Dune | Pearson Sharp

I recently came across a video by Ira Glass (this video: http://vimeo.com/24715531) and he talks briefly about what it’s like for creative types as beginners. It isn’t long, but as I sat listening to it, I realised that he was entirely correct. That feeling—that you have good taste, that you know what you’re trying to do is brilliant, but that what you’re actually seeing in front of you isn’t, well, your best work—I know that feeling. I’ve been living that feeling for the last several years as I’ve worked and sweated over my novel.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m trying to broaden my reading horizon and discover new talent to help inspire and instruct my own writing. In that search, there have been innumerable times when I’ve set the book I was reading down, and just said, “wow”. I’m sure you’ve had that feeling too, at some point. When you read something that just hits the right spot, touches you where nothing else has before, or finally puts words to that nameless feeling you’ve been carrying around inside you for years, possibly without even knowing it. It’s times like these, when I set that book down and audibly release a profound sigh, that I realise something: My work doesn’t measure up. How can I compete with this guy, who just blew my mind? I’ve never written anything half so meaningful or true. What, in my brief years on this earth, could I possibly have experienced or come to understand that would be worth anyone’s time to read? What could I know or understand that would change someone’s life? How presumptuous of me to even try!

...been there.

Well, I don’t know. But I’ve decided that’s not going to stop me from trying. I’m sure one of my favourite authors, Hemingway, didn’t set out to try and change the world when he wrote For Whom the Bell Tolls. He just had a story, had experienced something himself when he was in Spain during the war, and decided to share it. It turned out that what he set down there was something immortal, because it was true. The people there might not have been real, the words the spoke might have been fabricated. But the experience, the feeling, the ideas were true. There are probably only a handful of people alive today who were there in Spain during that time, fighting in those mountains against the fascists. But everyone who reads that book can relate to the emotions there. And that’s what makes it timeless.

So back to the video by Ira Glass. I don’t have to write something profound. In fact, the less you are conscious of what you’re writing, the less presence you as the author have in it, the more natural and compelling it’ll probably be. I have a few notes I keep to refer to when I’m working on my book, and at the top of the page are a few quotes from some authors I hold dear. One of them is Frank Herbert, and among the several quotes of his there is this one: “Looking back on it, I realize I did the right thing instinctively. You don’t write for success. That takes part of your attention away from the writing. If you’re really doing it, that’s all you’re doing: writing.” It’s simple, to the point, and explains the reasons behind why I usually have trouble when I’m writing. I’m too involved as the author.

So when we begin, we have this period, as Mr. Glass said. This period where we don’t really like what we’re doing. We can see that it has potential, but it misses the mark. As I read and re-read my novel, I’m right there. I’m in that place. There are parts that are good. Damn good, if I’m honest. But there are other parts that are grasping, weak, and fall far short of where I intended them to land. I have to re-write those places. But you know what? That’s good. I’m glad I found them. Because when I wrote them, I thought I was nailing it, that they were really good. With the power of my future vision, I can see now that they weren’t that great. But that means I’ve grown, and that what I’m writing now is better than anything I’ve ever written before. I’m going to get through this time of doubt and misgivings, and come out the other side a better author. Right now, I’d probably just settle for “published author”, but I’ll take what I can get. They’re all stones in the path to success, so I know that eventually everything will turn out alright. As Churchill said, ”never, never, never quit.”

Of the many challenges I’ve faced as an writer, perhaps the greatest has been merging my love of classical literature with contemporary writing styles. I don’t like modern books. That’s all there is to it. Have I read them all? Of course not, so I can’t say that this is true across the board. But some of my favourite authors include Twain, London, Melville, Fitzgerald, Conrad, Robert Louis Stevenson… Until very recently, no one from even the last half century. Poe was probably the single greatest inspiration to start writing seriously, and he’s about as antiquated as they come.

You can’t connect with a modern audience, however, if you’re using early 19th Century vernacular. You just can’t. So with a heavy heart I picked up Hemingway (being about as modern as I wanted to try). Imagine my surprise when I found his deadpan prose not only palatable, but fantastic. I was immediately hooked, and proceeded to read six of his most famous novels one after the other. I couldn’t put it down! I don’t normally enjoy being wrong, but this was an occasion in which I was thrilled.

I haven’t really found a suitable replacement for Hemingway since I decided to give him a break, but there are modern authors I’ve been enjoying. Bernard Cornwell spins really excellent tales of adventure, and I was also surprised to find that I enjoyed Anne Rice‘s vampire novels. Iain M. Banks is another science fiction writer who’s created a brilliant world in his Culture novels, and of course there’s no overlooking Frank Herbert. He virtually defined the medium as a serious practise with his Dune series.

Yet a recent inspection of the top sellers from the New York Times best seller‘s-list left me nauseous. Is this what passes for literature these days? The prose was dead, cliché, uninspired. Yet reader reviews were raving! “The best book I’ve ever read!” shouted one enthusiastic reader. Books with four and five stars that are international hits. I was dumbfounded. Yet rave review after rave review left me wondering if perhaps I was on the outskirts of the literary world. As I massaged my aching temples night after night, staring forlornly at my computer screen, waiting for words that would not come—crafting each paragraph meticulously and trying to capture some of the astounding and life changing passages I’d read in my favourite books. I must be doing it wrong.

Yes, and no. There are audiences for both types of literature. But, as reality TV has proven, most people are content not thinking. The less people have to think, the better, and so it is true for the books they like to read. My target demographic is too small—the market would destroy me if I ever released the kind of novel I’m aching for, the kind of thing I like to read.

So after long deliberation, I headed over to the local Barnes and Nobel and began perusing the best sellers section. I passed a lot of books, but finally found myself standing before Game of Thrones. I stood there eyeing the book for a long time, like two prize fighters sizing each other up. I didn’t think I’d like it. In fact, I assumed I’d hate it. I’d seen the TV series on HBO, and my expectations weren’t high. I carefully pulled it off the shelf and flipped to the prologue. Stiffling an inward groan, I began reading.

And, in spite of myself, I liked it. It wasn’t Faulkner! But it wasn’t bad.

I ended up buying it, and taking it home I liked it so much. It’s not that I think it’s a fantastic novel, but it does a lot of things right. Martin’s strength, I think, lies in the smoothness of the story. Everything flows exceptionally well, each chapter and character and scene are seamless, from beginning to end—there are no tedious hang ups or snags that halt the rhythm. This is something I feel I have a lot to learn about, so I’m not only finding that I like reading the book, but that it’s also teaching me a great deal.

A book really needs to connect with me on both of those levels—I don’t like reading something and mentally correcting or editing the writing as I go. I don’t want to feel like I could do it better, in essence. George R.R. Martin understands how to keep a story moving, and even managed some poetic imagery here and there. The story and setting aren’t particularly original or stunning, but they’re well-crafted, and that’s worth a lot. I’ve heard that I shouldn’t get attached to any of the characters, but for now, Game of Thrones is a wonderful book and learning experience, and has already given me hope that there are more contemporary authors out there for me to discover.