Noah Henry Morriss

That project that you’re tinkering away at in your free time? The one that’s fun? That maybe you only get a few minutes to work on everyday, but that you still get a little of work on?

Keep it that way.

Don’t force it. Don’t make it your “main” project. Don’t block out hours of your day to work on it. Don’t rush it.

That’s how you kill it.

Keep it light. Keep it fun. Take your time with it.

It won’t get lost.

What are the themes and ideas of the things you like? The stories, writers, films…?

Do they line up? Do certain things overlap and connect? Is their common ground?

If so, you’ve probably found your through line.

I’ve been rereading Raymond Carver’s What We Talk About When We Talk About Love collection. His fiction meant a lot to me in college, but I really only read his stories once. I’ve read Cathedral a few times, I’ve listened to it too, but for the most part it’s been one and done. I notice that it makes an impact on me, I note it, but what are you supposed to do with that?

I’m rereading the collection now. The stories are so short that I’ve been reading them a few times over. Two or three times in a row. Trying to figure out both why I like them and what they “mean.”

Meaning is supplied by the reader. I firmly believe that. I believe that the writer has something, sure, but that’s not so much meaning but intent. They’ve got a feeling that brings them to the end, which may be a transformation of what their intent was, and then the reader takes that and translates it to their own experiences.

But reading the stories a few times over, they start to change. They start to talk to each other. Themes and ideas are repeated and a structure is formed. The collection takes on a cohesive, lined form. It is not disparate. It is not wandering. They all feel like they come from the same tree.

To get things done there must be a mix of challenge and uncertainty. If there isn’t, then boredom sets in and then nothing gets done at all.

Being bored and finding something to do is one thing. A positive thing. But being bored while doing the thing is entirely another.

Implementing challenges to creative or non-physical tasks can be confusing.

If you’re lifting weights, you could just add more weight. If you’re running, you could add another mile.

But what about writing? You could increase your output, I guess. But that doesn’t sound all that exciting.

If you were a painter I suppose you could try a different medium, some different kind of tools. Or if you were a musician you could try different instruments or styles.

But writing? There is genre. There is structure. There is style.

Challenges must be specific. They are restrictions, confines, weights. They are things that are difficult to reach, solve, accomplish.

I’m reading Italo Calvino’s Mr. Palomar at the moment. It’s a novel of sorts. Experimental. Its chapters follows a pattern of 3x3x3 for a total of 27 chapters. Things are broken down into sections but everything mirrors each other and talks with one another. It’s almost mathematical.

I’m also thinking of this article by Jane Allison which describes the shapes of fiction. Spirals, fractals, waves… different ways of experimenting.

Challenges are ways of experimenting. Ways of going past the familiar. Going into new territory. Going head on with a problem and finding a way to solve it.

Here’s a quick lesson in drama that’s been prevalent in my current project: Don’t Let Sleeping Dogs Lie.

What’s this mean? It means, when two characters have a conflict occurring between them, don’t let either of them take the easy out. There should be no taking the high ground, at least not without immediate consequences.

During an argument in the real world it is the socially conscience thing to try and diffuse the argument as quickly as possible. To let bygones be bygones, or to at least let out a grumpy “fine.”

People recognize, or at least I recognize, that things escalate really fast and that it’s smart to stop things before it’s too late.

If you do this in fiction, you’re in trouble.

Always let things escalate, that’s where the fun is, that’s where the story is. Recently in my writing I’ve noticed a habit of letting one character give up just as things are getting interesting. I’m trying to quell that habit, and it’s a first step to recognize that it’s there.

So, all this to say, let things go too far. Keep the argument running, keep feeding the flames. You aren’t your characters, so enjoy pushing them farther and farther and farther. Right over the edge.

Let ’em get angry for once.