INSPIRATION

Here is a rerun of a post from 2013 by one of our much-loved and now departed members. We miss you, Alex. Your presence is always felt.

By Alex Raley

We look for inspiration when we write.  We look for inspiration when we write. Often it comes out of the blue or from the pleasant and interesting things going on around us. A couple months ago, I found myself with my head against the wall waiting for the 911 folks to arrive and wondered why I had put myself in that situation. In the hospital and on my way to recovery, I began to think of all the experiences a hospital brings: some debilitating, some embarrassing, and some just downright nasty. With the right attitude they can be funny. I began to think poetry as soon as I settled down in hospital routine (meals to the minute, vital signs as soon as you fall asleep, the day’s date with nurse and nurse tech names, shift changes with new names, morning doctor visits. I imaged everything poetically, including the 911 activity. When not interrupted by hospital routine, I was constructing poems, poems much too bawdy for a blog but poems that will eventually see the light of day. Does that seem odd?

 Do not let experiences pass by you. Even the most unusual or gruesome can be an inspiration to write. I had never thought of gruesome as an inspiration, but I cannot tell you how my mind raced once I wandered into the groove. Now that I am at home I need to hit the computer and put those bawdy poems to paper.

Inspiration

Here's a blast from the past : a previous post from Alex Raley, a member who's no longer with us. You're never forgotten, Alex.

By Alex Raley

                                             y                        We look for inspiration when we write. Often it comes out of the blue or from the pleasant and interesting things going on around us. A couple months ago, I found myself with my head against the wall waiting for the 911 folks to arrive and wondered why I had put myself in that situation. In the hospital and on my way to recovery, I began to think of all the experiences a hospital brings: some debilitating, some embarrassing, and some just downright nasty. With the right attitude they can be funny. I began to think poetry as soon as I settled down in hospital routine (meals to the minute, vital signs as soon as you fall asleep, the day’s date with nurse and nurse tech names, shift changes with new names, morning doctor visits. I imaged everything poetically, including the 911 activity. When not interrupted by hospital routine, I was constructing poems, poems much too bawdy for a blog but poems that will eventually see the light of day. Does that seem odd?

                                                                       Do not let experiences pass by you. Even the most unusual or gruesome can be an inspiration to write. I had never thought of gruesome as an inspiration, but I cannot tell you how my mind raced once I wandered into the groove. Now that I am at home I need to hit the computer and put those bawdy poems to paper.

Inspiration

By Alex Raley

                                                                     We look for inspiration when we write. Often it comes out of the blue or from the pleasant and interesting things going on around us. A couple months ago, I found myself with my head against the wall waiting for the 911 folks to arrive and wondered why I had put myself in that situation. In the hospital and on my way to recovery, I began to think of all the experiences a hospital brings: some debilitating, some embarrassing, and some just downright nasty. With the right attitude they can be funny. I began to think poetry as soon as I settled down in hospital routine (meals to the minute, vital signs as soon as you fall asleep, the day’s date with nurse and nurse tech names, shift changes with new names, morning doctor visits. I imaged everything poetically, including the 911 activity. When not interrupted by hospital routine, I was constructing poems, poems much too bawdy for a blog but poems that will eventually see the light of day. Does that seem odd?

                                                                       Do not let experiences pass by you. Even the most unusual or gruesome can be an inspiration to write. I had never thought of gruesome as an inspiration, but I cannot tell you how my mind raced once I wandered into the groove. Now that I am at home I need to hit the computer and put those bawdy poems to paper.

What Is Poetry?

By Alex Raley

Often people, even in our writer’s group, say they don’t understand poetry, or they know nothing about poetry. How can that be? Recently, I took the time to read definitions of “poetry” from different dictionaries. They were remarkably similar. They included such things as words, sounds, meter and verses, but none of them defined poetry as rhymed verses. Perhaps that is because up-to-date dictionaries tend to define words the way they are currently used.

I particularly like a definition of poetry from Merriam-Webster: “. . . writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm.”

