I read Bonfire ages ago, but the one passage I remember is the description of the two attorneys in the Bronx eating their massive sub sandwiches, their mouths opening unnaturally wide. I probably remember this because I’m Italian and from New Jersey and this is how people eat subs. Wolf got that one right.
And no female POV characters. By midway it does become a slog as the scenes devolve into arranging chairs and staging long, long talks between characters.
Wolfe's forte is the insights he offers -- I'd no idea the Irish referred to themselves as "harps" and "donkeys." But once the courtroom drama gains momentum, those rich insights peter out.
And no female POV characters. By midway it does become a slog as the scenes devolve into arranging chairs and staging long, long talks between characters.
Wolfe's forte is the insights he offers -- I'd no idea the Irish referred to themselves as "harps" and "donkeys." But once the courtroom drama gains momentum, those rich insights peter out.
The weird things that hang out in our subconscious are wonderful. I love the problem solving that happens when i give an idea or issue room to ferment in my mind. This post is a cool insight into your process. Thank you.
It's tough to call it "process" because so much seems to be automatic or intuitive. An attempt to recreate what was engaging when I first began reading. The effects, if not the stories themselves.
Foremost were the smarmy short stories in mainstream magazines like Redbook or Family Circle or Reader's Digest. That's an upcoming post.
The moment I started reading this, I thought ‘Avocado!’ I appreciate all these techniques you give us. I’ve found myself using them unexpectedly, and I love that. They aren’t consciously employed, just available when they’re perfect for the story. Like practicing scales.
Exactly. When you hit a moment that needs -- something. Then you have the greatest variety of textures to consider: A list? Big voice? Revisit the object? A montage? On the body? Or some odd fireworks like Hernia, hernia, hernia.
Rhythm and stylistic repetition in writing becomes more apparent to me in its effectiveness the more I realise just how much of it stays with me years after reading it compared to other types of prose.
I love the way Charles Bukowski describes rhythm in writing and how each line should contain it’s own “juice/flavour” from 1:17 - 1:36 in this clip: https://youtu.be/fo9CQT3hXu8?feature=shared
That bar has long since been demolished. The town of Clinton, Montana is now a McMansion suburb of Missoula.
That's part of the impulse to document the margins. While reading Wolfe's "Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Dream Machine" I recalled the 90s "art cars" that were the mascot of the Cacophony Society. It feels good to have written about such cars because now they're gone. Bristling with glued-on stuff, they were a big middle-finger to aerodynamics and good taste and resale value. Wolfe would've loved them.
Hell, you told a story about someone unsuccessfully trying to save a kid and without realizing the genesis of the idea, I wrote a story about someone trying to save a kid with CPR. I didn't realize where the story idea was generated until you reminded me.
Just got done reading The Dog Stars and now reading Burn. I am starting to see tools from the stack in fiction, which is pretty cool. The Dog Stars definitely has one of those Ira Levin style moments where you want to tell the character, "Don't do it!" Something I want to learn how to pull off in writing.
Interesting. It took me back to my days of training to be a primary school teacher, learning about the way we acquire language. It's a mysterious process, but we seem hardwired to pick up on the features of language: grammar, meaning, structure, context, dialects, accents and more. Chomsky proposed the idea of a Language Acquisition Device, but that seems like a simplification. However it works, we store words and phrases and they can be embedded in our thinking. We have evolved this skill for a reason, I suppose. Perhaps the literary chorus is an echo of phrases chanted around the camp fires of our ancestors - phrases that encouraged social cohesion and shared goals and ideals. Thank you for firing up my brain today. I shall be thinking of this topic for a while.
Thank YOU. The longer I live, the more I'm enchanted by phrases my grandparents and great grandparents used. "Who died and made you the King of England." Or, "She got my Irish up." Or, "Everything he owns is on his back."
Such phrases tend to be physical and intuitive. Not to mention how they resurrect the beloved dead.
In my pre-Plot Spoiler days, writing tips and suggestions were breadcrumbed around the places I spent time - a napkin in the junk drawer (we all have one), a notebook that must be around here somewhere, a voice note that I was positive got recorded on this phone but I guess it must have been the last one. Then I got more serious about writing, thanks to escaping a corporate job and then stumbling upon Substack...Chuck's page, in particular. A note in my phone grew fat with dozens of concepts, tips, and theories on how to be a better writer. I read those notes every time I sat down to write, until I didn't. The goal with learning is to turn the conscious into the subconscious. That happened, at least for some of Chuck's wisdom.
