic risks giving the impression that it's a writer or his ability to write that is being rejected. Learn to let your work go, to acknowledge the divide between you and your writing, if you want to make the most out of criticism. Be aware that people will interpret your work differently from how you intended, and that this might not necessarily be their fault, or even a bad thing.
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Getting ideas
So, you've cleared your desk, opened your notebook and are ready to write. But suddenly your mind is devoid of inspiration and you begin to panic. What on earth are you going to write about? While there is more to being a writer than just a good idea, without an inspirational seed for your novel, screenplay or poem you are like a knight in armour with no monster to slay and no sweetheart to rescue. One of the biggest problems even experienced writers face is confronting a blank page with a blank mind. But ideas are everywhere, you just need to learn how to spot them.
For many of us, ideas are a lot like buses. You wait ages for one to come along and when it finally does it breaks down. Then, when you're walking seven miles home in the rain three more flash past you even though they're empty and drench you from the gutter. (Buses haven't been good to me.) Of course you may be one of the lucky ones, and already be nurturing the seed of an idea. But for the majority of writers, it's a difficult truth that it takes more than motivation alone to produce a masterpiece.
If you have been inspired, don't ignore it. A great many writers turn away the ideas that flit around in the back of their head because the idea may not fit in with the image they want to present, or because they would like to write something more 'literary'. If you do this you may be passing up a good thing. Don't ignore that persistent tug; go with it and see where it leads.
The ideas that flutter in the half-light of our conscious mind are those that make us think, that make us laugh, or cry, or scream. (Otherwise you would have forgotten them long ago.) These ideas may be nothing more than a scene, a single character, perhaps something as small as a phrase. Or they might be an entire plot line, an epic journey that you have been mentally planning for years. But whether large or small, these threads are important to you, and because of this you can weave them into a work of art.
Some writers we have worked with have passed up these faint cries for attention and then gone on to pen strained and sterile work because the ideas they eventually work with don't engage them. Chances are the ideas you already possess, even if they are barely visible, have a personal significance. If you give them a chance, you will be able to draw on a wealth of personal emotion and experience in order to produce a literary work that truly connects with its readers.
Here's a great tip if you're stuck for something to write about. Open your eyes and look around you. There is material everywhere. Read old diaries or browse through your notebooks. Read newspapers and magazines for fascinating stories. Sit in a café and gaze out of the window. Listen to conversations, invent stories for the people who walk past and write them down. It may take a while, but if you pay attention to the world around you, then inspiration will come. The trick is not to go looking for the idea of a lifetime. Sit back, relax, soak up your surroundings, listen to the scraps of thought that flutter through your brain and before you know it you'll be running round the block screaming 'Eureka!'. At least when they let you out of hospital you'll have something to write about.
For many of us, ideas are a lot like buses. You wait ages for one to come along and when it finally does it breaks down. Then, when you're walking seven miles home in the rain three more flash past you even though they're empty and drench you from the gutter. (Buses haven't been good to me.) Of course you may be one of the lucky ones, and already be nurturing the seed of an idea. But for the majority of writers, it's a difficult truth that it takes more than motivation alone to produce a masterpiece.
If you have been inspired, don't ignore it. A great many writers turn away the ideas that flit around in the back of their head because the idea may not fit in with the image they want to present, or because they would like to write something more 'literary'. If you do this you may be passing up a good thing. Don't ignore that persistent tug; go with it and see where it leads.
The ideas that flutter in the half-light of our conscious mind are those that make us think, that make us laugh, or cry, or scream. (Otherwise you would have forgotten them long ago.) These ideas may be nothing more than a scene, a single character, perhaps something as small as a phrase. Or they might be an entire plot line, an epic journey that you have been mentally planning for years. But whether large or small, these threads are important to you, and because of this you can weave them into a work of art.
Some writers we have worked with have passed up these faint cries for attention and then gone on to pen strained and sterile work because the ideas they eventually work with don't engage them. Chances are the ideas you already possess, even if they are barely visible, have a personal significance. If you give them a chance, you will be able to draw on a wealth of personal emotion and experience in order to produce a literary work that truly connects with its readers.
Here's a great tip if you're stuck for something to write about. Open your eyes and look around you. There is material everywhere. Read old diaries or browse through your notebooks. Read newspapers and magazines for fascinating stories. Sit in a café and gaze out of the window. Listen to conversations, invent stories for the people who walk past and write them down. It may take a while, but if you pay attention to the world around you, then inspiration will come. The trick is not to go looking for the idea of a lifetime. Sit back, relax, soak up your surroundings, listen to the scraps of thought that flutter through your brain and before you know it you'll be running round the block screaming 'Eureka!'. At least when they let you out of hospital you'll have something to write about.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)