Edward Hirsch, in his introduction to Contemporary Poetry, says “Poetry is a stubborn art, and the poet is one who will not by (sic) reconciled. Who refuses to vanish – to let others vanish – without leaving a verbal record.”

Think about that for a moment. Isn’t that what we do when we set about to write fiction or non-fiction? We may not be looking for rhythm, but we search for the words to describe the exact experience we have in mind whether that experience is from our lives or from an explosion in our imagination. How often do we write and rewrite to assure that the experience will not vanish but will live in words we have chosen? How often is our fiction filled with unintended poetry?

As Hirsch said, writing poetry is not easy. Don Marguis said, “Writing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.”

Nevertheless, we keep turning experiences into words, either as poetry or as fiction and non-fiction.

Several writings read in our group are filled with poetry. One with a mother, who will not give up her long wait for her son, expresses her hopes by talking about her grandson. I have taken the liberty of putting it in verse form:

     That darling boy is my grandson

     And a godsend.

     And when my boy Dobey shows up here,

     That child is gonna pull him back

     Into the real world

     In a heartbeat.                                                    

Another writer ends her book about a female who finally escapes from her island of despair:

    In the expanse of water,

    The air seemed easier to breathe,

    Above them the moon was ending its journey.

    Stars seemed to fade away.

    . . .

    The island gradually disappeared

    And with it, Master Goodwin.

As to meaning in poetry, I think that is the rose petal we keeping waiting to hear echo in the canyon of our minds. I heard a lecture/reading by the well-known poet Galway Kinnell. He said that he is often asked to reveal the meaning of a poem. His stock reply is, “. . .shall I read it again?”

I challenge you to drop rose petals as you write. You might just hear an echo even in your fiction.

Bio-Fiction

By Alex Raley

From time to time, most of us have been drawn to write a something based on our own experiences. I have often been so tempted. The results are usually disastrous. What you get, one might title “bio-fiction,” which is a beast to handle. I am not talking about a memoir or historical fiction. Those are totally different with their own problems.

Early in my writing I tried a story that I hoped would become a novel. I was actually writing my own history. As I wrote, facts were pouring onto the page. Conflict was nonexistent and there was no story line to guide the reader, just a series of events. “Boring” does not begin to describe the results. Fortunately, the effort never saw the light of day. In moving everything from an old to a new computer the bio-fiction piece flew into space to await an alien to decipher it. Even with her three eyes, she will not find anything there.

Sometimes a real event does click, but you do need a thought line that gives substance to your writing. My wife and I sat in the garden reading the morning paper. My wife said, “Look at that little creature.” There was something smaller than a midge moving across the paper. I took that situation and wrote a poem in which I posed a series of thoughts that interested me. The poem won an award. Who would think that a small creature could become a poem?

Bio-fiction should not be confused with non-fiction which usually is a well-organized telling of an interesting event or an essay in which personal thoughts are presented and developed. I like to read essays by good writers, because you can learn so much about writing, Essays need the same intensity of focus found in good fiction. Good essays are highly organized and have the climax of good fiction.

When my son and his wife had their first child (an adorable girl), I chose to write a non-fiction piece to remind him of many things I wanted him to hear once more. All the events in the piece are true, but they are organized to lead to the final paragraph (not unlike fiction). I began by opening a box in the garage which had been there since he was nineteen. All the items in the box led to an expansion of the story. That piece was published in a literary journal.

At the beginning of this blog I related how poorly my early writing dealt with personal stuff. I even coined a word to describe those efforts, “bio-fiction.” I still have massive failures writing stories from personal experiences, but sometimes I seem to be successful. How does that happen? I read. So much can be learned from reading.

Read. Help stamp out bio-fiction.

A Tome, Extensive Research and a Good Story

By Alex Raley

Big books were the norm in college and graduate school.  I also read such books for pleasure, but as I moved forward in time I found tomes rarely held my attention.

Recently a friend passed on to me a novel of 847 single-spaced pages. How could I tell him that I don’t read tomes? I kept it for six months without opening the cover. Then in January, 2012, I realized that I was 80 years old. To read the book might take the rest of my life. I knew I’d better get on with it.