George Saunders had a similar thought in an old newsletter. Something along the lines of: it’s tough to teach why I do this in my writing, because it’s a technique I absorbed but don’t remember why it works.
We should all try to write so much until we write all the bad writing out of our systems and only the good writing is left. Until it’s second nature.
You are most welcome. It was nice to send you something after all you've given me.
The dear hoof haunts me too. I stopped to smoke on the side of the road and found the parts. Pretty gruesome. What gets me is the idea of the bodies on the side of the road we do not see. So I didn't do any cutting - the hoof horn came torn off as is . So it's just hoof horn not so terrifying as you might imagine - part of the sole - not attached to bone or flesh.
Just not sanitary to touch with bare hands - in my humble opinion.
It reminded me of a story about how when someone gets hit by a car they sometimes get knocked out of their shoes. Leave their shoes in the road. I took photos because the Netflix documentary about cow mutilations in Eastern Oregon had me thinking and paranoid. Showed some friends. They said the word for it was tailings. Said what hunters leave of a kill is called tailings.
I read Bonfire ages ago, but the one passage I remember is the description of the two attorneys in the Bronx eating their massive sub sandwiches, their mouths opening unnaturally wide. I probably remember this because I’m Italian and from New Jersey and this is how people eat subs. Wolf got that one right.
Not if you have TMJ...
It's 650 pages. I'm at page 125, and Wolfe has only introduced two main characters and one plot point.
And no female POV characters. By midway it does become a slog as the scenes devolve into arranging chairs and staging long, long talks between characters.
Wolfe's forte is the insights he offers -- I'd no idea the Irish referred to themselves as "harps" and "donkeys." But once the courtroom drama gains momentum, those rich insights peter out.
And no female POV characters. By midway it does become a slog as the scenes devolve into arranging chairs and staging long, long talks between characters.
Wolfe's forte is the insights he offers -- I'd no idea the Irish referred to themselves as "harps" and "donkeys." But once the courtroom drama gains momentum, those rich insights peter out.
The weird things that hang out in our subconscious are wonderful. I love the problem solving that happens when i give an idea or issue room to ferment in my mind. This post is a cool insight into your process. Thank you.
It's tough to call it "process" because so much seems to be automatic or intuitive. An attempt to recreate what was engaging when I first began reading. The effects, if not the stories themselves.
Foremost were the smarmy short stories in mainstream magazines like Redbook or Family Circle or Reader's Digest. That's an upcoming post.
The moment I started reading this, I thought ‘Avocado!’ I appreciate all these techniques you give us. I’ve found myself using them unexpectedly, and I love that. They aren’t consciously employed, just available when they’re perfect for the story. Like practicing scales.
Exactly. When you hit a moment that needs -- something. Then you have the greatest variety of textures to consider: A list? Big voice? Revisit the object? A montage? On the body? Or some odd fireworks like Hernia, hernia, hernia.
I stumbled upon an old book on minimalism recently: https://openlibrary.org/works/OL14863385W/Minimalism_and_the_short_story--Raymond_Carver_Amy_Hempel_and_Mary_Robison?edition=key%3A/books/OL33666M
Rhythm and stylistic repetition in writing becomes more apparent to me in its effectiveness the more I realise just how much of it stays with me years after reading it compared to other types of prose.
I love the way Charles Bukowski describes rhythm in writing and how each line should contain it’s own “juice/flavour” from 1:17 - 1:36 in this clip: https://youtu.be/fo9CQT3hXu8?feature=shared
Bim, Bim, Bim,
Bim, Bim, Bim,
Bim, Bim, Bim,
Bim, Bim, Bim
Wow, I agree fully. How often have I read 600-page novels, wading through long scenes, only to find the "grand emotion" flat and exhausted?
I'm reading your 'Stranger Than Fiction" and I'm pretty sure the "Testy Festy" story will haunt me for the rest of my life.
That bar has long since been demolished. The town of Clinton, Montana is now a McMansion suburb of Missoula.
That's part of the impulse to document the margins. While reading Wolfe's "Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Dream Machine" I recalled the 90s "art cars" that were the mascot of the Cacophony Society. It feels good to have written about such cars because now they're gone. Bristling with glued-on stuff, they were a big middle-finger to aerodynamics and good taste and resale value. Wolfe would've loved them.
Oh How interesting! I've seen a few art cars in Nor Cal. One had barbie heads clued all over it. It was special. Do you have pictures?
Ah, I wish. As of now I know of only Marcy's derelict art car, rusting on flat tires beside her house. Encrusted with a thousand... bowling trophies?
