VanderMeer's Wonderbook, Chapter 2: The Ecosystem Of Story (continued)
Now, as the chapter turns from the individual elements towards their collective unity, the discussion also begins to emphasize that the descriptions are generalized and that within a specific story, the uses of each piece may vary. It is pointed out, for example, that stories like Robertson Davies' The Manticore, composed entirely of dialogue, completely subsumes other aspects of narrative into that single element. So, too, do writer's like Borges use description and even summary in place of scene, yet the story can still captivate, by reassigning the necessary roles, sometimes in ways that would be otherwise unrecognizable. As well, in even a story where the elements are more averaged out, their is bound to be such interplay, if not in the whole of the story, at least in parts of it.
Dialogue must, for example, be grounded in character. Setting, when described, is used to create tone, to emphasize meanings and thematic elements, to provide context for the characterization and events. What is more, the act of describing that setting tells about whoever is speaking by showing what they value and how they see the world. What the narrator notices informs the reader of what is important to the story, even in the most objective third person narration. Third person narration is unique, as the voice is ultimate not embedded inside the narrative, and has freedom, to a greater or lesser degree depending on how close the perspective is to the character(s), and so the things that are noticed by that narrator, even the things pertaining to the particular thoughts of a character that are chosen to be communicated(for we must assume that some things are left out), offers key insight as to what the story values. Thus, the choice of what to describe in narration can, itself, be key to the tone, the theme, even the readers understanding of the characters. This does not even touch upon how deeply overlapping such issues become in first person narrative. Second person is quite complicated here, as well, but it generally would be used in one or the other of the two preceding ways, depending on if the "you" character is inside the story, in which case it is largely treated as first person narration; or if the you is the reader, or another perspective that exists outside the story, in which case it functions similar to third person narration. Other possibilities exist beyond these two choices, and their are, of course, overlaps that can occur between first or third and second, with direct address being the most apparent. Also, second can be a trick, where it seems to be in second until it is revealed to be a first person narration, where the character has been observing another person and addressing them inside their own mind, or in a letter. In such a case, the speaker is entirely characterized, at least initially, through voice, and through the choices they make in describing things. They are only present as an observer for a period. This can also be done in third person. Consider, though, the difference between these two possibilities, how second person emphasizes the other character to the reader, forces us to identify with them in some way, while third person implies a different kind of distancing, especially as a character describing others does not have access to their minds (though they might imagine what is inside them, or even believe they know for certain). Of course, we have gotten a bit into the weeds, here, but the overall point stands that the various components of story need to be recognized for what they are, but also understood to have flexibility when needed, as well as a nebulous overlap. This overlapping of functions is an essential part of what allows the language to do more than one thing at the same time, and thus the best writing is that which recognizes and takes advantage of these possibilities.
The next section begins a discussion of "types of imagination", and I must acknowledge that I do not entirely relate with the concepts that are presented. The writer's imagination is broken into two parts: creative imagination, which sparks the idea and flows out the first draft; technical imagination, which picks up at this point to hone the work and apply more carefully crafted elements. It is acknowledged, as well, that over time, the creative imagination gains competence, and so the first draft may be closer to completion. Caution, though, is urged, for a shift in genre or an attempt at some new approach, even a shift to first person for a writer used to third, can require the creative aspect to learn anew, and the first draft may show errors that had seemed long-gone.
I think that my issue with this description is connected to a deeper issue, that I think may be part of my own writing philosophy, maybe even an aspect of my process and style. The idea is simply that I do not see those technical aspects as separate from the story, but integral parts of it. Now, while this is true on a smaller scale, in the sense that well-crafted language will echo the story's content to create meaning and impact the reader, that aspect is not what I am speaking of here. Rather, I am speaking of how I come to write a story, because the technical aspects are an essential element in that thought process, for me. I do not get a plot, generally, though I might have elements of it, and probably some concept of character and setting, but what I also find essential is an understanding of how this story needs to be embodied. I see the technical aspects as essential aspects of the story.