I found myself buried in a page-turner: Stephen King’s 11/22/63. Why was this book gripping my mind? On the surface, the novel did not appear to be worth 847 pages, but an analysis of how King kept my attention began to turn up some answers:

·        The novel has a theme that is always present, though, its pinnacle is close to the end of the novel.

·        There are several subplots that are interesting in their own way. King weaves them into the overall story and theme.

·        The characters in all the plots are skillfully drawn.

·        Details flow as easily as the dialogue. In fact, most of the story and details are moved forward by dialogue.

·        The novel takes an almost overworked time-space-travel idea and makes it a great tool to address King’s philosophical stance.

·        Yes, King is philosophical here. He poses the question of whether we should tamper with destiny, even if this were possible. He takes his main character back in time-travel several times before he takes a firm philosophical position, which piles on more intrigue for the reader.

·        The work is based on an amazing amount of research. So much research that one has to forgive an occasional mishap. King can afford a research assistant, but he also visited many of the sites himself.

·        11/22/63 has plenty of gory actions to please all King lovers. For those who don’t like gore, the final trip back in time erases most of the blood and guts. You are left with only a memory of the gore.

We have all been surfeited with how-to workshops, but I found that a reading and analysis of King’s novel gave me examples to hang my hat on. This was not someone telling me what to do but my own examination of a successful author’s work. I tried the same examination on the work of a little known author. I easily could see why he is little known.

The next time you are tempted to pay for a how-to seminar, try reading and analyzing the work of a good author. It’s cheaper, and you might even be entertained while you are being informed. 

POV and All That Stuff

By Alex Raley

Very early in my writing fiction, POV jumped up to challenge me. There was a constant battle between us. There was a story to be told. Who cared from what head it came? Finally, truth began to rule: the reader gets thoroughly confused when many voices try to tell the story. If not a tower, a book of Babel contorts the story. The reader is left to sort out the confusion or to take to the shelves for another book if he doesn’t have an e-book reader. All this can leave the writer a Prisoner of Viewpoint, while being prodded by colleagues to control the POV. Do we give up or find a solution?

Dwight Swain suggests that the purpose of viewpoint is to get the reader into the skin of the character. The reader then sees and feels everything as the character does. This lets the reader become attached to the character. The bond that is established, whether of admiration or revulsion, drives the reader to stay with the story. Many writers are successful in telling the story only through one person’s eyes. This doesn’t mean that there are no other characters in the story, but they exist only as the main character sees, hears and reacts to them. Any interpretation of what is seen and heard from the other characters is in the imagination of the main character and the reader.

For many writers, secondary characters are as important as the main character. That presents a host of possibilities and pitfalls. I began a novel that is still in progress because I realized that the story would make no sense at all unless the reader knew the inner thoughts of several characters. After trying many approaches, I settled on giving each important character a complete chapter, actually several chapters for the two most important characters. One of the problems with this approach is to have a smooth transition from one chapter to another. This became my nemesis. I tried writing transitions which simply added unneeded words. The next try was to pick chapter titles that would indicate the point of view. Some novelists have done this quite well. I zeroed out.

Then I read Tom Franklin’s Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, a 2010 New York Bestseller and Edgar Award Nominee. Franklin has two main characters. Each character has his chapter at the appropriate times. The chapters are simply numbered. Readers know in whose skin they are by the way Franklin jumps immediately into the chapter with the character in action. What does this say to me? Get in there and make each chapter do its part to tell the story and make each chapter interesting by itself,

Coming of Age

By Alex Raley

I recently made a trip with folks who kept referring to me as “sir.” Most of the people were well past fifty years. This was a simple gesture of courtesy on their part, but it spoke volumes to me. Am I really a fossil as my grandsons delight in calling me? Am I beyond elderly? Is my fatigue due to aging and not carousing? I do know that in recent years I have begun to think of my life as having a stopping point, though that may be twenty years from now or it could be tomorrow. Such a thought never occurred to me thirty years ago. I was too busy with career and family, too busy with life.

