The Pyramid of Knowledge
Hi, friends.
We’ve made it to December (which someone recently referred to as the Friday of the year). I imagine some of you put goals to paper at the beginning of the year. Some of you met them. Some of you didn’t. And some of you probably are saying, goals? What goals? If you managed to put pencil to paper and get some words down and share some stories, gold star from me. Also, we’re coming upon the year anniversary of this little newsletter and I’m glad that you’re still here. It means a lot.
Story.
This week’s story is the timely The Tenth of December by George Saunders. (As I write this, it’s a springy 77 degrees here. Books and movies are the only place I get to experience snow banks and frozen ponds. Something to consider when you think what you know, what you see around you is boring or mundane.)
Craft tidbits.
The other day, I was reading a draft of a novel that was written in the wrong POV. It was in 1st person but wasn’t taking advantage of seeing through one character’s eyes. All of the backstory was coming out via conversation. You’ve heard me say before, there’s no heart in information. And that was what was happening. The conversation became delivery of information for the sake of the reader instead of a conversation between two characters. It needed to be in 3rd person so the narrator could easily and deftly set up the backstory and setting, etc. I should also say it was a historical novel which relies, generally, upon a good and capable narrator setting the stage. (I think you need a particular reason - voice or knowledge or intimacy - to write a piece in 1st person.)
But here, Saunders gives us a third option, going well beyond what’s generally thought of as close 3rd into what I would call an interior 3rd. We get Robin’s internal monologue on the Nethers, his imagined wooing of Suzanne.
All suited up now, NASA. Turning awkwardly to go out the door.
Affirmative. We have your coordinates. Be careful out there, Robin.
Whoa, cold, dang.
Duck thermometer read ten. And that was without windchill. That made it fun. That made it real.
You’ll note that Saunders strips these lines of pronouns and articles, down to the bare bones. “He turned” becomes “turning.” What could be “The duck thermometer read ten not including windchill” is chopped up so that Robin’s thoughts are tacked on as narrative fact.
We also get very close to Don and his fears about being a burden to his family and becoming Allen. Saunders lets the text show us Don’s struggles with language and lets us connect the dots:
Oh, Allen.
Kindest man ever. Had taken him swimming. Had taken him to decoupage. Had combed out his hair so patiently that time he came home with lice. Never a harsh, etc., etc.
Not so once the suffering begat. Began. God damn it. More and more his words. Askew. More and more his words were not what he would hoped.
Hope.
There are a couple of ways that Saunders builds on tension. One is the juxtaposition of the two storylines themselves. (There’s 4 whole pages in the book between when Robin falls in and when Don realizes that he’s fallen in.) The other is the use of white space and short, clipped sentences.
He tiny-stepped up. The coat was teen feet away. He went down on his knees, knee-walked slightly up. Went down on his belly. Stretched out an arm.
Slid forward on his belly.
Bit more.
Bit more.
Claude Monet The Magpie
The other is what the reader knows versus what the characters do. When writing, the writer always knows more than the reader, and the reader knows more than the characters. (Yes, even in first person.) Think of it as a pyramid of knowledge, with the writer being on bottom, and character being on top. We know Robin will fall into the pond long before he does - the grayish patch, the fact that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, hitting the ice with his gun.
And Saunders knows that it will be a rescue well before we do or the characters do. It is, afterall, what Robin most wants - to rescue someone. But, he is also, bless-his-heart, the kind of kid who needs rescuing. We know that he’s likely bullied long before he admits this. I mean, the first sentence tells us about his unfortunate haircut. Suzanne, who he adores, calls him Roger. Even the Nethers torture him and they’re made up.
The other thing that Saunders does so beautifully is humor. There’s a lightheartedness as levity in an otherwise serious, depressing situation.
Sparks.
So often we write about people who know each other - friends, lovers, families. But write about strangers that need each other’s help. The instincts we have when we see someone in need.
Or. Try to write really, really close to a character. See if you can’t render their inner life richly on the page while still maintaining 3rd person POV.
Revision. Saunders talks about his revision process here and how specificity makes for interesting situations and characters who could be “me on another day.” Think about where your piece is a little flat and see if some memory or want (Such as Don’s at the end of the story) can’t push the scene (and character) forward.
Other tidbits.
Get your novels polished and shined. Tin House is open to debut (unagented) novel & graphic novel submissions Jan. 1-3. (Looks like short story and essay collections will be in May and nonfiction in September. Something to fill in your new calendar!)
Rose Metal Press is having a book sale until Dec. 10 with coupon code HOLIDAY20. And Hub City has their backlist on sale until Dec. 13.
Still (a journal that focuses on Appalachia) is open for submissions until Dec. 15. Hunger Mountain closes on Dec. 17.
That’s it for now scribblers. I’m still considering what kind of book to read for January. There are so many choices. Novels and memoirs and craft books! I’m going to narrow it down this week. I promise. Until then, pencils up for that last year-end push~
Marsha