This description does not capture what I am truly attempting to communicate, so I want to offer a bit of an example that I hope will help. A number of the stories that I am working on right now, which are in one form or another of drafting, are built upon something technical that came to me as an essential part of the story. I had one piece that I had conceived of, in some ways, many years ago. A large part of this story has to do with a character getting lost in a familiar location, and the idea that they have technology, such as GPS, but it seems to be as lost as they are. This is an idea that came to me years ago, when I found myself in a community that had confusing streets, where my GPS did not have accurate maps (this was in the error before everything updated automatically, so it was likely I had an outdated atlas). I drove around the same few blocks repeatedly, following the GPS, and it was so dark, I didn't recognize the repeated streets until after I had turned and could not go back except by going around. Now, I had that as a central element of the story, and had thought of using it at different times, but it never worked. It only made sense in a story when I came upon the device I use for telling that story, which has to do with an unusual narrative voice that is ambiguous through most of the story. The two were not separate ideas, when I executed the writing, they were essentially connected, and neither would have come out in that story without the other.
That, however, is a somewhat tangential example, I think, for it does not explain how a technical aspect can be a piece of a story in a way that makes it actually the content. In many of my stories, I think of how the story is told as driving the plot. For instance, one story that I am working on now, which is still in an early draft, has the idea of a character who receives a greeting card telling them that they no longer have free will. This drives them mad, as they start to question whether it is true. Describing it this way, it sounds sort of stupid, and I realize this, but that is because, the way the story is written uses a technical framing to impact the reader in certain ways. The story tells the reader from the start, quite literally, that it is not true. However, the statement is made in a way that is intended to cause the reader to distrust the narrator. As well, the beginning of the story is not inside the narrative, and instead focuses upon asking the reader to pay attention, and making them consider, before the content, the ways their own mind can go on autopilot at times, creating resonances for the reader before they ever know what the plot is about. The technical choices, those that relate to the telling of the story and not to the story being told, are the things that sparked my writing. As is often the case.
Technical aspects are not separate from creative aspects, they, indeed, in many ways are, or can be, the most creative and unique things a writer brings. So, while I do agree with that their are two different stages of consideration, one initial where the writing must be put on the page, and a second where it can be looked at again with freshened perspective, taking what was first created to the next level, I don't think this is necessarily a split between creative and technical. I think, as well, of something that I once heard former poet-laureate Billy Collins say about revision. He was commenting that he did not revise as much as some writers, and used the metaphor of cooking. Some people will cook and make a huge mess. They will leave everything dirty, to be cleaned up all at once at the end. Other people will clean as they go, washing a knife after choping the garlic, and cleaning the cutting board as soon as the pan is hot and the ingredients are deposited. So too, some writers cannot move on to the next sentence unless the last is perfect. Now, in poetry, such a writer may not revise as much, but in a longer work, like a story or novel, the need to unify the story will often require a degree of revision, though, generally, their is more work than this. However, that work does not always need to be technical. It can be, of course, but it could also be something in the story itself, and that does not necessarily have a technical solution. It might be that it is not how you are telling the story that needs to change, but something about the story itself. This can, of course, lead in a new technical direction, and might entirely change the story in some way, but that does not change the fact that the technical and the creative are imaginatively linked for me. So, while I do agree with the essential lesson being imparted, I take odds with the specific way it is delineated.
At this point, the chapter ends with a small summation that points out, again, the fallacy inherent in the necessary act of dissecting a story into the constituent parts. While the pieces must be recognized and understood, they do not really exist as distinct elements in the way that such breakdowns suggest. Their is a beautiful touch at the end, a grace-note of sorts, where the last two paragraphs point out that discovering the use of these elements shouldn't be approached as "a puzzle", that you shouldn't expect to find one solution and never have to figure out that problem again. Instead, the point is to embrace the creativity to create something that is your own, with specific reverberations for those who encounter it.