What has all this to do with writing? This new view of life has given me a new perspective on writing. I no longer write because I think my writing is publishable. Writing is just a natural process, like breathing, sleeping, eating, thinking, talking and all the other things we do routinely. This does not mean that I will stop submitting things for possible publication. It means the rejects will be less important.

Age has also given me a unique view on publishing. With all my years of reading, I have come to know that publishing is more accident, or whom you know, than a sign of quality. I have just finished reading Super by Jim Lehrer. On his or her worst day, any one in our workshop writes as well, or better, than that novel. The real story of the novel barely would make a short story, and the remainder of the book is filled with interesting stuff, but not for a novel. One can only surmise that Lehrer can get something published on his name alone.

In spite of these thoughts of age, I still know that the unexpected does happen. In a recent prayer-breakfast speech, Randall Wallace, script writer, director and producer, told the story of his being near bankruptcy. After some soul-searching, he wrote Braveheart. Though I don’t expect to write a Braveheart, I will keep my eye open for the unexpected. Who knows what may lurk around the corner even for a fossil.

In the meantime, I will enjoy the youngsters who stand to offer me a seat on the Newark Airport bus transfer from Terminal C to Terminal A, the young man who offers to help me lug my wife’s carryon up a stair at Tel Aviv, and the many persons who ask, “How are you doing?” as we trudge over Masada. Maybe there is a story or a poem somewhere in all that solicitation.

My advice to you is to keep writing and submitting, but to relax and enjoy what you do. Fossilization creeps up on you.

Is Less More?

By Alex Raley

When I began writing fiction, I tried to include every thought, detail, and event that could possibly be related to the story and much that was not related. Dialogue was filled with things said that had absolutely no relevance to the story. Obviously, repetition crept in on kitten’s feet with tiger paws.

That same tendency to tell all carried over to my poetry; however, poetry taught me that less really can be more. For example, one of my early poems had over forty lines. After many revisions I finally have something that speaks to me. It is only twenty-two much shorter lines. Did I lose anything that I wanted to say? No. I have something that punches out exactly what my soul feels about an event that has hung in my memory for over sixty years.

I am not talking about brevity, which is another matter altogether. T. S. Eliot took twelve pages (more or less, depending on how it is printed out) to give us the classic “The Waste Land.” He even uses repetition – repetition that drives home his thought. An example is found in the section of the poem where he ponders the bareness of no water. “If there were water / And no rock / If there were rock / And also water /And water / . . . Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop / But there is no water.” Every line in Eliot’s poem moves his thoughts forward.

If you want both brevity and sharpness of thought, I invite you to read Galway Kinnell’s “Promissory Note.” In thirteen brief lines he captures the essence of one who knows he will precede his loved one in death and who exacts a wonderful promise from that loved one. There is no way to retell the poet’s thoughts. You can only experience them by reading Kinnell’s poem.

Though I am suggesting that the unnecessary be eliminated from writing, in the real world there are many examples of tomes being successful. My daughter introduced me to “The Girl” trilogy by Stieg Larsson. When I looked at reading five to six hundred pages per book, I thought, this is insane. What I experienced were exciting page turners. Sure there is repetition that comes primarily from constantly changing from head to head depending on whose version of the event you are hearing, and Larsson does love to tell the reader everything. But you find yourself enjoying all of it. I pondered why? I think it boils down to a compelling story, unlike anything we have read before, with good sequencing, and strong, ongoing suspense and expectation.

So, unless you envision yourself as another Larsson, work on eliminating the unnecessary. I might even suggest that you read some contemporary poets to see how they distill their thoughts into succinct lines. Poetry can inform fiction about unnecessary words. Try it.

The Curse of Concrete/Sequential

By Alex Raley

My twelve-year-old grandson just finished a workshop in creative writing as a part of the University of South Carolina's Carolina Master Scholar program. After the first day, I asked him whether the workshop was what he expected. His response was negative. A bit surprised, I asked him what he expected. He said, "Boooring!" I said, "It isn't boring?" "No, it is so fun. We wrote about twenty short poems and prose pieces." I ignored the "so fun" nonsense and pondered writing "so much" in a group setting. His group kept that pace for five days. Of course, they met from 8:30 to 3:30 with a lunch break.

