On Writing History Part 2: Delivering History

Ain't No Cure For the Summertime Blues!

Hello again, fellow writers!

It's summer in Texas again. The season for mid-day berry pickin' and back porch settin' has been relegated to the early hours or very late evening, driving the Austin populace to more comfortable environs with their feet up in a refrigerated living room, a stack of books beside the couch.

A Frustrated Reader--And Some Forthcoming Advice

 I believe in a pretty eclectic reading regimen. Lately, I've decided I want to write a paper on the shift of the American consumer's role in mass culture through the lens of Internet use. To speak intelligently to that subject, I've picked up Radio's America: The  Great Depression and the Rise of Modern Mass Culture. Most people who ask why I'm reading that follow it with an inquiry as to why I'd choose that particular style of self-torture. I counter that with the reassurance that the subject matter is incredibly interesting, even if the delivery is a bit repetitive--very repetitive. In fact, my major concern with the work itself is that Bruce Lenthall seems to have written a book where a paper should have sufficed. Everything--down to the compound-complex sentences--lacks an editor's touch where it counted for readability and analysis. Where Lenthall chooses to repeat himself are places where direct quotes, narrative, or even secondary sources would have performed the same work much more effectively. Lenthall employs liberal paraphrasing and footnotes to do the work of narrative, drastically reducing the effectiveness of his message.

When it comes to imparting and analyzing history, delivery is very important, even if you are outlining and illustrating the importance of Roosevelt's Fire Side chats to the vastly disconnected body politic of pre-World War II America. For those writing pieces of fiction, the method and vehicle for the delivery of history may either weaken the piece at key points, or strengthen a piece in an unexpected way. In our last post, we discussed using 20% of the known history of a work or actual history to drive 80% of the historical needs of the work. Today, we'll take that step further by examining the various ways authors divulge the rich history of their settings and worlds.

Traditional Methods for Delivering History

When it comes to delivering history, sometimes the best course of action is a tried-and-true method. These methods for revealing or using the history of a given place or time in fiction are perhaps the easiest for writers to grasp as they make their way through their first draft--which is what we're all about right now: getting words down on paper. Though each of them has their pitfalls, their strengths have been made apparent to us as readers since we've been able to remember the joy of reading.

Exposition

I mention exposition first because I need to get it out of the way. Exposition is an acceptable historical vehicle, especially for series in which readers are committed to the story and might be willing to overlook a few pages of backstory if it's been more than a year since the last installment. Author Gail Z. Martin has been known to mask exposition with recaps, either through journal entry chapters (see archivist Royce in the Winter Kingdoms novels) or through first-person introductions (see Cassidy Kincaid's introduction to the cast of characters in Martin's latest Deadly Curiosities novel, Tangled Web). Though exposition is not inherently weak, few authors do it correctly, and it is one of the easiest vehicles of history to go overboard on. Too much exposition--for history or not--can cause the story to lose a bit of its dynamism. This prompts the equally unhelpful "show vs tell" advice given to many writers. Every author who uses exposition for history should be striving for balance. Exposition should never drive plot and should be used sparingly to deliver history. Stephen King's The Eyes of the Dragon is one notable exception to the use of exposition to drive plot. 

Here are a few places where exposition can be used effectively.

• In first-person point-of-view, history can be delivered in the form of memories related to a current conversation or circumstance in which the reader will need a little more backstory to truly understand the current crisis.
• In third-person-limited point-of-view under similar circumstances: a quick memory or fact presented to the reader to enlighten the current event or circumstance.
• In incredibly long works with massive, pre-written backstories and lore that readers may already be familiar with. Warhammer writer Gav Thorpe uses exposition to move long moments in history and current plots. Since elves are long-lived, the events of the war between Anlec and the free elves of Ulthuan would have taken five or six books instead of three had they been "shown" not "told".

Flashbacks

Flashbacks are a lot like exposition with one key strength over exposition: flashbacks can be used to "show" events that would otherwise be told in snippets. Flashbacks have the ability to strengthen a work by putting characters through the circumstances that might have led up to the current moment or crisis. Flashbacks not only impart the history, but also they affect of choices on the character and the insights gained from experiences. Author Scott Lynch employs the clever use of flashbacks in his novels The Lies of Locke Lamora and Republic of Thieves. Lynch never detracts from the current plot of the novels, though he uses flashbacks as exposition to fill in the gaps between Locke's past and the current plot. 

