Writing: Create a Context

The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think.

— Edwin Schlossberg


What is a Poet?

What is a poet? A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music. . . . And men crowd about the poet and say to him, “Sing for us again;” that is as much to say, “May new sufferings torment your soul, but may your lips be formed as before; for the cries would only frighten us but the music is delicious.”

— Søren Kierkegaard


Hemingway on Writing

A writer’s problem does not change. He himself changes and the world he lives in changes but his problem remains the same. It is always how to write truly and, having found what is true, to project it in such a way that it becomes part of the experience of the person who reads it.

— Ernest Hemingway

The writing bug has been tickling my fingertips again. What do I know to be true? And, having discovered what I know to be true, how do I explain it in such a way that the person who reads it understands it?

Stay tuned . . .


A Few Good Men

Son, we live in a world that has walls and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know, that Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall.

We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punch line. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you pick a weapon and stand a post.

– Aaron Sorkin, monologue by Jack Nicholson’s character in A Few Good Men.

No apologies. This quote is simply a guilty pleasure. I get goose bumps every time Tom Cruise provokes Nicholson to the point that Nicholson erupts with the above soliloquy.

Sorkin is a brilliant writer and a master wordsmith. I am a ardent fan of The West Wing primarily because of Sorkin’s trademark rapid-fire dialogue and extended monologues. Good words, well assembled, are a true delight.

Write on, Aaron.


More Steinbeck on Writing

Sometimes in a man or a woman an awareness takes place — not very often and always inexplainable. There are no words for it because there is no one ever to tell. This is a secret not kept a secret, but locked in wordlessness. The craft or art of writing is the clumsy attempt to find symbols for the wordlessness. In utter loneliness a writer tries to explain the inexplainable. And sometimes if he is very fortunate and if the time is right, a very little of what he is trying to do trickles through.

– John Steinbeck, Journals of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters

This is another installment from Steinbeck’s journals written as he was giving birth to East of Eden. It has echos from my Julian Schnabel quote when he said “That is true about all art. The conflict is to try and take what is inside of you and put it inside somebody else.”


Steinbeck on Writing

I think there is only one book to a man. It is true that a man may change or be so warped that he becomes another man and has another book but I do not think that it is so with me.

– John Steinbeck, Journals of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters

East of Eden was the first book that I read by Steinbeck. It was moving and well written and rich with characters. Then I discovered Journals of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters and suddenly I felt I had been given a back stage pass to the mind of a writer.

Steinbeck had already written Of Mice and Men (1937) and The Grapes of Wrath (1939) when he set out to write East of Eden (1951). In the intervening years he lived through two divorces and served as a war correspondent. Despite the critical success of his earlier works, his standing as a major novelist had faded. As today’s quote reveals, Steinbeck also felt that he had not yet told the one story that was within him. His editor, Pascal Covici, did all that he could to encourage Steinbeck. Covici sent Steinbeck a number of notebooks and instructed Steinbeck to use them to write.

C. Ebeling describes it well in his (or her) review on Amazon: “Steinbeck wrote the lengthy EAST OF EDEN saga straight through, from January to the first of November, in 1951. Every weekday, he sharpened his beloved pencils, sat down and warmed up, writing in the form of a letter to his friend and publisher, Pascal Covici. The letters he entered on the left side of the manuscript book Covici hand given him; on the right side, after clearing his mind and setting out the days’ goals, he’d write his story, averaging about 1,500 words a day. JOURNAL OF A NOVEL collects those daily addresses to Covici, to whom EAST OF EDEN is dedicated.”

Journals of a Novel is a fascinating insight into the mental struggles and machinations of creative writing. You feel like a voyeur as you watch Steinbeck wrestle with character development, plot lines, and the trials of writing. A must read for any aspiring writer.

 


Writing

You ask me why I spend my life writing?
Do I find entertainment?
Is it worthwhile?
Above all, does it pay?
If not, then, is there a reason? . . . 

I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.

– Sylvia Plath

For ten years during my late twenties and early thirties I kept a journal. I started writing modestly in college and it eventually grew into such a compulsion that I would often write for hours a day. The pen seemed to have a mind of its own. Sometimes I would start a sentence not knowing where it was going, only to be amazed at the journey that it would launch. Even as computers started to enter my life, I wrote everything longhand. There was something magic about the connection between my thoughts and the paper, linked through the pen clasped in my  fingertips.

Occasionally I would ponder the sense of it all. Why was I writing so incessantly? I could not see where this was going and yet I could not help myself. Was I a budding novelist in search of a plot line? Sylvia gave me permission to not worry about the answer to why.

I journal only infrequently now. In retrospect, I believe that the writing process was a catharsis. Some young people explore the world through Eurail passes and youth hostels in order to find themselves. I chose the refuge of books and the pen to clear my mind and find my way. The experience of journalling  is still cathartic but the voice that drove me to write earlier in my life is quieter now. She is more at peace with herself and I have a clearer sense of what I want to do with my life.

Game on!

Man on Wire

When I see three oranges, I juggle; when I see two towers, I walk.

– Philippe Petit

I watched the wonderful documentary Man on Wire last night. It is the inspiring story of Philippe Petit and his lifelong passion to walk a tightrope between the twin towers of the World Trade Center. His dream began even before the towers were built and culminated in a 45 minute walk in the sky on August 7, 1974. The film is especially bittersweet with all of the behind-the-scenes details of the twin towers, knowing their ultimate fate.

Philippe’s quote above was in response to the incessant pleas by the press for an answer to “Why?” There is no why, he insisted. When he sees oranges, he juggles. When he sees two towers, he walks.

Over the summer I was mesmerized by Roz Savage’s amazing feat of rowing from San Francisco to Hawaii. In her thrice weekly podcast with Leo Laporte she was freqently pressed for an answer to Why? Despite her compelling commitment to bring attention to the the plight of the environment and her moving stories of abandoning management consulting for the open ocean, I suspect Roz’s real reason for first rowing the Atlantic, and now the Pacific, is closer to Philippe’s answer to Why? When she sees a plastic water bottle, she recycles. But when she sees an open ocean, she rows.
 
 
Background on the 2009 Quote-A-Day

Julian Schnabel

In a recent episode of The Treatment, Elvis Mitchel interviews artist and director Julian Schnable. Elvis is struck by the idea that all of Julian’s movies are about artists whose view of the world is not understood by other people and so they are constantly trying to communicate with the world. Elvis says that the movies are ostensibly about art, but they are also movies about communications. They portray figures, who for some reason, can’t get an essential part of themselves communicated through any other means but their art. Julian replies:

That is true about all art. The conflict is to try and take what is inside of you and put it inside somebody else.

This is such a wonderful idea. It has made my day.

I am reminded of a wonderful story of a modern dancer who gave a very expressive, very moving performance. When she had finished, a member of the audience approached her, asking what she was trying to communicate with her dance.

She replied, “Well sir, if I could explain it, I would not have needed to dance.”