Throughout my writing career I’ve written or some other creative writing off and on from music video treatments and screenplays to novels, short stories and poetry. Along the way, I’ve made about every mistake you can make, learned some great tricks, had great successes and a few white whales I can’t seem to conquer.
The most important thing to know as a writer is that you have to write, a lot. Write every day, every morning, write when you’re on a break at work, write before bed, write at lunch. Scribble the words on napkins, in journals and into your writing program of choice.
The one resource that I really love is The Lie That Tells A Truth by John Dufresne. No other books has had the impact this book has had on how I approach the craft of writing fiction. His book is full of great information, first-hand examples of how he tackles tough writing challenges and best of all the book makes for a great read. Dufresne’s style is funny and personal. He writes like he gives a damn. And, he knows what hell he’s talking about.
If you write, read this book. Of course, do it while writing. Read it in the nooks and crannies between putting ink to paper (or font to form?) and I think you’ll find that the insights will give you fuel, help you find certainty and just enough hubris to do the unthinkable: write a novel.
That’s my plan. I will write a novel this year. I’d hate to let John down.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Awesome, I look forward to reading your novel!
Dufresne’s book sounds good, too. I’d like to check it out… after I’ve gotten through the over-sized stack of nonfiction I’ve already committed myself to (it’s getting out of control, must start finishing some of these books before adding more). I’m interested in being better at writing fiction, but I also wonder how his suggestions/recommendations/what-have-yous could be applied to writing music. Do you think it could be applicable in that context?
Thank, Dan. And yes, he has insights I’m sure would be applicable. Like the Synaptic Theory of Composition which suggests that what you leave out of your narrative is vital to its success. The empty spaces create the need for participation in the imaginations of the readers. They fill in the blanks, the empty spaces, the dark corners and help construct, along with the writer, the world in the story. This keeps readers from being passive observers.
Similarly, I’m reading a book now titled “In Pursuit of Elegance” which talks about elegance as a state achieved through symmetry, seduction, subtraction and sustainability. Elegant solutions – in story, music, architecture – all contain these qualities. And, again, what we don’t show, say, or see is vital to the aesthetics of the art.
Musically you can see how this applies. I think of Miles Davis. His spare style and deliberate phrasing left gaps, empty spaces in between the notes that are at times haunting.