Groups are inspiring to me. I get excited on hearing the work of members of our writing group. Even reading books on writing is helpful and goads me to get to writing more. Attending workshops on writing provides me with lots of fodder for thought, but rarely do I produce something in the workshop that excites me. I suppose my mind just doesn't work that way.

For most of my life I have thought through scenarios in my mind before beginning to write. That may have come from the many essays I had to write throughout my school career--essays that had to have well-defined theses and a sequenced development of those theses that would bring you to logical conclusions. Do you suppose we are wired before birth to be concrete/sequential or random access? If so, lucky is the writer of fiction who is wired as random access. Fiction is about life and life is not concrete/sequential.

Recognizing my bent to think concrete/sequentially and paying homage to that bent for its contributions to me throughout my school years, especially graduate school, I set about remaking myself. One of the things I did was to use every opportunity to jot down bits and pieces of scenes and experiences without tying them to other thoughts that might try to drive them to a logical end. I also approached reading differently. I chose books that did not feed my bent to the logical. Even mysteries, which must be built with a good measure of logic, lead you down many unexpected paths before finally confronting you with what you logically should have expected.

Writing poetry also has helped me. Poetry is built on unexpected interesting images drawn into the vortex your writing. The idea of poetry enhancing fiction is for a later blog.

Can you still expect to see me in writing workshops? Count on it. I love the camaraderie of and conversation with other writers. Now that's where random access resides.

Advice Is Where You Find It

By Alex Raley

I recently attended a lecture by Claudia Brinson, a senior lecturer in English at Columbia College. A journalist for 30 years, Brinson’s accomplishments include an O. Henry award for her short story “Einstein’s Daughter” and a Pulitzer Prize finalist with her State newspaper colleagues for Hurricane Hugo coverage. What I remember most clearly about Brinson’s writing as a journalist is that it read like a good story, perhaps even a section of a novel. Nevertheless, its purpose was to report.

As she talked of her approaches to journalism, I realized that she was giving advice for all writers without regard to purpose or genre. High on her list is to write for the readers. As you write, keep in mind what the readers would want to know. Put them in the center and help them see and know what you see and know. Also important is to do thorough homework. Know the facts and figures that surround what you are going to write about. I suspect that when we begin writing fiction we are too often guilty of beginning the writing without thorough preparation.

Brinson cautioned us to observe in detail the surroundings of an event. She told us of an interview with a well-known politician in his home. She observed that the room’s bookshelves were filled with religious books. She learned that many persons in his family died early deaths. He felt that he was living on borrowed time. This information from observations and questions gave her a unique insight as she pursued her story. You may ask how this relates to fiction writing, but I suggest that we might consider constructing in-depth knowledge of our characters before we begin writing our story. We might even do a scenario of the home or place of work of a character to give him a firm setting. This could help as we develop that character throughout our writing.

As Brinson read portions of her articles, we became well aware that the stories had an emotional impact on her, as well as the listeners. During the question period of the lecture, she was asked how she handled emotions during her writing. She admitted to us that she often had deep feelings about situations as she pursued her stories, but when she sat down to write, she put her emotions aside. In writing fiction, we often work with stories that are rooted in some specific event we have experienced. We should be careful to take Brinson’s advice and put our emotions aside as we write. Perhaps we do that best when we write what readers want to know rather than what we want to tell.

I did not attend Brinson’s lecture for a review of writing skills, and I suspect that she did not intend to give such a review, but there it was, clear as a bell. Have you had such an unexpected experience? They just happen, don’t they?

A View Point on Point of View

By Alex Raley

Just when I think my brain has finally gotten a grip on writing, something jars the hold. Early in my writing attempts I heard repeatedly that writing in the first person, especially long pieces like a novel, was so difficult as to be avoided at all costs. You know the problems – how do we avoid portraying only one dimension of a situation? whose head are we in? how do we give the reader a glimpse into the feelings of the various characters?

