How to Become Global as a Writer

December 18, 2022 / The Women of Letters / 2 Comments

One of the criticisms hurled at American writers is that they are too narrow-minded and know very little about writers elsewhere, past and present. I have written about this in other posts (https://thewomenofletters.com/2013/05/24/the-need-for-a-national-writer/), but it is a topic worth revisiting. In listening to “The World” on NPR a couple days ago, it struck me about the importance of being well-informed about world affairs in politics as a writer. I recently Zoomed with friends from the international polyglot conference, and it was fascinating as always to talk about different languages, sounds, and cultures. I have a background in international education, so the intersection of culture and literature is always of interest to me. So here are some thoughts and suggestions for writers to expand their horizons to become more global in their sensibility.

-Read Nobel laureates. Over the past decade plus, I have chosen to educate myself about literary figures who are titans overseas but often unknown here. I have gotten to know the work of Orhan Pamuk, J.M.G. Le Clezio, Shaw (who is known but considered old-fashioned), and others. A friend from my MFA program recently started a book group to women Nobel laureates in literature, and last month we read Grazia Deledda’s Reeds in the Wind. The excitement for the group was indeed palpable, and I am certainly looking forward to the next meeting. Why not create a book group of your own to read Nobel laureates, women only or both genders?

-Inform yourself about world affairs. Don’t just rely on American news sources but read international newspapers/news sites such as the BBC or international newspapers’ English editions. Take an interest in what is going on in the world politically, socially, culturally, etc. You might find inspiration for your own work. Susan Minot, who is educated in that most American of institutions, a prep school, and whose great story “Lust” is quintessentially American, wrote Thirty Girls, which was based on her reporting for McSweeney’s on the kidnapping of girls by the Lord’s Resistance Army in sub-Saharan Africa.

-Learn other languages. Author Lydia Davis translates French literature, and Jhumpa Lahiri has studied and written in Italian. Read literature in other languages if you can, even if it is short stories, or even websites. As a polyglot, I can say that it will enrich your mind to understand how to speakers of other languages think and use language.

-Read literature in translation. There’s no question that something does indeed get “lost in translation” as the saying goes, but still, we get a different literary sensibility with literature in translation, and it transports us to different places. The Dictionary of the Khazars by Milorad Pavic’ incorporates not only culture and history, but metafiction a work of literature that is mind-blowing.

Dictionary of the Khazars: Milorad Pavic’’s Brilliant Balkan Babbling

An Alternate Take on Dictionary of the Khazars

-Read other genres. Popular literature has a global appeal (think Harry Potter) as does fantasy (think Tolkien). There are certain universals that readers everywhere like. Myths abound all over the world, and in non-“People of the Book” religions.

-Read myths and creation stories and tales from other religions. Hinduism is based on two great epics, the Mahabharatha and the Ramayana which are quite spectacular and Tolstoyan in their scope and number of characters.

-Tie in history, culture, politics, or a larger social context to your work. This is self-explanatory. It makes your story or novel larger than what it is.

And there are many other ways that you can get to know the stories of others around the world. What will you discover? What is your advice?

The Writer Personality

November 24, 2021 / The Women of Letters / Leave a comment

When people hear of my profession as a writer, they are usually interested and fascinated. For some reason, being a writer seems mysterious and unapproachable, as though it is an arcane ability coming from an alien place. Many will say that they used to write as a child, and I believe that is a natural impulse for children to tell stories and eventually put them on paper, often with images. Sadly, many people lose this skill or desire to write as they get older. College gets in the way, and then careers and family obligations and bills. Our imaginations get stifled, and with the advent of social media, there is far less original thought with people preferring to retweet or like a post or image instead. Many are, understandably, scared off by the prospect of submissions and rejections, and don’t wish to put themselves out there. And then finally, there are people who are not inclined to write, for whatever reason. There are many myths about being a writer; here are the realities.

Fundamentally, the writer personality is one in which the writer is the interface between what happens out in the world and how it is explained to others. No matter how social the person, a writer must at their core be an introvert. One must reflect, process, analyze, describe, poeticize, and synthesize one’s experiences. How are we interpreting what goes on in the outside world? Are we reporting it verbatim, like a journalist would? Are we putting it in language that is out of the ordinary, like a poet would? Are we creating a story or narrative from seemingly disparate or random events, like a fiction writer would? Or combination of all of the above? The writer connects the outer world to the inner world, and this is an endlessly complex and varying process.

