Bookend
Rendezvous No. 2
What
if books could slip under covers to swap stories?
This
book report matches another pair of unknown titles,
– strangers
to each other, until introduced here.
NOTE:
Writers Writing About Writing
may be a topic which appeals only
to other scriveners, although sometimes readers
may be surprised by what they
find hiding in those professionally
self-examined pages. Here we
spotlight two stimulating books by writers about
writing which may inspire a much wider
readership.
Writers
Writing
About
Writing
by
Jamie Jobb
Before
a jazz program last year at our local music hall – where the
18-piece orchestra conspicuously outnumbered the audience – I
chatted with another audient, a high school English teacher, who was
lamenting the inability of his current students to read or write.
“They’re
not interested,” he said.
“It’s too easy for them to ‘Snapchat’
or ‘Instagram’ or ‘text’
– but not to actually read
or write
anything on paper!”
So
in a world without readers, what’s the conscientious writer to do –
particularly the writer tending toward fiction and/or dramatic works?
Some of us choose to write for an audience who hears the text,
rather than reading it.
In
1970s California, Marin County authors (myself included) hosted
“writers block parties”. The joke was on ourselves. Nobody
really had “writers block” because, as “freelancers”, we
could Never Afford to Not Work. We were too busy making a living as
writers without the steady income of staff positions. We were what’s
now referred to as “gig workers”.
“Blocked”
writers tend to be those driven by neither deadlines nor paychecks.
They seem to have no back-pocket title to jump into when their one –
and only one – project stalls.
Writers
who gripe about “writers block” are more often seeking excuses
for Not Writing Right Now. A writer working on more than one project
at once can work any time – bypassing the stalled project to write
where his momentum resides in that particular moment. And of course,
a writer may be delayed by some not-yet-expressed notion from her
muses, but that’s the eternal patience required of our craft.
Any
writers who believe in their stage-writing potential could consider
enrolling in a university which offers among its faculty a resident
playwright or two. Indeed, “theatre professor” seems to
be a primary career path for many renowned playwrights who – unlike
screenwriters – are not known for Blockbuster Paydays.
Here’s
an
incomplete list of accomplished
playwrights
who
have
been employed
by American
universities
seeking
to
attract bright young writing talent: David
Henry Hwang and
Charles L. Mee (Columbia),
Paula
Cizmar and
Louis
Alfaro (USC),
Sarah Ruhl and
Marsha Norman (Yale),
Lynn
Nottage (Columbia/Yale),
Philip Kan Gotanda (UC
Berkeley),
Edward
Albee (University
of Houston),
Wendy
Wasserstein (Cornell),
Rachel Dickstein (SUNY),
Cheri
Magid (NYU),
María
Irene Fornés
(Brown),
Rob
Handel (Carnegie-Mellon),
Charles
Smith (Ohio
University),
Mary Zimmerman (Northwestern),
Erik Ramsey (Northwestern/Ohio
University),
Paula
Vogel (Cornell/Brown/Yale/UCLA),
Anna
Deavere Smith (NYU/USC/Stanford/Carnegie
Mellon),
David
Mamet (Yale,
NYU, Goddard College).
For
writers with little interest and limited resources for collegiate
pursuits, there’s always the library. Or a good bookstore. For
our second “Bookend Rendezvous”, we’ll look at two books meant
to spark the budding writer into purposeful florescence.
Particularly a budding fiction writer seeking to grow dramatic roots.
*
* *
“Writing
Down The Bones”
Goldberg,
Natalie:
Writing
Down the Bones
Boston:
Shambhala Press, 1986
By
way of introduction to
her illuminating
170-page tome,
Natalie Goldberg
states:
“This book is about
writing. It is also about using writing as your practice, as a way
to help you penetrate your life and become sane. What is said here
about writing can be applied to running, painting, anything you love
and have chosen to work with in your life.”
Author
Goldberg is most concerned with the intra-personal chemistry of the
craft: how a particular pen feels in the writer’s hand, where to
sit in the coffee shop, how to write hot facts in cool comfort.
