/lit/ - Literature

I don't think that makes you retarded. You're actually taking in what you're reading. Some people just tear through books and barely comprehend anything. For me, though it depends on the book. Some books I read through fairly quickly, but heavier material takes more time for me to get through.

Hey guys.

Well, I'll check back here occasionally. If anyone wants me to respond to their work, just request and I'll be happy to do it. If nothing else, I learned a lot simply by reviewing craft and it looks like I helped at least a few people, so it's all good!

If we 404, I'll probably go back to be an ordinary anon until March rolls around. Thanks again everyone who helped give feedback to the contest!

Again, this always takes me way longer than I estimate. I always wind up editing the shit out of my original comments as I post. I wasn't lying when I said I finished my response beforehand, honest!!

Now I want to bestow upon you my recommended reading list for learning craft!! The image is too big (again) to post, so here you go: http://Uploadie.com/d/2jw1cl/Rec_Reading.gif

<<This is just a thumbnail of it.

>>1470190

Lastly, I want to stress how impressed I was with this piece. I was really impressed with how you used setting to characterize the grandparents and as a vehicle for discovery. I often struggle with crafting setting in my work. And because your setting so rich, you have a lot of room for discovery and exploration--that's one reason I had so much to say about your work. There's a lot of potential here. Just tighten up your characterization and concrete detail, and I think you'll be able to craft this into a fully realized story.

>>1470167
Stories should have some amount of mystery, so it's not that I expect you to state all the character's motivations or reasoning. But stories also operate on specificity. I want to know more about this character's relationship to his or her parents, sister, friends and lovers, something about his/her childhood, daily life (job, etc.), details that will clue me into what his/her priorities are. I can see that this character drifted away from his/her grandparents and even now is conflicted about moving closer—as close as he/she can posthumously. But because I don't have any specifics about this character, I don't know what the stakes are. What is at risk for this character? The movement lulls because I don't know what this character is really looking for—what he/she wants and is afraid of. Conflict drives plot: conflict is a character's desire bumping up against an obstacle. This determines the movement of a story. So some exploration, some development of this character and those that are only hinted at abstractly (his mother and sister and father (who is only implicated in a reference to "parents")) will help you make discoveries and allow the real plot will assert itself. Suddenly, certain details will start to resonate for the character because something will be driving him/her as he or she explores the house. This story really demonstrates how much plot relies on characterization. Once you have a clearer concept of this character, the plot will start to write itself.

>>1470164

>I did not go to the funeral.

This surprising, final statement is an intriguing moment of generous contradiction. However, while it has the kind of cognitive dissonance that indicates conflict and depth—I'm left feeling more confused than anything at the end. The reason being that there isn't enough specificity about this character to fully understand the conflict in this story. We don't know whether this character is male or female, outgoing or introverted, married or divorced or single, if he has kids of his own... We don't even really know why this person stopped seeing their grandparents--the explanation we're given is that the parents stopped taking him/her to their house. But now he/she is an adult and easily could have seen them his/herself. The fact the character feels remorse and guilt also shows that there is a person reason he or she has for drifting out of contact with them.

(continued)

>I didn't take the guitar, but I kept the notebooks that my grandfather wrote his compositions in.
This is an effective move here as it foreshadows the fact the character does not attend the funeral, that he fails to connect in some way—stops short. But it could also indicate that he has transcended his selfish motivations that were linked to taking the guitar so a family member who cared for the grandfather couldn't have it. There is some thematic ambiguity in the story as a whole.

>And I took one more thing: a small photograph of the three of us, me at about age seven, and them probably seventy-seven. I keep it on my beside table so I can look at it every night before bed, and every morning upon waking.

I want more concrete details about this photo. It seems very important to this character. Although the detail that he wakes up to it everyday strikes me as odd, particularly given that he doesn't attend the funeral. I would re-investigate this moment after developing this character a bit more.

>>1470001
>The mantles and shelves in their home were covered in pictures of family members. Various yellowing pictures of my grandparents, parents, my aunts and uncles, cousins, and family friends were very carefully arranged, though dusty. There were many pictures of me and my sister as children, but, of course, none as adults. For the second time that day, I felt remorse. They loved me fervently although I never returned it. I would never have the chance to reconcile.

The fact the protagonist feels remorse seems solely based on a statement: that there are only pictures of him as a child, but the protagonist, in opening the guitar, feels a lot more disoriented by his/her feelings than he/she does in this scene. In that scene, you were a lot more generous with this character. It's strange that the character readily gives the emotion a name here when there aren't many concrete details to make that emotion as vivid to the reader. The adverb “carefully” describing how the grandmother has arranged the pictures conceals A LOT. In what way are they arranged that gives the character the impression it was done “carefully?” It might be helpful to delve into some of the specifics of these photos that are probably imbued with many memories for this character. This way, you can convey complex emotions in the character that he/she may not be able to articulate.

