Tag Archive for writing tips James Preller

ON WRITING: A Closer Look at the Dialogue in TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett — But Absent the Spoken Words

The other night, in a Level 1 writing class for adults that I guide for Gotham Writers, we were talking about dialogue. I asked the students to try an exercise where they wrote only the spoken words, nothing else. No attribution, no exterior description, no stage directions, no interior thoughts.

Focus entirely on what’s said out loud.

Later I asked them to go back and include those missing features, a strategy that builds awareness of the available tools, turning that spoken conversation into a fully rendered scene that readers can picture in their imaginations. And also, hopefully, help my students notice the power of all the unspoken messages that are delivered outside of, and beyond, what’s (merely) said out loud. 

Coincidentally, after that class I came across a sweet little stage direction while reading Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake. I underlined it, as is my habit. I put a star in the margin. It’s the bit about Emily and the fork (below), which struck me as brilliant. And I thought: that’s it, that’s some of what I was trying to convey

What follows represents one way of looking at a scene from Chapter 10, omitting all the spoken words.

I want your focus to be on all the small ways that Patchett brings this conversation to life. The attribution, of course. The way the narrator offers a deft but significant touch on the entire scene: she is clearly telling us this story, coloring it in for us. There’s the stage directions: Maisie’s arms tightening across her chest, Benny’s hands on Emily’s shoulders, Joe holding up his hand, etc.  Additionally, there’s that one key passage where our narrator, Lara, muses on the dresses and quilts (interior), and the closing paragraph (exterior) that’s pretty much straight description. 

You can also locate a conversation on a miniature golf course — or move it to a coffee shop — or shift that same conversation to a walk along the shore. One thing is clear: we don’t want to have an entire book of two people talking at the kitchen table.  A different setting can make all the difference.

NOTE: This particular conversation is set in Joe and Lara’s farmhouse kitchen, involving their three adult daughters, Nell, Maisie, and Emily, along with Benny, a neighbor who is Emily’s fiance. Hazel is the dog. 

The three dots represent any spoken passage, of any length, contained within quotation marks. 

 

TOM LAKE, pages 142-144: Dialogue without Words

* * *,” Emily says.

* * *,” Joe asks, teasing her. “* * *.”

Everyone is waiting now. Hazel is waiting. Emily opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

* * *,” Benny says

Joe shakes his head. “* * *.”

* * *,” Emily says.

We should have one night that is not about the future or the past, one night to celebrate these two people and nothing else but we’ve blown it. “* * *,” I ask her.

Emily tips back her wineglass. She drains it. “* * *.”

I am making our three daughters quilts from my grandmother’s dresses, from their grandmother’s dresses and my dresses and the dresses they wore when they were children. I started collecting the fabric when I was a child because even then I knew I would have daughters one day and I would make them quilts. My daughters will give these quilts to their daughters and those daughters will sleep beneath them. One day they will wrap their own children in these quilts, and all of this will happen on the farm.

* * *,” Emily says. “* * *.”

* * *,” I say, but that’s a lie. These children we’ve never spoken of? We want them very much. We long for them.

* * *,” Benny says, his voice quiet because all of us are silent. “* * *.”

Joe holds up his hand. “* * *.”

But Benny doesn’t stop. His voice comes without drama or demand and still, he keeps talking. “* * *.”

* * *,” Joe says.

* * *,” Maisie says.

* * *.”

* * *,” Joe says. “* * *.”

* * *,” Nell says. “* * *.”

* * *,” Joe asks. “* * *.”

* * *,” Nell says. “* * **.”

Maisie tightens her arms across her chest. “* * *.”

Emily sits down on a kitchen chair and Benny stands behind her, his hands on her shoulders. We are all so tired.

Emily picks up a fork and balances it on one finger. She looks at nothing but the fork. “* * *.”

Nell reaches across the table and takes her sister’s hand, and Joe, Joe who never walks away from us, goes out the kitchen door. He is standing at the edge of the garden, his back is to the house. He is looking at the trees.

 

ADDENDUM: Readers can click here to see the full dialogue that’s missing in this post, plus a few more observations from me, as I struggle to understand how this writing-thing works.

Writing Tips #1: A Look at One Scene from THE GREAT BELIEVERS by Rebecca Makkai

For the past two years, I’ve taught several online classes for Gotham Writers. It’s for adults and via Zoom, usually titled “Writing children’s books” in a workshop format. I’ve taught four ten-week classes so far. Three hours a session on a weeknight. It’s demanding and the pay is horrendous but I love the students and what we learn together. And every dollar helps. 

But first, an aside: I’m not comfortable with the idea that I’m a teacher, since I see myself more as conductor than instructor. As the expression goes: Not the sage on stage, but the guide on the side

Anyway, I find that I miss it when there’s no class, no fellow writers to discuss these things with — the writing that moves us or falls flat or annoys us and why. A lot of the class is about developing our critical taste. Lately I’ve been casting about for an outlet for these thoughts. Since, yeah, in my real life just about no one cares what I think about writing.