Awww...lol that's awesome though!
Hell, you told a story about someone unsuccessfully trying to save a kid and without realizing the genesis of the idea, I wrote a story about someone trying to save a kid with CPR. I didn't realize where the story idea was generated until you reminded me.
Not a lifted technique, but a lifted idea.
"And so it goes"
"Where was I"
"Start. Again"
Hey, I lifted it from the real people at my gym who LIVED IT. Good ideas create their own lives in the world.
I remember that prompt in the stack!
I got to the long avocado scene while driving so I heard it on audiobook. That is a thing!
Word is that the British actor did an excellent job. I hope you panicked and thought your player might be broken.
Just got done reading The Dog Stars and now reading Burn. I am starting to see tools from the stack in fiction, which is pretty cool. The Dog Stars definitely has one of those Ira Levin style moments where you want to tell the character, "Don't do it!" Something I want to learn how to pull off in writing.
Also totally derailed by the road kill deer leg in the mail!?!? Like a real deer leg? Was it a consensualy sent deer leg? Taxidermy or the real deal?
Still have yet to open the box. My back porch feels like the final scene in Se7en.
I am so sorry! Not sure I would ever be ready for the deer leg kind of mail.
Interesting. It took me back to my days of training to be a primary school teacher, learning about the way we acquire language. It's a mysterious process, but we seem hardwired to pick up on the features of language: grammar, meaning, structure, context, dialects, accents and more. Chomsky proposed the idea of a Language Acquisition Device, but that seems like a simplification. However it works, we store words and phrases and they can be embedded in our thinking. We have evolved this skill for a reason, I suppose. Perhaps the literary chorus is an echo of phrases chanted around the camp fires of our ancestors - phrases that encouraged social cohesion and shared goals and ideals. Thank you for firing up my brain today. I shall be thinking of this topic for a while.
Thank YOU. The longer I live, the more I'm enchanted by phrases my grandparents and great grandparents used. "Who died and made you the King of England." Or, "She got my Irish up." Or, "Everything he owns is on his back."
Such phrases tend to be physical and intuitive. Not to mention how they resurrect the beloved dead.
In my pre-Plot Spoiler days, writing tips and suggestions were breadcrumbed around the places I spent time - a napkin in the junk drawer (we all have one), a notebook that must be around here somewhere, a voice note that I was positive got recorded on this phone but I guess it must have been the last one. Then I got more serious about writing, thanks to escaping a corporate job and then stumbling upon Substack...Chuck's page, in particular. A note in my phone grew fat with dozens of concepts, tips, and theories on how to be a better writer. I read those notes every time I sat down to write, until I didn't. The goal with learning is to turn the conscious into the subconscious. That happened, at least for some of Chuck's wisdom.
Thanks for sharing this, Chuck
George Saunders had a similar thought in an old newsletter. Something along the lines of: it’s tough to teach why I do this in my writing, because it’s a technique I absorbed but don’t remember why it works.
We should all try to write so much until we write all the bad writing out of our systems and only the good writing is left. Until it’s second nature.
I see lots of effective use of rhyme alliteration and repetition in the children’s books that are fun to read more than once.
My daughter quite liked a recent one by David Sedaris “Pretty Ugly” about a little ogre girl.
You are most welcome. It was nice to send you something after all you've given me.
The dear hoof haunts me too. I stopped to smoke on the side of the road and found the parts. Pretty gruesome. What gets me is the idea of the bodies on the side of the road we do not see. So I didn't do any cutting - the hoof horn came torn off as is . So it's just hoof horn not so terrifying as you might imagine - part of the sole - not attached to bone or flesh.
Just not sanitary to touch with bare hands - in my humble opinion.
It reminded me of a story about how when someone gets hit by a car they sometimes get knocked out of their shoes. Leave their shoes in the road. I took photos because the Netflix documentary about cow mutilations in Eastern Oregon had me thinking and paranoid. Showed some friends. They said the word for it was tailings. Said what hunters leave of a kill is called tailings.
Thought you might appreciate a deer sole.
Chelsea Cain once ran down a guy on Hawthorne. The police taught her how they determine the point of impact by where the shoes fell off.
Being a NYT bestselling author, she was immediately cleared of all blame and feted by the detectives at the scene. Such are the perks.
I’ll be quite honest, I can’t believe that I’m subscribed to Chuck Palahniuk. Is this the Truman Show? Must be. I like it.
Yeah, you're here. Keep your expectations low.
“Make it seem normal.” Got it, thank You!