>This tradition had only stopped when my visits did, even though later in life his hands refused to play for too long. The selfish romanticist in me thought that perhaps he continued writing me birthday songs, just in case. I imagined that the guitar would go to some anonymous uncle, one that had really cared for my grandfather, one that had really spent real time with him. I felt that I had better take it home with me.

Strong passage here! This an effective glimpse into the subjective logic of the character. The narrator's idea that the grandfather continued making songs after he long abandoned him, and that the guitar might go to an anonymous uncle "who really cared about him" reveals the selfish aspect of his longing for connection. It's a very generous portrayal, and I think the contradictory desire to want what we have already left behind is a strong theme within the story that you should keep in mind as you revise the piece (see >>1469683).

>>1469912
>My grandfather's guitar had been abandoned in one corner. I felt a tinge of something—mourning? guilt?—as I unclasped the rusty locks. Being an accomplished musician, my grandfather would always write me a special song and sing it on my birthday

The "twinge of something"--and the suggestions the character offers for what it might indicate--is appropriately ambiguous considering he/she oscillates between striving to reconcile and moving on--the conflict seems rooted in the character's conflicting feelings. This moment also gives us a glimpse into the character's subjective logic, and their confusion regarding themselves.

But "special" is one of those abstract adjectives you want to avoid. I'm wondering what kind of songs the grandfather wrote--and what kind of person he was. I want an image of how he would play or what he sounded like when he sang--or a detail about how he was an "accomplished musician"--that means a lot of different things to different people. The songs the grandfather sang for the protagonist are obvious very important to him/her--just why they are so important and how that factors into the thematic concerns of this piece will resonate a lot more for the reader if you use specificity and concrete detail to render them (see >>1469688).

>>1469859
>My first glimpse into the downfall came in the form of my grandmother's gossamer curtains, made of some mystical material not unlike spider's silk, drooping wearily in the front window. They were originally white and she had lovingly dyed them a delicate rose; now, after years of neglect, they were nearly falling apart. Hundreds of hours of daylight had taken their toll on the curtains. Some spots were still as pink as ever, but others had returned to their natural achromatic state—still others were in varying shades of sun-bleached limbo: salmon, lavender, carnation, seashell, cream.

This is a beautiful, concrete image, but it begins to drag a bit with the descriptions of the spots. I'm wondering if this the most economic use of language. The image might need a little tightening up to hone in on what it is about these curtains that resonates so much with the narrator. The indication of "limbo" I think, is interesting, considering the narrator's ambivalence later in the story--and the fact his dead grandparents still resonate in their empty house. Just make sure, as you revise, that every detail is working on multiple levels. Also, this the only real concrete detail we get about the grandmother. Is this the most effective way to render her? I found myself growing more curious about her as I read the story. Obviously, you want to focus in on what's more important to the protagonist, so maybe he/she has more of a connection with the grandfather. In that case, you may only need or want to use a few broad brush strokes to her, but in that case, you need to choose those brush strokes carefully: they should be dense and expansive.

>I hadn't been there in years, so when my mother volunteered us to help clean out the place, I was astonished. The house--the home that their hands had built--had been their pride and joy. Here they had lived, here they had loved. Here they had conceived, birthed, and raised their children. The dilapidated wreck I saw was nothing like I remembered.

Who is “us?” The mother, sister, and main character?
Where are these guys? They're absent the whole story! Interaction between these characters and the protagonist might actual help you communicate some of the themes and conflict you're grappling with in this story.

Also, you wander into abstraction again here: "their pride and joy" and "here they had loved" - this also fails to be very generous: it's a very uncomplicated and sugarcoated depiction of a family. I realize the main character is nostalgic--but concrete details, even under the main character's bias, will give the reader enough to work with to understand how the character might be biased. The fact the main character's parents are later described as not getting along well with the protagonist's grandparents indicates to me that there is more that should be present here.

>As arthritis and general old age descended upon my grandparents, the house fell into disrepair. No longer were there rows of tomatoes and potatoes and two types of onion in the back yard, for bending and digging hurt them so. The storm shelter was nearly unusable, meaning danger in tornado alley, but they were too weak to work on it. Near the end they hired a young man to do general repairs around the house, but that arrangement didn't last. Paint chipped, weeds flourished: the house aged and died with the couple that built it.

Nice precise, concrete details! The detail that it was a young man who helped them I think works thematically given the young people in this old couple's lives have vanished. Small criticism: delete the last line. Trust your reader, you don't need to tell us that the house aged with them. Let your images work for you.