And it feels a little pretentious, talking about writing as if I know. But, okay, I accept I must know some things. I’ve gotten this far. I’ve been publishing all sorts of books since 1986. 

So: I just read The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai and I have  thoughts about it. When I first picked it up, upon a friend’s recommendation, I didn’t realize that much of it was set in Chicago, 1985-1990, centered around a gay community amidst the AIDS crisis. As it happens, my oldest brother, Neal, lived in Chelsea in NYC (15th between 7th & 8th) and was sick at that time. He finally succumbed in 1993. But back in ’85, I was 24 and living in Brooklyn, working in  Manhattan (Broadway & Waverly, across from NYU). I spent much time in Neal’s apartment during my early teenage years, the late 70s, visiting from my home on Long Island, learning the village’s streets via its used record stores. I met his friends, his partner, spent time in his world. This book powerfully brought all of that back. Brought my brother back. So much loss. That disease hit so hard.

Here’s one moment from the novel — and a few brief writing observations after. In this scene, Yale is visiting Charlie, who is very near the end of his life, at the hospital:

He sat on the chair by the bed.

The nurse came in, and she showed Yale a small pink sponge on the end of a stick, showed him how he could hold it to Charlie’s lips to give him water.

He did it for a while, and he ran his thumb over Charlie’s wrist, listening to the thrumming of the walls.

He fed him water, drop by drop.

He could feel it, all around him, how down the corridor, and down the other hallways of other hospitals around Chicago and the other godforsaken cities of the globe, a thousand other men did the same. 

 

A few folks who have been in class with me might not be surprised when I express deep admiration for that first sentence:

He sat on the chair by the bed.

A full paragraph.

He sat on the chair by the bed

Clear, unadorned, lean, concrete, specific. He sat on the chair by the bed. It’s perfect. It looks easy. And it is so hard for many of us to write. The temptation to pretty it up is so strong (in me, at least). 

To write with restraint — without ego. The writer getting out of the way. An absolute absence of cleverness.

He sat on the chair by the bed.

Anybody could write do it!

The next paragraphs are equally clear and concrete and beautifully rendered. We get that one word, thrumming, but mostly it is simple language, directly told.

He fed him water, drop by drop

A mood sets in. The seconds ticking by, the end of a life’s last seconds. To be in that lonely, sad hospital room. Watching a young man die. He fed him water, drop by drop.

And then we get that long sentence, the poetry and the liftoff. As writers, we have to be careful about when and how we attempt this. Too much of this kind of thing would make a book exhausting to read, too purple, too annoying. The writer always reaching for a distant star. The batter always swinging for the fences. 

But here, in context with the paragraphs before it, we are ready and eager for that elevation — for this one long sentence. The ground has been prepared for the poetry.

Thirty-six words, four commas, and a period. 

He could feel it, all around him, how down the corridor, and down the other hallways of other hospitals around Chicago and the other godforsaken cities of the globe, a thousand other men did the same. 

That’s good writing. 

FAN MAIL WEDNESDAY #297: Includes a Free Pro Tip on Becoming a Writer!

 

Fan Mail Wednesday actually falls on a Wednesday this time around, because eventually that’s bound to happen. The law of averages! This letter comes from Max, a Jigsaw Jones fan in Kentucky, which I understand is a state somewhere near Ohio. Never been there, though my rescue dog, Echo, hails from those parts. I’d love to do school visits in Kentucky someday.

Don’t make me beg, people. Zing me a text at Jamespreller@aol.com and we’ll work it out. Of course, we can wait for this virus to settle down. Weird, right?

BTW, I love it when a FREE BONUS DRAWING is included. Thanks for that, Max. Anyway, the letter: 

I replied:

Dear Max,

Thank you for your kind letter. I’m so happy you read The Case from Outer Space. It is one of my favorites. Were you surprised by the ending?

Illustration by R.W. Alley.

One of the first inspirations for that book came from my love for “Little Free Libraries.” I’d seen them popping up all over the place and they appealed to me enormously. I’ve even seen schools that have them. Leave a book, take a book. I love that!

So I began to ask myself a writer’s two most important words: WHAT IF? Those are the magic words that get the imagination wandering. I thought, What if someone finds a mysterious note tucked inside a book in a Little Free Library?

Could such a thing be possible? I talked to librarians. They told me they find items inside books all the time. Photos, grocery lists, baseball cards -– even a banana peel.

Another part of the book came from a long interest in NASA and space exploration. I’ve often gazed at the stars and wondered if anyone else might be out there, somewhere in the twinkling beyond, far past our solar system of eight planets and into the outer reaches of the expanding universe. Wow. I smile just thinking about it.

If you truly wish to become a good author, there’s good news. You are already on the right path! Keep reading, keep feeding your brain with words and ideas. Just about every writer I know started out by being a reader. But you don’t have to sit around reading all day. Live! Do things! Play sports, run around, make friends, build stuff, look at clouds and trees, cook yummy desserts, enjoy yourself and everything there is in this amazing world of ours –- and, okay, also read.

