Christmas 2011, Trinidad. Trincity mall was brightly decorated, busy with people, and she stood in front of a crèche, playing carols on double tenor steelpans that shone silver. She wore flat shoes, blue jeans, a black jersey and her hair down. She didn't smile. But the music came from a true artist. Between songs the clapping was scanty and her parents urged folks to buy one or all of her four CDs sitting on a low table they had made with the steelpan cases. After she finished a set of parang songs, the artist faded into the background, facing the crèche with a young man who never stopped rubbing her arm as if consoling her. In the foreground her parents engaged the few showing interest. If they sold half a dozen records they sold a lot. Then her father lovingly wiped and packed the steelpans and they left, clearly despondent.
I looked on with great interest because I was in the mall for the same reason: I was promoting my books on a table not too far away. I want you to wrap your head around this idea the same way it appeals to me: while I was there as an artist, I had an opportunity "as a person" to look at an "artist" sell herself, and wanted to observe what was working and what wasn't so, for future reference, I could adjust my behaviour, attitude and appearance based on her successes and shortcomings.
At the end of the show I didn't purchase a record although I had promised myself in 2008 to support fellow artists as long I had the money. I had the money. But I didn't buy. As an artist the young woman hadn't sold herself to me (the person). We hadn't connected. Looking back I'm terribly sorry I didn't, but at the moment I couldn't, I just couldn't, never mind she had won The National Youth Award for Music in 2011. I'm pretty sure that when I hear her music, the memory of her standing there, plain, nondescript, playing almost unhappily will come to mind, and I wouldn't want to hear another note. As I said in the short space of time we hadn't connected.
Then I got to thinking about how "people" view the artist and how this view makes or breaks the artist.
"How do people view themselves?" While it is an important question this has been addressed countless times, so I'll turn to "How do people see themselves in the company of an artist?" Oh boy. I'm thinking about sitting with Jit Samaroo, a legendary steelpan arranger. I feel p-r-e-t-t-y ordinary. I went to school with his son, Amrit Samaroo, and a couple years ago, at a Christmas function, he walked on-stage with a steelpan, elegantly dressed in tuxedo and bow-tie, played beautifully and left. Wow. The dazzling instrument, his skill, aura, everything made me feel p-r-e-t-t-y ordinary.
As you read, keep the title of this article in mind, for the goal of the artist is to never lift himself above, but set himself apart. The people who meet an artist have never even thought of doing such things, whatever it is, and if they have thought about it, they haven't done it, and even if they want to do it, they aren't doing it. So, naturally, they feel ordinary. They can't help it. And because they feel ordinary the artist becomes extraordinary. For Caribbean people many things go with extraordinary:
They want to connect with the artist, know that they're down to earth, familiar with their topic, funny or can smile easily, come from a decent home, can inspire children who have similar interests, easy going, brilliant but humble, care for people more than their work, willing to give talks on the topic even if it never happens, and will stand unwaveringly by what they believe.
Generally, artists hate such "trivialities". Especially the radicals and the "radicals". The radicals remain adamant about setting themselves apart based on ideology or dress. That's fine. But it's only going to capture a tiny audience and I'm willing to bet that the size of this audience isn't enough to survive or build a career on.
But these and other trivialities I haven't mentioned form the lens which people "view" the artist through and this view determines whether or not people support the artist. I want to believe that in the Caribbean the artist's character and personality eventually becomes more important than the art. Legions have shunned V.S. Naipaul for this very reason. The Caribbean artist must be an all-rounder. He or she must climb over the wall that represents their natural skill and, as an ordinary person, connect with extraordinary people.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Writing tips
[This article is a work in progress. These are tips that work for me. They are not here to convince anyone or contradict what the professionals say.]
I document writing tips on a whiteboard always within arm's length. My what if? questions that eventually become stories go here as well. The problem is my nieces and nephews erase the whiteboard on a daily basis. It's time to modernise. As time rolls by, I'll add and expand these points:
Limit the use of adverbs ending with ly. The adverb seriously cheats the writer. For example: The girl smiled flirtatiously. The reader "imagines" a flirtatious smile, sure, but the writer hasn't really thought about what qualifies the smile; perhaps she's biting her lower lip or, maybe, she tossed her hair back or tucked it behind her ear. So where would I use an adverb like the one above? I'll use it where I want to conceal a character that's unimportant. But, if "the girl" is a key "player" you're going to see her smile flitartiously; heck, she's going to be nibbling her index finger when she does.