“When I teach a
class, I want the students to be ‘writing down the bones’ – the
essential, awake speech of their minds.”
Her
book is structured not around chapters, but along a linear
progression of solitary suggestions based on potent ideas, succinctly
stated. Note her topic headings: “We Are Not The Poem”, “Man
Eats Car”, “Don’t Marry The Fly”, “Fighting Tofu”, “A
Tourist In Your Own Town”, “Writing is Not a McDonald’s
Hamburger”, “One Plus One Equals a Mercedes Benz”.
Goldberg obviously approaches blank pages based on her current frame
of mind, and her feelings which always seem to be fleeting:
“I have found that
when I am writing something emotional, I must write it the first time
directly with hand on paper. Handwriting is more connected to the
movement of the heart. Yet, when I tell stories, I go straight to
the typewriter.”
For
struggling beginners,
Goldberg suggests a
DIY timed
exercise to “capture
the oddities of your mind”.
The exercise requires
the writer to tackle
a single topic for
a randomly specified
short period
of time – using only
pen and paper, while
committing to these
six rules:
1. Keep your hand
moving.
2. Don’t cross out
anything.
3. Don’t worry
about spelling, punctuation, grammar.
4. Lose self-control.
5. Forget logic,
don’t think.
6. Write about your
own scary, naked truth(s).
Her
book is a quick read and Goldberg slowly becomes, page-after-page, a
real Pen Pal for any struggling writer who seeks straight-forward
professional progress. Particularly the writer tangled up in blue
and a temper turning mental. Her advice is sound and well rounded,
although the entire book is written in that unfortunately annoying,
apologies to Mike Krukow, Sporting-Announcer Second-Person Voice –
(the “you” that is never “you” because “you”
have no actual “curveball”!!!). Here are a few examples
of Goldberg’s succinct scrimshaw-scribbled Bones:
“There is freedom in
being a writer and writing. It is fulfilling your function. I used
to think freedom meant doing whatever you want. It means knowing who
you are, what you are supposed to be doing on this earth, and then
simply doing it.”
Natalie
Goldberg also understands that writers should consider themselves
Service Workers as well as Struggling Artists:
“A responsibility of
literature is to make people awake, present, alive. If the writer
wanders, then the reader, too, will wander. The fly on the table
might be part of the whole description of a restaurant. It might be
appropriate to tell precisely the sandwich that is just walked over,
but there is a fine line between precision and self-indulgence.”
Sometimes
there’s a bit of theater mentor Sanford
Meisner in Goldberg’s thinking:
“Writing, too, is
ninety percent listening. You listen so deeply to the space around
you that it fills you, and when you write, it pours out of you. If
you can capture that reality around you, your writing needs nothing
else. You don’t only listen to the person speaking to you across
the table, but simultaneously listen to the air, the chair, and the
door.”
Goldberg
also spices her Bones with lots of free-spirited advice channeled
through the likes of mystic authors Paramahansa
Yogananda, Alan Watts
and Ram Dass:
“Don’t ‘make’
your mind do anything. Simply step out of the way and record your
thoughts as they roll through you. Writing practice softens the
heart and mind, helps to keep us flexible so that rigid distinctions
between apples and milk, tigers and celery, disappear. We can step
through moons right into bears. You will take leaps naturally if you
follow your thoughts, because the mind spontaneously takes great
leaps.”
An
uncertain neophyte writer would be well suited to try on this book
for size.
*
* *
“Three
Uses of The Knife”
Mamet,
David:
Three
Uses of The Knife
New
York: Columbia
University
Press, 1998
David
Mamet ranks among the world’s most renowned filmmakers and
playwrights, but he also has produced scores of short essays which
establish him as a thoughtful writing
teacher in
general. A
Chicago native known for hard-boiled
plots
full of duplicitous
women and street-scrabbled manly characters,
Mamet’s
bookshelf
full of writing and performance offerings
most often focuses
on what he considers the essential question of drama:
What
Happens Next?
