GETTING TO KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW

By Sharon May

“Write what you know.” That’s maybe the most important and oft repeated advice for writers. Sounds easy, right?

While in graduate school, I tried to explain what it meant to be a woman in Appalachia to an acquaintance who was also born into an isolated, disenfranchised, impoverished minority. I gave examples of behaviors, and she responded that women from her culture were the same, no differences.  

I realized I had failed to find the words what distinguished Appalachians from other minorities. Basically, I didn’t know what I was supposed to know. After all, I’m an Appalachian woman, so I should know what it means to be one.

I had moved to Columbia the year prior to this discussion. Though I had been thinking about what being Appalachian meant for years, I had no perspective. I had not seen enough of the world, except through the media, to make comparisons and to help understand the complexity of my home.

Years in South Carolina have given me some perspective, but there is some overlap in Southern and Appalachian ways. I’m not moving away from Columbia, so I have to learn the distinctions via travel. Believe me, Peggy loves nothing better than traveling, which gives plenty of opportunities to explore the world beyond Appalachia and the South.

While seeing the world, I don’t act like a cultural anthropologist asking silly questions. I’m not writing a textbook. Obviously, the people I meet and the places I see give me ideas for characters and help with describing scenery. At times, I hear interesting phrases. All fodder for future works.

But to connect to my current work of Appalachian fiction, I need something beyond the obvious experiences associated with exploring new places. I need distance from my subject and time to reflect. I find the mountains relaxing but they are too much like home.

Like Herman Melville, I am more inspired by the sea. Unlimited free time to relax and pamper myself. I can reflect, take notes, read, write, and simply think. Best of all I can do this while staring at the water. It’s fine to take a few days at the beach to relax and come up with new ideas for writing.

But I discover much more about myself and what I know and what words to use to convey what I know when at sea on a ship with a waitstaff. I have no desire to actually work the seas as Melville did as a youth.

The open seas calm me even in rough weather. My mind can drift into the deep recesses of my memory, subconscious or unconscious. Imagination soars toward the unending horizons. My childhood home comes into focus, the tenor of Appalachian speech crystalizes, and I discover what I know. 

MEETING YOUR CHARACTERS IRL

By Kasie Whitener

Years ago, I went home to Northern Virginia over a school break and met my mom for lunch at Uno Pizzeria. It was on the corner of the most upscale shopping center in our area and it was one of my favorite places to eat.

I’d been away at college for a while and had been writing the novel that would become After December. I knew the story was about Brian Listo, a version of myself I felt confident sharing with others. He was arrogant, privileged, and good at everything he did. He also smoked and drank like it was his job and was kind of a slut.

I loved him. And he loved me back. Through the troubled years surrounding my parents’ divorce and the break-up of our family, when I moved away from Northern Virginia and only rarely went back, Brian was with me.

Imagine how it felt to see him walk into Uno Pizzeria.

As my mom continued talking to me, I watched Brian move through the bar area. Watched him greet his friends who did not resemble the other characters of the book. Watched him light a cigarette and take a deep drink from a tall beer. The afternoon sunlight played on the shades of dirty blonde and light brown in his hair. His grey gaze seared me from across the room.

Day drinking, flannel-wearing, ridiculously hot Brian stood just yards away.

Of course, it wasn’t him. Searing gaze aside, he was just some handsome college-aged guy that looked like he could have been Brian. To the one-raised eyebrow, he could have been him. But of course he wasn’t.

Neither was Josh, the actor who stood in my kitchen this week listening to me explain how Brian’s kind of an asshole. And how he’s trying not to be. You know, character arc and all that. Then Josh went upstairs, got in bed with Meli, and filmed the opening scene of the book for the trailer.

Being with an actor who is trying to learn more about Brian so he can accurately portray him was both terrifying and thrilling. Josh looks like Brian. Not as much as that guy in Uno 20 years ago, but a lot like him. And he’s handsome and he has a great smile. But as soon as he started talking, he sounded young. Like Millennial young, and I remembered the literary agent that asked me if After December had to be set in the 90s.

Yes, yes it does.

Josh is a good actor, he really is. Watching the filming of the trailer was awesome. Thanks to Fanatik Productions for putting it together.

Being in the same room with your characters is the ultimate thrill.

Next week we’ll be visiting those Northern Virginia locations where the book is set. Many, like Uno, are no longer in business. But I’ll go anyway. Be nostalgic for the 90s and hope I run into Brian Listo again. Of course, he’ll probably have his teenaged son with him.

OUTLINING the PANTSER

By El Ochiis

OK, I hate outlines, I would rather count sand in the Kalahari Desert, in lieu of sitting down and actually constructing one. 

“Think like an architect, a carpenter,” chided my English teacher. “Would you build a house without a plan?”  

