Tag Archives: Fiction

Do You Read George Saunders? If Not, Maybe You Should

I am a fan of George Saunders, a writer I discovered through Jeffery Eugenides anthology, My Mistress’s Sparrow is Dead.  In that collection he had a story called Jon,  a stunning example of voice for my teenage writing students.  Quirky is too banal a term for what he does with words.  His stories are never tidy.  I find myself re-reading sentences, paragraphs or even going back to the beginning and starting again.  His stories break all those rules about smoothness and not interrupting the reader’s flow.  But when I’m reading him I don’t care about being confused.  His characters are so intriguing, the situations they are in so bizarre, I want to read every word again and again.

Enjoy Tenth of December from the New Yorker, a short short story, with a memorable final line.   This is from a collection of the same name coming out in January.  I’ll be adding it to Pastoralia, his earlier collection I was supposed to get for Christmas (but couldn’t wait.)  For a review of  Pastoralia in the Guradian, go here.

Nourishment For Writers

Raymond Carver

Raymond Carver (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Lately I’ve been browsing on Issyvoo.    A beautifully clean looking site, it distills out succinct insights by writers on their own writing, and that of others.   Many of the quotes link to articles, interviews, etc, from journals like Paris Review, or The New Yorker.  I’m finding it a great place to discover more about how writers work, and to bridge from authors I like to authors they like, which is often a happy journey.  I found a great interview with Raymond Carver there, and started reading some of his short stories online.  I’m sure I did some of his stories in high school, but can’t remember any of them off the top of my head.  Today I read Kindling, a posthumously published story he wrote years earlier, not long after he gave up drinking.  You can find it here, at Story of the Week.  For an excellent interview with Carver, have a look here.  In it he talks a lot about his methods of writing, and interestingly claims his first drafting to be rubbish, a scaffolding he would build up over months.

I find it inspiring to read the words of other writers, on their lives, on their processes.  These are people who take their work seriously, who are aware of their limitations.  They struggle with it, they make headway.   Over time they build up bodies of work, representations of their growth, of the evolution of their thoughts and beliefs.  Fascinating.

The other thing I love about Issyvoo is the black and white photographs.  Great.

If you use Facebook please visit my page, Burinsmith!  You can do so by clicking in the right column…and click Like if you do!  Then you’ll get updates as they occur.  I’ll be putting things on there to round out content here on the site, things like starting points, comps, commentary.  Today I put a post on there about Verandah Literary Journal’s outrageous submission fee.  I’d love to hear how you feel about that.

I remember…

Lots of people are into writing memoir these days, are you one of them?  In the early days of learning to write just about everything seems to be memoir, or thinly veiled autobiography!  And of course, that’s all good and proper. When I did my first writing class years ago with Alan Hancock I believe the very first writing exercise we had was, “I remember…”  As a stimulus it doesn’t get much simpler than that.  Completely open-ended, that exercise threw us writing students in wildly different directions.  Some of us wrote about what happened yesterday, some about distant childhood.  But, if I’m remembering correctly, we all wrote about ourselves, not fiction.

This is one of the wonderful things about writing from stimuli.  It forces us to sink deep into the unconscious and dig out memories, some of them things we didn’t realise we remembered.  And the vast repository of images, sounds, sensations, words, weather, pets, frights, joys etc. opens up.  We get temporary access to the treasure troves we’ve been stashing into since birth.  And whatever you write, memoir, fiction, poetry, etc., it all has to come from the same source.

I dislike the concept of imagination.  Many people have been made to think, “I have no imagination.”  Like imagination is a separate part of the mind, or a talent that some have and others don’t.  Imagination is simply the ability to access what we already know, what we have already experienced.  And to do that, all we need is a stimulus, and a will to try it.  

So if you feel you’re not creative, that you have no imagination, here is the challenge.  You can create, if you really want to.  Have a go, just starting with “I remember…”  Jot it on a page, and continue.  Write as fast as you can, with no editing, no judging, no criticising.  Whatever comes to mind.  No one need ever see what you wrote if you don’t want to share it.  It’s just you and your memories.  And the best part is, you never know what direction it will take you in, and what you might learn about yourself!  As time goes on I’m becoming more and more convinced that this is what writing is all about.