>I had known the house well.
>As I grew older, I resented any time spent with my family (purely because that is what teenagers are wont to do, as according to popular television), and I refused to spend any further afternoons there. For a while we visited only on Christmas Day, and eventually never. My parents were never close to their parents.

Too much abstraction here. Parts of it also verge on cliché (esp. the bit about being a teenager—see >>1469608 and >>1469613)
You would be better off unveiling these memories through images as the character moves through the house. Always ground past events/memories in concrete detail. (Again, >>1469659 for reference)

>>1469745
>Various additions throughout the years gave the small home a mismatched, sewn-together feeling: the carpeted living room floor slanted up a good six inches on its way to the den, and the windows in the kitchen—originally designed so that my grandparents could gaze at the garden—now looked into a small, cramped workshop.

I loved reading the concrete details here--although I see more potential you can tap into with revision: the fact the house is "mismatched" and there are windows that look into rooms and floors that slant--I think you can pull on this thematically throughout the work as the narrator moves through the house (see >>1469703).

>While it was not the most extravagant of homes, it was certainly cozy, and made for many pleasant childhood memories.

Describing the house as "cozy" is not nearly as effective as your concrete details were. This word also bumps up against the house's strange, mismatched feel, you might want to indicate some kind of charm--and if that charm is merely in the "pleasant childhood memories"--use some of those concrete details (or some new ones) to show us the specificity you're hiding behind the abstract adjective "pleasant." What were the childhood memories? Which ones are meaningful to the narrator? See >>1469659 about incorporating the past into your narrative.

>>1469733
>The house they owned they had built themselves, back when Kansas was mostly cornfields; a picturesque neighborhood sprung up around them quickly. Various additions throughout the years gave the small home...

When I began reading this passage, I got excited. This is where the story starts, and using setting to characterize the grandfather and grandmother is an effective craft move. Small critique: the way the piece moves here is a bit confusing/jarring: first you talk about the house, then the neighborhood springing up, then the additions in the house—at first I thought you meant additions to the neighborhood. I would perhaps describe the neighborhood a little more and transition into the house more smoothly.

>>1469715
No problem! I'm glad you found it helpful!

My first response is to the runner up in the contest: http://pastebin.com/LG3rmNg1

> My grandmother's death was followed swiftly by my grandfather's, proving once again that it is truly possible to die of a broken heart.

The first line in your piece is both abstract and a cliche (see >>1469579 and >>1469662). On my first reading, I forgave you for it, as I felt all the concrete detail that followed earned it. But upon re-readings I realized you'd be better off simply deleting this line and starting with the setting, as it's the heart of your story, anyway. The conflict isn't about the grandfather dying due to the grandmother's death. Although the theme of loneliness and abandonment which runs through the tale is implicated here, you can use the setting from the get go to do this. It's important to keep the primary conflict of the story in mind from the first line. (See >>1469620 about conflict and openings).

>>1469703
Conclusion:
These are the Craft tools and elements—the ideas that went into judging your entries. These are the guidelines and devices I look for and utilize as I read, write and revise. Reading all of this at once is probably daunting—it was daunting for me to write: it's basically my take on an entire college course. Try doing what we did in my class and write a 300 word experiment for craft element. We did one a week, and met in groups to respond to each other's work. As a result, we improved SO much. Before taking the class, I used to think I could shit masterpieces because I was “so talented,” but when I learned all these craft tools and elements, I realized it's practically impossible to nail ALL of them in one draft! Even professional writers need to revise over and over. Hemingway once said the first draft is shit. If Hemingway's first drafts were shit, ours probably are too. It's through vigilant practice—making a habit of close-reading many different works and writing in an experimental and conscious way—that writers create works that show an effective use of these tools and elements. It's these tools that bring out the conflicts, sensations and emotions that make people tick—the blood and marrow of what makes fiction throb with life. If anything, whether you agree or disagree with things I've written here, continue to read and write. That's the only thing I can say with 100% certainty: write on.

