Find the Hum - A She Reads Guest Post by Ariel Lawhon

Five years ago I stumbled across an article in The New York Post and I knew, after reading nothing but the title, that I had a novel on my hands. Sort of like I knew my husband was the one. Not just a, “Hey, you’re kinda cute,” feeling but rather “This is going to be a long-term relationship” certainty.

But. There were issues.

The story didn’t love me back.

As a matter of fact it has a mind of its own. And the main character? Well, she’s a real piece of work. I don’t technically like her. Sure she’s a fascinating literary specimen, but I won’t invite her over for tea any time soon. Mostly she sits in her corner booth, leering at me. Smoking like damp wood and daring me to tell her story. Her name is Stella. She makes me itch.

And that’s where I’ve been, on and off, for the last five years. Poking this novel with a stick. Starting to write and then abandoning the draft, instinctively knowing that I’m off target.

So last month, after eulogizing my third attempt (read NaNoWriMo fail), I went back to my premise – that seed of an idea that keeps me committed to this novel – and I started asking, “What if?”

(Had I read John Truby’s book, The Anatomy of Story, years ago I would have started with that step.)

I filled up four notebook pages, front and back, with “What if” questions. And then, about the time my hand started to cramp, something fell onto the page.Almost as if my pen spit the idea out by itself. I stood back and blinked at it for a moment.

What if this is more than a murder mystery? What if this is a novel about the secrets women keep?

My synapses began to fire. Two additional characters that have lingered around the periphery stepped into the light, shook my hand, and took their places at that corner booth (Stella was none too pleased but I don’t care. She made room). And I understood how these three women are connected, to each other and to the story itself.

And there it was. That hum I’ve been chasing around the page for years. A sort of mental purr.

I say all of this for two reasons:
First, a good story can’t be forced. I am convinced, now more than ever, that a novel-in-progress is like a great marriage or a fine wine: it gets better with time.

Second, when you find The One – that story that makes your heart pound – don’t start writing immediately. Give yourself a chance to find the hum. And if your novel doesn't love you back, perhaps begin by asking, "What if?"

Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

When Katy asked in her excellent post on Monday what non-fiction books had moved us, I began to think about those which fool us into forgetting they are non-fiction at all. So I made a short-list, hoping you would add to it. I have not read all books on the list - and they aren't all in my TBR pile - but I have relied on reviews and recommendations also. Among them are award winners, required reading for school students, or have been made into movies, so the story elements are strong .

• Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand. I found it to be a seamlessly woven tale with properly fleshed out characters which had me cheering for the underdog at the end. I would read more non-fiction books if they were guaranteed to convince like this one.
• The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger
• In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
• Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson & David Oliver Relin
• Calico Captive by Elizabeth Speare (while technically historical fiction, it is based on an actual narrative diary written in 1807)
• Farewell to Manzanar by Jeane Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston. This one was listed as an 'autobiographical novel'.
  
• The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot
• The Diary of Anne Frank
• Catch Me if You Can by Frank Abagnale
• Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom
• Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt
• The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom, John/Elizabeth Sherrill

Again, we see the impact that can be made combining important issues with well developed characters, whether true or fictionalized. Can you add to the list? Or what issues do you think deserve to be set in story? We'd love to hear!

Subtext in Fiction

I hear it too - the swirling discussion that patters like rain on a roof - rain that never stops, though it may diminish to mist for a time, but will, invariably, begin to pour again. It starts in the book store or the coffee shop, or the writer's conference, or inside the pages of a book, and one person leans in to the ear of another and says, "Christian fiction?" And the answer comes, "What is wrong with Christian fiction?"

The question is so used now it's thread bare - but we use it still, because, most likely, no one has come up with a more useful answer. Recently I listened in on a roundtable discussion involving representatives from Christian retail stores. The host asked something like, "Is Christian fiction growing up?" The unanimous response was, "Yes!" (oh joy!) followed by a singular punctuating voice that said, "Finally!" (oh dear!)

It made me wonder, "How do they know? By what standard are they measuring this perceived maturation?" I've asked around, and while there is general agreement that the quality of Christian fiction is on the rise, no one could put their finger on any one measurement. And when I stumbled on a possible answer for both the question and the reason no one can point to it, I had to smile.

I smiled because the answer is one of the most difficult things in fiction writing to talk about - subtext.

Subtext is more easily recognized by its absence - oh blah, the story is flat and cliched - than it is by its presence -the words lingered long after I put the book down.

What lingered? The tight writing? The apt similes? The arching metaphor? No, the subtext. Charles Baxter says subtext is ". . . the realm of what haunts the imagination: the implied, the half-visible, and the unspoken." He also uses the phrase, "unspoken soul-matter".

