Friday, October 25, 2013

Starting Out: Or, When You May as Well Steal from the Best

I enter the courts of ancient men, where, lovingly received by them…I am not ashamed to speak…and they, in their humanity, respond to me.”[1]

I can’t say why it is that I write.  It’s a constant, unwavering urge, to wind up stories and fight to turn them into real works.  I’m the baboon waving its ass at kids visiting the zoo; I just feel compelled. 

When I was six years old, my parents gave me a six-inch stapler with a plastic yellow cover.  I scribbled words and crayon sketches on notepads and stapled the pages together.  At age nine, I had started to realize that my childhood dream—of being Minnesota Twins centerfielder Kirby Puckett—was probably not realistic.  Instead, I admitted to myself that I loved reading more than baseball, and that I never felt as vigorous as when I was creating those little books out of notepad scribbles.  At that point, I was determined to become an author. 

As I grew into a teenager, I dreamed of being like Minnesota’s most celebrated writer, Scott Fitzgerald.  I wanted to run off to France and live in a state of excess and semi-dissipation, writing astounding novels that brought not (necessarily) fabulous wealth, but enough to maintain a modest flat with a fridge full of liquor in a European capital.  Some more years passed and I came to terms with the facts that a) this lifestyle generally leads to depression, ill-health, and an early death, and b) to actually live it, I’d need a hell of a lot more supporting talent.  I moderated my expectations and set myself up for a more mellow career, but I haven’t given up writing. 

Thus, I’ve committed myself to continuous work and continuous improvement.  However, I’d like to think I’m not going at it alone. 

I’ve had several great writing teachers whose lessons still shape the work I do every day.  However, my single greatest source of instruction—and the most inexhaustible—has been other authors.  I’ve loaded up two bookshelves with the best writing teachers there are. 

That is my goal for this blog; to highlight excerpts of great writing, and unpack the lessons within.  Diction, syntax, detail, or character creation; hence, the title of this blog: Slova, Russian for “words” (слова).  I’m looking out for words that work, and finding out why. 

A few disclaimers before I close.  My biases and preferences will probably become obvious before long.  I read a lot of noir and hardboiled works—and do most of my work in that genre—so consider yourselves warned.  I read very few contemporary authors, with the exception of Umberto Eco.  I will almost certainly write a piece about hockey before too long.  I want to write a blog that helps me, and anyone else, understand good writing. 




[1] Letter from Niccolò Machiavelli to Francesco Vettori, 1513. Translated by Wayne A. Rebhorn.

No comments:

Post a Comment