Friday, 10 AM: Gone is my corner coffee bar where I could sit on a stool and look out the window and see the Jefferson clock tower on Sixth Avenue. It’s been replaced by a men’s shirt store with lime, orange, and raspberry sorbet colored polos on display. So I’m sitting at a window table in a trendy Village coffee spot one block north called Cosi, drinking a vanilla latte and staring at an as-yet-unfilled three-ring single-subject notebook. Some writers might say there is no difference between a blank page and a blank computer screen, but my fingers are lost without a keyboard. Besides, I think too fast to print neatly, and my scribble is barely decipherable. Outside the window I watch a steady stream of passers-by, walking dogs, pushing prams, juggling bags and books with coffees and cell phones, everyone in a hurry. If I were a fiction make up writer I’d make up stories about who they were and where they were going, and I’d mix in snatches of overheard conversation, not that I can hear much over the “music” – contemporary jazz a la Kenny G. I’m not going to get anything done in here.
Friday, 2 PM: Yesterday I had lunch with a writer who is working on a fiction book for teenagers. She was facing a dilemma that I share in writing adult nonfiction — how to balance specificity of detail with a desire to be general enough such that the story will not feel dated or otherwise limited. We are taught, not only by teachers but also through experience as both readers and writers, that specific details can make the printed page come alive. I’m not talking about burying a reader in trivial minutia, but a reader’s image of wind whipping through the palm trees is very different from the image of wind whipping through the pines. Specifics also impart additional information, often setting the time period or locale. If your character is wearing a hat, and you specify a fedora or a Stetson, readers will make certain assumptions, and as an author you have to be aware of what those assumptions might be. You want to use the details that advance and enhance your story, and keep away from those that place unnecessary limits or make it harder for the reader to identify with the characters. This is less of a problem in nonfiction, where the time periods and details must be factual. My fiction-writing friend, however, must be very careful because not only do kids require currency, what is “in” may very soon be ‘passé.’ How likely is it for a teen today to sit down and write a letter? Do they even write emails anymore? Is it all IMing (instant messaging), or is there something even newer than that? If she wants her story to be of interest to teenagers ten years from now, she will have to choose her details with great care. In nonfiction, the author’s only choice may be whether or not to include a detail, and even then, the choice may be dictated by the impact that the inclusion or exclusion will have on the veracity of the story rather than stylistic concerns.
Friday, 11 PM: A similar quandary is deciding when to leave enough space for the reader to imagine whatever comes to his or her mind; it is one way to allow the reader to make the story her own. To tired to think this through tonight.
Friday, 11:50 PM: Deadlines – can’t live with them, can’t live without them. I said that I’d blog on Friday, and here I am, with less than ten minutes to spare. I’ll be flying home on Sunday and promise to get back on track next week. Have a nice weekend.