Showing posts with label Roy Peter Clark. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Roy Peter Clark. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

White Space: Literature as Visual Art

Literature is art. It is art after its own kind, just as painting is not sculpting, and music is not dancing, but each form contains at least a few elements of the other kinds of art in its composition, literature borrows elements from other art forms and folds them into useful writing practice. In this way, literature is visual art. The ways the words are arranged on the page are as much a part of the story as the characters, setting, and themes. And so we borrow the lessons of art, we borrow white space.

White space is exactly what you think it is, the empty space around the words on a page, more specifically the space between paragraphs. 

We are used to applying and understanding white space in poetry.

Poetry, by Marianne Moore

I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle.
   Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in
   it after all, a place for the genuine.
      Hands that can grasp, eyes
      that can dilate, hair that can rise
          if it must, these things are important not because a

high-sounding interpretation can be put upon them but because they are
   useful. When they become so derivative as to become unintelligible,
   the same thing may be said for all of us, that we
     do not admire what
     we cannot understand: the bat
       holding on upside down or in quest of something to

eat, elephants pushing, a wild horse taking a roll, a tireless wolf under
   a tree, the immovable critic twitching his skin like a horse that feels
                                                                                      a flea, the base-
   ball fan, the statistician--
     nor is it valid
         to discriminate against 'business documents and

school-books'; all these phenomena are important. One must make a
                                                                                                  distinction
   however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the result is not
                                                                                                                poetry,
nor till the poets among us can be
  “literalists of
  the imagination”—above
          insolence and triviality and can present

for inspection, 'imaginary gardens with real toads in them', shall we
   have it. In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
   the raw material of poetry in
               all its rawness and
              that which is on the other hand
                 genuine, you are interested in poetry.

Prose can make equal use of the tool. Peter Roy Clark, the author of several books on writing says it this way, “White space is the most powerful form of punctuation,” said the author who includes an exclamation point after the first word in the title of his latest book. “Without it, the text looks dense and impenetrable.” 


White space is a visual rest for the reader, a break in the long line of text, but it is not arbitrary. It is the marriage of narrative content to visual appeal. The dance of what it expressed in the story and what is excluded. White space is often the visual representation of what was left unsaid in the scene. Sven Birkerts says it this way, "I feel like a downer suggesting that limit, constraint, and the compulsions of the unknown - the excluded - are the true foundation of narrative art.  So much art is a matter of calculated emptiness -gaps- that excite the reflective sensibility."

White space acts as a gavel of sorts, adding weight and meaning to the last word in a paragraph. In his books Orality and Literacy, Walter Ong argues that print "both reinforces and transforms the effects of writing on thought and expression." If this is so, then the break between paragraphs, between scenes, and chapters serve as more than stop signs, a signal that something has ended, but more of an oasis, an invitation to the reader to respite, reflect, and ponder the meaning of what they have read.

Consider this pair of paragraphs from Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann:
Laugh, Claire. Let it out.
A good doctor. He would not let her take pills. Try each day just to laugh a little bit, it's a good medicine, he said. Pills were a second option. I should have taken them. No. Better off to try laughing. Die laughing.
The use of white space is minimal, but the paragraphs break of like chiselled brick and hint at Claire's pain more deeply than the words themselves. 

White space can be used to build suspense and tension in a story. It's use is tantamount to squeezing the hand of the person next to you in the movie theatre. A wordless summary that, yes, things are about to get worse, and a space for the reader to anticipate just how conditions will worsen. 

Dialogue is one way to create white space, but, it's the paragraph that truly creates white space that readers can wade into, splash around, and stay awhile before moving on deeper into the prose. Spaces between paragraphs allow the reader, in a single glance, to have faith in the page they are about to read, or, conversely, when faced with a dense page of words, to put the book aside until a time when they can wade deep and long.

The page is the writer's stage which must be dressed, designed, and populated in visually diverse and interesting ways. 

Writer challenge: Skim your work, page by page without reading the text. Are you using white space artfully? Is the page too filled with short, choppy paragraphs that allow for no deep swimming? Is there page after page of long, dense lines without many breaks? 




Monday, February 13, 2012

Writing Rules Don't Matter.

CONTEST REMINDER: We think pretty highly of the novel around here, and from your devotion to reading and developing craft, it's clear you do too. We're dedicating this year to answering the question: Why does the novel matter? Answer that question with panache and you just might win a Kindle Touch. Read rules here.
~
Writing is words rather than paint on the canvas. Art created with pen rather than brush (oh, okay with computer). It is the burden of the artist-writer to be clear about meaning.

And there are rules for how to do that. Rules of writing. Rules of expressing the human condition with clarity and depth of meaning.

Writers sometimes complain about these rules. How they are too rigid and interfere with the creative process.

Maybe. But, honestly, I don’t think so. How do we get away from the fact that the art of writing is governed by the rules of language? And the really funny thing about these rules—they change.

Oh fickle finger of fate. Okay, not fate so much as us and our fickle way of talking. We change and our language changes with us, sometimes in spite of our best efforts. Have you read Dickens lately? Austen? Oh so very different from today. Multiple POV, sometimes within the same sentence. Tsk tsk. Modern no-nos, but back then it was the norm.

I suspect one of the reasons writers squirm under the pressure of writing rules is because they are so shifting, so uncertain.

So, what if we decided to forget about rules and focus instead on tools?

This is more than a semantic difference.

Rules tell you that you can't run in the hallways. Tools suggest that, should you find yourself in a hallway, there are numerous and various way in which you can choose to travel it. Rules set the boundaries (the hallway is this wide, this long), tools help you decide if you will take on its length on foot, in a canoe, or riding a giant ice cube sliding down a plastic tarp.
The more writing tools you own, the less the constraints of rules matter to you.
Your job then becomes to get to know your tools intimately so that you are able to choose which is the best one for any given job.

In Roy Peter Clark’s book on writing called Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer, he outlines four basic sets of tools every writer should master:

1. Nuts and bolts: working at the word, sentence, and paragraph levels.
2. Special effects: tools of economy (a cherished commodity in the world of modern publishing), clarity, originality, and persuasion.
3. Blueprints: organizing and building stories.
4. Useful habits: routines for productive writing.

What I like about these tools is while they suggest a need to respect the rules, they are more focused on keeping the creative juices flowing and producing a work of excellence than on ensuring the writer adheres to a checklist.

Art isn’t close your eyes and create. We know this. Art is hard work, dedicated time, and great effort. Having a full toolbox helps us in everyway. Sure, we know the rules. Now, which tool do we have at our disposal that will set the rule on fire? That can blaze a trail so deep and wide that the rules are rewritten? (Insert evil grin here).

Is there a writing rule that imprisons your writing in some way? Are you sensing it’s time for a trip to the metaphorical hardware store? Have you found a tool that helps you “put the screws” to the rules? Share! As always, we love to hear from you.