And, you know, Max, maybe one day you’ll pick up a pencil and draw a picture. You’ll write down some words. Maybe start a story of your own.

Keep thinking, keep reading, keep being good old Max.

Thank you, my new friend in Kentucky, I’m so glad to receive your letter.

James Preller

 

 

Fan Mail Wednesday #90-91 (Friday Edition)

I received two similar emails, so I’m going to post both and give one reply to avoid repetition:

Letter #90:

Dear Mr. Preller,

I love your book Bystander. My teacher read it to my class for a read aloud. It was very well written. I could really relate to it since I have been bullied. I understand what it feels likes to not have anyone stand up for you. I strongly suggest you should write a sequel from the different characters points of view. I love reading and writing! Do you have any good writing tips for me? I would love to hear back from you!

Yours Truly,
Marissa

Letter #91:

Hi, I’m Jake. I’m a 5th grader. I have read Six Innings and Along Came
Spider
.  They were both very good. We read Bystander for a read
aloud in school. That was fantastic. Do you have any new books coming
out. Also do you have any tips for me as a writer?

My reply:

Marissa & Jake,

I hope you don’t mind sharing the same response, but this seemed faster and easier for me. And that’s what we’re all about here at jamespreller.com: me, Me, ME!

(Sorry, I got excited.)

Thanks for reading my books. Marissa, when I began to dig into the research on bullying — and part of that research was about memory, looking back and really thinking about what I’d seen and experienced in my own life; that is: heart work — I realized that I could write a 100 different stories, from 100 different perspectives. Ultimately a writer has to make choices. I tried to tell one story the best that I could. But you are totally right: There’s a lot more there to be explored, more stories to be told.

Jake, I have a follow-up book to Along Came Spider coming out in August, called Justin Fisher Declares War! It’s set in the same school, and some characters recur (Spider, Trey, Ava, Ms. Lobel in minor roles), but the focus shifts to a different classroom and new characters. Honestly, it’s a light, quick, easy read — hopefully funny — and it concludes with a school Talent Show, something I’ve wanted to write about for some time. And yes, there is barf. I’m currently finishing my first true “Young Adult” novel, featuring 16-year-old characters. It’s been the best writing experience ever, I’ve learned so much, and will come out in Fall 2011. Still pondering the title.

Both of you asked about “tips” for writers. As much as I enjoy talking about writing, or at least illuminating my own writing process, I’m always hesitant to break it down into rules and quick tips. We’re all different, and all of us need to find our own way. That said, I have written about my experiences as a writer — some of the things I’ve learned along the way — in various blog posts. Here’s a few of them:

* The Reading Feeds the Writing (about how one writer reads with pen in hand)

* Writing from Memory to Realistic Fiction

* Asking “What If” Questions

* Rules for Writing (from other authors)

* Rereading The Elements of Style (notes on a classic book)

If you are really interested, just click on “the writing process” under CATEGORIES in the right sidebar column. There’s lots to explore at your leisure, and it was all written with young writers like you in mind. It’s all about transparency here at jamespreller.com and BP Petroleum. I don’t possess any magic knowledge, there are no great secrets, but I am willing to share my own fumbling, idealistic efforts at writing the best I can.

Ultimately, I don’t feel comfortable playing the role of expert, handing out a nifty cheat-sheet of tips. The obvious suggestions remain true: Read, read, and read some more. Value your own perspective, your individuality; no one else can be you, can offer up your unique observations, thoughts, and feelings. As a writer, that’s what you’ve got above all the others: Nobody else can be you. Treasure those things in your life that formed you, that in-formed you; your family, your life experiences, your secret dreams and feelings.

Like I said before, writing is heart work. And that’s where it begins.

I’ve come to view dialogue as the single most important part of writing. Maybe that’s overstatement, but work with me here, guys. In some ways, it’s the easiest to try — everybody talks! — and yet the hardest thing to get right. Dialogue crosses all genres, whether you are interested in writing about wizards or warrior rats or realistic fiction. There are always characters, and we always meet them best when they open their mouths.

So that’s my other advice: shut up and listen. Eavesdrop. Jot down notes, little phrases you hear. Listen to how people talk. Really talk. Also — and this is tricky — step back and listen to yourself. What comes out of your mouth? What do you say when you see a friend? How do you greet each other in the hallway? What’s actually said at the dinner table? Take notes in a little memo pad, even just a snatch of conversation. Later, you can add description, set the scene, write about the interior (a character’s inner thoughts and feelings) as well as the exterior (the outside world, the cup on the table).

Story is a natural outgrowth of character. Or, wait, another way: Story is character revealed. Begin with character. Add conflict. Stir.

Thanks.

JP

P.S. Oh, hey, by the way: Try this “Instant Story Recipe” from the englishbanana.com just for fun! Plug in the words and it writes the story for you! Uh-oh. I just realized that soon some computer is going to put me out of a job! Oh, wait. I have one thing a computer can never possess.