This wraps up the body of the chapter, but their are still two small essays that I will return to, and the pesky writing challenge, which I am excited about but also a bit hesitant... Both will be accomplished in the next day or two, and then it is on to the next chapter which focuses on the beginning of a piece of fiction.
Dialogue must, for example, be grounded in character. Setting, when described, is used to create tone, to emphasize meanings and thematic elements, to provide context for the characterization and events. What is more, the act of describing that setting tells about whoever is speaking by showing what they value and how they see the world. What the narrator notices informs the reader of what is important to the story, even in the most objective third person narration. Third person narration is unique, as the voice is ultimate not embedded inside the narrative, and has freedom, to a greater or lesser degree depending on how close the perspective is to the character(s), and so the things that are noticed by that narrator, even the things pertaining to the particular thoughts of a character that are chosen to be communicated(for we must assume that some things are left out), offers key insight as to what the story values. Thus, the choice of what to describe in narration can, itself, be key to the tone, the theme, even the readers understanding of the characters. This does not even touch upon how deeply overlapping such issues become in first person narrative. Second person is quite complicated here, as well, but it generally would be used in one or the other of the two preceding ways, depending on if the "you" character is inside the story, in which case it is largely treated as first person narration; or if the you is the reader, or another perspective that exists outside the story, in which case it functions similar to third person narration. Other possibilities exist beyond these two choices, and their are, of course, overlaps that can occur between first or third and second, with direct address being the most apparent. Also, second can be a trick, where it seems to be in second until it is revealed to be a first person narration, where the character has been observing another person and addressing them inside their own mind, or in a letter. In such a case, the speaker is entirely characterized, at least initially, through voice, and through the choices they make in describing things. They are only present as an observer for a period. This can also be done in third person. Consider, though, the difference between these two possibilities, how second person emphasizes the other character to the reader, forces us to identify with them in some way, while third person implies a different kind of distancing, especially as a character describing others does not have access to their minds (though they might imagine what is inside them, or even believe they know for certain). Of course, we have gotten a bit into the weeds, here, but the overall point stands that the various components of story need to be recognized for what they are, but also understood to have flexibility when needed, as well as a nebulous overlap. This overlapping of functions is an essential part of what allows the language to do more than one thing at the same time, and thus the best writing is that which recognizes and takes advantage of these possibilities.
The next section begins a discussion of "types of imagination", and I must acknowledge that I do not entirely relate with the concepts that are presented. The writer's imagination is broken into two parts: creative imagination, which sparks the idea and flows out the first draft; technical imagination, which picks up at this point to hone the work and apply more carefully crafted elements. It is acknowledged, as well, that over time, the creative imagination gains competence, and so the first draft may be closer to completion. Caution, though, is urged, for a shift in genre or an attempt at some new approach, even a shift to first person for a writer used to third, can require the creative aspect to learn anew, and the first draft may show errors that had seemed long-gone.
I think that my issue with this description is connected to a deeper issue, that I think may be part of my own writing philosophy, maybe even an aspect of my process and style. The idea is simply that I do not see those technical aspects as separate from the story, but integral parts of it. Now, while this is true on a smaller scale, in the sense that well-crafted language will echo the story's content to create meaning and impact the reader, that aspect is not what I am speaking of here. Rather, I am speaking of how I come to write a story, because the technical aspects are an essential element in that thought process, for me. I do not get a plot, generally, though I might have elements of it, and probably some concept of character and setting, but what I also find essential is an understanding of how this story needs to be embodied. I see the technical aspects as essential aspects of the story.