Here are some examples where flashbacks are employed to their greatest effectiveness.

• In longer works with limited character point of view where an explanation of events leading the current crisis is needed to establish character as well as plot.
• In moments where a different or alternative perspective is given to the reader from an unexpected character, such as a villain. Two different people will remember an event very differently.
• Entire novels or novellas can be flashbacks. In The Book of Jhereg, Steven Brust opens with a novella of Vlad Taltos, Jhereg, beginning with an exposition flashback to Vlad's childhood, setting up the current events of Vlad's crisis. In the following novella, Yendi, Brust flashes even further back to tell the story of Vlad meeting his wife, Cawti, though technically that is the second novella in the series.

Dialog 

Dialog is an effective way to deliver history of events or pre-determined history. It's a more dynamic and natural way to deliver history. Gail Z. Martin often reveals history through dialog, allowing her characters to use the stories they are relating to also move plot. Though too often authors use dialog as a catch all in lieu of "showing" (dialog exposition is still exposition), dialog can be used to deal with large chunks of history or fact in a piece of fiction without diverging from the main plot, especially in a series. For myself, though I have plans to be more creative with my incredibly huge backstory, my characters in The Thaumaturge of Mircea (in progress) often relate previous events in the near or distant past to add context to current events. You can read a good deal into dialog that is delivering history.

Here are a few instances in which dialog can be used to deliver history.

• For those of us writing cultures with complex magic systems or orders of magic, history becomes a matter of discourse among characters, which can create tension as each character develops his or her own understanding of the system. The most dynamic scenes between Jedi and Sith often include both parties trying to best the other in a battle of philosophies as well as lightsabers, such as James Luceno's final showdown between Darth Vader and Rone Shrine in Rise of a Dark Lord.
• Delivering history through dialog will acquaint new characters with an unfamiliar setting or new surroundings. Depending on the person or character delivering the history, the conversation can be either reassuring or increase the anxiety of the character. The success of the dialog as a vehicle for history lays in the complexity of the characters. Flat characters cannot be expect to impart complex history that makes no sense for their personalities. Dynamic characters interpret history for themselves and their feelings on the subject will affect their delivery.

Case Study: Alternating Time Lines and The Rise of Nagash

Warhammer is a massive body of fictional content. The entire Games Workshop repertoire traditionally encompassed two separate universes: Warhammer 40K and Warhammer Fantasy Battles. In order to sell more games, Games Workshop commissioned authors of renown to write out the fictional lore of both universes under their own label, Black Library. One of those authors was fantasy writer Mike Lee, and among the major timelines leading up to the End Times in the worlds of the Mortal Realms was the Time of Legends subhistory, encompassing the stories of three of the Mortal Realms most legendary players: Sigmar, Malekith, and Nagash. Each of these key players would go on to found three of the major campaign armies available for play: the Empire of Man, the Elves of Ulthuan, and the Tomb Kings. Mike Lee wrote out the lore in a Black Library omnibus for Nagash called The Rise of Nagash, a three-novel series about the rise and fall of Nagash the Undying. 

Cover art for the omnibus edition of The Rise of Nagash

Because of the vast body of work already available for the Tomb Kings, it was Lee's job to go back in time and tell the story of Nagash's rise to power and the lengths he went to to ensure his own immortality. Lee chose alternating timelines to tell this story.

Mike begins the book en medias res, or "in the middle" of a massive campaign Nagash is waging against his own people. The chapter ends on a cliffhanger as Lee switches tracks. Instead of finding out the immediate outcome of the beginning chapter, Lee alters the timeline to include a flashback style chapter beginning with Nagash as a younger man, still breathing and ruminating on the acquisition of power. Each succeeding chapter alternated between Nagash's past and Nagash's present. The genius of the work laid in Mike's ability to alter point of views as well as the timeline, often incorporating the point of view of Arkhan the Black, the brutal voice of reason compared to Nagash. Though Arkhan was merely a supporting character in the historical chapters, he was a main character in the main plot chapters, creating a dynamic page-turner that I read cover to cover in a short period.

Though Mike Lee was not the first author to deliver history in an alternating timeline, Lee uses this method to his advantage, dealing out vast swaths of past events that builds strong connections to the famous characters...even if it is Nagash the Giant Jerk Necromancer.

