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| The egg is what color again?! |
On Gormenghast
As Secretary Barquentine stood on a raised portion of floor in the banquet hall of the castle of Groan, a few menial servants prepared a lavish breakfast for the Earl of Groan, including an array of colored eggs. As it was the Ninth Day of the Month, Barquentine rudely chastised a servant for serving a red egg, screaming "The Ninth, didn't I say it was the Ninth! The egg should be blue--not red!"
In the allegorical novels of Gormenghast, author Mervyn Peake suggested the strict adherence to decadent and outdated rituals was a large part of what lead to the near disaster of the family of Groan. Protected, comfortable, and slowly rotting away in their castle, the family Groan found itself vulnerable and apathetic to a rising threat: the ambitious kitchen boy, Steerpike. If the Groan family represented stagnation, then Steerpike occupied the extreme opposite side of the spectrum, that of change. Though we see the machinations of both aspects represented in militant protection in Lady Groan and complete upheaval in Steerpike, we're also presented with a foil for both, a force that represents both change and respect for the old ways. Titus Groan is Peake's balancing force. Both the son of an Earl and gifted with the strength of youth and Nature, Titus represents all the good that can come of change.
Steerpike and Titus' desire for the destruction of the mores of Gormenghast came equally from a hatred rooted in a system that oppressed them. Steerpike desired more power for a boy born for the kitchens, where Titus wanted more freedom for a boy born of the Stones who dreamed of the Woods. However, Steerpike loved nothing a no one except himself. Titus, on the other hand, loved his family and the place he came from, discovering perhaps too late that though he may not have been meant for the Stones, he could not deny his birthright. Peake challenges stagnation and decadence, but reminds his readers that chaos is no worthy substitute for law.
On Balance
Peake's main focus in Gormenghast was warning contemporary civilization that identity and self-preservation are hard to achieve in a homogeneous society with a strict structure. As players in a very grand stageplay called Mass Culture, it is difficult to walk that fine line between individuation and homogenization. We're homogenized in the way we interact with our co-workers, how we interact with service people, and how we interact as consumers. We actively exist within a culture that punishes individuation. Artists of all kinds struggle on a daily basis to balance our natural tendency towards extreme individuation with the need to survive in a mass society.
There is no finer example of the struggle between balancing entropy and chaos than being a writer. As writers, we too often feel forced to adhere to some form of acceptable structure. There is a vast world of difference between how our art works and how it is interpreted by the wider society: "Sure must be nice to be a writer, never having to worry about working." "How does your husband/wife feel about you spending all your time playing make believe?" "That's nice, but what are you going to do for money?" Writers are often society's whipping post, but then you would never believe how many people are writers. In 2008, Texas poet laureate and Chair of the Humanities at UTSA, Wendy Barker, once complained that her dentist was an aspiring writer, and asked her to help him with his novel while he had his hands in her mouth.
As writers, we are always searching for balance. We're constantly searching for ways to balance our life in the wider world with the ones we create for ourselves. We are like dirt farmers, scratching at red clay, trying to coax not only words out of our stubborn brains, but also time. Unlike the stereotypical tea-drinking part-time home maker sitting her writing nook under diffuse light, many of us are totally employed, working full-time even. We're parents. We're juggling a thousand different tasks, and somehow, through all of it, no one seems interested in granting us a meager hour to an hour and a half at night or during the day in which to practice our art.
The wider world feels entitled to our time not just because we are workers and parents, but because we are writers, the invisible artists. We do not have canvas and paints strewn about our elaborate work rooms. We are not covered in grease and clay from hours in our shop. There is not sawdust in our hair. At 33 years old, it still amazes me how upsetting it is when I demand a quiet corner of the house for an hour of uninterrupted writing time, how selfish I sound when I take myself off to Starbucks to make an ounce of progress, how unimaginably unthinkable it is to demand that my spouse please take his very loud phone back out into the living room so I can think. We're not asking for secret laboratories and inviolate thinking spaces. I just need this desk, in the bedroom, in a corner, and a couple hours of quiet.
This is where routine comes in.
Unlike other artists, where their space might be respected because their materials hold physical value, we have to chip our time and space out of the bare rock. Because our art does not hold physical value until assigned a physical value by a third party (publisher, agent, etc), we have a harder time than most artists justifying and validating the worth of our time as artists. Your job as a writer is to keep demanding that space and time. You sound selfish--art is selfish, but demand it anyway. Demand to be given the right to make your art, to tell yourself amazing stories, and to push boundaries.
My routine since I've been out of work has been to sit down at my computer in my room for at least an hour or until I hit 1,000 words of progress. Sometimes I do 1,000 words in an hour. Sometimes I do well just to get through the hour. I know that if I do not do this, I will feel guilty for neglecting my piece until later in the day. This makes me antsy and unfocused. My brain, my artists child, having been denied the time I have to practice my ultimate freedom, becomes restless and unproductive. Having a routine that caters equally to the time you spend on your art as you do on work and children strengthens confidence and makes those walls you have put up around your individual self a little stronger every day.
Your routine might vary. Some routines will spend a few minutes every day planning and plotting. This is fantastic because you have given yourself the ability to get the most out of the time you spend actually writing when you sit down to it. Some routines will have you writing late into the night, or very early in the morning. The point is deciding what works best for you and then becoming non-negotiable. I'm not advocating abandoning your family or your work. Establishing a good working routine will take time. You will have time adjusting to it. Your family and friends will have a hard time adjusting to it. However, in my experience, this is a short learning curve. You will soon discover that your friends and loved ones will share your dedication to your art and to yourself.
As writers, we're not asking society to tear down the walls of the establishment so that we can become Hemmingway in front of a keyboard with whiskey plumbing the depths of our souls. We are not Steerpike. Yet neither are we content to just sit back and let the world deprive us of our individual ability to be distinct among our peers. We are not Lady Groan. We are demanding to be ourselves in a world that may not understand, but that also doesn't need to understand. We are Titus Groan. We're in tune with ourselves, our true Nature, and we're demanding to be allowed that time and space to act according to that Nature.
Weekly Prompt
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| What a nice little nook! Wish I wrote here! |
This week, this Wednesday the 9th through next Wednesday, write a story in which a character suddenly finds himself or herself in another universe! This can be anything! A favorite character from a book or television series, or one of your own characters, must traverse--or hide!--in a world that is not their own! Personalities will collide! And in many cases, the effects will be hilarious!
As always, the point is to produce a piece that probably won't be seen or judged by anyone. This is purely for amusement. This week, practice focusing on the story and less about how others will think of the story. As we search for balance and abundance, try to imagine what it would be like to write if you were not worried about what anyone else would think of it! For the moment, focus on the fun of watching Dr. Strange walk into Moe's Tavern and sit next to Homer Simpson! What would they talk about? How does the place look? Does Dr. Strange look like a character in the show, or do the characters look realistic and human?
We're happy to share your reasonably polished work without judgement, critique, or editing here on Write Away as long as it is 2,000 words or less! If you're interested, drop us a comment on this posts' link on Facebook and we'll send you the email of an admin!
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