November 2008 Archives

My stomach is still full of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and the other usual Thanksgiving Day treats. And I have to leave in a few minutes to go eat lunch. I've been reading Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on an Imperfect Science. The book is extremely well written and interesting.

I'll post a review of it on here as soon as I'm done.

I'll be very busy (and happy) this next week: finishing an article for Signature, presenting papers on historical linguistics and city-as-text narrative, reading my short story The Lexicon of the Sword at the Moon City Invitational at Missouri State, interviewing Brian Kiteley for Ask the Writer, and, finally, working on a nonfiction narrative book proposal.

To everyone who might stumble on this brief note: Happy Thanksgiving!

I've been working nonstop since last week on four or five different projects. Some for school, some not. In any case, I haven't had a chance to post on the blog, so I thought I'd update readers on what's new. I can't post all of the stuff I'm doing here (I don't want to spoil any surprises) but, since you're on a need-to-know basis, I'll tell you what you need to know.

• The Read Well Store - Whenever I can I add books and authors to this Amazon-affiliate bookstore. For example, I just added some books by Brian Kiteley (under A Writer's Toolbox). The Denver University professor will answer questions for Ask the Writer soon, so be sure to look for that, too. And, if you're going to be buying books for Christmas presents, please consider buying them through our store to support the site.
  

• Ask the Writer with Brian Shawver, Part 1 - A few months ago I did a sit-down interview with Brian Shawver, author of Aftermath and The Cuban Prospect. I haven't had time to transcribe our talk, which was long and involved, but I will probably type up the first part over Christmas. Be sure to look for it then. Brian's novel Aftermath already appears under the ATW section of the Read Well Amazon Store.
  
  
• Ask the Writers, Coming Soon - Besides the interviews with Mr. Shawver and Mr. Kiteley, I have several more ideas for author Q & As. Be sure to keep an eye on the RSS feed this holiday season.
  
  
• Midnight Writing - I'm announcing a new series on my site based on writing exercises. The recurring series will feature creative ways to find story in your own fiction and nonfiction. Best of all, readers will be able to write along. Many of the exercises will come from Brian Kiteley's The 3 A.M. Epiphany.
  

Last night in Barnes & Noble I picked up a copy of Malcolm Gladwell's new book--Outliers: The Story of Success. I skimmed the jacket flap, read the first page, and bought it on the spot, even though I don't have any money. I enjoyed The Tipping Point and Blink, not for their scientific revolutions, but because they entertained me. And, when I read Gladwell's books, I tend to think deeply about the questions he is asking.

In Outliers, Gladwell is tackling, among other things, the narrative of success in twenty-first century America. He takes issue with the usual praise of individuals, the Horatio Alger myths of our culture, the rags-to-riches stories. He sums up the problem eloquently in the introduction.

"The tallest oak tree in the forest is the tallest not just because it grew from the hardiest acorn," Malcolm Gladwell writes. "It is the tallest also because no other trees blocked its sunlight, the soil around it was deep and rich, no rabbit chewed through its bark as a sapling, and no lumberjack cut it down before it matured. We all know that successful people come from hardy seeds. But do we know enough about the sunlight that warmed them, the soil in which they put down their roots, and the rabbits and lumberjacks they were lucky enough to avoid?"

Gladwell's ability to succinctly state complex problems is one of the greatest strengths--and the greatest weaknesses--of his books.

Today I heard lots of criticism of Malcolm Gladwell--chiefly, say, that his work is "pop science." The comment, delivered with certainty and condescension, assumes intrinsically that the books, being pop science, have no worth. But this withering dismissal is both unfair and harmful in the long term. Also it misses the point of Gladwell's writing entirely. First, let's look at why Gladwell's writing might be called pop science.

We can safely assume, I am confident, that the three-letter-word "pop" is a euphemism for "sub"--as in "sub-science" or "substandard science." Gladwell's writing is concerned with anecdotes and people. His conclusions are sketchy and broad, not to mention, in some cases, potentially flawed. And he is a terrific writer, which makes the prose fluid, and reading Outliers (or The Tipping Point or Blink) is like drinking a glass of water. When you read something so well written, it is hard to trust the author--I find this just as much when reading John Gardner or Leo Tolstoy. So we need to read critically (be on your guard) and help the author, in some places, by supplying experiences he may not have heard about.

The smooth prose draws attention to the implied author, Malcolm Gladwell's "refined and distilled spirit," who moves through the work at all times, even when the author is not referencing himself directly with an "I" character. This ghost, in Outliers: The Story of Success, is more confident in this book than in the previous two. More aggressive, too, I might add. Such a tone might turn off favorable reviewers.

