Novel hypnosis

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I finished reading Room by Emma Donoghue last night. I can't recall a reading experience so intense: I didn't move—literally—for two and a half hours, not until I'd come to the end. And then I stumbled around for a bit, stunned.


The novel is told from the point-of-view of a five-year-old. I've read in an interview that Emma Donoghue studied the language patterns of her own five-year-old child to create the voice for this story. She profoundly succeeds, but what is her true accomplishment, in my view, is her ability to see (or appear to see) from the point-of-view of a child—a child born and raised in captivity.


Room has garnered a bouquet of raves from fine writers, such as this one from Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours: 

"Room is that rarest of entities, an entirely original work of art. I mean it as the highest possible praise when I tell you that I can't compare it to any other book. Suffice to say that it's potent, darkly beautiful, and revelatory." 

I agree. It is also charming, as well as enchanting.

As a writer, it reinforced, for me, the importance of the imagination, of imaginative penetration into the world of ones characters. The first enchantment must be the author's own.


*****
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The visual dimension: tips from film-makers

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Before I begin my writing day, before my mug of decaf cools, I check my email, Twitter, a few websites. Today this blog by Alexandra Sokoloff on visual storytelling resonated, especially with respect to rewriting.

I am in a slow, difficult crawl through my third draft. This is the draft that (to paraphrase Kingsolver), "brings the meaning up and turns on the lights." I have to fill out the visual dimension—which, for me, requires quite a bit of research.

Read the Alexandra Sokoloff blog. I like her film-making suggestions for thinking in terms of "establishing shots" and "master shots." Approaching a Big Scene is intimidating. I'll see if it helps to mentally put myself behind a camera.

*****
Website: http://www.sandragulland.com/
Blog: http://sandragulland.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://bit.ly/sgullandFacebook
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Sandra_Gulland
Tumblr: http://sandragulland.tumblr.com/

Time management for authors

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I love InkyGirl cartoons:

This is, alas, too true! I start my day with a mug of coffee and the Social Net. Then: to work.

Moved to speak; moved to write

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Every writer will recognize the feeling: you're trying to fall asleep and words form in your mind, sentences, thoughts, essays, scenes. Finally, you get up and write something down -- just a word or two, just enough to pull it all back in the morning.

The feeling reminds me of being in a Quaker meeting, that welling up of a thought that becomes so heart-pounding insistent that one is, as Quakers put it, "moved to speak." Being "moved to write" is similar, and it's important to have that scrap of paper and pencil handy.

Last night, it was thoughts about Jean Lemoine's biography of Claude — the heroine of The Next Novel — that kept me awake. I've posted the more academic of my thoughts on Baroque Explorations (my research blog): here.

But what I'd like to say here, is that Jean Lemoine's book is that quintesentially French academic publication with thick, cream-coloured, ragged-edged paper, no cover to speak of, just black-and-cream, no commercial hooks whatsoever. All brain.

(This is an example: don't you just swoon?)


It is the type of book you see filling the stalls of the bouquinistes along the river Seine. The type of book I've long cherished, and longed to have printed in my name. That's impossible, of course: I'm no academic and, too, I doubt that such books are even being published in France today.

Tant pis!

Luis Urrea's blog

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Luis Urrea — author of a simply brilliant historical novel, The Hummingbird's Daughter — writes a wonderful blog. I especially loved his newest entry: here.

As for me: I'm working on an essay for an anthology. It's autobiographical, a departure for me, and I'm enjoying the process. Memory Lane: both sweet and sad.

Am I doing my taxes? NO.

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Am I doing my taxes? NO. I'm reading writer blogs. I so totally relate to this post on revising on C.W. Gortner's blog:

At times, I honestly thought the book would crumble apart and found myself ruing the day I decided I could tackle such a difficult subject. Catherine led a long, eventful, and unbelievably complicated life; the decision during this revision rapidly became one that often put me, as they say in Spain, between the cape and the sword. I had to make very tough decisions between what must stay and what must go; and when you're writing a historical novel that covers an actual person's life, that is not an easy thing to do. In fact, I had an agonizing few weeks when I wondered if I could even do her justice, given the constraints.

I'm very much looking forward to reading this novel, The Confessions of Catherine de Medici.

Wise words from CarolineLeavittville

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I love this post from Caroline Leavitt's blog. I just sent a member of my own writing group feedback: "Better, but no." I've been feeling bad about that, but I'm heartened by Caroline's words. "No" is critically important. It takes time to find the right note.

Basically, my feedback was that it was almost all there: just cut away, cut to the heart of it.

I remember the moment I felt like a "real" writer. I had just cut the one scene I considered to be the best in the book. With every draft, I had marvelled at that scene, and now it was in the trash. Proudly, but somewhat bewildered, I walked into the living room and announced what I'd done to my husband. I had blood on my hands, as every writer must.