Opening Your Eyes to the Newness in the Familiar

"Hey, can we go for a walk now? I'm ready!"

 



One thing I love about going home for the holidays to visit my parents is that it feels, in a way, like I get to briefly remove myself from time. Many things about my usual routine are shaken up in the best way possible. Instead of feeling pressured by my typical to-do list and errands, I woke up in my childhood bedroom, surrounded by cozy and comforting knick-knacks. Instead of driving around town to tutor students in the afternoons, I lounged on the couch with a thick novel, chatted with my parents, and visited my grandfather who lives down the street. I helped my mother cook dinner, played board games with my brother, went out to the downtown Irish pub with my dad, and met up with old friends at the local coffee shop we used to frequent in high school. I spent time reflecting on the year that had passed, and dreaming about the year to come.

Perhaps my favorite “vacation routine” when I am home visiting my parents is taking our boxer dog Murray for his morning and evening walks around the neighborhood. Every day we would walk the same loop, yet every day I would notice new, startling details:

• A small bird strutting jauntily across the street, like a band leader in a parade.
• Sprinklers watering a front yard of dead grass.
• A toddler shrieking with glee, running in circles in a driveway as her mother watched with a tired smile, raising a hand to us in greeting as we walked by.
• Bushes laden with bright red berries.
• A father and son playing catch in the park.

So many rich and beautiful details that it would be so easy to miss, if you were not paying attention and looking for them. And indeed, we would pass many other morning walkers on their phones or listening to music, rushing ahead with a glazed look in their eyes.

Meanwhile, every single day, Murray exuberantly sniffed at plants and lampposts and studied the sidewalk like it was a brand-new territory to explore -- even though it was the exact same path he had taken the day before, and the month before that, and the year before that. Perhaps he is on to what it means to be a writer: mining the same inner territory, day after day after day, for new sparks of joy and wonder.

Now, when I feel creatively blocked or when I am out of ideas or when the writing just doesn't seem to be going anywhere fruitful, I think of Murray's excited daily exploration. He is a reminder for me that being a writer is not so much about coming up with some totally new, never-before-seen-or-done IDEA. Rather, I like to follow acclaimed author Pam Houston's advice (from a wonderful talk I was fortunate to attend at a writers conference) and think of myself more as an observer, seeking out the extraordinary in the ordinary.

 

As Lera Auerbach writes in her wise, magical book of aphorisms and musings Excess of Being: "These thoughts have occurred to many people and for a very long time. I just happened to write them down."

Here's to a sparkling new year filled with open eyes, even -- perhaps most importantly -- in our familiar, everyday surroundings and routines. Here's to being world-class observers. Here's to writing it down.

And, Murray would like to add: here's to lots and lots and walks.

All tuckered out after a long walk.

Our Collective Humanity in the Individual Details of Our Lives

A couple of weeks ago, I received an email from a friend. We email back and forth frequently, to stay in touch and up-to-date on each other’s lives. This friend was trekking through a problem at work, and wrote a very insightful explanation of the issue: what he was struggling with, why this was difficult for him, and the potential solutions he planned to employ.

In my email response, I mentioned how impressed I was with the way he put his feelings and motives into words. I think many people would be able to relate to this, I wrote.

I was surprised when he dismissed my compliment. Oh, he replied, it wasn’t meant for other people. I was just writing about myself. He seemed to think that, because he was telling a story about his own life, his thoughts, feelings, ideas and insights would not be resonant or relatable for other people.

To me, this could not be further from the truth! Details from our own individual lives are, I believe, where we find our collective humanity. However, I think many, many of us fall into the same trap of self-dismissal as my friend did, at one time or another.

As a fiction writer, I have learned a counterintuitive principle: if you want readers to care about your characters, you might think to make your characters “everyone”—more vague, and less clearly defined, so that everyone can relate to them. But instead, the exact opposite holds true. The more detailed you are about specific, unique experiences, the more readers see themselves reflected in your characters. It is the stories that connect us; stories that make us care. As Joseph Campbell writes in his book The Power of Myth, stories have the unique purpose of passing down myths through the generations. There are common themes found in stories, from all societies, races, religions, time periods—threads that link us together as human beings.
 
