"Are you in love with the art in yourself or yourself in the art?"
. . . Stahislavski
Picasso's self-portrait.
I think that one is first in love with the thoughts about a piece of art or music or a story - excitedly talking about it, researching it, sketching it and thinking about how much fun we'll have putting the ideas and images together. Then, when the art is finished, seeing or hearing ourselves in that art and, if deeming it good, we are in love with the 'me' in that creation forever.
So, what are our motives for writing the way we write? What is our vision? Every story created is the author saying to the reader: "I believe life is like this."
A story is the embodiment of our ideas and passions for the feelings and insights we wish to install in our audience. My job while creating "Because We Could: A Memoir", was to fill every moment with my passionate conviction. I had to write what I believed.
I knew I would use the ancient classical design for storytelling, the Archplot, where a certain value-charged situation in the life of the protagonist (me) makes a great sweep of change thus taking their life from the opening condition to a different value-charged situation which is absolute and irreversible. Easy, right? Nope!
First, there is the issue of the point of view. My first attempt at telling my story was to tell it in the present using letters back and forth between myself and the antagonist (my ex-boyfriend, David). Quickly realizing this was extremely limiting and difficult, I switched to telling it in the third person. This didn't work for me either because it seemed that, too often, the flow of the story was being diffused. After an afternoon of brainstorming with my author friend, John Earle, I reluctantly discarded the completed six chapters and began a six-week cursing spree. Finally, I quit pouting and took a stab at using the first person. Voila! It felt natural; I only had to deal with one mind (mine) and I could create a distinctive internal voice.
Many readers have asked me how I remembered all the details that I put into the novel. After all, it did take place thirty-years before I began writing the book. The answer is that I had told these little vignettes many times over cocktails, around campfires, while cooking, so they naturally stayed in my memory. I also had letters that my mom saved over the years that helped and definitely reminded me of the timeline. And then there was the flat-out-fun of roaming around on Google which provided information on writing, people, places, photos and also, re-connected me with the other main characters, Canadian naval historians, the music of the era and on and on.
My favourite aspect of the remembering and writing process did not come from the writing itself, but rather from the creative editing with my dear friend, Lucy Farrell (aka Elizabeth). This took place Friday nights while sharing a bottle or two of Argentinian Malbec on my jungle porch in the mountains of Panama. Often we would playact the dialogue between two characters to nail it. Or she would tell me to close my eyes and describe something specific to her, prompting me with question after question. While memory gives us whole chunks of life, imagination gives us fragments - slivers of details and experience that seem unrelated, seeking out their hidden connections and then merging into a whole. Having found these links and envisioned the scenes, it was easy to write a smooth, exciting story with vivid details and characters who stayed true to themselves.
In summary, quit telling everyone you have always wanted to write a book, (I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has said this to me) - and get started! Put yourself in a creative space, have your favourite beverage at hand and plug into some good instrumental music. Now begin by brain storming with yourself as to what your motives are and what your vision is. Then, let go of the fear and enjoy the ride.