This description does not capture what I am truly attempting to communicate, so I want to offer a bit of an example that I hope will help. A number of the stories that I am working on right now, which are in one form or another of drafting, are built upon something technical that came to me as an essential part of the story. I had one piece that I had conceived of, in some ways, many years ago. A large part of this story has to do with a character getting lost in a familiar location, and the idea that they have technology, such as GPS, but it seems to be as lost as they are. This is an idea that came to me years ago, when I found myself in a community that had confusing streets, where my GPS did not have accurate maps (this was in the error before everything updated automatically, so it was likely I had an outdated atlas). I drove around the same few blocks repeatedly, following the GPS, and it was so dark, I didn't recognize the repeated streets until after I had turned and could not go back except by going around. Now, I had that as a central element of the story, and had thought of using it at different times, but it never worked. It only made sense in a story when I came upon the device I use for telling that story, which has to do with an unusual narrative voice that is ambiguous through most of the story. The two were not separate ideas, when I executed the writing, they were essentially connected, and neither would have come out in that story without the other.
That, however, is a somewhat tangential example, I think, for it does not explain how a technical aspect can be a piece of a story in a way that makes it actually the content. In many of my stories, I think of how the story is told as driving the plot. For instance, one story that I am working on now, which is still in an early draft, has the idea of a character who receives a greeting card telling them that they no longer have free will. This drives them mad, as they start to question whether it is true. Describing it this way, it sounds sort of stupid, and I realize this, but that is because, the way the story is written uses a technical framing to impact the reader in certain ways. The story tells the reader from the start, quite literally, that it is not true. However, the statement is made in a way that is intended to cause the reader to distrust the narrator. As well, the beginning of the story is not inside the narrative, and instead focuses upon asking the reader to pay attention, and making them consider, before the content, the ways their own mind can go on autopilot at times, creating resonances for the reader before they ever know what the plot is about. The technical choices, those that relate to the telling of the story and not to the story being told, are the things that sparked my writing. As is often the case.
Technical aspects are not separate from creative aspects, they, indeed, in many ways are, or can be, the most creative and unique things a writer brings. So, while I do agree with that their are two different stages of consideration, one initial where the writing must be put on the page, and a second where it can be looked at again with freshened perspective, taking what was first created to the next level, I don't think this is necessarily a split between creative and technical. I think, as well, of something that I once heard former poet-laureate Billy Collins say about revision. He was commenting that he did not revise as much as some writers, and used the metaphor of cooking. Some people will cook and make a huge mess. They will leave everything dirty, to be cleaned up all at once at the end. Other people will clean as they go, washing a knife after choping the garlic, and cleaning the cutting board as soon as the pan is hot and the ingredients are deposited. So too, some writers cannot move on to the next sentence unless the last is perfect. Now, in poetry, such a writer may not revise as much, but in a longer work, like a story or novel, the need to unify the story will often require a degree of revision, though, generally, their is more work than this. However, that work does not always need to be technical. It can be, of course, but it could also be something in the story itself, and that does not necessarily have a technical solution. It might be that it is not how you are telling the story that needs to change, but something about the story itself. This can, of course, lead in a new technical direction, and might entirely change the story in some way, but that does not change the fact that the technical and the creative are imaginatively linked for me. So, while I do agree with the essential lesson being imparted, I take odds with the specific way it is delineated.
At this point, the chapter ends with a small summation that points out, again, the fallacy inherent in the necessary act of dissecting a story into the constituent parts. While the pieces must be recognized and understood, they do not really exist as distinct elements in the way that such breakdowns suggest. Their is a beautiful touch at the end, a grace-note of sorts, where the last two paragraphs point out that discovering the use of these elements shouldn't be approached as "a puzzle", that you shouldn't expect to find one solution and never have to figure out that problem again. Instead, the point is to embrace the creativity to create something that is your own, with specific reverberations for those who encounter it.
This wraps up the body of the chapter, but their are still two small essays that I will return to, and the pesky writing challenge, which I am excited about but also a bit hesitant... Both will be accomplished in the next day or two, and then it is on to the next chapter which focuses on the beginning of a piece of fiction.
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