Neil Gaiman’s lessons on writing.
(Neil is the creator of the epic saga of Dream in the Vertigo {DC} graphic novel extraordinaire- The Sandman)
An eye and an ear
If a person can wield words beautifully, he has a superpower of sorts, akin to flying or time-travelling. Some people develop an eye of an eagle and an ear of a dog, which aids them in penning poetically, with the right word at the right place.
The listening process is an important one. It is the state of listening back to the content. Sometimes, when things don’t sound right, we have to try something different, and again see how it sounds. We may listen some strange noises, which sound brilliant, novel and perfect for the respective scenario.
The details add up
It helps to mark down an idea when it is fresh in our heads. Doing so pays off massively. We shouldn’t wait to pen exclusively on a day we have reserved for writing. We should take notes all the time. The details add up.
Once we note something, it becomes real. It grows into a thing that wants to fight for its identity. Even if it’s not on the forefront of our awareness, it pushes and pulls the brain cells, delivering a babe we didn’t expect, off an egg we didn’t know we delivered.
Stories develop layer by layer. The first drafting exercise can be a skeleton. Later we add the muscles, followed by organs and skin. Rome does not need building in a day. We get all the dirt out, and construct beautiful, elaborate and niftily-engraved sculptures out of them.
The process of writing pushes the brain to remember and connect and focus, which mere casual thinking can’t provide us. All the stories are inside of us, waiting for our calls.
One million#@$!
When we take up a new thing, we are bound to make mistakes and get it wrong, before we make the first dent. It is an integral part of writing. Any attempt of creating, of trying to get out there and doing something is a sure shot pathway towards breaking things, and trying things that don’t come together as they did in our heads.
What the reader reacts most profoundly to is the writer’s voice, so it’s imperative for us to work it out. We have a million bad drawings in us- we have to get them out of our brushes, in order for the good ones to magically start appearing.
We get the bad words and the ugly sentences out. After we have put down a hundred thousand, five hundred thousand, or a million words, we find our voice. It will stay with us, because we will have found it.
So we need to write and write and write…………………… The most important thing is to write, and to write some more. And we need to finish things, so we know what we did.
Research
We should do our research, for our piece, but be careful to not get into a vortex of research, and learn to let go when we know enough. But some amount of research is necessary to give credence to our composition.
As adults, we have met many people. Even if we have tried hard to avoid them, we know enough folk to understand how a lot of them are and how they think and behave.
With places as with people, a little knowledge goes a long way. To scribble about the snow-capped Himalayas, we just need to have experienced climbing a mountain. Subsequently we can go on to imagine and extrapolate the rest.
Trust
We need to trust ourselves. Having faith in ourselves is vitally important, as the writing process is like Wiley Coyote running along a cliff, and at a point running completely out of footing, but still going on. As it runs like a headless coyote, Mr. Wiley will need to look onwards, and never look down, for there is no ground beneath his feet.
We do it by doing it.
Care
At all times, the material should be close to us, so that we feel a connection to it. The link we feel will induce responsibility, which will prompt us to be true.
We need to care about the people we think up, the places we fabricate, and the stories we etch out. If we don’t care, no one else will. Narratives created out of true incidences and feelings are relatable, and hence believable. If something in our tale feels real, we are immediately credited with brownie points.
Being specific helps in holding the interest of the reader, and so does being honest. If I am both of those things, and what I’m saying is rooted in the truth, what applies to me will apply to others too. We should be willing to open his chest- perhaps a bit too much. We should be prepared to say who we truly are, without being afraid of being judged.
Short stories
Economy and compression are essential practices while writing, especially when we are composing a short story. They are great places to learn the craft. Before embarking on a 7 novel anthology and prior to building a world with 1000 addresses set in 15 cities, there is a lot of little tricks we need to teach ourselves. Short stories let us practice all the skills needed to bake that 12 storey red velvet cake.
In a pint-sized story, we can run an idea- which can pass or fail. But we will never fail to learn while venturing into one of them. We took the boat out, we put pen to paper, and as we did so, we succeeded. The humble medium will teach us all the skills we need to keep in our arsenals.
