Showing posts with label The Opposite of Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Opposite of Art. Show all posts

Monday, August 27, 2012

Guest Author Interview with Athol Dickson

As you've learned by now, this year Novel matters is asking the question "Why does the novel matter?" We're asking this of ourselves, and of you our readers. We've also asked a few special authors to tell us about the novels they write, how they go about writing them, and why the novel matters in their opinion.

We are privileged to present Athol Dickson, author of The Opposite of Art, the Christy-Award winning River Rising and The Cure, as well as his non-fiction The Gospel According to Moses.


Novel Matters: Your latest novel, The Opposite of Art, includes an indepth knowledge of the world of art, and of painting in particular. What is your art background?

Athol Dickson: My mother was a good artist, and saw artistic potential in me when I was young, so she enrolled me in private art classes. I also took all the art classes available in the public schools, and then went to college to study fine arts for two years before transferring to architecture. My wife and I collect art, mainly oils and pastels. I used to paint a lot in my spare time, but that stopped when I started writing.

NM: When you did paint, what were your subjects, and what medium did you prefer?

AD: I worked in acrylics. I painted landscapes, still life, and portraits. I'm a much better writer than painter, which is why I focus on novels now. But I'm still passionate about paintings. Nothing inspires me to write more than a visit to a museum where there are paintings by great masters.

NM: This is the first of your novels that draws on your talent for painting. What was the seed of your story idea for this novel?

AD: I don't remember where this idea came from, but one day I suddenly started thinking about what it would be like if the greatest painter on earth saw God's face in a near-death experience and came back to life determined to paint what he had seen. It seemed obvious to me that no painter who ever lived has been that good, so I wondered how his failed attempts to paint it would change him and what he would paint in the end.

NM: What did you gain from writing The Opposite of Art?

AD: It's something of an epic story, spanning 25 years in a man's life as he travels across four continents. It was good to find out that I can write that kind of scale. It was also lots of fun.

NM: What do you want readers to take away from reading this novel as well as your other books?

AD: My first goal in every novel is to entertain.

NM: Sorry to interrupt, but all too often that's not an answer you hear. Authors, particularly Christian authors, tend to speak about a "higher purpose" or a particular message they want to get across, and we understand that. But if a novel doesn't first entertain, those other things won't be accomplished.

AD: I agree. I first want readers to have a great time. After that, if my novels bring new ideas to mind, if they make you think about things in new ways or open up a part of life you haven't considered before, then that's all the better. In this case, I think The Opposite of Art offers some valuable insights on the fact that we were created by our Creator to be creators.

NM: If this were an audio interview, that would be a great soundbite.

AD: That's a huge part of what it means to be made in the image of God, and it carries huge responsibilities, which many of us fail to understand. What is creativity about? What does it mean that it comes over us sometimes as a kind of urge, like our desire for food or sleep or sex? Why do so many of us resist that urge, or pretend it isn't there? Is there a proper way to respond to it, and is there a wrong way? These are just a few of the questions that The Opposite of Art explores.

NM: Having read the novel twice, I feel the depth with which you explore these issues through the storyline makes this a very thought-provoking novel. The affect it has on your protagonist -- which both kills and gives life -- is profound. Which novels have informed you as a writer over the years? In what ways have they influenced you?

AD: Thornton Wilder's work taught me not to worry so much about what "they" say, because he very often broke the rules, yet his novels are just wonderful. Gabriel Garcia Marquez just blew my mind with his One Hundred Years of Solitude. It's the finest novel ever written in my opinion, and he opened my mind to the fact that the novel is uniquely qualified to weave the spiritual and physical realities of life together. I also owe a lot to Flannery O'Connor, who showed me it's okay to make characters larger than life, and to Walker Percy who showed me readers will follow along with you if you think deeply.

NM: If you could sit down with any writer in history or living today, who would it be and why?

AD: Someone else asked me this same question earlier today. I'll answer the same way. I'd like to spend time with Ernest Hemingway, to talk him out of suicide.

NM: That's really a great answer. There are so many unanswered questions that surround the lives of any number of artistic masters whose work we've had the privilege to enjoy.