That
question must reside in the minds of every single audient during the
unfolding of a drama from Rise to The End. The playwright must learn
to instill in the audience a sense of anticipation, moment-to-moment,
so they all each may ask themselves at every turn of phrase: What
next? Good dialogue always punches that question.
The
best of Mamet’s essay books is his 80-page dramatist’s
crash course: “Three Uses of the Knife – on
the Nature and Purpose of Drama”.
Here Mamet offers
a peek inside the structural tensions and clockwork
mechanisms of drama –
the succession of
necessary beats
that make a story
worth
staging.
The
title of
Mamet’s
poignant pocketbook
quotes Huddie
William
Ledbetter,
also known as “Lead Belly”,
who
famously
said a
knife has three very
distinct uses:
1.
To slice the bread, so you'll have strength;
2.
To shave, so you'll look nice for your lover;
and
3.
To cut out her lyin’ heart when you find her in the arms of
another!
Yes,
and … nobody needs to interrogate Lead Belly on why he sang The
Blues.
Mamet’s
short book follows form of the classic Three-Act Structure, being
broken into thirds like Lead Belly’s knife: Act I. “The
Wind-Chill Factor”; Act II.
“Second Act Problems” and Act III. “Three Uses of the
Knife”.
Here,
in a single paragraph, the playwright defines his dramatic writing
process:
“Our understanding
of our life, of our drama (and the drama on stage or screen can be
nothing other than our understanding of our personal drama) – this
understanding resolves itself into thirds: Once Upon A Time
(narration that enables us to understand the
difficulty/desire/goal of the hero), Years Passed (the middle
time of struggles), And Then One Day (the inevitable yet
unforeseen complication engendered, literally brought into being, by
the quest of there in the middle term – the precipitation into the
end struggle – which can be seen as the granting of the her’s
wish, engendered in the middle term, for a clear-cut fight which
would absolutely resolve the question at hand).
[emphasis added]
Mamet
also recalls an allegorical writer’s in-sider joke: “One Use Of
The Pretzel”
“There’s a great
parable by Tolstoy about a man who was very, very poor. He had three
small loaves of bread and a little pretzel. And he came home from
working in the fields and he ate a loaf of bread. He was still
hungry. So he ate the second loaf of bread and was still hungry. He
ate the third loaf of bread. Then he ate the pretzel and was full.
He said, “What an idiot I am. I should have eaten the pretzel
first.”
Mamet
knows Drama is more than metaphorically a musical conceit:
“So the dramatist,
the blues writer in us, seizes upon the knife as both embodying and
witnessing the interchange, subtly changing its purpose through the
course of the drama. The knife becomes, in effect, congruent to the
bass line in music. For the bass line, not the melody, gives music
strength, and moves us.”
Dialogue
Beats & Colloquial
Verse
One
way to measure the strength of scene is to hear the dialogue as if it
were spoken in a foreign language. In that mind-set, your attention
is on the rhythm of the words (the beats, or the bass-line) of the
dialogue instead of any actual meaning the words may convey.
In
“Three Uses Of The Knife”, Mamet points out that the pace of
strong dialogue moves at the most common meter of English verse,
iambic pentameter – any line of verse (or dialogue) has five
metrical feet, each consisting of one short unstressed syllable
followed by one long stressed syllable. Another way of hearing it: A
line of verse (dialog) measures ten syllables long with the accents on every second
beat.
"taDA taDA taDA taDA taDA /
taDA taDA taDA taDA taDA."
Here’s
how Mamet explains that rhythm working in dialogue:
“… in English, we
speak colloquially, in iambic pentameter:
“I’m going down to
the store to buy the cheese.”
“I told him, but he
didn’t hear a word.”
“I swear I’ll love
you till the day I die.”
“Not now, not later,
never. Is that clear?”
If we listen we can
hear people in a dialogue complete the iambic line for each other:
“I saw him on the
street.”
“And what did he
say?”
“He said leave him
alone.”
“And what did YOU
say?”
“What do you think I
said?”
“Well, I don’t
know.”
