The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: Part 3

The most important question you can ask yourself as a writer is "why." This week we examine the power of this question. We started with seeing how it can break writer's block, then used it to work through that tough paragraph, scene or story. Today, we look at the Q&A process.

When writers reach a point in a story—nonfiction or fiction—where they're unsure how to proceed, many plow ahead without adequately resolving the issue. Sometimes this works and the questions get answered along the way. Most times the section ends up needing a major rewrite and leading the writer down the garden path, into a thicket of thorns.

One good way to deal with not knowing what to do next is right in the manuscript. When instinct tells you to take stock, hit the enter key and drop down a line, then describe the problem and how you might fix it. The what-if scenario works well here. Ask yourself, "What if the character did this?" Or, "What if I take the story in this direction?"

Sometimes you can select a scenario, make the fix and keep writing, incorporating the change into the rest of the story and making sure to return and fix everything effected beforehand. Some writers transfer the selected scenario to the end of the chapter or story and check it when they're done writing to make sure they addressed the key points.

If you can't make your selected fix right away, note what has to be changed and where. Novelists sometimes keep a bulleted "To Resolve" list at the end of each chapter. For shorter pieces, you can put notes in brackets within the piece or at the end.

For more information, visit my online editing workshop, On a Clear Day: Editing for Clarity and Publication.

A Poetic Soul: Creativity in the Off-Hours

Award-winning journalist and list maker Jack Sheedy, news editor of the Catholic Transcript, finds the to-do list helpful in keeping him on the writing track, and to fire up his creative soul.

AA: So, what does a working writer and news editor do in the off-hours, especially before a holiday weekend?

JS: Last night, I decided to drag out the old charcoal grill and make myself and the cat some hamburgers. They were delicious, but I had forgotten how long it takes for charcoal briquettes to heat evenly. I was still cleaning up at 8 p.m.

AA: What about the writing side of life?

JS: Oh, I did have a to-do list that included something like “Do some writing,” but it was kind of a vague self-assignment. By the third or fourth day, it had not been crossed out, and so I searched for some old poems I had started. There was one that tried to express something about my father, something that may have something to do with his special brand of selective competitiveness. As I looked at it, I realized I may have a similar failing: a fear of accomplishing something, compensated for by a zeal for accomplishing other things. The poem is still unfinished, but here is how it stands today:

The Man Who Never Ran
By Jack Sheedy

Dad never ran.
It’s not that he moved slowly —
it wasn’t that —
I just can’t see him

in a sprint for the prize,
necktie loosened,
forehead glistening,
gray fedora lost in the wind.
Not my Dad.

Still, there was nothing slow about him.

He walked briskly. Drove fast.
Solved problems quickly. Spurned calculators.
Bought books on rapid math, rapid reading.

But he never said, “Let’s race
to the willow tree” — never tried
to best me, though he could have.
I don’t even know why
this is important —
but doesn’t everyone run, sometimes at least?

Oh, once at the river I was swept downstream,
eight-year-old limbs no match for the current,
and he quickstepped to the bank,
dove in, hustled me to shore, laughed
at our “great adventure” —
then squeezed his eyes shut, lost his voice,
gripped my hand all the way home.

But that wasn’t a sprint — it was an Australian crawl.
Weeks later, at Burr Pond, I studied his strokes,
long and slow and easy,
then jumped in, flailed to stay afloat, moved
arms and legs twice as fast as he did.
It was no use.
There was no way I could keep up with him.

To see Jack in his natural habitat, visit Jack Sheedy.

Writing Nonfiction: Creativity Without Compromise

Society of Professional Journalists award-winning journalist Jack Sheedy tackles tough subjects with a clear, creative touch.

AA: What was the award, and how did the idea for the winning story come about?

JS: Last year, I received an award from the Society of Professional Journalists, Connecticut Chapter, for a story in The Catholic Transcript (May 2008) about a Jewish rabbi whose 1993 book A Rabbi Talks with Jesus captured the imagination of Pope Benedict XVI. Because Rabbi Jacob Neusner was originally from the Hartford area, and since the Transcript serves the Hartford archdiocese, I saw a story there. I drove to Rhinebeck, N.Y., to interview [Neusner].

AA: How can nonfiction writer — a journalist, for example — be creative in a case like this without compromising good reporting or the facts?

JS: The interview was filled with theological terms, both Jewish and Catholic, and I was worried that my readers — for the most part, everyday pew-sitting Catholics — would be bored. I needed a strong headline and lead that would establish a local tie-in and stir curiosity. I wrote the headline, "Native-son rabbi 'talks' with Jesus." The story began: "Rabbi Jacob Neusner grew up in West Hartford, corresponded with the Pope and spoke with Jesus after the Sermon on the Mount. That last feat got everyone's attention. Especially the Pope's."

I could have begun the story another way. I could have written: "Is Jesus a fulfillment of the Torah, the Jewish law? Or is the Torah the final word? That's what Rabbi Jacob Neusner wanted to know when he set out to write about an imaginary conversation with Jesus." I'm bored already. Aren't you?

Visit Jack at Jack Sheedy.