So we have the combined problems of a terrific writer and an aggressive--some might say arrogant, but I wouldn't go that far--implied author. Part of this, I think, is due to the aggressive marketing of Gladwell's work as "revolution-causing." That's a lot of pressure to put on the author every time out of the gate. And, as Ben Franklin pointed out, people are put off by those who speak in certainties. "I found people more amicable to my ideas," Franklin said, "when I say, 'Yes, I understand where you are coming from, but I have also observed that the opposite is true. Please, let me explain what I noticed.'"

I'm paraphrasing, but Franklin's point is this: Telling people an absolute gets them defensive, gets their backs up, and makes it difficult to convince them when the ability to work together is the most important. To this end, I would suggest the subtitle be changed to Outliers: Stories of Success. Nobody, after all, likes a know-it-all, and the "the" of the subtitle is a little off-putting.

But let's return to the problem of "pop science." The fact is Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers can't be pop science--because, when you look closely, you notice it isn't science at all. It's journalism, pure and simple, an extended magazine article.

Gladwell is a staff writer at The New Yorker. His chief business is letters and words and putting them in order. After that, his business is people, not science. His books deal in anecdotes because he's a writer who is interested in people, how they live practically, and so on.

Now writing and science are often powered by the same engines. Gladwell also worked, I believe, as a business and science reporter at the Washington Post. So his curiousity about I.Q. tests, coal mining, psychology, and sociology are natural and fine--many writers no doubt share his interests. But to call Malcolm Gladwell a scientist is going too far.

As far as I can find, Mr. Gladwell never professed to be a scientist. He's a writer.

Most of what Gladwell says in Outliers, too, isn't revolutionary. Lots of it--like that Bill Gates and the Beatles both had to practice 10,000 hours before they broke out--has been noted before. If it hadn't, we wouldn't have sayings like "Practice makes perfect."

The merit in Outliers is that it presents these arguments in fresh ways. It refocuses our attention to rules we knew--such as that no one, not even a genius, can make it alone--and tells us the story in a new and entertaining and exciting way. Dismissing all the hard work in Outliers also is harmful because the saying "pop science," as I mentioned before, assumes that the work has no merit--obviously false. Still, before you know it, everyone is saying "pop science" like they're a bunch of parrots unable to speak for themselves.

In fact, Outliers has quite a bit to offer. Mostly it is thought-provoking, entertaining, and exceedingly well written. I would recommend it to anyone interested in success.

In the next few hours I plan to start work on my first novel. I haven't attempted to write a novel for a while -- maybe six months or a year. At least, I quit working on the book after an unpleasant experience in a community group. I won't belabor the point; I'll sum it up by saying, rather than look over my fiction with an eye for helping, I was ridiculed, embarrassed, and insulted. Partly with the aim of improving my writing, I think, but also with a hint of genuine resentment.

That's in the past now and it doesn't bother me. No sense in whining about being treated unfairly. The now is a good time; so I've decided to take today (except for the class I teach) and write as much as I can for as long as I can. Wish me luck.

The narrative is a mystery and a story about families, cultures, the past, the future, and San Francisco. I've been working hard to reconstruct the city based on literary traditions (adding a little something of my own; a personal twist). Now, since this is the beginning, I'd like to share with you three possible epigraphs, all of which work, in their way, to frame the themes of the novel. The second epigraph, I'm sure, will be this: "Russians have always made good policemen," from Paul Klebnikov's The Godfather of the Kremlin.

Please, if you have a moment, post a comment on my blog, and tell me which Arthur Conan Doyle epigraph you prefer. I have selected these three by hand from my favorite Sherlock Holmes adventures.

"You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique things are very often connected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt whether any positive crime has been committed."

Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Red-Headed League

"I have found it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime is, the more obvious, as a rule, is the motive."

Arthur Conan Doyle, A Case of Identity

" 'No, no. No crime,' said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. 'Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal.' "

Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

Research is important to writing. Not just checking Wikipedia, of course, because the information on Wikipedia is wrong (any moron can edit it). Often a Google Search is a good place to start. But right now I'm talking about true research: Going places, meeting people, reading books libraries forgot existed. Yesterday, while researching my novel, I found several books in the stacks, which provided me with writing about the city of San Francisco. Believe me, I don't want to read all these books. But of course I will, with a smile on my face, and I'll be glad I did.

I want to say, Let's call this research, but since the Wikipedia Era is upon us, let's call it Deep Research instead. This is the same reason I say Rewriting or Redrafting instead of Revising: Too many people think revising means checking for misplaced commas. So we'll use the term deep research to mean "getting your hands dirty," or, for the brevity-inclined, for experience (also known, in the writings of Rollo May, as encounter).