AD: Whenever I read Hemingway's novels, that fact is always a shadow of sadness in the background.

NM: Getting down to the specifics of your own writing style, do you outline your novels before you write, or are you a feel-your-way-through kind of writer?

AD: Mostly I outline, although it's really more of a list of scenes.

NM: Which comes first for you: plot, characters, themes, or something else?

AD: I've started with all three of those things. But wherever I start I soon switch over to thinking about one of the others. For me, they're so interwoven it's impossible to think of stories without bringing them all along at once.

NM: What is the one non-writing thing you do that helps you be a better writer?

AD: Road trips help a lot. They get me out of my rut and help me remember how big the world is. Also, going to art museums, which always inspires.

NM: How are you navigating the changing tides of publishing?

AD: I've decided to jump in with both feet. I've created my own imprint, Author Author. I have an excellent cover designer; a developmental, line and copy editor; an interior designer (what used to be called a type setter); and an outstanding publicist who is working nearly full time for me. Author Author is publishing the re-release of four previously published novels, in electronic and print editions, which I'm calling "The Christy Series" because two were finalists for that award and two of them won it. They each have new covers and new forewords or afterwords, and I've done major rewrites on all four of them. All the characters and plots are the same, but what I've learned has guided thousands of subtle changes I made to these four books. In some cases, I've also made larger revisions, such as combining scenes or changing the order of them. They are much improved versions of the original award-winning editions.

NM: Week before last, Latayne's and Debbie's posts on Novel Matters dealt with the changes that have taken place in their writing because of what they've learned along the way. I doubt there's an author alive who wouldn't rewrite every book they ever published, given the chance. You're making your own opportunity, and we applaud you. What is the worst piece of writing advice ever offered to you and why?

AD: They say the theme "must" arise organically out of the characters and plot. I think that's one way to write a novel, but definitely not the only way. Sometimes characters and plot can arise from theme. All that matters is how the novel reads in the end. It can't be preachy, which is why they give that advice. But it also can't be superficially driven by too much attention to action without underlying purpose, or dreadfully boring because of droning on and on about a character back story. There are many ways to write an awful novel.

NM: (laughing). Can't we all attest to that?

AD: The preachy-ness of an overbearing theme is only one of them. And if we say we "must" write in a certain way to avoid preachy-ness, we open ourselves up to the same mistakes in other areas. There's no such thing as a great novel without a theme, therefore it's silly to insist that one must not think about theme when planning a novel.

NM: What is the best piece of writing advice you have to offer aspiring authors?

AD: Keep writing.

NM: Okay, and on that note, what keeps you writing despite setbacks?

AD: I was given a gift for this. It would be a sin not to use it.

NM: That's an honest answer, and that's much appreciated at Novel Matters. Our final question to every author we've interviewed this year is this: Why does the novel matter? How does Athol Dickson answer that?

AD: Art is one of the objective proofs that human beings have a soul or spirit, and novels, of course, are art, so novels matter for that reason, the same reason all art matters: novels prove we're made in the spiritual image and likeness of a Creator.

But I think novels have an added importance because of the unique way they communicate to us. Artists using other art forms either speak directly to us in a kind of conversation, or else they focus our attention on something external to ourselves and ask us to observe that external thing. Only the novel (or other forms of literature) allows the artist to insert us into the art itself by using the first person point of view. Only in a novel can we become a kind of proxy for the work of art itself. What I'm saying is that music, film, stage, dance and other fine arts may seem to draw us in, but in reality we always remain outside, observing. Only the first person novel can literally draw our minds into the art itself by allowing us to "see" with a character's eyes and "hear" with her ears, and "act" with our own hands. No other art form offers the same virtual reality of living as another human being, thus no other art form can instill the same intense empathy for others. Of course, not all novels are written in first person. But I think even a third-person novel has an advantage over most other art forms, because of the amount of active participation required of the reader.

NM: You've given a lot of thought to the importance of literature.