Here’s an outstanding video from the Royal Shakespeare Company on how their instructors introduce the rhythm of iambic pentameter – “the rhythm of the heartbeat” – to students learning to comprehend The Bard:
(6:51)
After
CBS cancelled its
crime series “The Unit,” head writer David
Mamet confronted
colleagues in the writers room about
their comprehension of
dramatic writing.
Below you will find
Mamet’s beef with his
suddenly out-of-work writers.
His
critique may
be applied to any kind of written dramatic scene/plot structure
including novels, short
stories and unscripted
stage pieces:
The job of the dramatist is to
make the audience wonder What Happens Next, not to explain to them
What Just Happened, or to suggest to them what happens next.
Any dickhead can write, “But,
Jim, if we don’t assassinate the prime minister in the next scene,
all Europe will be engulfed in flames!”
We are not getting paid to
realize that the audience needs this information to understand the
next scene, but to figure out how to write the scene before us such
that the audience will be interested in What Happens Next.
The audience will not tune in to
watch information. You wouldn’t, I wouldn’t. No one would or
will. the audience will only tune in and stay tuned to watch drama.
Question:
What is drama?
Drama, again, is the quest of the
hero to overcome those things which prevent him from achieving a
specific, acute goal.
So we, the writers, must ask
ourselves of every scene these three questions:
1) Who wants what?
2) What happens if she doesn’t get it?
3) Why now?
2) What happens if she doesn’t get it?
3) Why now?
The answers to these questions
are litmus paper. Apply them, and their answer will tell you if the
scene is dramatic or not.
If
the scene is not dramatically written, it will not be dramatic.
Three-Plus-One
David Mamet Links
Although
he was listed among America’s most prestigious theater faculty at
Yale and NYU, Mamet continues to offer his unique writing perspective
to a broader audience in his books, essays and videos on line –
including his Master Class on line:
The
essential Mamet video:
“Why
are you telling me this?”
(seven
brilliant minutes)
Mamet's
best film:
(preview:
1:58)
Mamet's
best caper movie:
(preview:
1:46)
*
* *
Plant
Your Pencils
Fellow
author Robert Kourik has spent four decades self-publishing his
writings and lecturing about wise garden husbandry. When he learned
I had tackled the topic of Writers Writing About Writing, he
couldn’t help but forward the following links about a curiously
transformative writer’s tool that – with the essential assistance
of a little water – grows itself into a well-rooted living being
shortly after its writing life has ended! It merely needs an author
to plant it!
Follow
Robert Kourik on line:
* * *
Essential
Bookshelf for Dramatic Fiction Writers
Aristotle.
The Poetics. Athens: classic
Greek text, c. 335 BC
Egri,
Lajos. The Art of Dramatic Writing. New
York: Simon and Schuster, 1972
States,
Bert O. Irony and Drama. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1971
Seger,
Linda. Creating Unforgettable Characters. New
York: Henry Holt, 1990.
Seger,
Linda. Making A Good Script Great. New
York: Samuel French, 1994.
Dunne,
Will. Dramatic Writer’s Companion. London:
University of Chicago Press, 2009
Hayman,
Ronald. How to Read a Play. New
York: Grove Press, 1977.
Mamet,
David. Writing in Restaurants. New York: Random House, 1987
https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/321956/writing-in-restaurants-by-david-mamet/9780140089813/
Kozloff,
Sarah.
Overhearing Film Dialogue. Berkeley:
UC Press, 2000
Tierno,
Michael. Aristotle’s Poetics for Screenwriters. New
York: Hyperion, 2002
Root,
Wells. Writing the Screenplay.
New York: Henry Holt, 1980
Mast,
Gerald. The Comic Mind. Indianapolis:
Boobs-Merrill, 1973
Perret,
Gene. Comedy Writing, Step-by-Step. New
York: Samuel French, 1982
Horton,
Andrew. Laughing Out Loud -- Writing a
Comedy-Centered Screenplay.
Berkeley:
UC Press, 2000
And One More Thing re dialogue:
5:04
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