Essential Conversations on Creativity: Style With Peter Selgin

Author, artist, writer and teacher Peter Selgin, Winner of the 2007 Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction and author of 179 Ways to Save a Novel, a must-read for all writers, shares his insights on that all-important element of writing — style.

AA: It could be said of writers that we are what we read. But how does a writer select, develop and assimilate style?

PS: I think it's so important for writers to find their own, unique influences. I myself have done this by combing the stacks and shelves of libraries and used book stores. The best-seller lists I avoid, since their influence is everywhere. The same goes for the classics, though it's important to have read the classics, if only to know where you fit into the 4,000 year-old conversation known as literature.

My method goes something like this: I scan the shelves for spines that intrigue me—either with their titles, just because something about their shape or even the color or texture calls out to me. Those books I pull from the shelves and open to their first pages while trying not to read any cover matter or learn the name of the publisher, or anything else that might in some way bias my response to the actual writing. I read the first paragraph. If I like it, I read a few more. Since I can only allow myself so many books to borrow or buy, I exercise very strict standards in choosing.

By this means, I've discovered some of my all-time favorite books and authors, including Emmanuel Bove, whose now thoroughly forgotten first novel My Friends begins:

"When I wake up, my mouth is open. My teeth are furry: it would be better to brush them in the evening, but I am never brave enough. Tears have dried at the corners of my eyes. My shoulders do not hurt any more. Some stiff hair covers my forehead. I spread my fingers and push it back. It is no good: like the pages of a new book it springs up and tumbles over my eyes again."

And Hans Falada's The Drinker, which starts out:

"Of course I have not always been a drunkard. Indeed it is not very long since I first took to drink."

And The Dreams of Reason, by Xavier Domingo:

Seventh year of the war for independence in Algeria. Seventh year of living in Paris. Seven years of sleepwalking from urinal to urinal. Seven years of unconsciousness, of being half asleep and idiotic and happy. They are not seven years in hell, no, nor seven years in purgatory. They are seven years in limbo. Innocent, stupid, and cruel. Like a cat or a small boy.

You see why I've wanted to make these authors mine? Anyway, the great books that we discover entirely on our own are the ones that form us the most, the forgotten ones, the ones no one else is reading, the ones we bond with most meaningfully, whereas anyone can read the bestsellers.

AA: What's the difference between style and voice?

PS: A writer's style covers all of his work, while he may alter his narrative voice from project to project to suit each one. Voice is subordinate to style.

Also editor of Alimentum literary magazine, Peter is the author of Drowning Lessons  and Life Goes to the Movies. To learn more about his books and classes, visit Peter Selgin and the essential blog Your First Page.

The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: The Editing Side of the Coin

For the past several posts, we've looked at the most important question a writer can ask, "why." We've seen how it can break writer's block, help the Q&A process, aid in sifting critiques and help writers face their fear.

Underlying what we've been looking at is editing—that mystifying, disconcerting process of seeing your work darkly as in a mirror and seeing its defects, not as a writer sees them, which is usually as a parent sees an offspring, but as someone outside the work, a near stranger, the editor side of you, the side that's difficult to deal with but essential to develop to become a good, even great, writer.

Asking "why" is essential to the editing process. It's should be asked throughout the writing process, even when you fear the answers, not only because you don't want to know, but because getting at the answers takes effort—and time. But, in the end, it's better to ask yourself the tough questions and not leave this intimate business to others, because this is where writing gets personal, the heart of the matter, your heart, the most intimate part of a writer, the reason you write, or don't.

So, when you reach that part of the writing process that ties you in knots and makes you more than a little crazy, stop as you would at a washed out section of roadway. Ask yourself why the story or scene, dialogue or description isn't working. You can also ask the lesser questions—who, what, where, when and how—but none of these gets at the heart of the matter better than "why."

As a reminder, the three keys that unlock the power of why are to answer the question honestly, in detail and in writing. See the posts below for more information, and visit my online editing workshop, "Show and Tell: How to Know, How to Fix."

The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: Part 5, Facing the Fear

At some point in your writing life, you'll ask yourself that all important question—why am I doing this? We've been exploring the power of "why" in recent posts, and noted that it breeds other queries. Here's another example of that: Sometimes the question "why am I doing this" really means "am I cut out to be a writer?"

This question comes up a lot in the context of what we've been looking at—writer's block, internal Q&A and critique groups. It can arise in writers even without an external prompt. And if it hasn't come up for you yet, it will. So, let's take a closer look.