Getting Creative With History

Some authors eschew the traditional methods of delivering history in favor of creating something entirely different with their history. As we're all aware, Tolkien's mythic history for Middle Earth was far and away more extensive than what made it into his Hobbit and Lord of the Rings novels, so much so that he would go on to write The Simarillion to add the details of the mythic history he imparts to his readers through his legendary characters, some of them mythic legends themselves.

Some authors employ alternative history, basing their stories in historical fact while altering the course of events through speculation. Harry Turtledove is perhaps the most well-known alternate history author, specializing in fiction that speculates what would have happened if the Germans had won World War II.

Authors like Gregory Keyes include historical references in at the beginning of each of their chapters. For example, Keyes' would reference old texts and writings from the annals of Crotheny's darkest days, everything from religious texts to pieces of music. H.P. Lovecraft was also fond of referencing historical works at the beginning of his stories, often from the famed Necronomicon, which he first coined and August Derleth made famous in Lovecraft's wake.

Then there's Susanna Clarke.

Case Study: Susanna Clarke and Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell

Mr. Honeyfoot and Mr. Segundus--in the BBC television adaptation of Susanna Clarke's Regency-style novel of English magic--approach Mr. Norrell at his home in York. Mr. Segundus asks the penultimate question.

"We wish to know, why is there no more magic done in England?"

Mr. Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot visiting Mr. Norrell at his home in York.

Of course, Mr. Norrell is not inclined to answer, and he will spend the rest of the novel defending his title as the only successful practitioner of "Proper English Magic" in the country. Susanna Clarke chose to tell her novel of the death of English Magic in Regency style. It is indeed a work of historical fiction, but Clarke's novel is more than that. Readers familiar with the language and diction of the Bronte sisters (Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre) and Elizabeth Gaskill (North and South), as well as the acerbic wit of Jane Austen (Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, etc) will immediately recognize Clarke's remarkable use of cultured, cultivated, crafted language popular in English literature in the Eighteenth-Century. 

In addition to Clarke's clear understanding and flawless use of the language, Clarke's design for the novel is also unique. Instead of using introspection and exposition--constructs of contemporary fiction--Clarke uses footnotes to fill in the gaps of her novel, provide backstory, and offer introspection. For those of us used to Regency literature, we will recall that introspection began in the Eighteenth Century, but was not so widely used as it is today. Many authors still relied on the tried-and-true method of referencing a source for their fiction, as extended works of fiction were not taken seriously as a medium. Though authors like Dafoe, Walpole, Austen, Gaskill, Radcliff, and Swift wrote novels, the literary genre style of writing fiction was popularized, mostly by the likes of Dickens, in the Nineteenth Century, when the use of introspection and third-person exposition became literary devices that we see in contemporary fiction.

Writers in the Eighteenth Century wrote for their audiences in crafted language that also had a directed style of speaking, which relied on the reader's understanding of cultural artifacts and cultural references that we no longer have access to. Tapping into this knowledge, Susanna Clarke wrote to an Eighteenth Century audience, filling in the cultural reference and artifacts in footnotes, mostly in the Historical style of documentation we find in Barnes and Noble editions of great literary works. However, instead of filling in historically accurate cultural artifacts, Clarke made up her own texts, historical figures, and quotes, referencing "historical works" made up for her fiction, but that could easily have been found in Mr. Norrell's library in York.

Though Susanna Clarke is not the first author to invent a fictional body of texts and works of art and history for her fiction, she is so far one of the only authors of historical fiction that has successfully mimicked the Regency style with such accuracy that casual readers complained that the work was "too literary". I have to admit to being taken by surprised at how challenging the novel was. However, I now look back on it as one of my favorite books and I encourage everyone to give it a try.

Writing Prompt! 

Last week we delved into writing a scene or piece in which we used just a little bit of history to tell a story, ground the reader in the plot or setting, and do it all within about 2,000 words or so. This week we're switching it up! Whatever method you used to tell your scene or story, this week's writing prompt is to use a different method! If you told your story in exposition last week, split your scene out into two chapters this week and use alternating timelines. If you wrote your story from the prospective of the protagonist last week, try writing that same story or event from the prospective of a villain!

In this experiment, we're looking at ways to add dimension, depth, and dynamism to your plot, characters, or setting, but hopefully we're doing that work for all of the above! Remember that history, religion, politics, art, and people are interconnected, with one having influence over the other on at least some level.