Theme continued from >>1469688
In songs, as in stories, the key can shift of course, but any shift is a purposeful move on the artist's part, with an intended effect on the audience. Songs are defined through repetition—as are narratives. In the short story “Indulgences” by Gilberto Cuadros, for example, the protagonist's cousin Evelyn, whom he despises, is described as wearing a “flimsy dress” that is a “brownish print” and as having hair “like dry weeds.” Evelyn makes the family uneasy because she is a promiscuous middle- aged women—contradictory rumors abound: she sleeps with white men, black men, she's a lesbian. At the time of the story, the protagonist's grandfather has died—and the family accuses Evelyn, his caretaker, of murdering him. Later in the story, after loathing and persecuting his cousin along with his family, the protagonist, an adolescent, realizes, as he comes to grips with the fact he too would qualify as sexually deviant in his family's eyes (for being homosexual), that he may face the same fate as Evelyn: being cast off by his family. The story concludes as the protagonist spies a scarecrow off the road with “dry weeds for hair, a flimsy brown dress, a stake skewered up through the body, arms stretched open as if ready to embrace.” Notice how the descriptions of Evelyn and the scarecrow mirror one and other. The repetition allows Cuadros not only to compare the scarecrow to Evelyn but to implicate Evelyn in the description of the scarecrow. When I read over what I write, I notice anytime I use a description of one character or event or object that evokes another, either in word choice or appearance, or on some other level. Pay attention to moments like that in your writing—meaningful repetition will often begin to emerge on its own—but it's up to you to consciously hone it in the revision process.

>>1469683
Theme determines your style, word choice, punctuation, and the way you refine all these craft elements here in your story. As I read your entries, I sometimes found myself questioning: what's the point of this image? Why is this person describing this in detail? Does this matter? Is this important? To whom? The character? The story? When I close-read the winning entry, every detail wound up carrying weight in the story because the themes central to it were implicated in each. The term "theme" also applies to music: “a prominent or frequently recurring melody or group of notes in a composition.” Songs are played and sung in a certain key—any notes or chords off key strike the listener as discordant. The same happens in a story when a detail, image, word choice or event doesn't fit. Sometimes this happened when I read your entries—the word or metaphor chosen or the style it was told in would strike me as a discordant note.

Continued from >>1469670
Theme – The ideas and motifs that frame a work

How do writers include only images and metaphors that indicate more than meets the eye? In the first place, what should these images being indicating? Theme is the mold of a narrative's clay, the fine-toothed comb writers run through old drafts, the undercurrent struggling to assert itself in all unfinished. Now, going in to write a first draft, it's probably not a good idea to think, “I'm going to convey this theme and that theme!” and force your characters and story to bend to an imposed theme's will. Writing is a process of discovery. As you write your first draft, things should happen that surprise you. When you complete that draft, and close-read your work, and show it to others, themes will begin emerge. You'll start to understand the significance of some of the concrete images and specific details that popped into your head —and which ones should be changed or deleted. You'll start to find traces of a conflict that might be elusive, settings you might need to change, details to focus on... All of these are determined by theme.

Metaphor continued from >>1469662

Conceits are rarely-used gems. The most common example is “life is like a box of chocolates” from Forrest Gump. At first, this comparison makes absolutely no sense, until we hear the explanation: “you never know what you're going to get.” Conceits have the potential to be comedic and revelatory. They can also reveal a lot about a protagonist's subjective logic. Conversely, an explicit metaphor, juxtaposes two things to create an image, like this phrase from Alfred Noyes' poem “The Highway Man”: “the moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.” An example of an implied metaphor is the crab Jacob captures in a bucket as a child in Virginia Woolf's Jacob's Room. Near the beginning of the book, the crab is depicted struggling up the side of the bucket in an attempt to escape, but it only slides back down again and again. Throughout the story, we see Jacob struggle in a similar way, to escape civilization—but he falls back again and again, restricted by the governing proscriptions of his society, rejecting lovers, suppressing his sexuality, and ultimately dying in a war he has been set up to fight. Ezra Pound describes an image as “an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time.” Every explicit metaphor, every concrete detail you refine in the revision process should, on some level, indicate more than meets the eye.

Continued from >>1469659
Metaphor:
1. comparison between two seemingly unlike things, lending one or both greater significance
2. utilizing an object or image to indicate something else

The Basics:
Metaphor – juxtaposing two things that are comparable only when placed side by side
Simile – juxtaposing two things comparable when placed side by side with “like” or “as”
Conceit – comparison of two things that, in plain juxtaposition, seem contradictory or nonsensical until further explanation is given

One difficulty in using metaphors is avoiding cliché. With centuries of literature behind us, we can't compare a beautiful woman to a rose, speak of “fiery rage,” or “porcelain skin” without the comparison falling flat. If the simile or metaphor is drawing too much attention to itself, i.e. sticking out of the text as clunky, hyperbolic, cliché, or as a superfluous, it should be omitted or changed. Metaphors should fit the tone and voice of the story, and its theme(s). It's easy to use too many metaphors and create “purple prose,” so use figurative language sparingly. Ezra Pound and other modernists favored treatment of “the thing in itself” as opposed to using similes or metaphors that may dilute the uniqueness of things. Unless the connection you're drawing lends depth to the image and your story in a new way—get rid of it.