Anxiety Pancakes: Life in the Middle of a Novel (day ten)
I know I said I was going to write about a Hollywood shrink called Barry Michels today who has good advice for writers. But I’m moving Barry to tomorrow’s blog because yesterday I ran into one of the temptations of the novelist. What’s that? Simple. It’s called politics.
Last night I went to the meeting at City Hall to discuss the proposal by Porter Airlines to bring bigger jets and more passengers to the island airport. A crowd of about 500 showed up. About forty in the audience were backing Porter. They wore round yellow Porter buttons on their lapels. A sweet, fresh-faced young woman politely offered me a Porter button as I went in. I politely refused it and told her I felt an expanded airport would make Toronto’s air and water even more polluted than it already is. She recoiled in shock.
As the evening ground on, I found myself staring at the Porter contingent, trying to figure them out. It struck me that they really do believe they are doing Toronto a favour by bringing more business to the city through their airlines. So why can’t we make it bigger and better, they reason. A number of my friends fly Porter. They’ve told me it is a friendly and well-run airline without the hassles of Pearson. I believe them. Porter seems to have done a good job building up its clientele.
There’s only one problem: the airport is making a mess of our waterfront. Residents in the buildings by the harbour report a new sticky black residue on their balconies since Porter expanded in 2006. They suffer from window-rattling noise from the planes. In some cases, the planes take off only 200 metres away from their homes–a distance that would never be allowed at Pearson, where the homes around the airport have been built at a required distance. Unfortunately, many of the downtown condos were put up before Porter increased its passenger numbers to well over two million a year.
People are starting to move out from some of the downtown co-ops because they can’t stand the new traffic jams on their streets, along with the noise and the bad air, and likely more will go if the airport expands. Sailors are upset; so are arts organizers like Tamara Bernstein who runs concerts by the harbour. She says the noise of the planes taking off interferes with their public events.
So why doesn’t the Porter crowd understand that their airport has a noxious impact on the environment? Because they claim it doesn’t. Not a “significant” impact anyway. The Toronto Board of Health has recently said no to the expansion because it says the airport is bad for our health. But the Toronto Port Authority who runs the airport says the environmental impact is not “significant.” It’s hard not to think of the backers of the airport expansion as frogs in a slowly boiling pot, frogs that ribbett reassurances that yes, the water is a bit warmer than it was, but not overly warm, and certainly not tropical temperatures, at least not yet.
Last night a man from Transport Canada spoke about its responsibility to certify the new jets that Porter wants to bring in. He never mentioned that it is his job to look at jet emissions or jet noise although it is his job to see if the noise and emissions are bad for the environment. He talked a lot about making sure the construction of the proposed extended runways didn’t interfere with the flights that are on going at the airport. His words weren’t exactly reassuring.
Why can’t our public officials be more honest about what we’re doing to the environment? Is it too scary to face up to what’s happening so it’s easier to close your eyes and rush forward with business plans that make a deteriorating situation worse? Another big problem is the media. These days they don’t do investigative reporting unless it falls into their laps like the Rob Ford crack video. Newspapers can’t spare the money for this kind of reporting because the Internet has taken away much of their advertising revenue. TV news still gets most of their information from the dailies so they aren’t big on investigative reporting either. The result? The public is unable to make informed decisions about issues like the airport expansion.
And that brings me back to the temptations of the novelist. Yes, I am getting politically involved again because our journalists aren’t writing courageously about what’s happening.
Anxiety Pancakes: Life in the Middle of a Novel (day nine)
There’s a term for what I’m feeling, the winter blahs. The blahs have come upon me slowly because I usually love winter. I love the cold air and how it helps my thinking, and I love winter sports like cross country skiing. But yesterday I couldn’t ski for more than half an hour because the ground at High Park was mostly covered with ice. Our high winds last week had blown the snow away. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s been plenty cold this January but we haven’t had a great deal of snow. Until today.
The view from my office window is bleak. I’m looking at my garden through falling snow so fine it could be white dust motes. I have no energy. I am not interested in writing a new section of my novel. I am not even sure if I will be able to finish today’s blog, which I want to be short and comforting. So just to see what happens, I’m going to interview my main character, Dale Paul, and find out what he has to say about my listless mood:
Me: So what’s wrong with me, Dale Paul? Why aren’t I more interested in writing about you?