Remember to make sure you're putting words down on paper by using 20% of your world's or setting's history to tell 80% of the story. Focus on "the here and now" of the plot as you use history--and your method of delivery--to create a rich world for your reader to dive into.

Features

As always, mention that you are interested in having your piece featured in the comments section below or on this week's Writing Prompt Facebook post. An admin will respond to you within one day, and we'll send you a message via DM or email so you can submit your piece for feature. 

Camp NaNoWriMo July 2018

Join us in July as we all attempt to make our daily word count, "right smack in the middle of our busy lives!"

On Writing History Part 1: Weekly Writing Prompt

Writing History for Fact and Fiction: Part 1

Historic Downtown Austin! Some of these buildings are over 80 years old.
"No! Surely not! No one was alive then!"

Yesterday I met up with a friend of mine in Austin, Texas for a writing day.

I like one-on-one time with writing friends because we get to re-explore the passion we have for our works. We mostly used the time we had to throw ideas and obstacles at each other and see what all we came up with. My biggest problem I was facing was getting hung up on details in my Western, resolving side-plots in my Fantasy, and making sure my exposition and setting have a point in my Urban Fantasy.

My friend's major problem was not knowing how much history to include in her work as she was writing it. More specifically, she asked me for my opinion on focusing on the history at all as she was writing the first draft.

For most writers, engineering a fictional history, knowing about factual history, or altering the course of history are a huge part of world-building. At some point, all writers will have to deal with history. That's why today's post and writing prompt are all about how we deal with history as writers of fiction and non-fiction.

The Realities of History

Another dear friend of mine is currently undergoing the life-altering and mind-numbing procedure of the PhD track at Yale. She specializes in Early Modern England (what we usually refer to as much of the Eighteenth Century in a vastly oversimplified explanation). 

Last week she and I discussed the importance of the general public's acceptance that historians' work is still relevant and important because of how much we just don't know about the past. In our opinion, a swath of pop culture, mass culture, and the general public view history as a moot point, and thanks to networks like National Geographic and Discovery (no real slight intended) the 20% of what is actually known about history is often taken by the pop, mass, and general population as 100% of what is actually known, leading many to question the necessity and relevance of things like studying textiles and dyes--and their manufacture--in the Eighteenth Century. 

Because of how little is actually known about these things (and many others), it is vitally important to understand the history of certain things in order to perhaps enlighten our current understanding.  

Case Study: The History of Ancient Egypt

3,500 years ago, there were five major dynasties that characterized the historical (not religious) rule of what we call Ancient Egypt. Each of those dynasties were punctuated by Intermediate Periods in which dynastic rule by indigenous Egyptians was disrupted. This has contributed to a near-complete lack of understanding and standardized method of Egyptian mummification. Despite what many network television documentaries would lead us to believe, we still do not fully understand the Ancient Egyptian civilization. In the last ten years, we have seen major upheavals to what was accepted as common knowledge about that civilization--from the way we have been interpreting their language to their mortuary cults (to all the knights errant reading this, I actually didn't pull this one out of thin air--I researched Egyptian dynastic rulers while I was doing my "Oh My Ra!" Series on Dark Corners. I apologize for the lost pictures). 

Despite the Egyptian iconography, this mummy was in fact interred during the Greco-Roman
occupation of Egypt, as can be seen from the geometric design of the wrappings on the face.
A little history goes a long way.

There are a number of reasons and theories behind the sheer drought of knowledge we have on the Egyptian mortuary cults: 1) though written language was a thing in Ancient Egypt, it is possible that because of the industry of mortuary practices (see my blog post) it is likely that embalming techniques were passed down from master to apprentice, meaning much of it was never written out; 2) politics and economic class had a great deal to do with how embalming was being performed overall and how much the deceased family could afford to pay for your comfort in the afterlife; 3) because Intermediate Periods lasted upwards of several centuries, it's possible that many practices fell by the way side, and short lifespans meant that some masters of the mortuary practices took their skills with them to the grave.

In presenting what information we do have down pat to the general public, network documentaries often utilize the 80/20 rule: they use the 20% of our actual knowledge of the Egyptian Civilization to represent 80% of the story they are trying to tell--and all documentaries are telling a story, whether it's the story of the Battle of Gettysburg or the story of King Amenhotep. The difference between telling a fictional story for television and telling a historical story for television is one group of writers makes up the entire plot while the other set of writers condenses broad facts about a topic into interesting and engaging content that is easily digested in about an hour to answer an equally broad-spectrum question.