AD: I really have. Film makes very few demands on our imaginations -- almost every detail in them is actually seen or heard; whereas the vast majority of details in a story must be provided by the reader's mind. Music is essentially the opposite. It stimulates emotional responses based on indirect contact with memories or subliminal associations. So visual arts like film leave little to the imagination, while music provides little space for rational ideas. Third-person novels occupy a middle ground between the visual and audible arts, in which the writer can communicate specific truths on a rational level while also communicating subliminally with a reader's emotions.

NM: Athol, we so appreciate the depth you put into your answers for this interview. We wish you all the best as you move forward with Author Author.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Naturally Beautiful Novels

We have the distinct pleasure of having acclaimed author Athol Dickson as our guest today. This post originally appeared on Novel Journey on June 16. We enjoyed it very much and thought you would too. Our special thanks to Athol and Novel Journey for allowing us to republish it.

IT'S EASIER TO WRITE ABOUT BEAUTY than it is to write beautifully, because the difference between good craftsmanship and beautiful writing is something like the difference between goodness and morality.

Consider C.S. Lewis on that topic:

"Morality is a mountain which we cannot climb by our own efforts; and if we could we should only perish in the ice and unbreathable air of the summit, lacking those wings with which the rest of the journey has to be accomplished. For it is from there that the real ascent begins. The ropes and axes are 'done away' and the rest is a matter of flying" ("Man or Rabbit?" God in the Dock, p. 113, Eerdman's, 1970).

Beauty is goodness, and like the ability to be good, the ability to write beautifully is a gift which can't be earned, or learned. Some authors are able to take off from the summit of good craftsmanship and fly; it's as simple and mysterious as that.

But although there is an aspect to beautiful writing which we cannot teach, all beautiful novels share certain common qualities which are worth examination.
Following are seven characteristics of a beautiful novel:

Hope

Beautiful novels often take us deep into the darkest corners of the human condition, but in the end, they usually leave us with a sense of hope. This is only natural, because hope is one of the primary purposes of beauty.

In The Divine Conspiracy, Dallas Willard writes, ". . . roughly speaking, God relates to space as we do to our body. He occupies and overflows it but cannot be localized in it."
This means every beautiful sunset, every beautiful flower, every thing of beauty which exists is a manifestation of God's spirit in creation. As divine manifestation, natural beauty of every kind whispers the glorious truth, "We are not alone so be of good cheer; there is hope." And in one way or another, the most beautiful of novels all say it, too.

Symbolism

Our minds initially respond to beauty on a subliminal level. We sense the beauty of a sunset as a feeling before we become consciously aware of it as a fact. This is why beautiful novels always speak to us on levels deeper than our conscious thought.

The main way novels do this is through symbolism, because symbols are the language of the human mind. Everything processed by our brains is classified, memorized, and organized through symbols. Even the language that we use is composed of symbols (the words and letters I am writing now).

In beautiful novels, very little meaning is limited to the obvious. Characters stand for good or evil. Settings stand for peace or persecution. Events stand for destiny or chaos. When such things act, speak, or occur, or when the story passes through them, our subconscious attends to it with deep-seated emotions, which arise before we are aware of them as facts, exactly as we might respond to sunsets or any other manifestation of natural beauty.

Simplicity

Beauty demands our attention. How many times have you "missed" a beautiful sunset which was right there before your eyes, simply because you were distracted? This is why beautiful novels are inevitably simple.

I don't mean beautiful novels don't have complicated plots or complex characters. I mean the story is presented in a way the mind can follow without losing track of all the elements that make it beautiful.

Craftsmanship accounts for much of this simplicity. Extraneous adjectives and adverbs are shunned. Pointless repetition of ideas is avoided. Each new idea builds logically on what went before, and establishes a context for the ideas that follow in an unbroken chain which guides the mind effortlessly through the fictive dream.

Of course, there are dozens of other "rules" designed to simplify the reader's experience with good fiction. Beautiful novels are simple in the sense that they are easily read, but as every novelist knows, to write simply is anything but easy.

Rhythm

There is a rhythm to all that's beautiful in nature. Tides. Waves. Heartbeats. Seasons. Beautiful novels pay attention to the force of rhythm. They align themselves to it with cadenced syllables and words.