Sometimes I struggle in finding the right verb. So, naturally, an adverb pops into my head. Let's work with a simple example: "Oh, Casanova," she whispered sexily, "you're so hot." Looking back at that sentence, I'll try making her purr or moan. No doubt you created a mood before this sentence. They've already had dinner by candlelight and they're drinking wine on a couch with her legs thrown over his. So when she says, "Oh, Casanova, you're so hot." the reader knows she isn't barking like a damn dobberman. In fact, the reader is smiling sexily. I avoid sentences like he ran swiftly, he said angrily. There are verbs like dash and snap. By finding the right verb I'll cut back on my word count.
Avoid the obvious. Why say He could think of in his mind, She saw with her eyes, They heard with their ears? But certainly, if your alien superhero's brains is in his big toe, you be sure to say so.
Be "cautious" about "to be" verbs, particularly in fiction. I wouldn't pretend to know or understand all the mechanics. I don't. What I do know is that the following sentences worry me, especially if I'm developing character:
* They were worried.
* The interviewer was bored.
* He was flabbergasted.
* Three persons were shot earlier today.
These sentences either hide the actor or mood. (Journalists can't help but be fond of passive writing.) Passive constructs play the role of the adverb because the writer hasn't explored his/her imagination. It's easy to say They were worried if 3 women were told their sons were missing (notice how I also hid who told the women their sons were missing?). What's a bit more challenging is imagining what "worry" might look like for a particular character, considering their age and experience. Let's assume that a little boy runs swiftly up to a lakehouse and breathlessly tells 3 women their sons are missing. It's a turning point in my story and I write: They were worried. Reboot and try again.
Mary sat in a rocking chair and stared at the ceiling. Screaming, Alanis went inside and turned on loud rock music. Martha grabbed up three lifesavers and followed the boy back to the lake.
Through their actions, the reader has learnt a lot about the characters and the lakehouse. We've all seen movies with terrible actors who can't "show" anger, worry, happiness or confusion. They almost need cue cards that tell the audience "They were worried."
Naturally, showing involves more words. Well, not all scenarios need expansion. So I'm okay with The aiport lounge was crowded. If I'm not I can let my character walk past a lounge crowded with suits and sit at a gate cluttered with Jehovah Witnesses on their way to a convention in Florida. Maybe if I'm building a mystery I'd want to omit the actor. But I'm cautious and I note every usage.
Avoid overusing helpful words. I note every:
* were
* was
* been
* being.
* had been
* so
* that
* which
* very
* the
* who
* and then
Don't let readers hear, see, taste, touch, smell or feel something on behalf of a character. (More on this later on.)
Edit your script one month after you write it. Like computer experts, most writers are vain people. Every line is a great because it's my line. Yet I've looked back at sentences I've written and scoffed. I'll make one or two passes on this article and publish it. Then reading it over, I'll rush to edit this post. Writers often blame publishers for errors. The bad news is most readers blame the writers.
There are different approaches to editing. Some edit after every sentence; others at the end of paragraphs. Some don't move on until a page is perfect. Others edit as soon as they finish a story. With all these approaches there's familiarity, and familiarity breeds contempt. Sometimes when we see someone we haven't seen in ages, we exclaim, "You look so different!" Glance over your script at least one month after and you'd say the same thing. You'd also scratch your head at some of those golden lines and say, "I can't believe I wrote so much shit."
During editing the mission is to make the writing as lean as possible. Fat is tasty, but too much is unhealthy. It's a lot easier to trim unnecessary adverbs and adjectives one month later. A question that helps me is: if this word, sentence or paragraph isn't here would the reader miss it?
Making corrections on "printed paper" works best for me. What scares me most is the corrections that have to be transferred back to the computer. Sometimes, during editing, I introduce new errors. Nightdesk editors complain about this all the time: yes, I made the bloody change on paper, but the typist didn't type the correct thing.
In computer programming there's a concept called pair programming where a business team member looks on while a technical team member types. It's a great strategy not only because two heads are better than one but also because there's a knowledge transfer. So during my final edit where corrections are being made to softcopies I get at least one person to look over my shoulder (remember I'm self-published, I don't have a lot of luxury. If I sink or swim I have only myself to blame). As I make changes, I highlight the modified sentence, the sentence before it and the sentence after it, never a "single" word because it's possible that modifications or introductions can change the structure of what has gone and/or what is to come. I let these "red" sentences rest and return to them in two or three days with my "peer".