What we as writers want to know is how to use the 80/20 rule of history to our advantage.

The 80/20 Rule in World-Building

The 80/20 rule is perhaps the most time-saving and useful tool in any business, development, and writing work flow. In many cases, the most efficient use of time is making sure that you are using 20% of what you have (be it knowledge of history or Photoshop) to do 80% of your work. 

Building the history your world is as important as building economic structures, magic, science, and religion. However, as you wrote your outline, got your characters together, and named your cities, things like history might have been after thoughts. Writing fantasy, urban fantasy, and historical fiction, your world is based around magic, religion, science, politics, economics, etc. You might think history can be glossed over as a matter of un-importance.

However, in the known universe of mankind, religion, history, art, and science often go hand-in-hand, inseparable from each other, each being informed by the politics of the age and place, and each being acted upon by those in power or those owning wealth, each of those individuals a possible character in a larger world. Without knowing at least as much history as you need to begin writing, it will be impossible to write out events in an order that makes sense as you tell yourself the story in your first draft. Yet getting hung up on the details of that history could ruin your motivation to keep going, as your need to do research outweighs your need to put words down on paper.

Obviously there has to be some idea of how history is going to be played out, or how it has already played out, as you are writing. But how do we keep ourselves from being distracted when we should be, say, focusing on a truly epic shoot-out in Fort Stockton? How do we write the best first draft possible without stressing over whether or not your story is set in 1897 but you forgot about the railroad?

(No, no, I'm fine--really)

This is where the 80/20 rule comes into play. I'm writing a Western. I know that in 1897, people used horses as a mode of transportation in rural Texas. I know that the Colt revolver was a common weapon. I know that people rode railroad trains between far-flung towns. 

I know just enough about the Colt revolver to know that you pull back on the hammer to cock it, squeeze the trigger to fire it, and it does a lot of damage. I also know what that sounds like (I've done it). What I don't need is to constantly get hung up on who has what gun and which caliber. I can handle that in edits. What I need to focus on is who is firing at who and why.

I know just enough about the railroad in 1897 to describe a train and how it operated to write a train robbery scene. I do not need to get hung up on the description of the interior cabin, the way a steam engine works, and how to stop one; I can do that in edits. What I need to do now is focus on who is robbing the train and why that's important to my story.

You can take the 20% you've come up with, or the 20% that we have collectively in our archaeological record, and use that 20% to at least get through the first draft without derailing yourself on a historical spiral that could ultimately force you to give up entirely on the story or bore you off the subject.

The 80/20 Rule in Predetermined History

The 80/20 rule also works in world-building in edits if you find yourself wading through a lifetime of historical back story that you spent a lot of time on. Though Tolkien wrote an incredible amount of history for The Lord of the Rings, Peter Jackson didn't even come close to using all of it in the films. In many ways, Jackson's TLotR trilogy condensed a lot of Tolkien's best history and writing into digestible pieces that were relevant to the story, but didn't bore the viewer. Though not entirely true to the books, Jackson's films utilize the 80/20 rule by using 20% of Tolkien's written and documented history and timeline for Middle Earth to do 80% of the work of building the world in which Tolkien's characters fought and died. 

This works for known historical facts and factual places as well. Writers of historical fiction may gloss over contentious points of setting and history in order to advance plot simply because they know that most readers will too if presented with that much information. Writers of historical fiction may rely on a predetermined 20% of fact in their fiction to tell a compelling story without worrying about small details that would completely derail their story and bog it down. This is what makes bridging the gap between economic classes and upward mobility vastly more interesting in Pride and Prejudice than in North and South. 

With only 42 years of difference between their respective publication dates, P&P and N&S were both anti-romance stories involving dispassionate men of dubious character and the ladies of low-rank who married them. Where Jane Austen used wealth as a means to move plot and establish class to create conflict, Elizabeth Gaskill set her story in the heart of the Industrial Revolution, taking on the rise of cotton in Northern England and the prejudices people from the North and people from the South of England expressed for each other. The plot goes everywhere as Gaskill tries to balance her goals for the novel and present the cotton industry in it's true light. Both authors had different goals, but the reason Austen endures and Gaskill does not is that Gaskill had many slow spots that went off on tangents and distracted readers of the Twentieth Century. Austen's narrative was tight and to the point--as much as Regency fiction could be said to be.