Dale Paul: I have no idea. You’re lazy is my guess. After all, there are few people as fascinating as me.
Me: That’s true. But even you seem pretty boring today.
Dale Paul: Look, I know what you’re trying to do. You insult me so I’ll beat you up. Well, I’m not going to put you through my word mill just because you’re looking for a little nastiness. Find someone else to punish you. I’m taking off.
Me: Where are you going?
Dale Paul: Wherever you aren’t, you idiotic, craven pusillanimous charade of a writer. Good-bye.
Me: Don’t go.
Dale Paul: I’ve gone. Try and find me. See if I care.
Me: Hey, I didn’t mean what I said. The sun is coming out as we speak.
Dale Paul: Blankety blank blank and then blank you….
(Gurgle, gurgle, hiss–the sound of a character disappearing down the bathtub drain.)
Tomorrow–some good advice to writers from Hollywood shrink Barry Michels.
Anxiety Pancakes: Life in the Middle of a Novel (Day Four)
Yesterday I complained so much I feel almost cheerful today. Like many Canadians, I tend to revel in “a woe is me” attitude. Blame it on our weather. In the days when I did performance art, I once performed a show about self-pity called “Down and In” at the Detroit Institute of Modern Art.” Dressed in scarfs, shorts and toques, my fellow performer, Louise Garfield, and myself lowered ourselves into the gallery’s fountain chanting sad sack phrases. It was funny until we realized we couldn’t touch our microphones on stage. Then we really felt sorry for ourselves. So what did we do? We made our situation part of the show.
This is a good thing for me to remember because the labour of writing a novel, with its long, hard, dry spots and sometimes baffling dead ends, can make you feel sorry for yourself. According to the late teacher and novelist John Gardener, the profession of novel writing gives joy to a certain kind of person. But he warned that no other profession is so fraught with professional and spiritual difficulties. He should know. He died drunk driving his motorcyle.
Gardener wrote two excellent books about writing, The Art of Fiction and On Becoming a Novelist. That’s why he has my respect. He didn’t just write powerful novels; he taught fiction for over 20 years before he gave into his demons. (His brother died in a horrible farm accident while he was driving the machine that caused it.)
In other words, writing novels can be a painful way to spend your time. Yet it’s satisfying to live in the world of your imagination. Satisfying and seductive. Who has more freedom than the novelist? (On Monday, the long, dry hard spots of novel writing.)
Anxiety Pancakes: Life in the Middle of a Novel (Day three)
It’s been three days without much sun, and I’m three days into recording life in the middle of a novel. Lack of sunlight discourages me so I slept in this morning and woke up feeling especially grouchy and slow. It’s taken hours to put my seat in my chair. But I said I was going to write about questioning the art of fiction. So here goes.
I’ve been reading fiction by the younger writers like Sheila Heti, Tao Lin, Karl Ove Knaussgaard, Marie Calloway, Ben Lerner, Tamara Faith Berger, and many others for an essay I’m writing for the Globe. And what they’re doing has stopped my breath. It’s something new and it’s very autobiographical. They’re dispensing with some of fiction’s most important tropes. I don’t just mean a trope like plot although they mostly dispense with that too. I mean tropes like using a narrative mask. Instead they’re inserting themselves as the subject into their fictional stories. Sure, writers like Henry Miller and Proust have done this before but they’ve done it with a tinge of romanticism. These new young wonderful writers are not romantics. I’m calling them the New Unromantic Romantics because they report on the deepest, shallowest, creepiest and most unworthy feelings and thoughts that can go on in the mind of an individual. And the result? Their work is fascinating and original.
The Norwegian writer Karl Ove Knaussgaard said he wants his writing to bring the reader “closer to a self.” That’s what happens in the books by these younger writers; they create a powerful and unique intimacy with the reader. I admit I am in awe. So how does the work by these writers affect day three in anxiety pancakes? When you’re prone to self doubt in the middle of the novel, one of the first questions to ask is–now, why aren’t I doing something other than I’m doing? So yeah, today I’m asking why I’m not writing a novel without a narrative mask and story arc. I mean, why aren’t I?
Now that’s something to brood on for a while, isn’t it?