When all my sentences are black again, I have my product. I expect that it could go into production, but I don't rush off to the printer, not yet. I print the book as it would appear, of course using letter size, duplex printing, front and back cover included. After its bound I toss it aside, neatly, and only pick it up in my spare time. I share it with who's willing to have a go. Assuming there are no grammatical or spelling mistakes, I might see changes I'm tempted to make; but I don't, not unless it's something the reader will absolutely miss, because changes colour my sentences red.
I document writing tips on a whiteboard always within arm's length. My what if? questions that eventually become stories go here as well. The problem is my nieces and nephews erase the whiteboard on a daily basis. It's time to modernise. As time rolls by, I'll add and expand these points:
Limit the use of adverbs ending with ly. The adverb seriously cheats the writer. For example: The girl smiled flirtatiously. The reader "imagines" a flirtatious smile, sure, but the writer hasn't really thought about what qualifies the smile; perhaps she's biting her lower lip or, maybe, she tossed her hair back or tucked it behind her ear. So where would I use an adverb like the one above? I'll use it where I want to conceal a character that's unimportant. But, if "the girl" is a key "player" you're going to see her smile flitartiously; heck, she's going to be nibbling her index finger when she does.
Sometimes I struggle in finding the right verb. So, naturally, an adverb pops into my head. Let's work with a simple example: "Oh, Casanova," she whispered sexily, "you're so hot." Looking back at that sentence, I'll try making her purr or moan. No doubt you created a mood before this sentence. They've already had dinner by candlelight and they're drinking wine on a couch with her legs thrown over his. So when she says, "Oh, Casanova, you're so hot." the reader knows she isn't barking like a damn dobberman. In fact, the reader is smiling sexily. I avoid sentences like he ran swiftly, he said angrily. There are verbs like dash and snap. By finding the right verb I'll cut back on my word count.
Avoid the obvious. Why say He could think of in his mind, She saw with her eyes, They heard with their ears? But certainly, if your alien superhero's brains is in his big toe, you be sure to say so.
Be "cautious" about "to be" verbs, particularly in fiction. I wouldn't pretend to know or understand all the mechanics. I don't. What I do know is that the following sentences worry me, especially if I'm developing character:
* They were worried.
* The interviewer was bored.
* He was flabbergasted.
* Three persons were shot earlier today.
These sentences either hide the actor or mood. (Journalists can't help but be fond of passive writing.) Passive constructs play the role of the adverb because the writer hasn't explored his/her imagination. It's easy to say They were worried if 3 women were told their sons were missing (notice how I also hid who told the women their sons were missing?). What's a bit more challenging is imagining what "worry" might look like for a particular character, considering their age and experience. Let's assume that a little boy runs swiftly up to a lakehouse and breathlessly tells 3 women their sons are missing. It's a turning point in my story and I write: They were worried. Reboot and try again.
Mary sat in a rocking chair and stared at the ceiling. Screaming, Alanis went inside and turned on loud rock music. Martha grabbed up three lifesavers and followed the boy back to the lake.
Through their actions, the reader has learnt a lot about the characters and the lakehouse. We've all seen movies with terrible actors who can't "show" anger, worry, happiness or confusion. They almost need cue cards that tell the audience "They were worried."
Naturally, showing involves more words. Well, not all scenarios need expansion. So I'm okay with The aiport lounge was crowded. If I'm not I can let my character walk past a lounge crowded with suits and sit at a gate cluttered with Jehovah Witnesses on their way to a convention in Florida. Maybe if I'm building a mystery I'd want to omit the actor. But I'm cautious and I note every usage.
Avoid overusing helpful words. I note every:
* were
* was
* been
* being.
* had been
* so
* that
* which
* very
* the
* who
* and then
Don't let readers hear, see, taste, touch, smell or feel something on behalf of a character. (More on this later on.)
Edit your script one month after you write it. Like computer experts, most writers are vain people. Every line is a great because it's my line. Yet I've looked back at sentences I've written and scoffed. I'll make one or two passes on this article and publish it. Then reading it over, I'll rush to edit this post. Writers often blame publishers for errors. The bad news is most readers blame the writers.
