February 26, 2013
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Father: Thanks, Jonathan. Like I said before, I read the stories and poems. They're not bad, but I do think you could do better. You should write more and write longer stories. I genuinely think you're a good writer.
Confusing length with good writing is a folly that I'm not sure I even know how to properly respond to. I would like to know upon what qualification he bases his arraignment. To think I've always wondered where I retained my ironic sense of humor.
Sorry, do I sound miffed? We'll put aside that each of the pieces I exposed revealed concepts which I've struggled with, particularly in trying to make sense of them (the pieces were "The Only Thing We Have", "The Darkling Plain", "The Phonecall", "Fabrication to a Love Ode", and "A Memory"). Really, in all honesty, that's not the point.
It's that he's, somehow, designated judgement without the least bit of reasoning. Perhaps I'd be more understanding if I were less certain about the pieces (so perhaps my peeve is, once again, the complete lack of assumption of possible, even remote, fault in such an assured statement).
Sure, the pieces, to a degree, could be perceived as mere exercises in writing (and thus not trying to achieve something exceedingly beyond the pale at the sacrifice of the obsession with a particular technique or concept); I've always seemed to have a taste for the technical. I've also preferred doing a job that leaves no room for fault, even if that means it's short and doesn't achieve fame-level work. "A Memory" is not significant for being the next "Paradise Lost". It's significance lies in what it's able to accomplish and communicate in a mere three sentences; it may not be Hamlet material but it is well done.
I mean, there were five fucking pieces in that document. That's five pieces to dissect and tear apart and pillage for meaning. And how do you summate five pieces of writing? "They're not bad[…]."
Forgive me; perhaps I'm undercutting his sentences. The full sentence is, "They're not bad, but I do think you could do better." This is followed by the advice that I should write more and longer stories. Seeing that the following sentence moves focus from the writings I provided to future writings, I can only assume that his take on the pieces was that, "Sure, they're writings in the proper sense; but, really, give me something which I don't have to give, at best, one sentence of attention to."
On that note, here's an old piece I've done some revision to. You can find the original here. I've cut out good chunks of it just to trim the fat. Notably, it changes the focus of the piece a bit; certainly makes it more of a meditation on depression, though it also fleshes out the technique I was trying for the piece (even if not for as long of an amount of text).
I'm still on the fence about it, given that it really doesn't reach for much; it's certainly not nearly as busy as "Fabrication to a Love Ode". But it is an interesting technique and not one immediately noticeable; plus I think it captures what living with depression is like quite well. Oh well, here's my short piece of writing that's not even worth the time for a likewise-length dissection.
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"Wha– sorry. Could you say it again? I jus-I wasn't listening. …. I see. Well…heh, well, who's to say? I mean – I suppose I just don't understand denial.
It just becomes…suffocating, sometimes. It’s like I'm continually under this expectation to match every single internal and external action with the right response. Because when you respond incorrectly, that sends the wrong message. Which I'd hate to do. Because it's not unreasonable! Remember a birthday, remember Mother's Day, look happy to see someone when you say hello, go see the play your friend has been working on for God knows how long, check in on them when they're sick keep in mind when they had an interview attend their speech talk during the conversation respond make eye contactnodarcheyebrowsblinkbreathe
"I spent the entire last weekend in my room. Heh – yeah…the entire thing. I just…didn't see the point in leaving. It took too much effort to get out the bed. And I was tired. So I tried to make sense of my computer screen for 36 hours. And it was…nice, because I didn't have to put any effort into anythin- no, I – I got lonely. I jus-
I just needed to breathe.
Comments (2)
Hmm, I see what you mean. You're right, to a certain extent; length is not relevant. I want to add this to my critique. It's difficult to understand what the character's motivation is when you don't adequately develop him. You blindside the reader by making so many assumptions in your writing. You should more slowly develop both character and plot and/or develop characters and plot using universal experiences which the reader can recognize. Otherwise the reader gets lost.
@CleanGene17 – Arguable. Not all of them have motivations, necessarily ("The Darkling Plain" certainly doesn't; that's precisely the point). The point of good writing is not to make clear to the reader what it is trying to communicate, in total; this is even more so in short stories given the lack of space for character arc or plot. The entire point of the pieces is that you are meant to grapple with them in order to discover the meanings within.
Leastwise, as I mentioned, I was – more often – more concerned with the technique of the writing than necessarily with telling a traditional story. I don't think they're nearly so forgone of plot (in favor of technique) as, say, post-modern writing. They just require a greater eye for detail to see that she leaves at the end of "Fabrication" or that he finds her shaving her arms as settling in "The Only Thing We Have".
They may be suited for a particular type of reader but there's a long literary history which denies that traditional plot is necessarily better writing. I would hesitate to say that their fault lies in not presenting easy-to-understand characters (or even plots).
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