Anxiety Pancakes: Life in the Middle of a Novel (Day Two)
In my novel, The Dead Celebrities Club, I’m trying to work out if people are capable of change. I’ve always believed that people evolve rather than change. But some people do change drastically going right back to St. Paul who was zapped with god’s power when he was on his way to Damascus to arrest followers of Jesus.
Are these conversions authentic, or delusional? We live in a cynical age. I suspect most of us think someone who has been selfish and unethical is not going to undergo a conversion. And yet why not? Or if not a conversion, how about an evolution–which is more in keeping with my belief system. That is, I think a spiritual conversion may be as simple as extending your sympathy to the world beyond yourself.
In some ways, this philosophical issue is the least of my problems. It will unfold with the narrative, and my story telling brain will give me the answer.
My more practical issue is to keep writing, as I said yesterday. To put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. How do I do this? I daydream, I make notes, I look at research; then I talk some scenes from my story into a digital recorder and myself or my part-time assistant Mariel transcribes it. While I’m composing I think–you idiot, what on earth are you doing? This is absolute crap! You’ll need to go back and completely rewrite every page. ONLY NOT NOW. You have to go on. (Tomorrow: my number one bugaboo: why I question the act of writing fiction itself.)
Anxiety Pancakes: Life in the Middle of a Novel
I’ve decided I’d keep a diary about the ups and downs I go through writing my novel. Years ago, I did an investigation with art curator Peggy Gale into the relationship of anxiety to creativity. We discovered that some anxiety is necessary; it inspires us to write or make art but if there’s too much anxiety, the anxiety will shut down your creative powers.
I’m thinking about our insight into anxiety this morning. I’m half-way through a novel about a white collar criminal who runs a dead pool in prison where the prisoners bet on which of the list of aging or frail celebrities is going to die first. My character also goes through a spiritual change in prison. Or mimes going through a spiritual change. I keep changing my mind about this. It seems to me that people become their environments to a large extent so it’s possible he’s in a place that leads him to spiritual reflection and emotional change. But once he gets out, he goes back to his old ways.
But to begin. My main job right now is to keep writing. And that means keeping anxiety and self-doubt dialed down. I have a tendency to question what I’m doing, and ask–is this working? Those questions are like a meal of anxiety pancakes because I end up feeling stuffed with heavy, leaden feelings that lead me nowhere. Anyway, anxiety pancakes are my subject in this blog. I’ll try to post a few paragraphs every day. That’s a promise.
My Novel-Writing Secrets, and Essay Writing too
PREPARE, ORGANIZE, DICTATE!
OK, I’m going to share some of my novel writing secrets with you. I’ve promised the Huffington Post I would. So here are three fool-proof ways to face the blank page if you are a novelist, and believe me, my methods will work for other types of writing too, but you need to follow my instructions carefully:
First, pull out a large piece of drafting paper. You’re going to use it as a map of your novel, or your non-fiction book, or your article or your essay. If you’re a novelist, write down the names of your four main characters and their three favourite words. Write down any images that come to mind, images that may convey something your characters do or who they are. Next write down what you think your story is about — obsessive love, fraud, emotional loss. (It doesn’t matter if you guess wrong. Writing is rewriting, as a wise writer once said, and you will have lots of chances to revise your thinking here.) Then start listing the scenes you see in your mind’s eye. Now go to one of the scenes that seems most interesting to you, and write down where it is and what happens. I call this stage of facing the blank page “courting a novel.”
If you are writing an essay, write down your three most important points on the drafting paper. Write down what you think your main point, or thesis statement, is (even if you aren’t sure what it is yet.) Then start listing specific examples that prove each of your three points on the paper. The three points will support your thesis, and the more specific your evidence is, the more convincing it will be. You will be amazed at how much more easily your ideas will coalesce if you see them visually. Virginia Woolf once compared this process to fishing. You throw a line in the river and wait to see what comes. And there is a certain patience involved in storytelling or making an argument. I call it trusting the process.
Second, you need to write the scene from the novel that interests you. It may be your opening. It may be your ending, or it may be a scene somewhere in the middle. It doesn’t matter where you start a novel because all the scenes and passages can be re-organized into the right sequence later. Many novices believe writers write a novel from A to Z. Not true. John Irving writes his ending first, and he says he hears the rest of his novel as a kind of music moving towards his final sentence. That’s how John Irving does it. But all writers have their own process, and if you’re like me, you go to the scenes that spark with the most heat or obsessive energy, and then you write those scenes first.