There are different approaches to editing. Some edit after every sentence; others at the end of paragraphs. Some don't move on until a page is perfect. Others edit as soon as they finish a story. With all these approaches there's familiarity, and familiarity breeds contempt. Sometimes when we see someone we haven't seen in ages, we exclaim, "You look so different!" Glance over your script at least one month after and you'd say the same thing. You'd also scratch your head at some of those golden lines and say, "I can't believe I wrote so much shit."
During editing the mission is to make the writing as lean as possible. Fat is tasty, but too much is unhealthy. It's a lot easier to trim unnecessary adverbs and adjectives one month later. A question that helps me is: if this word, sentence or paragraph isn't here would the reader miss it?
Making corrections on "printed paper" works best for me. What scares me most is the corrections that have to be transferred back to the computer. Sometimes, during editing, I introduce new errors. Nightdesk editors complain about this all the time: yes, I made the bloody change on paper, but the typist didn't type the correct thing.
In computer programming there's a concept called pair programming where a business team member looks on while a technical team member types. It's a great strategy not only because two heads are better than one but also because there's a knowledge transfer. So during my final edit where corrections are being made to softcopies I get at least one person to look over my shoulder (remember I'm self-published, I don't have a lot of luxury. If I sink or swim I have only myself to blame). As I make changes, I highlight the modified sentence, the sentence before it and the sentence after it, never a "single" word because it's possible that modifications or introductions can change the structure of what has gone and/or what is to come. I let these "red" sentences rest and return to them in two or three days with my "peer".
When all my sentences are black again, I have my product. I expect that it could go into production, but I don't rush off to the printer, not yet. I print the book as it would appear, of course using letter size, duplex printing, front and back cover included. After its bound I toss it aside, neatly, and only pick it up in my spare time. I share it with who's willing to have a go. Assuming there are no grammatical or spelling mistakes, I might see changes I'm tempted to make; but I don't, not unless it's something the reader will absolutely miss, because changes colour my sentences red.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
The Reader's Journey
I grew up hearing my father say the purpose of writing is to educate, entertain and inform. Never to impress. Remember that. I've forgotten at times and made costly mistakes. I believe that a writer must must must have a fair sense of justice. In fact: more than a fair sense. As a person the writer must be even able to consult with their heart, admit when they're wrong, and apologise for it. Back to writing: if they want they can choose not to exercise their sense for justice. But it must be a choice. It mustn't be that they lack it.
Writing gives you an opportunity to deal with a particular topic or a plot that comes to mind. So you might choose to address "Caribbean folk complaining despite the comfort they enjoy compared to other regions" or "what if we had a prime minister who's dealing with crime the way we'd like to see, zero tolerance: hit squads, assassinations".
Naturally, regardless of the approach, we insert characters, and we should bear in mind what state we want to leave the reader with when they reach THE END. Off the top of my head there're four favourable states: happy, sad, relieved and cheated. (Feel free to substitute words, for example "relieved" equals "satisfied".) As the writer you can choose to leave the reader with any combination of states.
But you don't ever want to aim at leaving the reader disappointed with the story. (In this discussion don't confuse disappointed with the story and cheated by how things turned out in the story. Disappointed addresses "I can't believe I wasted time reading this crap" whereas cheated is "oh my goodness, why did it work out this way for Johnny, I feel to cry now.")
Remember a reader has agreed to go on a journey with you (you're driving) and they want everything at the end except to be disappointed with the story.
Imagine for a second driving along a highway. The scenery is gorgeous, diverse. Think about what you like and it's there. The road is smooth. Good company. Your favourite drinks in a cooler. Wind streaming through your hair or if you prefer there's air-conditioner. Then, nearing what your instinct tells you is the end of the journey, you come upon a great wall that stretches across the road and shoulder. This same hollow feeling in your chest that's pressing down into your stomach is disappointment. This is exactly what you feel when you finish a bad story.
In the analogy above, the road is the quality of the writing, the author's delivery; the journey, the things along the way is the scenarios the reader encounters, the destination is the climax, the state(s) you're trying to leave the reader with.
There are bumpy, curvy rides that makes you feel sick, but hey! there's a beach at the end. Hard to read, but good ending. But if the road is simply horrible you'd rather not go. One has to be severely open-minded to finish these stories.
