Jean Wilson Murray

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Why Reading Inspires Me as a Writer

by Jean Murray Leave a Comment

"Ray Bradbury (1975)" by photo by Alan Light. Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons
“Ray Bradbury (1975)” by photo by Alan Light. Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

What inspires you to write, to write better, to write more? For me, it seems there are three reading experiences that inspire me: reading great writing, reading interesting stories, and reading writing how-to books.

In this post, I’m going to focus on the first: great writing.

Ray Bradbury says, rather emphatically:

“I absolutely demand of you and everyone I know that they be widely read in every damn field there is; in every religion and every art form and don’t tell me you haven’t got time! There’s plenty of time. You need all of these cross-references. You never know when your head is going to use this fuel, this food for its purposes.”

All the great writers say you must read, read, read. Some examples I’ve come across recently:

Reading Great Writing

A new novel by a previously unknown writer, Christopher Scotton, who was discovered by Hachette (see, there’s hope for all of us!). His novel is The Secret Wisdom of the Earth, a coming-of-age story that’s reminiscent of To Kill a Mockingbird, Stand by Me, and a little of Deliverance. What first caught my eye was the language. Some examples, gathered from random pages:

I was up Monday morning before Pops, just as the sky was beginning its run to purple and blue. I put on a full pot of coffee for him and sat at the kitchen table until he woke–coffeepot dripping and spitting as the first yellow light from the east fired tops of the Medgar mountains. Then stirrings from upstairs and the creaking of floorboards under weight.

(from the first page, but not the first paragraph):

June was midway to my fifteenth birthday and I remember the miles between Redhill, Indiana, and Medgar, Kentucky, rolling past the station wagon window on an interminable canvas of cornfields and cow pastures, petty towns and irrelevant truck stops. i remember watching my mother from the backseat as she stared at the telephone poles flishing past us, the reflection of the white highway line in the window strobing her haggard face.

(I’m not sure if “flishing” is a typo for “flashing” or an invention, but I’ll give him credit for a new word.)

We walked over to a corner [of the attic] piled with fishing rods, discarded creels, an old baseball bat, and various retired sporting equipment: Pops’ high school football helmet, an ancient leather fielder’s glove with none of the fingers linked. I tried to put it on, but the leather was unforgiving….I wandered over to a light-blue and yellow trunk with ARP written in gold lettering under the hasp. inside was my mother’s high school career. Her yearbook from senior year, a prom picture, sheaves of A-plus papers, class president certificate, first copy of the school newspaper she started, founding president of the Student Volunteers. All of her teenage accomplishments compiled before me like an old newsreel.

I also noticed in these cases how Scotton shows instead of telling. It’s one of the important things we ingest when we read great fiction.

Here’s another example, from The Gift of Rain by Tang Twan Eng, a lyrical, poetic novel. It begins:

I was born with the gift of rain, an ancient soothsayer in an even more ancient temple once told me.

This was back in a time when i did not believe in fortunetellers, when the world was not yet filled with wonder and mystery. I cannot recall her appearance now, the woman who read my face and touched the lines on my palms. She said what she was put into this world to say, to those for whom her prophesies were meant, and then, like every one of us, she left.

(skipping a paragraph)….The day I met Michiko Murakami, too, a tender rain had dampened the world. It had been falling for the past week and I knew more would come with the monsoon. Already the usual roads in Penang had begun to flood, the sea turning to a sullen gray.

Notice how Eng sets a mood immediately, how he establishes the place and the tone. And you know exactly what the book will be about – the author and this Murakami person. And, of course, rain. When I began reading, I settled back immediately with a sigh of contentment. And I wasn’t disappointed.

I also want to note how the author makes every single word count. Not one could be removed without altering and diminishing the power of the story. This is great writing.
Finally, and certainly not last, my favorite book of 2014, and one I have re-read and given to others to read: All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr.

The story is about the experiences of two young people during World War II. One is a blind French girl; the other is a young German soldier. They meet in the town of Saint-Malo, as it is being bombed by the Americans.

From the prologue:

At dusk they pour from the sky. They blow across the ramparts, turn cartwheels over rooftops, flutter into the ravines between houses. Entire street swirl with them, flashing white against the cobbles. Urgent message to the inhabitants of this town, they say. Depart immediately to open country.

The tide climbs. The moon hangs small and yellow and gibbous. On the rooftops of beachfront hotels to the east, and in the gardens behind them, a half-dozen American artillery units drop incendiary rounds into the mouths of mortars.

What a great beginning! It really grabs you as a reader. Doerr took ten years to write this novel, and it’s just about perfectly written. In another place, chosen at random:

Werner walks home oblivious to the rain, trying to absorb the immensity of what has happened. Nine herons stand like flowers in the canal beside the coking plant. A barge sounds its outcast horn and coal cars trundle to and fro and the regular thudding of the hauling machine reverberates through the gloom.

See what I mean? “Nine herons” (sounds like haiku, doesn’t it?) and “the regular thudding of the hauling machine…” One more – you really need to read this book:

Marie-Laurie wakes and thinks she hears the shuffle of Papa’s shoes, the clink of his key ring. Fourth floor fifth floor sixth. His fingers brush the doorknob. his body radiates a faint but palpable heat in the chair beside  her. His little tools rasp across the wood. He smells of glue and sandpaper and Gauloises bleues.