Subtext is created by crafting together elements of story which point to deeper meanings than what is being played out on the page. Elements such as staging, dialogue, description, inflection, irony - yes the very things we use to create plot, we also use to create subtext. And it is wholly intended. It is crafted, meant to be there, lingering below the surface, unexpressed but as solidly present as the characters themselves. They are the invisible threads that hold the story together, make it compelling, and give it meaning.

In Gilead, Marilynne Robinson creates John Ames, a Reverend, elderly and ill who writes to his too young son about his life in hopes of imparting something of himself to the boy who will grow up without his father. Listen to all that is not said here:

"And memory is not strictly mortal in its nature, either. It is a strange thing, after all, to be able to return to a moment when it can hardly be said to have any reality at all, even in its passing. A moment is such a slight thing. I mean, that its abiding is a most gracious reprieve."

The unexpressed yearning in this short passage caused me to lower the book to my lap and stare out the window, thinking for a long time. It made me want to call my children in from the backyard and hold them.

There is a small but growing number of Christian fiction writers who have allowed their theology to move from obvious and stated, to the realm of subtext where - though whispered, and even unspoken, it speaks to the the soul of the reader with great efficacy.

It is difficult to discuss sub-text, but that shouldn't stop us trying. Can you point to a book that has lingered with you - spoken to you in whispers? Can you point to a scene in a book that spoke of something with such clarity without actually speaking of it?

Writers, how have you begun to use subtext in your writing?

Tag Team Post - Bonnie and Kathleen- Will Write for Love

We're talking about story this week on Novel Matters - the ones that mattered to us growing up, the ones that matter now - and the ones we are hoping to find in the future.

Reading engages us, shapes us and our culture. We know this to be true. But why? Why does it have such powerful sway over all of us? Well, according to Ray Bradbury the answer is: Love and vomit.

Kathleen says: Bradbury's little chapbook, Zen in the Art of Writing, was the first book on the craft I ever loved, and it's still a favorite. In it, he writes, "Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spent the rest of the day putting the pieces together."Messy writer, isn't he? But what about those authors among us who carefully plan their stories before they write a single paragraph? What do explosions and vomit have to do with an outline?

Bonnie says: Explosions have everything to do with writing – outlines, plots, voice, characters, you name it. The explosion of self, the intentional dissection of what it means to be human, to feel, to die, to love, to suffer alone is daily in the life of a writer. Ray Bradbury speaks eloquently of the vomiting mess, the explosive chaos, the dizzying heights of love as the essence of writing because writing is, at its heart, the rendering of bare truth told in the most universal way possible. Writing a story takes courage, because it will always out you. It will always shine light on the buried source of that which makes us human. That is why we must write what we love. We couldn’t bear it otherwise.

Kathleen says: So even if you plot out your novel before you start writing, you can still spill your passion all over that plot. The key is, don't think. Just on paper, do a Jackson Pollock with your impulses, thoughts, ideas. Get angry. Get ridiculously joyful. Cry your private tears in public. What does your character do next? Quick, quick: what's the wildest thing she could do? What is the one thing that everyone says, "Oh no. No, no, not that! Noooo don't do that." But they secretly hope she will.

The story is the framework for how we organize and talk about the human experience. It's the frame that forces us to make sense, make connections, make magic on the page. The raw material for story is your own story - which, when turned into artful prose, becomes everyone's story.

The Life Stages of a Reader

How have your reading preferences changed over your lifetime? Can you see some sort of growth or development in the choices you've made?

I once heard Leif Enger relate the inspiration for an integral part of his novel, Peace Like a River. His four-year-old son, John had wanted to know how the book was progressing. Enger answered it was going well, and was then confronted with a boy of four's next most logical question: "Got any cowboys in there yet?"

Thus the birth of Sunny Sundown, the epic poem woven throughout the novel.

It starts in childhood, doesn't it? This hope that the new book will be filled with beloved heroes and thrilling surprises. Think of the the time you were nestled on a soft lap, waiting to be both dazzled and comforted with a new - or familiar - mix of character, setting and plot. Do you remember the first thing you hoped for, in those earliest days?

Will there be magic? For me, the burning question was, "Will you crack the lid of my little life wide open and show me that the things in my hands, that my hands themselves can do wondrous things?" And so the grownup person reads to us Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson.

Will there be cowboys? We get a little older, and we want more. We want to see ourselves in heroes larger than life, handsome, beautiful, brave, and always triumphant over the bad guys. Our parents read to us an illustrated copy of J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan. We take the book into bed with us, and we pour ourselves into its pages.

Will there be wonderful settings, unforgettable characters? Somewhere along the line we start wanting to travel - not to Neverland, but to real places we've never been. And for the trip, we want a best friend, someone so like us we wonder if the author's been talking to our grandparents. We pick up Lucy Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables and imagine we've found our kindred spirit.