Writers, like everyone else, fear questions because they fear the answers, the most terrifying of which is: Does the fact that I'm having all these problems mean I'm not cut out to be a writer? Before dumping your calling, consider what this writer once said. "A book comes in fits and jerks … It made very good progress for quite a long time, in fact until last Thursday … The next three days I went into a depression that was devastating. Now it is Monday … I am forced to lift myself out of the despondency by the bootstraps." That was Nobel laureate John Steinbeck, as quoted in John Steinbeck, Journal of a Novel, The East of Eden Letters. The journal is worth reading for lots of reasons, not the least of which is the comfort of finding that writers aren't alone in their fears.

To face your writing fear, do what we've been doing. Ask yourself why you're afraid, what is it that's causing so much agida? As before, to unlock the power of "why," answer the question honestly, in detail and, in this instance, maybe in your journal instead of a Tweet.

The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: Part 4

As we've been seeing, the most important question you can ask yourself as a writer is "why." We've addressed writer's block, help for tough sections and Q&A (see the posts below). Today, we look at dealing with the peer review, or critique, process.

As a reminder, three keys unlock the power of "why," as we'll see below.

How can asking "why" help when your critique group, mentor or inner critic recommends changes, maybe extensive changes? The criticism may be accurate. You may need to change a scene or delete it, but until you address the reason you wrote it as you did and not another way, don't let it go—yet.

First, review what you've written. Start by asking yourself why you wrote the scene this way and how the suggested changes, or your own observations, impact the story and characters. The power in the process is answering the questions in detail, in writing and honestly. Once you've done this, consider which changes are essential. Also consider how to make the changes and how extensive they should be.

Clearly, "why" is a breeder question. It yields other queries that must be answered honestly and in detail (and preferably in writing) to make the most of your work. When you start thinking you're going too far afield, you probably are, but one thing you'll find in this process—the power of why is a catalyst for improving your work. You'll recognize problems sooner, be better prepared to address underlying issues and be less afraid of the outcome—more on fear next time.

For more information, visit my online editing workshop, "Show and Tell: How to Know, How to Fix."

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.

The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: Part 2

The most pivotal question you can ask as a writer is "why." We started examining the power of this question by seeing how it can break writer's block. In this post, we tackle that especially tough paragraph, scene or story.

Before junking what's not working, stop and consider the piece. Ask yourself why you're having trouble, and what made you stop trying to improve it? Why did you resist discarding the section or story if you really believe it's not working? Apparently, it still seems important, even though it's not quite right.

As before, to get at what's really happening, answer these questions in detail, with honesty and in writing. Your initial responses may beget more questions, but continue until you've asked everything you need to, or until you see the answers repeat. The aha moment may shine like a Xenon spotlight or dawn like the sun on a cloudy day. Whatever the candle power, the answers reveal why this aspect of the work, or the work itself, is ineffectual.

To delve even deeper, use the rest of the journalism questions—the who, what, where, when and how of what's going on, nor not—until you're out of questions and answers.

Before revising the story or scene, review your responses. Consider how they relate to your work and what aspects of the writing they address, and how. Now make the fixes wherever they're needed.

For my free online editing workshop, see On a Clear Day: Editing for Clarity and Publication.

The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: Part 1

The most searching, most revealing, most important question you can ask yourself as a writer, maybe in life, is "why." Over the next several posts, we'll examine how to unlock the power of this question to break writer's block, untangle scenes and work through critiques.

First, let's tackle writer's block. Ask yourself what about your writing project has you stymied, why you can't write. What's holding you back? Answer these questions in detail, with honesty and in writing. These three keys—honesty, detail and writing—unlock the power of "why." If you follow this approach, you'll notice that you've begun writing.

Now apply the rest of those journalism questions—the who, what, where, when and how of what's going on, nor not, with your work—until you're out of questions and out of answers. At this stage, you can see a lot more clearly the underlying reasons why you were stuck.

Now go back to the manuscript, but before revising, review your responses to the questions above. How do the answers relate to your work? What aspects of the writing do the responses address, and how? With honesty, drill down to the ore in your line of reasoning, then go to the section that had you stymied and use what you've learned to continue writing.

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

Conversations on Creativity: Architettura Viva

Angeloni's studio in Castelvecchio

Our discussion on creativity includes a conversation with Milan-based architect Maurizio Angeloni. Here's his take on inspiration and legacy.

AA: How would you like your work to be remembered?

MA: I would like for the result of my efforts to remain as a testimony to my work as "un'architettura viva," a living structure, not a monument, per se, but a place where people can actually live their daily lives.

AA: Whose work do you find most inspiring?

MA: As to the architecture I most admire, I'd have to say that home on a waterfall, Falling Water seems to me an optimal testimony left by Frank Lloyd Wright.