Friday, June 3, 2011

When I......

Storm clouds gathering over Maine


"Samurai Song" by Robert Pinsky

When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.

Watch Pinsky recite this poem

The other night, I saw Robert Pinsky (poet laureate of the United States, 1997 -2000) talk about poetry on The News Hour with Jim Lehrer. Charming, engaging and passionate, he talked most particularly of his love of music and the importance of rhyme and tonality in poetry. As well, we saw a clip of Pinsky reading his poems with a live jazz band – his voice like another instrument riffing right along with the clarinet and the saxophone.

Pinsky says “I think the rhythms in a lot of my writing are an attempt to create that feeling of a beautiful, gorgeous jazz solo that gives you more emotion and some more and coming around with some more, and it’s the same but it’s changed, and the rhythm is very powerful, but it is also lyricism. I think I’ve been trying to create something like that in my writing for a long time.” (The Progressive)

I hear the music in Pinsky’s work. Notice Pinsky’s repetition of “When I” at the beginning of each paragraph. Read the poem aloud and you will see that this powerful and lyrical language, this repetition pulls you into the poem. It’s what Jack Grapes calls “a sung verse… public voice, meant to rouse and inspire.” Mary Oliver uses the same voice in How Would You Live Then? --repeating “What if” and achieving a similar reaction in the listener. Read the poem aloud and you will feel the effects of the rhythm of repetition of What if.”

How would you live then?

What if a hundred rose-breasted grosbeaks
   flew in circles around your head?
What if the mockingbird came into the house with you and
   became your advisor?
What if the bees filled your walls with honey and all
   you needed to do was ask them and they would fill
   the bowl?

What if the brook slid downhill just
   past your bedroom window so you could listen
   to its slow prayers as you fell asleep?
What if you painted a picture of a tree, and the leaves
   began to rustle, and a bird cheerfully sang
   from its painted branches?
What if you suddenly saw that the silver of water was brighter than the silver
   of money?
What if you finally saw that the sunflowers, turning toward the sun all day
   and every day --- who knows how, but they do it ---were
   more precious, more meaningful than gold?


Exercise: Repeating the phrase "When I "' or “What if” build a series of sentences that, due to the repetition of “When I” or “What if," become an incantation. Vary the length of the sentences. For example, "When I think of gin, I grin. When I think of gin and grin, I reach for the bottle.” Or, “What if I wrote the poem that’s been living in me all these years. What if it got published? What if I had to go the publishing party and I had no dress. What if I went naked” Of course, I am trying to be funny to lighten the burden here, but this is serious and valuable stuff.


Think of Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech. He repeats the phrase many times, varying the length of the sentences.  You can go serious with your tone, like Oliver and King, or be light-hearted, talking about chocolate ice cream for example. It's the exercise that counts. It's the rhythm and tone of your writing that will be the incantation
And so the storm passes.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

LOST


Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here.
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger.
Must ask permission to know and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

David Wagoner, copyright 1976

Path through the trees   Patricia Shea

To me, this poem is about artistic process, whether writing, acting, sculpting, or painting. To get in touch with our deep artist’s voice, we must stand still and open ourselves to receive. “Stand still…The forest knows where you are. You must let it find you.” As terrifying as it may seem, we must be willing to allow ourselves to lose control and get out of the way. The creative process is mysterious, and, if we’re not careful our grown-up inhibitions will block our genius. Pablo Picasso said, “When I was a child, I could paint like a master, and I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to paint like a child.”

Before you begin your work, create a sacred space around you. Whether it’s throwing salt over your shoulder, as Shakespeare did, or praying to Homer, as Stephen Pressfield does (see The War of Art by Stephen Pressfield ), acknowledge, consciously, that you are beginning the task. In other words, ask permission to know and be known. By our words; by our characters; by our story. And then let the forest - the work - find us.

Exercise. Sit still, at your computer, or with your notebook open in front of you. Complete your ritual: ring the bell, light the candle, toss salt over your shoulder, put your Red Sox hat on your head. Shift into a state of hyper-awareness. Ask for the visitation of the powerful stranger. Empty your mind. Let the words find you.

And, check out Chris Guillebeau’s Manifesto for writers.
It should get your blood boiling!

Monday, April 25, 2011

Pass I on.

I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.

