Control Issues in Writing

Control issues.  We all have them. You know I have them from my last post about Amazon defacing my cover.  Most are minor, but big ones cause lost friendships, divorces, misery. Let’s not even talk about current politics.

Control issues invade writing as they do life. And like life’s smaller control issues, we often don’t recognize them.

A Fatal Score early reviewer sent me a note:  “On page one, you wrote of Joe Mayfield: ‘He set down his fork and tried for an offhand smile, which he knew came off closer to a rictus.’ You should lose ‘rictus’. Not enough people know it, and it’s too early in the story to send the reader to the dictionary. Maybe use ‘grimace’.”

But … I was going for rictus.  Knew exactly the expression I wanted. Wanted reader to see the stasis, the fixed nature of the attempted polite grin.  Grimace is too mobile.  I wanted rictus!  Besides, it’s my book!

The reviewer went on, “I think it’s because of its place on the first page. You want to get them pulled in and moving and not stop to try to figure out a word.”

Which led me to reflect on a great session on mystery writing by Steve Ulfelder at the Cape Cod Writers Conference five years ago.  It was at a point in my writing when much about technique was new, and Steve gave me an Aha! moment.  He was helping another writer work fix an excruciatingly detailed description. “At best, your writing tells the reader 60-70% of the story,” he said. “The reader’s life experience, perception, and belief fills in the rest.  In that sense, the reader is your partner. That partnership takes a story from OK to Must Read.”

Aha, indeed.

Next edition will use ‘grimace.’

Stories vs. Genres

Over the last couple of years, I have been forced to learn about the difference between the drive to create and the (apparent) expectations of potential readers.  Writing is writing, and the doing of it is reward in itself.  It’s just that you need a  saw and hammer sometimes to fit it into the genre.

When I began writing my first novel about three years ago, it was my romantic notion that it should be an exercise in storytelling, a blending of oral tradition and whatever skill with the Mother Tongue I could muster.  I had wispy ideas of a plot, to be sure, but I found myself larding the first draft generously with diversions about my own special interests:  blues music and the southern gift of language and storytelling.  (Living as I do now in Minnesota, I don’t hear as much euphony.  We tend to keep it clipped.  Maybe it’s the 25 below.)  As a result, the first draft of Hack the Yak weighed in at 127,000 words.  (Most novels of my genre are 80 – 100 thousand words).

I finally figured out that the story needed to move more quickly, took out some material that I love, and squeezed Hack the Yak down to 88,000 words.  I hope that is closer to the publishing world’s perception of reader expectations.

Frank Ratliff, telling the story of Bessie Smith

Frank Ratliff, telling the story of Bessie Smith

I was just looking back at pictures and notes I took in March 2012 on the Blues Highway (Hwy 61 between Memphis and Vicksburg).  I justified the trip as part of writing my first draft.  As I worked through the novel, I had to cut most of the blues highway material, but it has provided a couple of short stories.  My character Mase in The Cle eland Travel Inn is based on … well, really, abjectly copied from … Frank Ratliff, the proprietor of the Riverside Hotel in Clarksburg, MS.  I attempted to capture Rat’s storytelling voice in a non-fiction piece, Bessie Smith’s Death.

A fine writing teacher and novelist, Steve Ulfelder, mentioned in a class that his third novel was the one that finally made it into the marketplace (check out Purgatory Chasm or his new one, Shotgun Lullaby at his website) but said a bit wryly that the good stuff in the first novels is creeping back into his later writings.  An optimistic hope for me.