While on vacation recently, I read five novels which were published within the last five years. All of them used the first person singular. In each case, there was a hint of memoir, but you knew that this was not the recounting of facts from someone’s life. There was a compelling story to be told and enjoyed. The story was filled with interesting descriptions of places and events. Most remarkably, “I” appeared just often enough to remind you of who was telling the story and, in at least one case, a principal character was not the narrating “I”.

At our state conference last year a reviewer told me that my short story was about the male character and not the female character. I had tried to make the female the main character. While the reviewer did not specifically tell me to let the male tell the story in first person, I said, “Umm.” The rewriting is going smoothly with the fearsome “I” occasionally presenting problems. Now if I can just write with a minimum of “I’s”, I may be able to make the story what I want it to be.

Another dictum for us as writers is to make sure that the reader knows who is your main character. That does not seem too complicated, but I have found myself trying to write a novel in which several characters are “main.” It was important to me that the reader know the feelings and thoughts of several people who were affected by the story. Letting the principals each have a section of the book in which they were portrayed seemed like a reasonable solution. I was well into the process of redirecting the novel, when I read Orpheus Lost by Janette Turner Hospital. In that wonderful book, Hospital even helps the reader by giving chapters the names of characters so that we know the seminal person or event.

We are always told that writers learn by reading. This summer I have reaffirmed that notion. Looking for help? Read, read, read.

On Writing Groups

By Alex Raley

During our last writers group meeting, I realized that I am the oldest person in the group, by both years of age and by years in the group. You might ask why I am still in a writers group. Have I not learned to write? Oh well, I suppose passing a writing test is not beyond my abilities. But, the group is not about learning to write. Most of us write fairly well, thank you.

The writers group helps me make my writing more interesting. Group critiques are honest and to the point, the point being to truly communicate and hold the interest of a reader. There is a bountiful supply of diverse thinking in the group, so there is always someone who clicks immediately with what I write, but if just one person seems to miss what I intend to say that is a good reason to take another look at the writing.

The diversity of age in the group sometimes points you in a different direction, or supports what you have written. The group read a poem I had written about the regimentation we build into the lives of children. In naming such events in the poem, I asked what child needed a project on PowerPoint. One reader said that was too adult, but, before I could explain that my second- and fifth-grade grandsons had just completed PowerPoint assignments, the younger folks jumped in to say that children are indeed dealing with PowerPoint in school. And, of course, I love to hear the wise, calm voice of an elder in the group when the younger folks are railing for more action, more detail.

We recently had a new person visit us. He said that he had sent a manuscript to an editor, or agent, who responded that the story did not have a narrative curve, or some such name for the peak in a story, which usually occurs just before the writer pulls all threads of the narrative to a conclusion. I would say to that visitor that we may not be able to give you a well-written definition of the narrative curve, but, through the thoughtful and caring responses to your writing from our group members, you will develop your own narrative peaks and writing style.

Inner Thoughts and Writing

By Alex Raley

When you are reading an interesting novel, do you wonder what philosophical underpinnings feed the story?

I find myself deeply, perhaps too deeply, involved in the why of what I write: not just the telling of the story but the thinking which lurks behind the words and seems so impossible to put into appropriate dialogue and action. This haunts me even when I am doing expository writing.

Recently I found myself revising the by-laws of a club. Rather straightforward stuff – who, what, when, and how; nevertheless, I found myself dwelling more on the why of a change than on the simple task of rewriting the by-law to reflect the why. Does this make sense to you? Am I the only person who rummages around, hung up in the why process rather than telling the story?

I have just finished reading The Shack by William Paul Young. The book is full of homespun philosophy, or should I say religion? The author avoids the agony of dealing with his “whys” separate from his story by spinning them within the story itself. Although his themes are told in a clever way, his approach is too simplistic. The themes become almost trivial.

I began to wish that he had been able to reveal his thoughts in less overt ways, and I longed for the chance to figure out for myself the meanings. My analysis is that the novel is less interesting for the very reason that the author makes his philosophical thoughts his story. When stripped of the philosophical themes, there really is not very much story. Even the story we find does not rise to the level of writing we expect of published authors. For example, there is one glaring, though brief, change in the point of view of the story.

