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Archive for July 27th, 2006

Genre-hopping

In Drama, Film, Poetry, Prose, Writing on Thursday, July 27, 2006 at 10:41 pm

There’s an interesting article in the Guardian Unlimited about the apparent incompatability between mastery of the novel and mastery of theatre. And I think the writer has a point. The thing is, though, it assumes that this is something strange, which uncovers the assumption that if one is a great writer, one ought to be able to write anything.

Now, having both taught literature for many years, and written since I can remember, I know that genres are different. It’s obvious that poetry is different from fiction, which is different from non-fiction and essay-writing, which are different again from journalism. But there are subtler, yet fundamental differences: screenwriting is not like playwriting, and short stories are very different from novels.

So genre-hopping (speaking as one who has done it, with more or less degrees of success) is far harder than it looks. I consider myself ultimately a novelist, though I haven’t written any novels so far (well, though I haven’t finished any novels, unless you count my NaNo stuff and the mystery novels). I tend to ramble when I write, and there’s a strong narrative impulse that comes out even in my poems (though that is largely by choice these days), but the easiest thing for me to do is set scenes, draw descriptions in words. Novelling, specially the literary kind, can sustain long descriptive meditations that don’t really do much more than commuicate through the piling on of words and feelings. Very little else can.

But if you look at what I’ve finished, you might consider me a playwright. I’ve written more stuff for the stage than pretty well anything else, except poems. Writing for the stage was damn hard work. It took me several years to overcome my tendency to write dialogue that sounded good but went nowhere — something that could work in a novel (as the article points out) but that flops on stage. I also had to learn to think in terms of cues as well as lines, and to tell a story through character (not dialogue!). Theatre more or less boils down to characters in conflict, and once you understand that — and understand that audiences are not patient and that everything that happens on stage must have a purpose — you can write it.

Screenplays, which I haven’t really written, are quite different. What matters in a screenplay is not character so much as action, plot. The focus is much tighter, and the storyline far more linear in a peculiar way than it can be on stage. Perhaps linear isn’t the best word; perhaps narrower is the word. The camera is a single eye, and the story is told mostly in single shots. Montages are possible, time can be leaped, but what you can’t do is convey subtext at the same time as the main plot unfolds, the way you can do on stage.

Novels, as is stated, have the canvas of an entire world. Every boundary can be broken. But I can tell you, once I mastered the tightness of the play, I had trouble returning to the freedom of the novel form; the canvas is too broad. I’m happier at the moment with short stories, but they are damn hard to master themselves, and (to tell the truth) I wouldn’t really go out of my way to read them if I didn’t have to.

Anyway. We talk a lot about poetry on PFFA. This was a chance to touch on other genres.

And go read the article in the Guardian. I don’t agree with all of it — for instance, Chekhov was an absolute master of short fiction as well as of plays, but that did not mean he could write novels (and, I suspect, it meant that he probably couldn’t to save his life), but at least it recognizes what few people do any more — that genres are different, and to hop from one to another is a whole lot harder than we might like to admit.

Modern mothers

In Big Stuff on Thursday, July 27, 2006 at 12:20 pm

There was recently a thread on PFFA that degenerated into a bit of a slanging match between people who are parents (primarily mothers) and people who are not terribly enamoured of children and who said so.

Now, by an unfortunate combination of circumstance and life choices, I am not a mother. But I read the discussion on PFFA at one step removed. On the one hand, I like children, and would have dearly loved to have some of my own (I always thought a boy and a girl would be ideal, though someone once suggested that parents should plan to have three, “in case one of them dies”. More on that later — or not.). On the other, though, I am judgemental enough to think bad thoughts about parents who can’t/don’t/won’t present the best of their children to the public. I do know that it’s not as easy as it seems, and am sure that my brother and I embarrassed our mother on several occasions, but I also do know that my parents made it very clear that we were not to be taken anywhere public until we learned how to behave in such a way that we made them proud. My parents didn’t take us to restaurants — beyond the odd Chinese restaurant or two — until we were teenagers; Kentucky Fried Chicken fed us sometimes, by the bucket or the snack, and Burger King and Macdonald’s were for very special occasions indeed, like the end of the school term or somebody else’s birthday.

We didn’t travel on planes until we were old enough to talk and to obey very specific tones of voice, and we didn’t go to adult dinner parties — or adult anything — with them. There were many family gatherings where adults and children mingled, but we were raised to mind every adult who had occasion to speak to us, and my mother had no problem dropping us off to our friends’ birthday parties once we were able to go to the bathroom and speak for ourselves. The understanding was that the adult in charge was in charge of us as well. Heaven help us if we had to be disciplined by that adult; our little worlds would come to an end. As a result, we were pretty self-reliant and, I imagine, quite well-behaved; I don’t remember having to be disciplined by anybody who was not a family member or a teacher.

I say all of that to say this. I find it quite odd, having had that upbringing, when my friends and family bring their children along when we get together as adults. There are times, of course, where children are naturally included — birthday parties and holidays are those sorts of times — but I’m a little puzzled at the current trend of bringing the child(ren) to the dinner party or even (occasionally) the meeting. I suspect I would be a very odd mother by today’s standards; I’d leave my child(ren) elsewhere when I had things to attend to. My mother, who worked all our lives, did the same, and I treasure the breadth of experience that I got from my various minders — my grandmothers, aunts, uncles, and friends, all of whom taught me different ways of being in the world. I would want any child of mine to have the same kind of exposure, so that when he or she made up his or her mind what to be like as a person (because there is some choice in the matter, believe you me) there would be a range of possibilities from which to choose.

And so I found this article, led to me by my husband, to be very interesting indeed.

Sorry, but my children bore me to death!

I’m gonna post it on PFFA and watch the fur fly.