Is life merely preparation for writing novels? The jury's out.
I was shabby as a young reporter, thinking it went with the territory. My trousers tore in the crotch and I was forced to buy a replacement immediately. In measuring my inside leg, the sales assistant accidentally allowed his hand to slide up through the torn fabric, embarrassing us both. I'm not sure I was able to report this to my mother.
Ripened with age and towing a cart labelled "Useful fictional material bought and sold" I now see different potential in this glancing contact - a Damascene moment when the male character finally accepts his gayness. I have written about gays, sympathetically I hope but probably not convincingly, and the torn trousers still hang in my memory banks. Perhaps the symbolism is a bit too pat.
Reality is often just too real for fiction. I am not sure the argument I overheard between one senior company manager of old German stock ("You damned kike!") and another who was a Jew ("Lousy Nazi.") could ever be used in a novel. Rather too raw, I suspect.
Years ago I thought I supported feminism but an incisive, aristocratic young woman proved me wrong. She toyed with me publicly, bathing me in humiliation. Sweat gathers on the back of my neck as I recall this, but the effect was beneficial. My feminism is more plausible these days and I have learned to keep my mouth shut more often. However in trying to integrate this into a story I'm sure my self-consciousness would show through.
I was once given a great opportunity with a famous publication and I mucked it up. No one criticised, there was only silence. Could I make that work? Hmmm.
The best raw material grows arms, legs and a face over time. Evolves in fact.
When young, we eschew humility because it seems like a weakness. One of the many joys of growing older is that we can learn from our mistakes a lot quicker, because we have the time to reflect and examine the circumstances.
ReplyDeleteColette: I agree in general terms. But my aim in this post must have seemed somewhat obscure and, possibly, too specialised for most readers. I have added an initial sentence in the hope of making things clearer - always a terrible admission of defeat when dealing with fiction.
ReplyDeleteWe may learn from our mistakes but a lost opportunity is still that, lost.
ReplyDeleteI for one would appreciate a re-run. Wouldn't you?
I was reading a couple of posts by Maria Popova at her blog, "Brain Pickings," and thought about your recent posts, here and the previous one. She had written about Oliver Sacks and his genius prose about both music and writing. I thought about what you have written recently about both art forms and thought you might be interested in her posts, too. I'm sorry I don't know how to link directly.
ReplyDeleteOn writing: https://www.brainpickings.org/2015/06/19/oliver-sacks-thom-gunn-writing/
On the paradoxical power of music: https://www.brainpickings.org/2015/09/11/oliver-sacks-musicophilia/
Sabine: It's tempting to think of "editing" our lives but I can't help regarding it as utterly alien, that somehow we would cease to be human if we did. For one thing there's the "fluttering of a butterfly's wing" to be considered; who knows how our tinkering might subsequently turn out: we may die young, end up intellectually incapable, become incurably bitter, find ourselves addicted to Dan Brown stories. One advantage of having a past is that it is packaged and unreachable, we may see it in its entirety. We may in fact "start again", not by going back in time but by doing it here and now with the past errors, disasters and guilty moments duly acknowledged. In that way the "wrongness" becomes an asset, a guide to what we may avoid.
ReplyDeleteI'm not entirely happy about this. There's an element of mysticism about it. Once I'd learned Kirchhoff's Law I had a strong desire to do away with the supernatural; in religious terms I've been able to do this but a form of superstition - embedded when I was young, vulnerable and greatly affected by my parent's break-up - still prevails.
Crow: I am aware of Sacks and Gunn (his father was a prominent UK newspaper editor). I like Sacks's honesty and although I can't remember whether I've read any of his books I feel I have - he has cropped up regularly in comparatively serious newspapers and TV programmes. I'm short of time at the moment but I note that Musicophilia is available in Kindle and I will download it when I'm done here.
My most recent music lesson (yesterday) took the form of a retrospective. V reckoned she'd been working me too hard and instead we revisited songs I have learnt and which have been temporarily set aside. It was the first time I've ever been aware of my progress on a broad front and it combined with a period of "good" voice. The euphoria was tangible but under control. I reflected: music's for me is like breathing, essential but more fun. I am a different person now though it would take thousands of words to get to the truth of this. Not of course a "better" person, more alert perhaps.
I haven't read much of Sacks' writing, just bits and pieces, usually in other writers' articles about him. However, I want to read Musicophilia. While I notice how music affects me, on numerous occasions opening doors to parts of my soul I didn't know existed, I hadn't thought much about the whys and wherefores. I read once (hope I'm remembering this correctly) that music is a mathematical art and we subconsciously respond to the order that underlies all compositions, even the chaos of some jazz pieces.
DeleteMay be there is something to that hypothesis. I do know that listening to too much heavy-metal, headbanger stuff causes slight tremors in my hands after about ten minutes and I have to get away from it. Of course, that might have nothing to do with either math or music.