Today I took my bike and the bus up to UCLA to attend the Writer's Faire, which I discovered will be happening tomorrow. Today the campus was as beautiful as it always is, some filming was taking place at Royce Hall, and it was quite tranquil.
This Writer's Faire thing is a thinly disguised ad for the Extension courses, of which I've taken half a dozen or so. I'm not sure if I'll be taking another (time and money), but they have some panels that talk about writing when they're not focusing on getting you to sign up for the courses. Some of my earlier teachers, as well as some I'd like to study under, are supposed to be talking, but they knew better than to show up a day early.
To give the journey an excuse I wandered the halls of the physical chemistry department and looked at the posters and jokes on the professor's office doors. These people know things, it seems, and some look to have a wry sense of humor. I admit I hesitated outside the windowed supply room, eyeing a smock and shelves of "research supplies." I expect good people never consider sneaking in and taking things, but I don't count myself among such decent citizens. I didn't want to steal for the sake of monetary gain, but I'm sure there's some cool stuff in there that I'd like to have.
To my credit, I didn't even try the door. It was probably locked, anyway.
The water fountains and bathrooms worked, though, so I got back some of my tax money.
In order to justify my mistake in showing up the wrong day, I went to a bookstore that sells textbooks for the Extension classes. I was secretly pleased to see that many of the texts for the creative writing classes are ones I already own. I have this hope, you see, that I can study my way into writing well, that the writing process can be learned as easily as the periodic table.
The one affordable book I didn't have, I bought, thereby compounding my errors. When I got home and cracked open this book on creating dramatic characters I quickly learned the book is for playwrites.
I'm frightened by plays. While I can like them, I have this chip on my shoulder that tells me they're for higher-browed people than me, that I'm not cultured enough. I know that isn't true, but I feel it.
On the bus ride back from the school a sad and confused man got on. Before sitting down he pulled a paperback from his waistband, a new book whose name I couldn't see. It looked to be an airplane novel, but what surprised me is that after carefully unfolding the dog ears that he'd created when he shoved the book in his pants, he wrapped the front cover around, breaking the spine. That wasn't as odd as watching him spend fully fifteen minutes trying to read the first page, which consisted solely of ten or so critics' blurbs.
He reads much more thoroughly than I do. Then again, he probably doesn't mistakenly buy books for playwrites, as I did.
Zero for Two
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5 comments:
I'm not sure how character development is approached any differently by a playwright than it is by a novelist. Maybe there are some cool ideas in there that can be used for noveling.
Have you started reading the book?
I got up to page 1 when the author stated that every work should have a premise that is either proved or not. I read the next several pages and saw many examples of how the good works have ideas or themes that the author argues for or proves.
Then, I got depressed. I've often thought of having a theme, but I've never consciously thought about writing anything that proves the importance of ritual in our life or anything like that.
Maybe I'll try that with my next venture...
All that head stuff is for the critics. Just write damn good stories and let the academics write textbook theories about how you did it.
There's truth in what you say, Angler.
There's also some truth, I think, in what Lajos Egri says in his book The Art of Dramatic Writing (the one I bought). In it he says "Reams of paper bear miles of writing -- all of it without any point at all. There is much feverish activity, a great deal of get-up-and-go, but no one seems to know where he is going."
I don't think my writing is pointless, or even without some premise or point, but I *do* think I'm not as focused as I could be. Yes, he points out that some good plays suffer from that, or from having multiple premises, but I'd like to try consciously writing something to prove a point and see if I like the results.
The biggest trouble I have, now, with this idea is what this guy thinks is the premise of works I'm familiar with. I can't, for the life of me, come up with the premise before he tells me what it is!
I don't know. It seems to me that writing to prove "He who digs a pit for others falls into it himself" (Tartuffe) might give my writing another layer of depth.
I need to think about this. It's not a bad book by any means, and may help with the craft, if not the art, of writing.
That book is a CLASSIC. He makes some good points. The whole thing about premise... remember 7th grade English book reports? Remember identifying the "theme" of a work? BINGO! Whether you do it consciously or not, everything you write has a theme, ergo a premise. Love conquers all. What goes around comes. Cheaters never prosper. From small acorns grow mighty oaks. ETC... It's second nature, you're doing it already. Don't sweat it. Keep writing. :-)
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