Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with archetypal characters. Just to be straight on the terminology: archetype as in stock characters. Archetype as in the way Carl Gustav Jung thought of archetypes, represented in people around the world, in the collective unconscious. To borrow from Dictionary.com: “In Jungian psychology, a collectively inherited unconscious idea, pattern of thought, image, etc., universally present in individual psyches. Jung defined many of these types. Examples include the sage, the jester, the magician, the rebel, the lover, the explorer, the hero, just to name a few.”
This week's Bookmark is taken from 99U, a Webby Award-winning website whose effort is to provide a "missing curriculum" for making ideas happen.
In several passages from David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, a tennis coach cautions his pupils on three psychological traps that are essential to avoid in continuing to improve toward tennis mastery and to progress from one learning plateau to the next. Whether you’re playing tennis, improving your own craft, or trying to overcome writer's block, navigating these plateaus could be key to reaching your full potential.
Before my Final Review this Saturday, here’s a brief list of future possibilities:
1. Write the 3rd draft: Take the notes I’m given Saturday, and apply the ones I like to the manuscript, along with the inevitable changes that occur in the process.
2. Decide what to call it: Almost is the working title right now. I feel like it almost works, but there may be a better title out there somewhere.
3. Decide what it is: I’m leaning toward a “novel-in-stories,” and trying not to be dissuaded by this article: http://therumpus.net/2011/05/the-mysterious-case-of-novel-in-stories/. It critiques the whole concept, claiming that most linked collections are really the result of lazy or novice writers attempting to tie separate stories together to make a kind of faux-novel, the result often lacking the cohesion and narrative tightness of a real novel. While I can see the point, I’ve also seen it work really well, (hate to bring it up again, but what about Jesus’ Son?). To me, each story must first work on its own, and secondly must keep the reader turning pages. I kept reading Jesus’ Son because, besides the great writing, I was interested in what would happen to Fuckhead. For A Visit From the Goon Squad, I was curious to see how the various characters connected to each other. It wasn’t the only reason I kept reading, but it helped. The book is unlike a standard collection, in which one generally feels comfortable reading a story at a time, even putting it down for months or years before reading the next one. I like the absorption aspect of novels. I also like the space that is achievable through short stories, and between the stories themselves, the freedom not to have to put all the pieces together. Some stories are better told in short segments. They can be overwritten when the author forces an overarching narrative and fills all the gaps. I’m a fan of less-is-more, unless the more is warranted. So my goal with Almost, or whatever it’s eventually called, is to have it every way possible.
4. Look for agents/publishers: With The Mark, we’ve worked on our query letters, and soon it will be time to put them into action. In the next few months, I’ll compile a list of who to send to, based on connections and like-minded authors/books. But I don’t want to send the work out too early. At the same time, it’ll take a while to hear back, and I’m hoping it won’t take another three years to get this thing out in the world. I feel like I’m close, like one more re-write should be enough, but then again we’ll see what the committee has to say on Saturday.
5. Decide what to apply to next: I’ve reached the maximum level of PEN Center USA fellowships (unless they create a new third-tier. Something that ends with guaranteed publication. How about it Libby?) I’ve been to three residencies, enough for this book. I’m over workshops for the moment; I’d rather not have too many people’s opinions running through my head for the third draft. I’m still interested in teaching, so should I once again apply for MFA programs? In the past, I’ve only applied to free and difficult-to-get-into programs, figuring that would be the only way it’d be worth it. I’m not a huge fan of the MFA industry, at least the expensive ones, churning out writer after writer into an unforgiving landscape full of debt. Especially when a lot of those writers may not have lived long outside an academic situation. But I have. And I feel ready to revisit an MFA. But first, another year of struggle, maybe more travel, maybe even living in a different town. I’ve only got this one life. And I’m fast approaching the halfway mark. It’s now or never.
6. Read at Dirty Laundry Lit: (Shameless promotion) http://www.dirtylaundrylit.com/
What is a story good for? This is the question posed by Ira Glass, host and producer of the radio and television show This American Life. In this clip, Glass cites Tenggren's Golden Tales from the Arabian Nights to express the power behind a story.
Jim Krusoe discusses his latest novel Parisfal in this Q&A with Marco Kaye from the Los Angeles Review of Books.
MARCO KAYE: Several years ago, in an interview with Michael Silverblatt, you mentioned writing a novel about “the war between the earth and the sky,” an idea inspired by your son. After finishing it, you realized it didn’t work and shelved it as an “interesting experiment.” Can you talk about returning to this material, and how the Parsifal legend saved it?
JIM KRUSOE: I may have called it “interesting” back then, but what I really meant was terrible. It was a draft that had airships and submarines at perpetual war, and the crewmembers on both factions were nearly identical — why, I was never sure. I have seldom sighed a sigh of relief so deep as when I got to the end, took a step back, and realized it was completely impossible; I would never have to look at it again.
Then, about a month later, I was plunked down on my living room couch, itching to write something, as the prelude to Wagner’s Parsifal came on the radio. So I sat, looking out the front window at the cars passing by and at the guy across the street watering his lawn, and somehow it came to me that the war between the earth and sky wasn’t meant to be foreground, but the backdrop to the Parsifal story. And the core story, after all, was nothing more than that of a child raised in innocence who moves to experience.
Come see Jim Krusoe read at Hollywood Forever this Friday.
Douglas Kearney reads his poem "Live/Evil" from his first book, Fear, Some.
Come see Douglas Kearney read at Hollywood Forever this Friday.
I waited until senior year of college to complete most of my GEs. I thought they’d be easy and boring but, in my final year at UCLA, I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed many of them. One of the classes I took to fulfill a requirement was Linguistics 1.
As was the case with many of my classes, only bits and pieces of what we learned really stuck with me. Something that has stuck, though, is the idea that some people’s brains attempt to interpret the sounds of instrumental music as language, while other people’s minds perceive the musical notes as non-lingual noises. This, I remember the professor saying, is the reason why some people can easily listen to lyric-free music while writing and studying, while others find it deeply distracting.
I’m one of the folks whose mind senses music—even without lyrics—as language. (Of course, it is a language of sorts. I don’t know much about music, but I do know that most classical pieces are organized in movements, which transition through an emotional journey and, in doing so, convey a story.) For those of us whose brains try to make sense of music as a language, we know that it’s tough to write while listening. It’s like there are two conflicting conversations taking place, vying for coherence and articulation.
At the same time, I know firsthand the merit that can be found in writing to music. For one, it’s a great way to cancel out noise. (I like writing in coffee shops and I can’t control the fact that there are often chatty groups at nearby tables.) It’s also an effective way for returning to a state of mind and mood; listening to a certain song sets a tone in me as a writer, which in turn lends consistency to the atmosphere of the book. It’s a sensory cue for writing, too. When I hear a certain song: ready, set, write. For me, this song is Beethoveen’s Sonata Number Fourteen.
Further, I’ve found that when I listen to this same classical song over and over my brain has a chance to make sense of it. After listening to something on repeat about 12,000 times, my brain no longer busies itself with trying to interpret the language of the music. Only the feel of the song, and the feeling it creates in my writing, remains.