Jim Tomlinson's Online Writing Journal

Jim Tomlinson

a writer's journal

Saturday, July 5, 2003

I've generated note cards with ideas for mini-scenes within the major scene that lies ahead in the novel. And one of these suggests a backstory element that must be inserted in the opening chapters, an elaboration on the apple tree incident. It's an element which will stand well on its own and seem complete. So the reader should experience an unexpected resonance when this long ago act also plays into how the present-day story unfolds.

What has me halted right now is this: There are two directions the novel can go, and there seems to be no way that both can be combined, as much as that appeals to me. Either direction requires LeAnn's full involvement, and one would certainly overwhelm the other in her mind and heart if both situations develop. Unless I can construct a bridge of sorts between the two, that is. It would have to be done carefully, so it does not stick out, does not announce itself as the author-contrivance that it, in fact, would be. I'm reluctant to trash either story direction, but I truly fear that I'll end up constructing an ungainly thing, neither fish nor fowl, that lack's a novel's necessary unity. I'll seek possible ways to tie the two together for a while longer. A few more days, maybe. No more than that.

Sunday, July 13, 2003

Robert Olen Butler mentioned casting director Michael Shurtleff's books on actor preparation for their roles, talked about how much of what Shurtleff writes also applies to the fiction writer. I've been reading Audition this week. In it, he contends that opposites can exist within a character almost simultaneously, or at least feelings and motivations that appear to be opposites. Actors (and writers) try too often to make their characters consistent on a logical basis. In fact, characters need only be consistent in their dreams and yearnings, and those can be manifested in many ways, some of which may appear inconsistent when viewed from the perspective of logic. And they can easily display a wider emotional range than the actor/author might expect.

So now I think my competing storylines might work, given a dream-driven LeAnn.

Saturday, July 19, 2003

Bob Sloan, whose new short story collection Bearskin to Holly Fork is just out, and poets Charlie Hughes and Steven Cope read at Berea Arts Council's ArtSpace this past Thursday. Despite marginal publicity, we had a decent turnout. I ended up introducing the readers, and they sold a few books and Cope's music CDs, so we'll call it a success.

The novel inches forward. I'm reasonably pleased with the few pages being added, although the quantity is way below my usual rate. I think it's a reflection of where I am in the story, what would amount to the climax of act one, if this were a play. George Brosi gave me a lead on a book describing a particular aspect of Appalachian culture that I'm researching for the novel, trying to make details of an upcoming scene as authentic as possible. I purchased a copy online and have begun reading.

Saturday, July 26, 2003

After another week of research reading, a week of face-to-face feedback from my Lexington critique group, and a week of adding very few new pages to the novel-in-progress, I leave tomorrow morning for Hindman Settlement School and the Appalachian Writers Workshop. I am ready for a week of camaraderie with others afflicted, of sessions taught by writers I admire, of hearing others read their work in a mountain setting, and maybe reading something of my own to them, too. Mostly, I need to get my writing batteries recharged, because this current novel, the beast with no name, is demanding all the energy and mental focus and endurance I can muster.

Sunday, July 27, 3003 -- Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School

Arrive at Hindman Settlement School late in the afternoon, sign in, lug my suitcase to the top floor of The Quiltmaker Inn, and unpack. Then it is down to the dining hall, where I hug a few old friends and meet a few new ones. In the evening, Anne Shelby performs her one-woman play, "Lone Pilgrim, Songs and Stories of Aunt Molly Jackson."

Monday, July 28, 2003 -- Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School

With simultaneous sessions going on, every one you choose to attend means you're foregoing another. I'd love to sit in on 'Memoir,' which is led by the dynamic Joyce Dyer. Her reading at last year's workshop, Safety Shoes, still echoes in memory. And Marie Bradby is leading Children's Literature and Sandy Ballard 'Non-fiction' and George Ella Lyon and Cathy Bowers 'Poetry,' all sessions I'd love to sit in on, if only to absorb how they work. But alas….

I was admitted to the workshop based on my novel manuscript pages (Ch4-6). I'll attend the 'Novel' sessions led by Silas House and Pamela Duncan. And with a favorite author, Ron Rash, joining Chris Holbrook for 'Short Story' this year, I simply must attend those sessions, too. Maybe next year I can sit in on some others.

Rash and Holbrook talk about the importance of openings, of creating questions in the reader's mind, in coaxing them to 'lean into the story.' Another tidbit -- naming places takes them out of the bland generic, makes them specific and real to the reader. Another nugget quoted by Silas House -- All novels are mysteries; all novels are love stories.

After lunch literary agent Deborah Carter of Mysterious Content Literary Agency talks about finding an agent and fields questions. I'll query her next week with Tucson Winter.

Each afternoon, participants read from their work. Organized by Barbara Smith, each reading is limited to seven minutes, more or less. What a treat this is each year, wonderful writing and great reading. I've read here in the past, but won't this year. I'm too deep into the novel, and troubled by it. But that won't keep me from enjoying those who do read.