The novelist who writes beautifully is constantly aware of how her words will "sound" in her reader's mind. She reads her work aloud, and if it does not flow with poetic meter, she may insert a comma just to slow things down, even though the technical rules of craftsmanship might forbid it. She may select the longer of two synonyms just to add the extra syllable. She gives her mental "tongue" a moment's pause between her vowels by adding consonants or punctuation or a paragraph return.

Beautiful novels also align rhythms with ideas. If the action is dangerous or rapid, sentences are shorter. Often incomplete. Words are shorter. Syllables are shorter. Then the rhythm might be broken with something longer, just to put the reader off balance. No effort is given to similes.
Thus the reader senses urgency and haste. But if the time has come to slow the reader down and give a sense of peace, sentences and words and syllables may stretch out on and on with repetition, flowing one into another, each opening the way for what will follow like a river winding through the countryside. In these ways, a beautiful novel reflects the way rhythms speak to us in nature.

Intuition

As I mentioned earlier, natural beauty first approaches us subliminally, usually as a feeling of joy and delight. Only then do we think about a sunset rationally. And much as symbolism allows readers to tap into the subconscious nature of beauty without fully understanding what is happening, so authors who write beautiful novels make countless creative choices they cannot logically explain.

This is true on the macro level, with choices about characterization, plot direction, and so forth. It is equally true on the micro level, with particular word choices made to support a particular mood or atmosphere within the reader's imagination.

On what basis is one word chosen over another with the same meaning? Although logic often fails to explain the choices, the choices are effective. Consider for example the following synonyms:

Fecund versus fertile
Nude versus naked
Dank versus damp
Ruddy versus scarlet
Stout versus strong

A novelist capable of producing beauty will sense that the words listed on the left belong together in one group, and the ones listed on the right belong to another. The novelist knows this, but it is not a rational kind of knowing. That is why it cannot be taught. It is known tacitly, or intutitvely, and beauty in a novel comes in part from paying close attention to this intuition.

Variety

Everywhere we look in nature we see incredible diversity. No two snowflakes, stones or blades of grass are identical. This too is part of natural beauty, and this too is reflected in beautiful novels.
Tragedies have comic moments. Comedies have serious morals. Characters behave against type. Plots take minor detours. The noun precedes the verb in two sentences, followed with a verb before the noun in a third. A paragraph with three longish sentences is capped off tersely with one word. Paragraph and chapter lengths are unpredictable.

These choices are not practical. They don't improve the quality of communication. They save no time. They are done for one reason only: beauty demands variety.

Echoes

Humankind's first experience with natural beauty was in a garden. We were banished from that garden, and humanity's history is the story of our longing to return. These facts are imprinted in everyone's imagination, believer and unbeliever alike. The proof is in the way the pattern of returning reappears in every novel we call beautiful. (It's also found in all great music, but that's another story.)

We see this echo in the repetition of certain words throughout beautiful novels. We see it in the way some events are brought back to the surface through characters' memories or flashbacks. It is in the way symbols reappear over and over, and in the way the same descriptions are applied first to one thing, and then to another.

A question asked in the first scene is asked again three hundred pages later in the final paragraph. An image seen when we first met a character is seen again when that same character departs the stage forever. Words spoken in one situation are repeated verbatim in another, with the double power of a new meaning in the second situation, and the harkening back to what they meant before.

By echoing the beginning in the end, a novel can awaken memories of primordial beauty with a whisper to our subconscious mind, "Turn back. Turn back. Turn back to the garden."

Athol Dickson is a novelist, teacher, and publisher of the DailyCristo website. His novels transcend description with a literary style that blends magical realism, suspense, and a strong sense of spirituality. Critics have favorably compared his work to such diverse authors as Octavia Butler (Publisher's Weekly) and Flannery O'Connor (The New York Times). One of his novels is an Audie Award winner and three have won Christy Awards including his most recent novel, Lost Mission. His next story, The Opposite of Art is about pride, passion, and death as a spiritual pursuit. Look for it in September, 2011. Athol lives with his wife in southern California.