In Lera Auerbach’s luminous book Excess of Being, published by Arch Street Press, this idea of details connecting us and getting to the heart of our common humanity is illuminated beautifully through her finely wrought prose. A Russian-American artist, this is Auerbach's first book in English, and she uses aphorisms to tell her story and examine her life. I found myself wanting to underline nearly every line on each page; this is a book bursting at the seams with honest beauty and wisdom. I found hope even in Auerbach's moments of darkness and irony, because I saw myself and my own experiences--my doubts, my fears, my frustrations--reflected in hers.

Not a single word is wasted. This is a book that begs to be read slowly, savored, and read again.

Here are some of my favorite aphorisms from Excess of Being:

"If you have a flaw -- make it part of your legacy."

"Music happens within. A performer allows others to hear what is already sounding."

"Finally
I listen to the other silence--
the one that wells up
from within.
Finally, I'm listening."

Back to my friend. Oh, he had written, it wasn’t meant for other people. I was just writing about myself.

I replied to him that writing about yourself, and for yourself, is the best kind of writing. Writing about something that matters to you or helps you in some way ensures that it will matter to someone else and help someone else.

Guest Post by Holli Dawson: How to Write Vivid Characters

Finding People: Writing Characters That Feel Real

by Holli Dawson

Sometimes when you start a new story or writing project, the actual story starts to emerge as fully realized and solid, but the people inhabiting your imaginary world are somehow not quite as clear. Reading a novel with poor characterization is like ordering an ice cream sundae and only getting a scoop of ice cream and a banana on the side, without all the other ingredients that make it taste special. Imagine if Charles Dickens had left out any description or characteristics of Oliver in Oliver Twist. Would anyone have cared about his story or the book in general? What if Dorothy Gale had been written as some rather average girl with no discernable personality? Would we still be fascinated with The Wizard of Oz, and all the books in L. Frank Baum’s series?

Without interesting characters, a short story or book can feel unfinished and unsatisfying. Writing strong characters is vital to creating a great story. So, what do you when you are stuck? Below are some quick and easy suggestions to help you create three-dimensional people on two-dimensional paper.

1. Buy a Notebook and Carry It With You… Everywhere

If you love writing, you may already do this. However, set aside a few pages of your notebook for notes about people. On these special pages, instead of jotting ideas for your next series of short stories, or lines from poems that pop into your head, plan to write about what you see around you. Particularly the people you see around you. You can even draw sketches of them to jog your memory later.

2. Go to “The Source”

What’s “The Source”, you ask? “The Source” is any place where lots of people gather. Find a mall and sit in the food court. Go to your local community, fitness, or religious center and watch the people pass. Make notes about what you see, paying particular attention to those habits or actions that make each person unique. Maybe you see a child on the merry-go-round at the playground who giggles uncontrollably on the swing set, or a man at the truck rental counter who licks the end of his pen every time he is about to sign something. Look for the little things that make the people around you individuals.

3. Observe, Write, Repeat

When possible, go back to the same places, around the same time, each week. You may get lucky and see some of the same people. Seeing a person buy the newspaper at the same stand four or five times in a row makes it possible to notice little things like how they fold their money, or what they do with their coffee while they are trying to juggle their change, the paper, and the hot cup. Observe, write, and then go back and do it again.

4. Mix It Up

Once you have a couple of pages of observations, cut up the pages and drop the pieces on the floor face down. Mix them up and then turn a few over. Look at the combinations of habits and traits that you have selected. Maybe you chose “always wears baggy clothes”, “only eats apples”, and “buys two copies of the newspaper each morning.” These are all characteristics that can be added to the people who inhabit your story, and if used properly, can also inform and affect the action of your tale as well.

5. Remember Who You Are Observing

Remember, these are real people you are observing, so try to remain objective in your observations and simply observe rather than judge. Even if you see someone very interesting, do not simply recreate the person on paper. It is very disturbing to recognize yourself in someone else’s writing. Mix up your observations and create new people, rather than simply “borrowing” the personality of someone you observe. The more creative you are in the development of your characters, the more successful your story.