Characters
It is important to differentiate between the characters. Mr. Gaiman calls the process giving them ’funny hats’, for the simple aim to set them apart, and for the deeper aim to incorporate comedy, personality and memorability.
When we create a character, we think about what he looks like, what he sounds like, what he thinks like, and what his values are. These details decide what happens next. The point where two characters with different motivations and intentions clash is the point where the plot is created. The story moves on with all kinds of conflicts and flashpoints of perspectives and values. Ideas are born at the point of confluence, when two planets collide.
So many times we don’t know the result of the conflict. As we devise and work out how a person will react to a certain circumstance, and how the other person will react in the same scene, we slowly and gradually come to terms with what gives, what bends and what breaks; and hence the story moves on.
World building
We devise the world where the story is set in. We are god, and we get to create the rules in the respective location. The rules decide how the other things pan out.
When creating a world for a setup, it is useful to derive inspiration from our own lives. We know the way the sky looks in some place, and how dusty the road is in some other destination. By drawing on those memories and spots, we write about real venues, and whatever is based on reality is interesting. Later, we can make these spots smaller, or bigger. The sites can be set in the sky or at the bottom of the ocean.
Words, descriptions and narrative
Words are the most important things that we have. We describe what needs to be described. We explain what needs to be explained. We can delineate the gate, the grape and the grave in the corner of Gartner Garrison. Our creations shall have the visual descriptions of our choosing. But things should be distinct, memorable, and if possible, they should evoke some kind of emotion.
Even when we draft something basic, we know more than the reader does. We always have an upper hand with the who and the what and the where and the why. It is our car, we are steering.
We don’t have to say everything, but we have to say enough, and know a lot more than we say.
A story always sounds better with distinct beats. It brings purpose and musicality.
There is a specific joy in the unexpected. Surprise is a magic trick.
But before we can be eccentric and clever, we need to have figured out where the circle is. Then, we can jive and summersault and do all kind of stunts.
What is the whole fuss about?
It is important to know what the piece is about, to have an idea about the broad theme, and go on. Sometimes we need more information. We have to figure out what the heart of the story is, and why should anyone care about it.
The tale of two processes
A person who wants to write is a creator and a curator. He is the writer and the editor. Both of these processes should be performed by two different people, perhaps the same person in body but a different one in attitude and intention. The writer shouldn’t care about the appropriateness of his actions, while the editor should not let through what is not apt.
We should be prepared to kill our darlings. The pieces that took a long time in drafting, refining and finalizing will need to be ruthlessly let go.
Things may not be as striking as we wanted them to be, they may not be perfect. Its fine. Take a deep breath and move on. Perfect does not happen in this universe.
Driving through the fog with one headlight
A blank page is a tough adversary. We have to write anything, absolutely anything to dent its prospects. As we write more, it becomes weaker. At one point, as we rewrite and hone the piece, we are bigger than the page, bigger than our bodies.
Writing is like driving through the fog with one headlight. We have to (very slowly) navigate our way through the mountains. It’s about forward motion, and includes working with a few things we do know and a multitude of things we don’t.
The fog will subside at times, and we will get to see the beautiful valley. But that will be a momentary sight before our visions are blurred again. But the image of the valley will encourage us to go on and fulfill whatever aims we have with the undertaking.
Bricklaying and mistakes
Whatever we write will have mistakes, logical flaws or some other problem. But it can be improved upon. Crucially, we can’t fix a blank piece of paper. When we create something, some content will be better than others. We may not know why it was better, but it just will be. But we have to write. If we don't write, nothing will happen.
We need to be ready to make errors, but also believe that we are onto something brilliant. It’s OK if we are not. It will set us up to compose what needs to be composed.
Then we have to finish things, and not abandon them, and not sit on them till eternity.
There will be good days when we fly, and some other difficult ones when we will feel like a tired bricklayer, laying down bits, brick-by-brick, to build a lanky wall on a large field.
Some days, the act will feel like pulling our own teeth out of our gums.
Epilogue
This is what I learnt from Neil Gaiman’s course on creative writing.
There is more that he taught, but it shall take me some more time (and practice) to completely fathom what he really meant. For now, I’ll chew only as much as I can (easily) swallow.
Ready?
Me neither.
Here it goes.
Comments