Case Study: Vlad Dracula

Vlad the III or "Drakyula", which literally means "Son of the Dragon" after his father's epithet. Vlad II adopted "Drakul" during his war with Mehmed the II when he started the Order of the Dragon. That is why Bram Stoker chose Vlad's epithet, "Dracula", as the name of the character that would go on to be the most legendary vampire in the world.

When Vlad III (called Vlad the Impaler in our history books) took the throne of Wallachia in 1448, he was surrounded by enemies, aides, and allies. His closest ally was the weak-willed and weakly-connected lord of the Holy Roman Empire, Matthias Corvinus. His chief enemy was Mehmed III, ruler of the Ottoman Empire and the son of the ruler who had killed his father and older brother, and who now imprisoned his younger half-brother, Radu. And when Fred Saberhagen wrote A Sharpness on the Neck, he recalled everything he had read about Vlad and Radu's strained relationship as he described the two legendary vampires duking it out in a blood-fueled battle for vampiric supremacy during the French Revolution. 

Yet as he wrote the story, he also had to take into account how difficult it would be for a vampire, even in 1704, to traverse the social and political turmoil of revolutionary France. At the forefront of this undertaking is a character whose past life informs his decisions also informs his feelings towards his brother.   

When Bram Stoker wrote Dracula's monologue to Jonathan Harker at the beginning of Dracula, he laid the groundwork for Saberhagen's character--though even then, Stoker could only use the history available to him at the time, and this was limited both by distance and the fact that the Eastern Bloc had only been ceded to Europe from the Ottoman Empire a century-and-a-half before. That monologue is perhaps part of Stoker's best work, and it is the first and last time we hear the story of Vlad III from the vampire's own lips, as even Dracula admitted the rest is ancient history. 

Despite having a wealth of knowledge at his disposal, Saberhagen's real genius lay in making sure his characters came first, that history merely informed his story, making the reader desperate to learn more about this incredible character (even if he was sort of dubious in real life). The reader wants to keep reading! Despite having little information, Stoker managed to create one of fiction and history's most enduring and beloved characters.

That's the important thing: using history to build a rich world while not drowning your reader in it--or accomplishing 80% of your world-building with only the most relevant and useful 20% of the information at your disposal. 

Weekly Writing Prompt

Okay, seriously, is anyone else overwhelmingly comforted by this room?

This week we're talking about using a small amount of information to make as much of an impact as possible during drafting so that we can focus on getting words down on paper. Since this week's discussion is on history, I challenge everyone to a writing prompt on a piece of history or information that you have beginner or cursory knowledge of and use it to write a 2,000 word scene. It can be any historical event, (or fictional historical event), or involve any historical (or fictional historical) person, and your job is simply to write a scene. 

This is also one of the many ways Fan Fiction is a viable tool for exploring other built worlds and having to make sure all the essentials of that world are included to prove authenticity. However, this must also be balanced with plot and character to keep new readers interested without bogging the piece down in details of the world. Remember, 2,000 words is the challenge, and every word counts!

Do not bother doing more research on your topic. Simply write what you know. In this case, writing what you know is absolutely acceptable because in many cases too much detail will be glossed over or cut, and copious research will result in no or few words being written during the most crucial phase: first drafting. 

Try not to pick something off the top of your head that you might know about. Choose a history, subject, or person, or fictional historical past of a world that you are reasonably familiar with, enough to write to the subject without worrying about further research, or making sure every single detail is absolutely perfect.

We would love to see what everyone came up with this week! Since this is just an exercise, we very much encourage you to share your piece with all of us! We think it would be fun to see how far each of us got on just a smattering of knowledge. 

Features

As always, mention that you are interested in having your piece featured in the comments section below or on this week's Writing Prompt Facebook post. An admin will respond to you within one day, and we'll send you a message via DM or email so you can submit your piece for feature. 

Next 

Next week we'll look at part 2 of writing history: delivery of historical information in your writing.

Writers Away!

Weekly Prompt: The Ninth Day of the Month

The egg is what color again?!

Good Wednesday morning! Today's weekly prompt--and we apologize for the delay--falls upon that auspicious of monthly events that emphasizes the near-deadly importance of having a routine, which is why I've decided to start out our weekly prompts on The Ninth day of the Month!