Why? Because those scenes are the most fun to write, and they’re also likely to be the key scenes in your story. There is nothing wrong with going straight to the heart of things. It will save you time with your essay because you will need to find your thesis statement, which could be something like, “Rob Ford is the most controversial mayor Torontonians have ever elected.” (Now there’s an argument that won’t be hard to prove!) Often the hardest part of writing an essay is figuring out just what that statement is. And often one of your three main points is your thesis.
Lastly, if you are still daunted by the blank page, dictate your most interesting scene into a tape recorder. You can do the same thing with your three main points. Using a tape recorder will feel shamefully easy at first, as if you are playing hokey and not sweating enough from your labours. Ignore pangs of guilt or self-consciousness. The beauty of the tape recorder is that it skips over the inner critic and lets you blurt out what you’re interested in writing. Yes, you will need the inner critic later when you are organizing what you have written. But you don’t want he or she showing up too early. It’s like inviting the food critic to a feast when you are still chopping onions.
Susan Swan’s new novel The Western Light was recently nominated as one of the top ten 2012 fiction and nonfiction books by the Ontario Library Association.
How to Stare Down the Blank Page: Dictate!
Huffington Post Canada
Huffington Post Canada – Canadian News Stories, Breaking News, OpinionThe New, Expanded Heroines of the Sexual Gothic show in London, May 2, 8 p.m.
Thursday 2 May 2013, 8:00 p.m.
Meet & greet reception with the artists to follow the performance
Featuring Canadian Author Susan Swan
& Toronto’s popular all-woman opera noir quartet, The Billie Hollies
Directed and Produced by Louise Fagan
Brescia Auditorium, Brescia University College, London
Tickets: $20.00; $15.00 for Circle members
Tickets available at the door OR
Click HERE to buy tickets online!
Free Parking
“A profound, hilarious and subverting evening of prose and song from among the best”
– Dave Bidini, Guitarist & Lead Vocalist, Rheostatics & BidiniBand
In Heroines of the Sexual Gothic, critically acclaimed author Susan Swan explores her relationship to some of her most intriguing characters — the giantess Anna Swan, the fiercely independent Asked For Adams and the romantically idealistic Mary “Mouse” Bradford. Woven throughout Swan’s explorations is original music composed by Donna Linklater and performed by The Billie Hollies, Toronto’s popular opera noir quartet. The soulful sound of The Billie Hollies singing passages from Swan’s novels bring these characters to life, allowing the audience to powerfully connect to their own hopes, humour and struggles.
Heroines of the Sexual Gothic is a theatrical performance that illuminates the body as an ongoing cultural dilemma for women and for men, while exploring how overcoming limiting perceptions of one’s self can lead to brave and daring triumphs. Employing both poignancy and hilarity, Heroines asks what the creation of Swan’s characters tells us about the current cultural situation for women–a time when many young women are reclaiming feminism (yes, they are!) and re-launching, re-visioning and re-inventing initiatives to continue the work started by their mothers’ generation of feminists.
Join us for this unique evening of performance – Susan Swan, Louise Fagan and The Billie Hollies have created an evening of talk and music you’ll never forget!
Assistant producer and director: Mariel Marshall
To learn more about this multidisciplinary performance visit:
www.heroinesofthesexualgothic.com
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MOUSE BRADFORD AT HAMILTON’S BATTLE OF THE BOOKS
MOUSE BRADFORD AT HAMILTON’S BATTLE OF THE BOOKS
At Hamilton’s Battle of the Books this week Jean Rae Baxter dressed up as my heroine Mouse Bradford in The Western Light. Jean is a writer too. (Some of her fiction titles include: The Way Lies North, A Twist of Malice, Broken Trail.) Here’s Jean wearing a cowboy hat. Mouse always wore the Lone Ranger hat her father gave her. Jean also hobbled around the stage on crutches talking about why she liked my novel and wanted it to win this year’s Battle of the Books. Mouse limps around in a Boston brace because a bout of polio left her with a weak leg. For anyone who doesn’t know, Hamilton is one of the most enthusiastic literary kingdoms in Canada and possibly in the US too. They take their books straight up.