I love a good illuminated letter.
The Blogging from A to Z Challenge begins today! I’ve contemplated themes, toyed with the idea of guest bloggers…and have decided to let this endeavor happen organically. As a former librarian, I’m no stranger to the alphabetical and chronological. Hell, I can even sing the entire alphabet backwards, thanks to Ralph Covert! I’m absolutely amused by alliteration, and I love to play with words. So I thought I’d start out my ABC Adventure by writing about writing. A is for AUTHOR.
And they don’t call it “authorship” for nothing.
Writing is a craft, and it is a writers’ job to steer that craft. This concept is not new; in fact, the amazing Ursula K. Le Guin wrote a very helpful book on the subject: Steering the Craft: Exercises and Discussions on Story Writing for the Lone Navigator or the Mutinous Crew.
I think every fiction author has had someone ask them “Where do you get your ideas from?” or “Did you write that because it happened to you?” Sure, truth is often stranger than fiction, and it’s often said you ‘write what you know’. But most writers will be happy to tell you: the ideas just come. The characters just speak. And no, that character is not based on me, because I’ve never gone to wizarding school/dated a vampire/owned a car with an evil mind of its own named Christine, etc.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the South Ferry Terminal in Manhattan. Visions of it often pop into my head at odd times while I’m writing or just thinking about writing. Not sure why; perhaps it’s due to all the years I spent commuting between boroughs in my young adulthood. I have been crafting a particularly tough scene that takes place on the Staten Island ferry, but I don’t think that is the only reason my brain keeps drifting back to it. It may be a stretch to try and offer it as an allusion or allegory for anything remotely literary, but here goes:
Picture yourself if you can, walking into the ferry terminal. Don’t worry if you’ve never been to this particular terminal. Its a bright expanse of glass and chrome; clean and modern. This is a beautiful panorama of an author’s brain. The sky’s the limit if you’re looking up. But if you’re looking down, you might notice a bit of grime on the floor. Some stubborn dirt, or the sticky remnants of someone’s sick regret the janitor missed while mopping up. Oh, and pigeon poop. It’s all there. The good and the bad.
New ferry terminal, Manhattan
The ferry boats docking and departing are the ideas – plots, scenes, arcs – coming and going. Some are small and only come at night (like the Alice Austin, the smallest ferry of the fleet and the only one named after a woman). Others are grandiose, majestic…the Guy V. Molinari, three thousand-ton kind of ideas.
Guy V Molinari ferry
So we’ve got the terminal and we’ve got the boats. How about all the commuters? A regular person looks and sees a crowd. A writer looks and sees a crowd…and wonders what everyone had for breakfast.
Striding quickly through or plunking themselves heavily down in your brain, in your plots and scenes, are characters. Why have they come? What are they thinking? Where are they going? These are all questions a writer will ask repeatedly. A writer will scour the terminal, sail back and forth on the boats until seasick and shaky, and search the face of each and every commuter discretely. Some are laughing, some are sleeping, some are yelling at their children in a foreign language. Eating, kissing, reading, staring into space. Some show up like clockwork every day. Others show up unexpectedly. Many disappear into the landscape. The best kind catch your eye. Smile. Open up to you.
The crowd - a cast of characters
If my title led you to believe we were taking a train today…APRIL FOOL! We took a ride on the SS Authorship. Hope you enjoyed the ride! Tomorrow’s journey: B…
Great post. I’m on board.
mood
Thanks, mood. I am enjoying the ride along your blog as well – great words for writing minds!
I did enjoy the ride! Very cool. “sticky remnants of someone’s sick regret” – brilliant line!
Thanks…I liked that one too! 🙂
I loved the way you incorporated April Fool’s into this blog post. Very clever. I understand what you mean about just looking/staring at things. My husband has grown to understand ‘the look.’ So now when he sees it he tells the kids, “Oh mama’s going to write something about this (fill in the blank).”
Rhia #873 in the A to Z list
Thanks for stopping by – that’s great that your husband has been trained to recognize “the look”! Mine isn’t quite there yet. LOL
Nice analogy 🙂
A writer looks and sees a crowd…and wonders what everyone had for breakfast.
I must be a writer, then 😉 Yesterday I was getting out of my car at the mall and two cars drove up and parked nearby. A man got out of one, and a woman and two small children got out of the other. The man removed a car seat and two bags from the woman’s car and put them into his own. I wondered if they were divorced and were doing the kids swap over thing. But then the man and woman hugged each other and had a friendly chat, and then I saw the woman’s face and it looked quite a bit older than his. Then I started wondering if she was his mother, or maybe his mother-in-law…
And then my boyfriend was like, “What are you staring at? Come on.”
He’s obviously not a writer 😉
Ha, thanks for sharing – I see a dozen story directions in those details! Too bad we can’t get paid for people-watching like that. But we can at least entertain ourselves!
Hehehe nice start to the Challenge. I loved the analogy you used, especially since my mind feels like the inside of a terminal most of the time. 😉
Thanks for stopping by! Yes, let’s hope that writing is the only “terminal illness” we ever have! 🙂
Um, wait…I meant ship. I’m on your ship.
Coming from you, that means a lot to me! Especially since you know how I drive! 😉
Only you would make this connection! 🙂 I’m on your train!
Thanks for stopping by!
Great A. Lots of Authors doing A to Z.
I like your analogy between writing arcs and ferry terminal. Good luck with the rest of the month.
My A is ‘
Lynne
Twitter: @LynneInPborough