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

What a nice little nook! Wish I wrote here!

Establishing a routine is about change, so let's change it up a little! Change is disruptive! It's full of its own problems, miscommunications, misconceptions, and adjustments! Imagine how one of your favorite characters would feel if they suddenly found themselves transplanted out of their known universe and into another!

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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Writers, away!

Identified

“It’s what I’ve always thought of myself as, I just... eventually, you have to figure out how to be who you are, you know?”

The woman sat back defensively, her chin up defiantly, her arms crossed over her chest. Carlson met her eyes with what he hoped was warmth and compassion, but she looked away.

“Okay,” he said, “Talk more about that. Tell me about when you first felt this way, when you began...”

“I don’t understand why I have to go through this,” she said. “I mean, it’s what I want, and I’m willing to pay, so what’s the problem?”

Morning

The first customer of the day walked in about ten minutes after I opened and ordered something cheap and hard in a nasal east-coast accent. He sat at the end of the bar and sipped it quietly while I futzed behind the bar; I’d gotten all the pre-opening crap done for once, and frankly I had been hoping to have that magical hour or two after opening when there weren’t any customers and I could get my homework done.

Fuck it, it wasn’t like the guy was needy. I whipped my backpack up onto the bar and pulled out the post-structuralist novel I was supposed to be enlightened by before Tuesday. I found it really difficult to read with distractions, but then I also found it really difficult to read this stuff without distractions, so really, it was a wash; and like I said, that one guy wasn’t being distracting.

The experience of that novel may help me later on with being able to understand the structural underpinnings of a postmodern society, but it set a surreal tone for the rest of the morning that made things just a little bit... well.

The guy at the end of the bar finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the bar; I jumped. I hate it when people do that, it’s like this I’m-a-badass flourish to finishing a glass of cheap booze, like it’s something they accomplished, rather than a sign that they might need to spend some time thinking about the underlying causes of their alcohol dependency.

Then he did something else that irritates me: he set money on the bar and walked out. Some people really like doing this; it says something about being a regular or able to do basic math or whatever. I didn’t know this guy; he was just another morning alcoholic to me, so the fact that he decided to skip the payment ritual just made me nervous that I was being stiffed.

I let the book flip closed, letting go of my fear that I’d never be able to find my place again because I had no idea what was going on anyway, and hurried down to have a look at the money.

Which was fake. It was some sort of bank-issued note: payable at something called the Fifth Hibernian Bank, valued at five of whatever currency it denominated; it had a picture of Mark Twain on it. It was red, for Christ’s sake. 

“Hey,” I said, almost conversationally, and then, “Hey!” The door was just closing on the guy’s heels. I ducked under the bar flap and ran to the front door, wondering the whole time whether the price of a drink was worth a morning sprint. Hell, though, I’m a bartender; if I don’t collect money for the drinks, what the hell am I doing, anyhow?

I flung the door open and looked up and down the street. The guy was about halfway down the block, walking fast on the... moving... sidewalk...

Rubber Fork

“Super powers.” She leaned way back in her booth; I couldn’t tell if it was an expression of skepticism or an attempt to be as far away from me as the seating would allow.

“Yeah,” I said, looking away. “I know.” I carefully resisted the urge to reach for my coffee; after the laptop incident this morning, I had no idea how to interact with things in my environment.

“So... you can show me these superpowers, yes? They’re not just something that only happens when you’re by yourself?”

This reaction was why I called Jill in the first place; skepticism and level-headedness are assets when you’re trying to come up with explanations.

Waking Up

The dude was wearing some sort of hard-sided pack on his back with lots of blinky lights and a thick tube coming out the bottom that connected with a thick wand he held in both hands. He wasn’t wearing a costume or anything, just jeans and a t-shirt; the pack made him look like he’d just mugged a ghostbuster.

Getting closer, it was obvious that the pack was homemade -- parts if it were held together with duct tape, especially around the joints that connected the tube to the wand; and it was also clear that it wasn’t just an art piece. There was a level of complexity in it that somehow made it obvious that this was a working device, that all the little bits of it were there for a reason.

He was walking down Market street, just sort of meandering. So was I; it was my day off, and I had been trying to figure out what to do today and of course if you just meander downhill long enough you end up on Market, so there I was, following this guy through the weekend crowds of tourists and shoppers.