My inner thoughts will continue to inject themselves into the process of my writing. However, if I can find the way to keep them in the background and reveal them in interesting action and dialogue, there may be an interested publisher. But, there remains the nagging question. How did The Shack get published?

Conferencing Is Fun and Helpful

By Alex Raley


Great conference. Well organized. Good presenters. Wonderful critiquers.

Jeanne Leiby is a certifiable personality, vivacious, but to the point. She critiqued my short story from a fully edited manuscript. I knew she had read every cotton-picking word. Leiby even googled some information to check on the year I used for an event. She thought I used a wrong year. Of course, she was correct. Her remarks were helpful, and she did all of this without making me feel I was not a writer.

Forrest Gander pulled no punches within his calm personality. One is immediately relaxed with him. He had copious notes on all six of the poems I sent him. Again, I knew he had read and considered every word. He occasionally put a line beside a passage and wrote simply, “Alex.” I can still hear him say, "Alex, Alex, do you really think we will let you get away with this after those two strong opening verses?" This was a nice way to point out what he thought was strong and what he thought was weak. I definitely will be working to create those stronger images.

I must say that my day was made when someone walked up to me and told me how much a poem I read on open mike had meant to him. The catcher? I read the poem three or four years ago.

Conferencing is fun and helpful. I highly recommend it.

Thoughts on Writing

By Alex Raley

Faced with the frustrations of writing, I ask myself, "Why write?" Does anyone care that I write; aren't there legions who write better; is there anything new to say; shouldn't craft be perfected before writing is attempted; and what will become of all those printed words anyway? Shouldn't trees be saved and this nonsense of words on paper be stopped? The simple answer is that I cannot stop. My writing is not an addiction. Writing is my sustenance. I write to sustain life, to assure myself that I am here, that something in my life has meaning, if only for me.

My writing comes primarily from my own experiences or observed experiences, though one soon learns that writing stalls if it only retells the facts. Even memoirs need the emotional impact of the writer's imagination in pulling facts together in an interesting, cohesive manner. This is clearly demonstrated in Antoine de Saint-Exupery's Wind, Sand and Stars and Francine du Plessix Gray's Them. These authors' imaginations construct such powerful words that we flip pages as much for the writing as for the story.

Fictional writing is not so much a retelling of experiences as it is the creative reconstruction of experiences, often experiences not related in any way. Recently, I began a story with a prompt given to workshop participants. The prompt related to nothing other than the dialogue that arose from working it out. Later I tied the prompt dialogue to a fictional situation, one all of us have experienced or witnessed many times, in which the protagonist angers his wife by flirting with a beautiful female at a party.

When the wife reacts negatively, the protagonist decides he will do the walk if he is going to get all the talk, but then I was stuck. Where would the story go from that point? A visit with friends caused me to remember a situation in which the wife of a guy we knew left him for a woman. So I finished my story by having the beautiful girl take off with the protagonist's best friend's wife. In some manner, each element of the story is from my experiences. I tried to bring them together in a new way.

Writing poetry comes from my love of word sounds. From the time I was old enough to remember, there has been a word of nonsense syllables that rings in my ears. The word, if it is a word, seems to have no origin, except in my head, but I love the sounds. They excite me.

Poetry wants to clip along with interesting sounds, creating rhythms and cadences of their own, but poetry also wants to speak to that indefinable something deep within us that makes us who we are. I struggle to bring these elements together, most often without success, but the need for sustenance is strong. I cannot stop writing.

Alex Raley

Alex is a retired educator living in Columbia, SC. He earned degrees from Troy University, University of South Carolina, and Columbia University. His wife, Arletta, shares his passion for family, friends, church, and literature.

Alex’s poem, “Boxes,” was selected as Best of Issue for Catfish Stew, 2006. His poem, “The Cocked Hat,” was published in The Petigru Review, 2007 “These Old Hands” in 2008 and “Expectation” and “The Encounter” in 2010. In 2010, his poem, “Choices,” received Honorable Mention in the Carrie McCray Memorial Literary Awards. His short stories have also been published in Catfish Stew and The Petigru Review.