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Television. Really?

Every now and again I wonder: Why do people watch television? I include myself in this. In fact, let’s rephrase the question: Why do I watch television?

I love watching television shoes and movies. I don’t own cable; I watch Netflix, Amazon Prime, and whatever I can cadge off the Internet. My question ponders the act of watching other people pretend to live other people’s lives.

Personally, I like getting lost in other worlds. I usually watch shows that have little similarity to my own life; so, it is an escape. Fortunately, I am aware of this.

I have just finished watching Bosch Season 3 on Amazon Prime. I’ve read most of the Bosch novels by Michael Connelly. Titus Welliver is the perfect actor to play this sardonic character and Jamie Hector looks and acts exactly as I pictured J Edgar. Perfect casting makes the characters real for me as I watch people pretend to be other people, who are themselves figments of an author’s imagination.

Thousands of years ago, would humans have even thought about such a phenomenon as television and streaming video? Well, they went to see plays or listened to stories about historic figures– watching (or listening to) people pretend to be people that may or may not have existed. This fascination with imagining and enjoying other people’s lives is nothing new. Perhaps television is an inevitable evolution of our artistic enjoyment, embedded in the human genes. Those who don’t watch TV or videos might scoff because they read books. However, even reading books represents the same phenomenon: experiencing other people’s lives, some of whom may exist or have existed at one time; much of the time, fictionalized lives.

As I watch Titus Welliver, I realize that he is the actor doing a fine job playing Bosch, the character himself, Bosch as depicted by or deviating from the character as conceptualized by Michael Connelly. I consider the artistry that makes me believe that Welliver is Bosch. Camera angles, soundtrack, lighting, all work together to create a mood and narrative as depicted by the director (among so many others).

When watching televised performances, I frequently consider technical aspects. So much is involved in creating even the shortest film. The other day a colleague showed us a 15-minute film of herself folding paper cranes while reading a poem she’d written that used cranes as metaphor. A few months before, she had read this poem to us while teaching us how to fold cranes.

These events are totally different. We shared this with her after she showed us the film. For me the film was a performance. Some people would view it as an art installation. I asked her about camera angles. I assumed that someone else had filmed her. However, she had filmed and edited everything by shooting and reshooting from different vantage points, editing and re-reading, editing and re-reading, until she acquired the effect she wanted.

I was fascinated by the process and her talent. Reading this, you probably are thinking that watching someone folding cranes isn’t the most interesting thing. However, it was very meditative watching one segment of a person’s life, while listening to her read a poem about the history of indigenous people. I have taken all the juice out of the experience with these flat words. Yet, at bottom, that is exactly what went on.

And if I were to flatten out the scenes from Bosch, the words would be something on the order of watching a police detective go about doing his job. Many of the scenes are just he and his partner driving around talking. Every now and again, there is a chase, gunplay, or other physical action emotionally intensified through music. Scene after scene. It is a performance that many, such as myself, find enjoyable enough to spend hours watching.

Our ancestors might not have been able to imagine television, but I think they would have understood the fascination.

***

Ruth Farmer
Farmer Writing and Editing
Offering coaching, editing, and writing services
Specializing in personal essays and scholarly personal narratives
rfarmer@gmavt.net
802-377-3001

Your Story or Your Work

If you belong to a writing group, you probably have the pleasure of others “getting” where you are coming from. This could provide supportive energy. Everyone needs folks in their lives who wish them well and understand their values and even their stories. This knowledge could also become a detriment.

What do I mean?

Let’s say you wrote a poem about swimming in Lake Morey. Your group might know that you visited that lake many times and once had an accident. With this perspective in mind, the conversation might lean more toward your history than toward the craft of your piece. For example, instead of discussing the poem’s structure, sounds, techniques, etc., the group makes such comments as:

“I remember you telling us about that.”

“Why didn’t you also include that your brother pushed you in?”

“I thought you were with friends, not relatives.”

While it is lovely that group members know you as a person, ultimately, most of your readers will not know you personally.

Each piece should stand on its own. Most importantly, the group could be most helpful if they responded to the work.

Keep writing!

Ruth Farmer
Farmer Writing and Editing
Offering coaching, editing, and writing services
Specializing in personal essays and scholarly personal narratives
rfarmer@gmavt.net
802-377-3001

Rainy Days and Mondays

It is a rainy day, Monday, and – yes – I feel a bit down. In the past few days, I have run into several folks who felt down due to the weather, which has been cloudy and damp, interspersed with just enough sunlight to make you appreciate it and miss it when it’s gone. Spring has arrived; of that I have no doubt.