Dawna Markova

In her book, I Will Not Die An Unlived Life, Dawna Markova talks about reclaiming our passion. For me, this is a direct message to the writer in us. We get discouraged; we become self-critical; and, often, we give up writing. Throw down the pen, close the computer. Why did I ever think I could be a writer? Yet as Martha Graham says to Agnes de Mille, “There is a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action.” And, she goes on to say “This expression is unique. And if you block it…the world will not have it.”
Think about that. Your point of view of the world, your “optique” as the French would say, is yours alone. Artists offer their vision to the world humbly and without question. As Graham says, “It is not your business to determine how good it is. Nor how valuable it is. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.”

Dawna Markova has another way of saying this. She breaks down the word passion into three syllables: Pass I On. I read this to mean that we, as writers, as artists, must Pass I On – that is pass on what is ours alone, our own unique expression. Humbly. As a gift. Without question. Yes, we must keep working at our craft and getting better and better at what we do. Study, learn, work, repeat, rewrite, work. And, then without ego concerns of “will they like it, am I good enough” we put the work out into the world. The rest, as friends of mine would say, is up to God.

The adage in Hollywood, where I worked for years, is “nobody knows anything.” That is none of us knows what will be a hit; what will cause people to line up and pay money for a movie or a book or a work of art.

So, make a commitment to do your best work, offer it to the world, Pass I On, celebrate the completion, and, since there is no reason to worry about its reception, move on to find your next expression.
Writing Exercise:
Let’s explore the dark side. Set the clock for ten minutes and answer the following question: Why do I not deserve to be a recognized as an artist? You will see that eventually you will run out of bad things to say about yourself. At that moment, set your clock for ten minutes and write out your fantasies – make them as grand and specific as possible – regarding the success of your work. Sit back with a cup of tea/ coffee/vodka (depending on the time of day) and review your work.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Be Passionate, Be Revealing, Be Different.



I just saw a film called As It Is In Heaven. It is the story of a successful international conductor who interrupts his career and returns alone to his childhood village in the far north of Sweden. Soon after he arrives, he meets the local pastor who invites him to listen to the choir and give him notes; and then our hero asks to conduct the choir. And from that moment on, the village is in an uproar. The conductor is a change agent and all kinds of buried passions, resentments and hostilities emerge. The choir develops and grows. Marriages fall apart. Dogma collapses. And our hero finds love.

What is striking to me about the film is its central theme: We each have a unique voice and it is our job to find it. With help from others. Daniel takes the choir through all kinds of physical and vocal exercises to open the passageway to finding their voices. Little by little, each one finds his or her voice and, inevitably, their lives change. We watch them become more and more alive, cell-by-cell, until their growth threatens their set beliefs, their relationships and their way of life. Growth begets growth. When they decide to go to a choral contest in Innsbruck, Austria, we know something big is up. Many of them have never ventured beyond their small Northern Swedish town. And, indeed, Innsbruck is a life altering experience, not only for them, but also for all their audience. And for our hero. Do take a look at the film.

And, once again, the theme of voice. I can guarantee that if you are willing to find your true voice, and to express it, your life will change.



Writing Exercise:
Write three pages in your journal, without forethought. Practice Beginner’s Mind – remain open to whatever the universe will deliver to you. Just as Daniel says in the movie, the music is there waiting for us to hear it. So, once written, read your pages aloud. And then see if you can hear the rhythm in them. Turn the words into a melody.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Creating Characters

The real voyage of discovery
consists not in seeking new
landscapes but in having new eyes.
Marcel Proust

All writers (and all therapists for that matter) are concerned with
character. Even if we are writing non-fiction, we tend to hang the
story on character. I have found in my own work as a writer, and
in working with my students, that it helps to have ways to explore
character. The following list comes from my own work and from
information culled from various writers, including Elizabeth George, a
first-rate writer of crime novels. Her book, Write Away is a must-read.

Here are some helpful hints when you are creating a character,
whether for a novel, or a memoir. The list is long and can be used
either to guide the creation of character or to jump-start you when you
are stuck. When writing a memoir, it is helpful to develop detachment
from characters who are based on people you may know well. This
list will help develop that detachment.