“Yes, yes Mrs. Thronebush, I actually would,” I shouted without a thread of shame. With writing, I just jump right in and see where the story takes me. In the same vein, I’d build my house exactly the same way, buy the materials as I go along: art or writing studio space, area for sleeping, food preparation zone, a place to empty after eating and drinking, which may or may not be in the primary structure – one big room – a yurt. I could just add walls later, maybe. Then, I look at Frank Lloyd Wright’s houses. Seriously, Frank, you just had to go proving me wrong. And, don’t get me started with Frank Gehry, he’s like the Tolstoy of architectural prose.

I write from ideas and expand. Then, I go back and write the essentials that the persnickety ones have, probably, already done at the beginning. I am the backwards writer. This could explain my current lack of money producing, scribe status.  

But, lately, I have been paying more attention to the critics’ observations on two kinds of writers:  outliners and pantsers. Pantsers are individuals that would rather start a project without the slightest idea of how it’s going to go down, and Outliners like to have a clear image of their project before it starts.  If you haven’t guessed, I am, sort of, kind of, a pantser. I mean, I do begin projects without a clue of how they will progress, however, at some point, I stop and create a rough guideline, of sorts. I might be wrong, but this could explain why it takes more time than I have to complete said projects. My math teacher said my approach to logic was eccentric. I am sure it was just his polite way of calling me “weird”. You see, when I had to do math, I would use my left hand – to channel the side of my intellect that oversaw logic and analytic thinking – news flash: it did not increase my dismal geometry scores.   

Back to the outlining issue for which I began this piece. I have changed my point of view on the importance of outlining – “a change is gonna come.” Yes, me, the bohemian, plant-eating, non-conformist who once hitched a ride in a converted school bus from Oklahoma to a hippie commune in Tennessee – I think it was called the Farm. For all you pantser-scribes in arms, tie-dye wearing creative outcasts, here are some outlining tips from a bestselling writer, that even you should find rather easy to begin your novel:  

1. Plunge your main character into terrible trouble as soon as possible. (That trouble will mean something different depending on your genre. For a thriller, it might be life-threatening. For a romance, it might mean choosing between two suitors.)

2. Everything your character does to try to get out of the trouble makes it only worse.

3. Eventually things appear hopeless.

4. Finally, everything your character has learned through all that trouble gives him what he needs to personally conquer the opposition.

5. In summary:  Set the Stage, Organize the scenes (starting scenes – building scenes) and, troubleshoot your story outline.

This is a structure that will keep you and your reader engaged and insured against boredom. So, that’s how to outline a novel, whether you’re an Outliner or a Pantser.   

WORK In PROGRESS

By Ruth Saunders

My lighthearted creative nonfiction about growing up in rural, Lowcountry South Carolina describes experiences that have shaped me as a person with the hope others will find them entertaining. My goals are to put together a collection of stories for family and friends and to submit an electronic version to the Self-e Library Journal. This past year I have shared many of these pieces with participants in the Columbia II Writers Workshop and a manuscript consultant. The feedback and discussion have been beneficial and, in this blog, I share some of what I have learned.

· Reason 

Defining my purpose (why I am doing this), goal (what I am trying to do) and intended audience (who I am doing it for) serves as a guiding beacon that keeps me from getting lost on the long path to realizing the final product. I have also learned that the purpose, goal, and intended audience may evolve on the journey, and that is OK.

· Remember

What I write must be authentic to my memory and experience. Human memory enables us to carry the narratives of ourselves forward in time, helping create a sense of self. But our memories do not store an infallible record of factual events and not all memories are preserved. Those that are retained are malleable, revised over time with new experiences. My writing necessarily focuses on the memories I have kept and sculpted over time. Within these limitations, I do my best to stay true to my authentic experience.

· Research

I frequently request “memory assists” from my sister and brother, as we shared the setting and many experiences. My sister is also the family archivist, so she is my source on recorded family information such as names, dates, and other genealogical facts. I do internet searches to gather relevant background and historical information. I ask family and friends to read pieces to make sure the material rings true to them and to correct factual errors.

· Reflect 

I find it useful to reflect on memories, notes, flow charts, outlines, feedback, and early drafts. Taking time to think and to allow ideas to incubate increases the depth of the writing. I am beginning to identify and deliberately incorporate into my writing themes and images embedded in my experience. I enjoy this slow and exciting process of self-discovery.

· Review

By getting feedback from others I identify areas that need strengthening, rework the flow of the narrative, add detail and dialogue to make the piece believable and real, and work to make the stories entertaining to the reader.

· Write and Revise

Writing is not a series of ordered steps as listed above but is a cyclical process. I write and revise at every “step” and not necessarily in the order listed. “Steps” will be repeated as often as needed until I reach the final product.