The way I write
12 years ago
General
Let me first say that there is no one way to write. As George R. R. Martin (Evil Santa Claus/possibly the absolute sweetheart of the fantasy-loving part of the Internet) has noted, different people write in different ways, and that's perfectly alright. It always irritates me when I see people saying, "This is the way to write something"; even some "bad" literary techniques can be twisted into a good one, if used by a skilled author and properly de- and reconstructed. That said, this is one way to write, and it's the one that I personally employ to make what I consider my best work. Other writers looking for help with their writing, or inspiration, may find it useful.
While discussing literature with a professor of mine, I began likening one particular story (I believe it was "The Open Boat" by Stephen Crane) to a work of music: the use of repetition to set mood, the crescendo, and so forth. It occurred to me that many of my own stories could be described using the same concept: a work of literature can be like a piece of music. The use of words can be likened to the use of notes: poetic, descriptive words make for a legato piece which sails the reader along; short, terse sentences create a staccato, broken, and gritty mood.
Consider:
"Dim light filtered in from the bars of his cell, the sun's languid rays timid to enter the stone and metal coffin. His skin had grown pale and wretched during his imprisonment; with weary muscles, he slid himself to rest in the scant warmth, his body crying out for its nourishment."
As opposed to:
"Darkness surrounded him. Only dim light flitted through the window. The man rubbed his biceps. When had he last seen the sun? When had he last felt its warmth? Everything was cold, now. Everything cried out for nourishment."
Though both of these passages describe the same scene, they utilize a different authorial voice, and thus (should) evoke a different response from the reader. Neither technique is inherently superior; it depends on what mood and voice you wish to establish.
Taking the simile further, one could compare the plot of a story to a piece of music. One which begins with exposition and character development, such as describing the life of a farmboy begins with a soft, slow, flowing rhythm. One which begins in medias res might have a more pounding, beating rhythm, like a battle. The technique I primarily use is to have the story move like many of my musical pieces: from lull to crescendo to lull. Most chapters of my novel-in-progress work that way: they begin with simply describing the character's day, often move to the narrator making commentary (which is usually fairly intense, given the narrator), and then change to some conflict or interaction which acts as a "crescendo," such as an ex-soldier describing his first mission. The story itself does likewise (SPOILZARZ):
Young man moves to the capital, hitchhiking and working along the way. He obtains a job working for (effectively) the government. He's faced with opposition to this from the men with whom he lives, who are freedom fighters/terrorists. After a discussion with their leader, he joins their cause. He continues to work both for and against the government, and receives increasingly violent assignments. Toward the middle of the story, the first crescendo, he develops a heroin addiction and commits his first act of outright murder. As the story progresses, he works to drop the addiction, creating another lull. Tension builds when a raid is made by the government on a restaurant near their camp, and a friend unrelated to the camp is killed. It continues to build as he confronts the revolutionary leader, then goes off on his own to find the head of the government. It ends on a cliffhanger, to both allow the reader to decide what happens (it makes sense in context) and to end like a piece of music which leaves you anticipating the final notes.
I don't know if this is helpful, but perhaps it will be to some folks, so there you are.
While discussing literature with a professor of mine, I began likening one particular story (I believe it was "The Open Boat" by Stephen Crane) to a work of music: the use of repetition to set mood, the crescendo, and so forth. It occurred to me that many of my own stories could be described using the same concept: a work of literature can be like a piece of music. The use of words can be likened to the use of notes: poetic, descriptive words make for a legato piece which sails the reader along; short, terse sentences create a staccato, broken, and gritty mood.
Consider:
"Dim light filtered in from the bars of his cell, the sun's languid rays timid to enter the stone and metal coffin. His skin had grown pale and wretched during his imprisonment; with weary muscles, he slid himself to rest in the scant warmth, his body crying out for its nourishment."
As opposed to:
"Darkness surrounded him. Only dim light flitted through the window. The man rubbed his biceps. When had he last seen the sun? When had he last felt its warmth? Everything was cold, now. Everything cried out for nourishment."
Though both of these passages describe the same scene, they utilize a different authorial voice, and thus (should) evoke a different response from the reader. Neither technique is inherently superior; it depends on what mood and voice you wish to establish.
Taking the simile further, one could compare the plot of a story to a piece of music. One which begins with exposition and character development, such as describing the life of a farmboy begins with a soft, slow, flowing rhythm. One which begins in medias res might have a more pounding, beating rhythm, like a battle. The technique I primarily use is to have the story move like many of my musical pieces: from lull to crescendo to lull. Most chapters of my novel-in-progress work that way: they begin with simply describing the character's day, often move to the narrator making commentary (which is usually fairly intense, given the narrator), and then change to some conflict or interaction which acts as a "crescendo," such as an ex-soldier describing his first mission. The story itself does likewise (SPOILZARZ):
Young man moves to the capital, hitchhiking and working along the way. He obtains a job working for (effectively) the government. He's faced with opposition to this from the men with whom he lives, who are freedom fighters/terrorists. After a discussion with their leader, he joins their cause. He continues to work both for and against the government, and receives increasingly violent assignments. Toward the middle of the story, the first crescendo, he develops a heroin addiction and commits his first act of outright murder. As the story progresses, he works to drop the addiction, creating another lull. Tension builds when a raid is made by the government on a restaurant near their camp, and a friend unrelated to the camp is killed. It continues to build as he confronts the revolutionary leader, then goes off on his own to find the head of the government. It ends on a cliffhanger, to both allow the reader to decide what happens (it makes sense in context) and to end like a piece of music which leaves you anticipating the final notes.
I don't know if this is helpful, but perhaps it will be to some folks, so there you are.
FA+

There is definitely a pattern that is very similar to all three creative areas. I hear it a lot in some classical works such as Respighi ' Pines of Rome, or Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen . Of course Wager's is an opera, and Respighi is a tonal poem. But still think of the Kingston Trio, or Heart's "All I want to do, is make love to you" Both are stories set to music.
[runs away, screaming!]
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[giggles] Bender is my mentor ;)