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odd_buttonsWow. This entry struck a chord -- actually, it was more like a full orchestra. It seemed, to me, to describe very accurately a huge dynamic of fandom: how we read fanfic.
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The following is an excerpt from Part III of the book Making Shapely Fiction, by Jerome Stern. The first two parts are very much worth reading as well. The book is available in paperback.
Reading
We read for delight, for insight, for thrills, and for comfort. But how do we read as writers?
The answer is -- differently. Some writers read gingerly, fearful of being overwhelmed by the eloquence of others and losing confidence in their own powers. Others read savagely, looking for weaknesses that betray the inadequacies of the text and its creator. Many writers won't read while they're writing for fear of echoing the voice of the book they are reading. Others are afraid of finding that their own territory has already been worked over. But some writers love to read. They aren't intimidated or inhibited by writers, whether classic or contemporary. They are inspired as their own imaginations leap up at the achievements of others.
As a writer you can read in the traditional way, giving yourself over to the fictional world, getting caught up in the characters' lives, suffering with them, and sharing their emotions and adventures. Or you can read more analytically, trying to understand how these writers handle the problems of narration, how they make time pass, make characters memorable, or embed their own social observations. You can learn a great deal from this kind of reading. You begin to see the devices writers use to make scenes and dialogue vivid or to get into the minds of their characters, and you recognize that it is a magic you can learn yourself.
This history of art gives you a useful model. As Western artists discovered how to handle perspective, anatomy, and light, they learned from one another. They built on their predecessors, refining, modifying, or even inverting established techniques.
Literary artist, especially writers of fiction, have a similar situation as they observe the fictional strategies other writers have evolved. Laurence Sterne manipulated time. Charles Dickens managed multiple plot lines. Gustave Flaubert manipulated point of view. James Joyce lyricized narrative. John Dos Passos created collages. Virginia Woolf used internal consciousness. Anaïs Nin exploited dreams. Jorge Borges turned philosophy into stories. Ralph Ellison uses a blues structure. Renata Adler fractures narrative. Milan Kundera juggles themes. Writers can show you the way and inspire you with further possibilities. You learn from the solutions of others. Writers need not reinvent those literary wheels. They aren't rules, they're tools. Your reading can liberate your writing.
See Novel, Plot.
*
The following is an excerpt from Part III of the book Making Shapely Fiction, by Jerome Stern. The first two parts are very much worth reading as well. The book is available in paperback.
Reading
We read for delight, for insight, for thrills, and for comfort. But how do we read as writers?
The answer is -- differently. Some writers read gingerly, fearful of being overwhelmed by the eloquence of others and losing confidence in their own powers. Others read savagely, looking for weaknesses that betray the inadequacies of the text and its creator. Many writers won't read while they're writing for fear of echoing the voice of the book they are reading. Others are afraid of finding that their own territory has already been worked over. But some writers love to read. They aren't intimidated or inhibited by writers, whether classic or contemporary. They are inspired as their own imaginations leap up at the achievements of others.
As a writer you can read in the traditional way, giving yourself over to the fictional world, getting caught up in the characters' lives, suffering with them, and sharing their emotions and adventures. Or you can read more analytically, trying to understand how these writers handle the problems of narration, how they make time pass, make characters memorable, or embed their own social observations. You can learn a great deal from this kind of reading. You begin to see the devices writers use to make scenes and dialogue vivid or to get into the minds of their characters, and you recognize that it is a magic you can learn yourself.
This history of art gives you a useful model. As Western artists discovered how to handle perspective, anatomy, and light, they learned from one another. They built on their predecessors, refining, modifying, or even inverting established techniques.
Literary artist, especially writers of fiction, have a similar situation as they observe the fictional strategies other writers have evolved. Laurence Sterne manipulated time. Charles Dickens managed multiple plot lines. Gustave Flaubert manipulated point of view. James Joyce lyricized narrative. John Dos Passos created collages. Virginia Woolf used internal consciousness. Anaïs Nin exploited dreams. Jorge Borges turned philosophy into stories. Ralph Ellison uses a blues structure. Renata Adler fractures narrative. Milan Kundera juggles themes. Writers can show you the way and inspire you with further possibilities. You learn from the solutions of others. Writers need not reinvent those literary wheels. They aren't rules, they're tools. Your reading can liberate your writing.
See Novel, Plot.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-10 11:20 pm (UTC)Thanks for continuing to post these essays, by the way!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-15 02:57 pm (UTC)And so nice to see you! Are the holidays whipping your butt? They are mine. *grumble*
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-16 10:18 pm (UTC)Sorry to hear that! I'm doing ok, mostly because I have lowered my expectations and limited the number of hand-made gifts I'm giving. I have many more ideas than I have time to execute them, which is frustrating.