Revision: Find What’s Working

An artist’s imagination is kindled not by searching for what is wrong with the picture but by being inspired by those things worth valuing. Appreciation draws our eye toward life, stirs our feelings, sets in motion our curiosity, and inspires the envisioning mind.
(From Appreciative Inquiry: A Positive Revolution in Change
by David. Cooperrider and Diana Whitney)

When you sit down to revise your writing, what do you notice first? What do you focus on? Grammatical errors? Gaps in logic? Some other problem that needs fixing?

Next time you read your words, spend a solid chunk of time noticing what moves you, startles you, makes you laugh, or evokes specific memories or meanings. Try this technique daily for fifteen minutes or more, over a period of one week.

Reflect on what emerges as a result of noticing what works in your prose or poetry. Have you begun to welcome imaginative leaps? Do you understand your characters better? Are you more relaxed and, therefore, more open to revisions that must be made?

Appreciating your writing isn’t a means to avoid deep revisions. On the contrary, by focusing on what is working, you may become more adept at recognizing what changes are needed.

Keep writing!

 

 

Writing Tip: Reduce to Revise

Revising an essay? Try this:

Underline the most significant sentence in each paragraph, one that evokes that section’s central meaning.

Or pick the sentence that is the most striking (in terms of imagery or ideas; you decide).

In a separate document, write the chosen sentences in order, creating paragraphs as (or if) needed.

This new piece is stark, with all the frills stripped away.

Now that you have the essence of your narrative, you can re-introduce passages that are absolutely necessary. Or, maybe this version is exactly what you were getting at all along!

In a five-minute freewrite, reflect on what emerged for you as you chose the sentences or read the stripped-down version of your original piece.

This exercise can be helpful when revising fiction or poetry, as well. 

Keep writing!

Writing With Others

Writing requires a certain amount of solitude, to conceptualize, dream, draft, and revise. And it is not accomplished solely in the vacuum of an author’s imagination and focused scribbling.

A few months ago, I decided to join a writing group. Over the years, I’ve been a member of many such groups, some more supportive and interesting than others. After the first few sessions, I remembered what I value about these gatherings:

Talking about writing offers numerous opportunities to explore what moves, challenges, bores, or puzzles me, as a reader. This provides insights when I am drafting and revising my own work.

Sharing my writing reveals what readers see in my work. What do they like, wonder about, or find funny or dull? Am I conveying what I think I am? When group members make suggestions or express confusion, I can determine how – or if – their feedback will be incorporated in subsequent revisions.

Experiencing different genres heightens my creativity: For years, I had given up writing poetry (that’s a story for another time). While my primary genre is nonfiction, recently I’ve begun writing poems again. With a few exceptions, each of us writes in multiple genres. Listening to such variety helps to tune my ear. What makes that poetry and that prose? When does repetition shift from creating an emotionally moving tone to becoming stultifying? How much detail is too much? Is the dialogue believable for that character?

The tone of the group is supportive: Group members focus as much on what works as they do on what doesn’t. As a writer, I learn from both perspectives.

Each session, we spend a few minutes writing together, using various prompts, such as words chosen from a box or random lines from a book. We leave each session with a prompt. It’s fun listening to the different ways each writer uses the same words. Most recently, I wrote a piece that incorporates the names of paint colors found on paint sample cards.

Though each of us is at a different stage in our writing career – some of us have several publications, others a few or none – all are equal at the table.

Belonging to a writing group has been inspiring: I look forward to sharing my work and listening to others’ words. The prompts are a fun way to use my imagination. And writing with a group alleviates isolation.

If you are considering joining a writing group, think about the attributes that would be most helpful for you. Give the group a trial run, so that you can observe how members interact. For example: Do they talk about the strengths in a piece as well as offer relevant suggestions? Does each writer get equal time (or do one or two dominate the discussion)? Do they have fun with writing; for example, writing together using random and, maybe, ridiculous prompts?

Keep writing, alone and with others!

11 problems a writer has while reading (in no particular order)

  1. You can’t help thinking, “I wrote that story 10 years ago. Why didn’t I try to publish it?”
  2. You wouldn’t have made the killer the best friend. It’s been done to death; pun intended.
  3. You can anticipate the next three words in nearly every line of dialogue.
  4. You wonder if the author intended to use that cliché. And that one. And that one.
  5. Because the protagonist’s name is Lindsay with an “a,” you find it difficult to take her seriously.
  6. You are bored by chapter 3, but continue to read: You are analyzing the mechanisms the author uses to maintain the reader’s attention.
  7. You anticipate that the book will end at page 245. It goes on for a hundred more pages.
  8. You are still bored at chapter 65 when the book, mercifully, ends.
  9. You are upset that you read every predictable word and you realize those hours are lost forever.
  10. You give props to the writer and publisher who had the gall – I mean courage – to bring the book to the reading public.
  11. You think, “I wrote that story 10 years ago. I could have gotten it published!

Ready for a writing coach to help you finally write that story? Contact me, Ruth Farmer: rfarmer@gmavt.net; 802-377-3001