Then there're smooth, beautiful drives that lead to beautiful places.
The good news is that a road can be fixed. If you don't like the characters in the car, throw them out. If you need more get a bus. Want to get the reader there faster? Use a plane.
But I'm not so sure about bad destinations. I mean, imagine if the road was heading to a dump. The end is always a dump. Be it good or bad, the writer knows that the ending isn't right. For example I've grown suspicious of killing a character(s) at the end of a short story: it's been done many times, it's the easy way out (on another note can you imagine a real place piled high with the bodies of dead fictitious characters?). But as a writer I can argue or imagine that maybe two years from now the place wouldn't be a dump. It would be covered with soil and a theme park built there. Then adjust your story. Trust yourself. If it doesn't feel right, it isn't right. Use the scene with the dump but give the story a different ending.
Writing gives you an opportunity to deal with a particular topic or a plot that comes to mind. So you might choose to address "Caribbean folk complaining despite the comfort they enjoy compared to other regions" or "what if we had a prime minister who's dealing with crime the way we'd like to see, zero tolerance: hit squads, assassinations".
Naturally, regardless of the approach, we insert characters, and we should bear in mind what state we want to leave the reader with when they reach THE END. Off the top of my head there're four favourable states: happy, sad, relieved and cheated. (Feel free to substitute words, for example "relieved" equals "satisfied".) As the writer you can choose to leave the reader with any combination of states.
But you don't ever want to aim at leaving the reader disappointed with the story. (In this discussion don't confuse disappointed with the story and cheated by how things turned out in the story. Disappointed addresses "I can't believe I wasted time reading this crap" whereas cheated is "oh my goodness, why did it work out this way for Johnny, I feel to cry now.")
Remember a reader has agreed to go on a journey with you (you're driving) and they want everything at the end except to be disappointed with the story.
Imagine for a second driving along a highway. The scenery is gorgeous, diverse. Think about what you like and it's there. The road is smooth. Good company. Your favourite drinks in a cooler. Wind streaming through your hair or if you prefer there's air-conditioner. Then, nearing what your instinct tells you is the end of the journey, you come upon a great wall that stretches across the road and shoulder. This same hollow feeling in your chest that's pressing down into your stomach is disappointment. This is exactly what you feel when you finish a bad story.
In the analogy above, the road is the quality of the writing, the author's delivery; the journey, the things along the way is the scenarios the reader encounters, the destination is the climax, the state(s) you're trying to leave the reader with.
There are bumpy, curvy rides that makes you feel sick, but hey! there's a beach at the end. Hard to read, but good ending. But if the road is simply horrible you'd rather not go. One has to be severely open-minded to finish these stories.
Then there're smooth, beautiful drives that lead to beautiful places.
The good news is that a road can be fixed. If you don't like the characters in the car, throw them out. If you need more get a bus. Want to get the reader there faster? Use a plane.
But I'm not so sure about bad destinations. I mean, imagine if the road was heading to a dump. The end is always a dump. Be it good or bad, the writer knows that the ending isn't right. For example I've grown suspicious of killing a character(s) at the end of a short story: it's been done many times, it's the easy way out (on another note can you imagine a real place piled high with the bodies of dead fictitious characters?). But as a writer I can argue or imagine that maybe two years from now the place wouldn't be a dump. It would be covered with soil and a theme park built there. Then adjust your story. Trust yourself. If it doesn't feel right, it isn't right. Use the scene with the dump but give the story a different ending.
Publishing in the Caribbean
I met a store owner recently, an old guy, in the business many years. When I asked him if he'd ever thought about publishing he hunched over his arms and said:
"Publishing in the Caribbean is an interesting affair. Trinidad has good writers but to be honest - and don't mind me saying - the great writers are from Guyana. Barbados does the pagination. Jamaica has the salesmen. The publishers in the Caribbean aren't that straight, they cheat writers, go up the islands, change the cover, don't pay any royalties, but it's your book."
"Publishing in the Caribbean is an interesting affair. Trinidad has good writers but to be honest - and don't mind me saying - the great writers are from Guyana. Barbados does the pagination. Jamaica has the salesmen. The publishers in the Caribbean aren't that straight, they cheat writers, go up the islands, change the cover, don't pay any royalties, but it's your book."
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