Will there be nuance and complexity and importance? We enter high school and we think we know so much. We've learned life can be dark, that good doesn't always triumph, and if we're really intense, we feel ready to take on the important things. I was intense. My son is more balanced, so I'll have to tell you what I read at this stage: Franny and Zooey by J.D. Sallinger.

Can we just lighten up already? We grow up. We have kids of our own, and jobs, and bills. Life is heavy enough, thanks, so let's just read something light, shall we? We choose a story that will make us laugh, will move us to tears - but only the kind we cry at weddings, never funerals. Something like Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

Will there be nuance and complexity and importance? Okay, maybe the kids start school. We start to watch the news again. Sooner or later, we're up for a bit more oomph. We don't mind shedding tears over the genuinely tragic, we don't mind fleshing out the deeper issues. Maybe we read The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.

Will there be wonderful settings, unforgettable characters? We catch on that settings don't have to be beautiful or even foreign to be compelling, and that characters can be heart-breakingly complex and still be our best friends. In fact, by their complexity they actually enter into our lives and change it forever. We read, perhaps, Leaving Ruin by Jeff Berryman.

Will there be cowboys? Can it be? Can a story take us on a steeplechase, and also plumb the depths of human experience? Can a novel be fun, and convicting and deeply affecting all at once? We read Enger's Peace Like a River and we know it can.

Will there be magic? Here we are again, back where we began. We know there is something more than the characters we meet, the places we travel, the issues we probe. It's hidden in all of these things, but we can't quite name it. We want so badly to touch that deeper world that shimmers in the air of our triumphs and heartaches. How can ink on a page, a story written by humans help us find it? It's a mystery, dear readers, but may I suggest, perhaps, River Rising by Athol Dickson?

I can tell I'm already in trouble here. The guys are going to gag at Anne of Green Gables and make cracks about canned testosterone. Some Jane Austin groupie is going to think I've implied Pride and Prejudice lacks nuance and complexity. (Not a bit of it.) Still others are going to tell me they progressed quite differently through the literary world. Oh please, do tell. We want to know the books that have mattered to you, and when, and why. We're writers, after all, and for us this is valuable information. We covet your thoughts.

We'd like to welcome and thank some new followers: Loren, Brenda, Ty, LL Hargrove, Krishna Chaitanya, Tracy, Stina Rose, Grace Bridges, Tracy Ruckman, Steve Grove, Kathi Macias, Tiffany Stockton, Mott, Don Thomas, Cherri, Macromab, Carla Gade, Susan Storm Smith, Kathleen Y'Barbo, Beecher M, Pen & Inklings, Laura Davis, Brenna, Kellie, Cynthia Ruchti, Lipstick & Laundry, and blueeyedchic. We look forward to your comments.


The Making of a Phenomenon

Every few years a phenomenal work of film or literature comes along to the great applause of consumers. There are two such works in the publishing world today: The Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer, and The Shack by William Paul Young.

The Shack has sold nearly 4 million books since its release last year, while the Twilight series was the biggest bestseller of '08, selling 40 million books worldwide. The four books of the series held the top four spots on the '08 USA Today year-end bestseller list, the first time a single author has accomplished such a feat. Editor Megan Tingley said as she read Meyer's manuscript she knew she "...had a future best-seller in her hands." Meyer was given a $750,000 advance for her debut novel, and I'm willing to bet a lot of money went into the marketing and promotions of Twilight.

Theology aside in both cases, neither Twilight nor The Shack are particularly well-written books. The Shack, a self-published, self-promoted book, would clearly benefit from the help of a good editor. Twilight received mixed reviews for its literary quality. "Natalie Pompillo of the Philadelphia Inquirer said Meyer "loves adverbs, adjectives and any word that can stretch out a sentence." This in stark contrast to Mark Twain who said, "If you catch an adjective, kill it."

And yet, The Shack is such a phenomenon that Patrick O'Hannigan has written a book called The Shack Phenomenon! What makes books of less than stellar quality soar to such heights? If it's clearly not the quality, it must be that STORY trumps CRAFT. And, mostly, I get that. I can stay with a not-so-perfectly-written novel if the story grabs me, easier than I can stay with a novel that uses the English language superbly but doesn't engage STORY to its fullest effect.

But how does such phenomenal popularity happen in the first place? The Twilight series has a huge online fan community that has greatly contributed to its cult-like popularity and success. The Shack began to spread by word of mouth, and then by its controversy. The Internet has certainly changed the way we get the word out, but can any good story generate the buzz necessary to come even close to these staggering heights? If so, how does it get started?

Finally, I wonder, are one or either of these hugely successful books destined to find a place among best-loved literature for years to come? Or are they a comet of success -- blazing hot one moment, then gone? I'd love to hear your opinion.