Read excellent fiction. Don’t read junk; you won’t learn anything from reading junk, and you’ll absorb the junk and think it’s okay. It’s not; not all fiction is NOT created equal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: For Readers, The Writing Life Tagged With: All the Light We Cannot See, book review, fiction writing, novel writing, Ray Bradbury, writing advice, writing tips

Nora Webster – A Novel that Doesn’t Follow the Rules – Or Does It?

by Jean Murray Leave a Comment

Nora Webster, a novel by Colm Toibin, doesn’t seem to follow the rules for novels. But, as the NY Times Book Review notes, this is a “deceptively quiet drama” that drew me in and forced me to keep reading to the end. In my recent reincarnation as a budding novelist, I have found myself analyzing other novels to see if they follow the path set by strict constructionists like K.M. Weiland and Larry Brooks.

If, at the surface, this novel is just “about” the life of a 40-something woman living in Ireland in the 1960’s going through the first years after the death of her husband, and not about some heroic journey or struggle, why did I like it so much and why did it keep me reading?

1. Nora Webster (the character) is appealing. I sympathized with her plight and wondered how I would respond to the death of a spouse. After the funeral, she must deal with nosy neighbors who come unannounced to offer sympathy but really to have someone to gossip about.

Nora also must deal with friends and relatives (including her own children), who want to give her advice or criticize her decisions. Nora seems to be suggestible, making decisions without much thought. She is convinced by relatives to sell the family’s summer home. Although initially, she doesn’t sound convinced, she makes an instant decision when she visits the home and realizes it will provide her with much-needed income.

Nora is also dealing with the memory of her husband, who, she admits, was liked by everyone. Her family liked him more than her, and she must figure out new relationships with these people.

The NY Times book reviewer called her “icy” and says she is “distant and sealed off,” even with her children. This writer obviously has never had a spouse or loved one die. I felt she was in shock and dealing with her grief, which left little room for her children.

Nora is forced to take a job after she had loved being at home and married. Her job situation sounded pretty awful, and she again gets swept along in events without much thought. I thought a number of times as I was reading this about the advice often given to the bereaved, “Don’t make any big decisions for a year after a loss.”

Nora’s story ends three years later when she seems finally to be coming out into the light after the darkness of her grief.

2. Nora’s story is interesting

Ever since I read Larry Brooks’ books (Story Engineering and Story Physics), I’ve tried to analyze novels for their structure. Every novel focused on a main character should have some kind of “hero’s journey,” either external or internal. In an internal struggle situation such as this book, the character should show progress toward some kind of realization.

Nora’s struggle is quieter, as she tries to move forward day by day, dealing with family situations and work situations and financial situations. Her struggle did keep me reading, to find out what was going to happen to her and whether she was going to get her life together and become independent, if not entirely happy.

A novel should also have high points, “pivot points” as Larry Brooks calls them, at defined points throughout the novel. In the case of Nora Roberts (the character) the high points are not readily apparent. So I looked at the book and tried to find the 1st pivot point (at 25%) and the midpoint (at 50%) to see if the story structure was apparent.

The 1st pivot point comes as Nora and her sons visit her sister and her family. Nora asserts her independence by not going on the family outing and increasing the heat in the fireplace. It sounds like a small thing, but it’s a victory of sorts for Nora, who never has been assertive.

At the midpoint, Nora goes to a meeting of workers and votes for a union, without consulting anyone or thinking it over. It seems she is again asserting herself, making her own decisions, when in the past she would have asked the opinion of her husband and others. This decision ends up with some serious repercussions for Nora, as her employers find out about the union and are very upset.

As I said, there’s nothing terribly mysterious or suspenseful in this story. No dramatic ending, either. It’s just the quiet story of a woman. I think that’s why the author chose the name of the book, and why he refrained from another title.

So, can a quiet book that doesn’t have any particular drama make readers want to keep reading? Yes. Even though I recognized that Nora Webster wasn’t going to be plot driven, I was drawn into Nora’s life and wanted to know that she would survive, become stronger, and make a better life for herself.

Sometimes the exception is just an exception.

 

Read my Goodreads review of Nora Webster.

Filed Under: The Writing Life Tagged With: book review, Colm Toibin, K.M. Weiland, Larry Brooks, Nora Webster, NY Times Book Review, story structure

Book Review – The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert

by Jean Murray Leave a Comment

My Goodreads Review of The Signature of all Things by Elizabeth Gilbert. I gave it 5 stars, which is unusual for me. It’s the best book I’ve read in a while and it captivated me and made me think.

I admit I never read Eat, Pray, Love; personal memoirs don’t interest me much. But when I heard that Gilbert had created a work of historical fiction I was fascinated. I was definitely not disappointed.

Read other reviews of this book:
  • Gilbert Puts A Novel Spin On Love And ‘All Things’ Botanical (npr.org)
  • Book review: Elizabeth Gilbert’s sprawling, enchanting “Signature” (denverpost.com)
  • Author Elizabeth Gilbert Is Back With “The Signature of All Things” (wreg.com)

Filed Under: For Readers Tagged With: book review, Elizabeth Gilbert, historical fiction, The Signature of All Things

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