Specific information:

Name
Age
Height
Weight and build
Color hair and eyes
Physical peculiarities – a limp, a bald head, an enormous mane of red
hair, an eye that wanders

Gestures when talking
Gait

Birth place
Educational background
Sexuality
Best friend

Enemies
Family (mother father siblings etc)
Religious affiliation
Philosophy
Political leaning
Hobbies

Core need (single need that is at the core of who we are). We
are born with them and during our lifetime, we mold most of our
behavior to meet our core needs. For example, you may talk of your
character's need for success. But if you go deeper, you may discover
that the core need is to be loved – success in this case is based on
the assumption that success will bring love. Another character might
have a core need for excitement or risk taking. This character would
be out surfing or mountain climbing. Or, a risk taker could get the
need for excitement from being an entrepreneur or circus performer.

Pathological expressions (a core need flipped over: delusions,
obsessions, compulsions, addictions, denial, hysterical ailments,
illness, self-destructive behavior, phobias, manias). This is a terrific
way to look at a character and one we writers often ignore. Always
be aware of your character’s the dark side.

Ambition in life: How is this different from core need? Often we are
not aware of our core needs, and develop ambitions based on what
others want from us. Your character’s journey may be from someone
else’s ambition to discovering his/her core needs.

Strongest character trait—Aggression, shyness, flirtation,
sassiness, boldness

Weakest character trait—No direction, lack of force, inability to
focus, inability to relate

Laughs or mocks—What makes your character laugh? What does
your character laugh at or mock?

What others notice first about him or her.

What does the character do when alone?

One line character description—This is very challenging, but if
you can do it, you are on your way!

Will reader (viewer) like or dislike the character? How can you
make this character likeable even though he or she may possess lots
of negative traits?

Does he/she change in the story and how? We certainly hope so
as the arc of the character will keep the reader interested.

Significant event that molded the character.

Significant event that illustrates the character's personality.

My Suggestion: Keep this list close to your work space and
consult it from time to time and especially when stuck. Have
fun!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

The King's Speech

   
Sunrise in Camden Harbor, -10 degrees
“Objectivity and again, objectivity, and expression: no hind-side-beforeness, no straddled adjectives, no Tennysonianess of speech; nothing – nothing that you couldn’t, in the stress of some circumstance, in the stress of some emotion, actually say. (Emphasis mine), Every literaryism, every book word, fritters away a scrap of the reader’s patience, a scrap of his sense of your sincerity.” Ezra Pound

The Kings’ Speech tells the story of the man who becomes King George VI, after his brother abdicates the throne to marry Wallace Simpson.  Bertie, as the future king is called, suffers from a speech impediment and a deep and irrational fear of speaking publicly.  After years of trying to overcome his challenge, Bertie works with an unorthodox and remarkable teacher who takes Bertie back to the origin of his fears and helps him to find his voice.  In the last dramatic minutes of the film, King George VI delivers a faultless speech by radio heard around the world declaring Great Britain’s war on Nazi Germany in 1939. This moment in the film is the moment of triumph. The hero has found his voice.

In watching the movie, I was struck by the parallels between Bertie finding his voice and my students and clients finding their voices.  When my students come into class, they often write with a voice they consider to be “real” writing.  We might call it writerly, because it is not true to the natural rhythms of the writers’ speech. It is not believable. When Bertie is able to stand before the microphone and deliver his famous speech, he is believable.  Any good actor knows that when they deliver lines, it has to sound as if they are delivering them for the first time. The same is true of writing, the lines must sound alive.  In order to get writers to discover the natural rhythm of the voice, the first exercise in Method Writing is “Write Like You Talk”  We ask the writer to start with an empty mind – think the Buddhist concept of Beginner’s Mind – and then write just like they talk.  The way anyone talks. Jack Grapes, my mentor and the creator of Method Writing, says this: “Our brain is hard-wired as it applies to speech and the syntax of language.”  He goes on to say that if we are writing a shopping list, or dashing off a quick note to someone, we tend to write in  “the syntax of speech.”  We don’t add a lot of adverbs, a ton of adjectives or compound sentences. Straightforward and to the point. Just as Ezra Pound says above. This is what we look for in the development of the Deep Voice.  First discovery of the natural rhythm or your voice, then, through a series of exercises, we begin to find your Deep Voice.


Writing Exercise:  Open your journal; empty your mind, no thinking about what you are about to write.  Pick up your pen and begin to write.  Imagine you are talking to a friend, recounting your day.  Write like you talk.  Write for two pages. When you finish, read it aloud.  Does it sound believable?  Does it sound like you?  Repeat the exercise until you begin to identify your voice. And, as a further exercise, listen to yourself as you talk in ordinary conversation throughout your day.

Sea smoke over Camden Harbor, -10 degrees