On the writing thing again… them rules!

  On The 10 Commandments for writers 

I was looking through my Writers Diary 2013 and bumped into a little piece I wrote, based on an    article I must have read on The 10 Commandments for Fiction Writing. I might have posted it a  while back; however I just wanted to revisit it a little bit.

But really, there are so many rules when it comes to writing!! Rules about how many words you should write daily. How quickly you should write. To revise first draft or not to. About POV, characters, dialogue. What you should write about, should not write about. How, where, when you should write. Don’t do this. Don’t do that! Oh, you must do that! Bloody hell!! How does one keep up?
I say, for every rule, there is someone, somewhere, who has broken it. Stepped outside of that constraint; scathed that wall, climbed over that fence, jumped into that unknown territory or into their own territory, which lead to new discoveries.

Creativity is the key. It is essential. I say tell your story as only you can tell it. As Anne Enright ( Irish Author whose novel The Gathering won the 2007 Man Booker Prize) said, “Find a place to stand.”

I agree. You will search, try to copy what the others do–the greats and the ones who make those rules. I tried some of them myself! The daily journal entries; which went from daily to as and when something was worth writing about. The putting aside written work , to brew – I found very useful. Show not tell!  And sometimes the telling is unavoidable, but worth the effort in showing. After my first review and report on Force Ripe, from Corner Stones Literary Agencies, I laboured on my revisions, searching for every scene where I needed to Untell and Show instead ; by creating a scene- for example in this excerpt from my unpublished novel Force Ripe 

Sunday morning, and outside bright and hot;  just as if the sun have a special shine.  It cover the whole of Celeste with a bright, happy kind of glow. Is the kind of Sunday that does pass nice and slow and put people in a good mood –  cooking their Sunday food; taking it easy; sitting down a little bit. Laugh a lot.  The kind of Sunday for bathing outside in sun- warmed water and children playing shop under the house – weighing up dust, sand, flowers and all kinds of things, on leaves, with stick scales and stone weights – to make mud cakes with bougainvillea icing.  Then laze about under mango trees, belly full and niggeritis taking over, until the sun give them chance to play in the road.

Or by using dialogue – another excerpt from Force Ripe to illustrate –

“What wrong with you Millie? What we do you? What we do you, you hate us so! Your own grandchildren! Eh? Your own flesh and blood! What we do you?”

Mammy look up at me mother. She sucking she cheeks–in and out, in and out–like a little mullet.

Papa watching he hands in he lap. He mouth open.

“I come from your daughter. The Only daughter you have. The ONLY chile you make! She what make me! The same daughter who take up all she children up in England, and leave me here.  Me Alone she leave behind, for you to make see trouble! You tink I forget all the trouble you make me see?”

And what a time consuming but rewarding challenge this was!

In the end though, it always boils down to what works best for you. So I say, when you find that place, that space, where someone said must have a door! I disagree, unless that door is metaphorical. Quarantine Point is one of my favourite writing spots. If it is a room with a door, make it a place where your smell resides, your pen only fits into your hand, your elbow has eroded a spot on your desk and your bottom has carved a comfortable mould into that cushion. Make it a space where no one else will find what you do,when you stand there. No one else will see what you see. So only you will see the way the lizard on the Neem tree corks its head as it scopes you out- perhaps wondering why you crowding its space. Only you will hear the dew drops falling onto the AC unit outside the window and get on all fours to lick that fragrance rising from the tarmac with the heat, after the light drizzle. Feel the presence of danger as cold bumps raise your skin. So only you know the taste of your lover’s skin and how that whiff of cigarette mix-upwith Davidoff’s Silver Shadow Attitude didn’t just arouse you; but it sucked your inverted nipple out of hiding, hardened their flatness into little peaks and rippled crazy sensations from your core!  Oh boy…getting carried away here! Where was I again?

Yes, back to finding your place. I was just standing in mine for a while there! I say when you do find it, make it your space. Plant your feet in it. Set your own rules and work with what works best for you.

“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” Leonard Cohen

Break the rules. Find that crack. Let your light in.