Here's another example: Right now I'm working on an article for Signature. I bravely took the job because it offers me a chance to stuff my face with good food. I need to revisit my favorite eateries for a start, in person, and "be someone on whom nothing is lost," as Henry James said.

Everyone knows people, culture, language, and food are closely connected. This article requires more research, again, than just talking to my friends and saying, "Hey, friend, what cool local restaurant do you recommend I promote shamelessly?"

For personal experiences, try to be mindful while you're experiencing something. Writing can come later. You don't want to be jotting things down in a notebook while you're researching in person. You'll miss something. You probably want to write immediately afterward, instead, so you don't forget anything important. Or, if you're just reading a book, then it's all right to take notes.

In my own writing, I'm in the process of finding out, tracking down, and personally tasting. So remember, writing is hard work. Don't slack on the research.

Writers sit down every day and, even though their minds might be blank, they summon people, actions, settings, and stories to life. Professional writers, I mean. And it's a common mistake aspiring authors make, saying, "I need to enroll in a workshop class at the university so I have a deadline that will make me write." I used to say the same thing, I admit. But I've come to believe that writers must make time in their schedules and set deadlines for themselves. Intrinsic motivation is important. Authors who wait for inspiration, or for a particularly interesting idea to strike them -- well, let's be honest: Those writers don't get much written.

Part of the reason is that writers are naturally interested people. They are curious about others. About the world they live in. Writers always have an idea for some story or poem or article, even those who never write it down. The difference between a writer with a block and a writer getting work done is discipline. Sitting down to write, day after day, with no concrete direction, a writer may get discouraged. Better not to write at all, she thinks. I should spend my time reading articles on the Internet, or a new book, or sorting out the problems of my husband's finances. Maybe I'll just read etymologies in the Oxford English Dictionary.

Whatever the distraction, it's a temptation best avoided if you want to be a writer (at least for a few hours every day). The impulse to give up when lacking a direction is strong, but it can be overcome. Just sit down and type something. Type something, anything. Because writing is, more than anything, a habit. It may be an art, or a craft, but it is (above all else) putting words in order and making sense out of them. That's all. And that's something you can do every day for three to five hours.

If you don't know what to write about, take a deep breath: I promise, deep down, you do know. What interests you? What kind of people? What aspects of culture, history, or society?

If you still can't think of anything, pick an exercise. Writing exercises can sometimes help just by getting the fingers moving across a keyboard. I recommend John Gardner's suggestions from The Art of Fiction or (although I haven't read it yet) Brian Kiteley's The 3 A.M. Epiphany. You could also try the very well-reviewed Bonnie Neubauer book called The Write Brain. The important thing is that you keep writing. Keep the habit alive.

Because, like any habit concerned with experience and talent, writing needs to keep moving. If it stops moving, it dies. That may not happen overnight but it does happen eventually. A writer is only as good as the number of words he or she has written. As long as you're writing, then you're getting better. So, if you're still reading, close the Internet browser, open up a blank text file, and write something.

Do you enjoy the posts on Write Well? The tips, essays, and, perhaps most importantly, the interviews on Ask the Writer? Did you happen to catch the interviews with Dennis Lehane, Kevin Brockmeier, and Benjamin Percy, among others?

Did it make you want to read their books?

And if you could give back -- at no cost or hassle to yourself -- would you?

I'm pleased to announce the Read Well Amazon-affiliate bookstore. It's just like Amazon, except a small percentage of the money you spend goes back to support the efforts of Write Well.

The prices are the same. It has the same hassle-free navigation as Amazon, the "We also recommend..." links, the customer and starred reviews, the ultra-secure shopping cart, check-out, and shipping. You can see the search box on the right -- an exact duplicate, isn't it?

You even use the same user name and password that you use on Amazon.

As a bonus, though, we've tailored the Read Well store to our site. For example, the opening page is populated by authors who answered questions on Ask the Writer. You can buy Dennis Lehane's Gone, Baby, Gone, Ben Percy's Refresh, Refresh, and Kevin Brockmeier's The Brief History of the Dead, along with all the other books and movies featured on those pages (be sure to click over at the bottom of the page, so you can see all of the section).

The second link, A Writer's Toolbox (again, pictured on the right) features all the best books on fiction technique, especially the ones referenced in posts on this site -- John Gardner's On Becoming a Novelist, Francine Prose's Reading Like A Writer, and Betsy Lerner's The Forest for the Trees. It also includes, on the second page, a link to the textbook Missouri State's Creative Writing faculty uses when we teach English 215: Introduction to Short Story Writing (this, of course, would be Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft, 7th Ed. by Janet Burroway and Elizabeth Stuckey-French).