Tuesday, July 29, 2003 -- Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School

Every morning I'm up earlier than most. Fortunately, there's coffee brewed in the cafeteria by six. I stumble in. A few folks sit around a table. Others arrive to rock on the porch, talk weather and politics, get acquainted or reacquainted.

Ron Rash talks about 'character wanting' as the essence of story, a comment which echoes Robert Olen Butler, who considers 'character yearning' as a hallmark of the best fiction. A character's obsession may reveal a yearning that he's not aware of on a conscious level. Assume that your short story audience is intelligent. Do not over-explain or wrap the story ending in a neat bow.

Silas House and Pamela Duncan talk about showing character emotion by body posture, by how a voice sounds, by how the character moves in his environment. Other nuggets: Showing a character in the act of eating humanizes him. Even a villain should have someone or something he truly loves.

Evening readings open with Leatha Kendrick and Marie Bradby. Then Ron Rash reads two poems and a new short story that leaves everyone in the room breathless. The evening ends with a performance by singer, instrumentalist, and folk music expert Betty Smith.

Wednesday, July 30, 2003 Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School

Chris Holbrook and Rash talk about regional dialogue in Appalachian fiction. They warn against transcribing how people really speak. Dialogue in fiction is more like proper English with the patterns, rhythms, and idioms lightly applied. When read aloud, your third-person narrator should also sound as though he belongs in the environment of your story, not through dialect but through rhythm and diction.

Silas House relates a piece of advice given to him by James Still. Learn to be still, to observe, and let your characters do the same thing. Much depth in fiction comes from the moments of reverie when the character is alone, when he isn't in motion, isn't striving, but slips into contemplation and reflection. Then House and Duncan discuss ways to create a sense of place in fiction. It's not just the physical landscape, but also (1) how characters interact with each other, (2) the food, (3) the economy and workforce, (4) the dialogue and dialect, and (5) their religion and value system.

In the evening, Wendell Berry gives the Jim Wayne Miller Lecture, reading from his current novel manuscript which is set, as are several others he has written, in fictional Port William, KY. His control of story, the subtlety of his dialogue and narration, the depth of his characters all shine through. And afterwards, the Amburgy Bluegrass Band play. Dancers and cloggers take the floor then, led by Silas House and Renee Lyons and a half dozen other writers. I watch and enjoy. Later, we go up to apartment two for informal music and singing by workshop folks--Betty Smith, Pia Seagrave, Deborah Thompson, George Ella Lyons, Michael Wells and others soloing and harmonizing. It's one o'clock before I syumble back to the Quiltmaker Inn.

Thursday, July 31, 2003 -- Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School

Last night's Wendell Berry reading is used by Ron Rash to illustrate a point: Great writing sounds effortless, but it is hard work to write fiction that is true to the human condition. Chris Holbrook talks about pacing, about blending dialogue and description and background and action, about shifting from one to the other as seamlessly as possible. None of this happens easily. Easy reading writing is hard work.

Ron Rash advised writers to risk sentimentality, to avoid the cynical and ironic, the clever and disdainful. He gave as examples two similar stories by Raymond Carver, "The Bath" from early in his career, and "A Small Good Thing." In the former, the author holds himself above his characters and their story. In his later work, Carver seems more personally involved, less clever and ironic, and that gives the story greater emotional impact.

Before the afternoon participant readings, Leatha Kendrick describes the process of screenwriting for the film she wrote for KET last year, a film on photographer Doris Ullman and her work documenting the people of Appalachia during the 1930s. Evening readings are a short story by Barbara Smith, a remembrance of an uncle by Joyce Dyer, an excerpt from his forthcoming novel The Coal Tattoo by Silas House, and poetry and a story by George Ella Lyon. Then it's up to apartment two for another night of group singing.

Friday, August 1, 2003 -- Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School

Hard to believe it's already Friday, that this will be my last early morning coffee on the porch for another year.

Rash and Holbrook suggest writers to read and study for technique -- Cormac McCarthy, William Trevor, Mary Ward Brown, Tim O'Brien, Bobbie Ann Mason, and others. House and Duncan offer advice: Surrender to the novel and its characters. It's not the story that makes the novel, it's the way you tell it. Reveal yourself on the page, even if it can't be seen by anyone else, you'll know it's there. That will spark your fiction alive.

Then it's lunch and goodbyes and I'm driving home to a lawn that needs mowing and I'm feeling invigorated, ready again to attack my novel-beast.

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Last updated 04/22/2010

Jim Tomlinson has been awarded an Al Smith Fellowship in recognition of artistic excellence for professional artists in Kentucky through the Kentucky Arts council, a state agency in the Commerce Cabinet, supported by state tax dollars and federal funding from the National Endowment for the Arts, which believes that a great nation deserves great art.

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