A writer creates imaginary places and situations. Sometimes, this means building a world. Speculative and science fiction writers most commonly do this, but then there are invented situations based in reality, as in historical fiction. A writer who is alive now may not have lived during Eleanor Roosevelt’s heyday, but they may hypothesize what her life was like, her relationships, a vacation, or a day in the life. I argue even that autobiography and memoir have a certain element of imagination or fictionalizing, because we cannot 100% remember everything that has happened to us in the exact way in which it did.

A writer must be, needless to say, a very verbal person, someone who can put into words what one sees, thinks, and feels. This is not the case with other artistic mediums, such as dance or music composition. A poet may write an elegy to a deceased friend, whereas a composer may write a sonata for orchestra or guitar piece. There is a fascinating, thought-provoking opera by Richard Strauss called Capriccio in which the heroine, Madeleine, must decide which is more important: words or music (as shown through her two lovers, who are a poet and composer). A writer’s medium is words. Choosing the right words can make or break a piece of writing. Poets are incredibly precise and may spend hours or days in getting the words right. By extension, translators also are word-artists who have the added layer of converting the language into the reader’s language.

On a more concrete level, writers must be disciplined. For many, this means writing at the same time every day, or setting a page/word quota. For others, it is a more flexible act, less rigidly scheduled, perhaps writing after a few cups of coffee at 10 PM. However, I believe that to be successful as a writer, one must write whether or not one feels like it. Waiting for the muse is a ridiculous concept; the muse comes through the process of writing. All of this is, of course, tedious sometimes. Non-writers need to understand how boring and frustrating the process of writing is, writing and revising, writing and cutting things out, writing and deciding to write something else instead. The list goes on.

Being a writer requires a balance of humility and hubris. The former is something that more writers need to have. Getting feedback is paramount; finding the right people to give the feedback that you need is a challenging process. But when those people are found, a writer has to consider carefully what those readers have said and incorporate that feedback in the next draft(s). Humility also means cutting out things that do not work in your piece, even though you may be very attached to them (hence the proverbial writerly expression of “kill your darlings”). It means putting aside what you want and thinking about the reader, if you are the sort of writer that wants to be read. This is not easy to do. Hubris means not arrogance but having confidence in one’s vision as a writer–sometimes it can feel like the world is trying to extinguish it. Editor agent after agent or journal after journal may reject your work, but you have to believe that your work is worthy. Kate DiCamillo, author of Because of Winn-Dixie, was rejected over 400 times, and now the novel is hailed as one of the best children’s novels of all time and has won many awards. In other words, one must have a very thick skin yet be sensitive enough to feel and express through words, and also receptive to others’ comments.

An especially good writer will see things in a different way or see things that others don’t see. The power of observation is a necessity for a writer, for they provide insight into human nature or life in ways that feel obvious to the reader, and yet the reader would not have recognized it on their own. Providing an “aha” for a reader is a gift that the best writers have. For example, Willa Cather and Tolstoy gave us penetrating insight into the human condition, and for that we are grateful.

There are, of course, the stereotypes: the straight white male who loves his alcohol and thinks he is the next Carver or David Foster Wallace, the woman who writes autobiographical fiction about her bipolar mother and cheating father, the BIPOC writer who writes the immigrant story and feels like nobody else understands, etc. These are never fun, and sometimes the publishing industry can play into these tropes if it means the books are marketable. It is unfortunate that writers must be aware of what sells. In the end, I believe, if a writer is true to themselves, then they will ultimately succeed, because a writer is an artist, and all the best artists are truly original and have something unique to say.

Hamlet Redux

November 28, 2018 / The Women of Letters / Leave a comment

(This post is adapted from an analytical journal entry I wrote this semester for my MFA program.)

We know John Updike from his Rabbit series (Rabbit, Run, Rabbit Redux, and the subsequent two novels and novella) and for his chronicling of suburban life. But one of his later works is a masterpiece, a prequel to Shakespeare’s Hamlet called Gertrude and Claudius. At the intersection of historical fiction and a retelling, the novel gives us the backstory to the play, and puts a unique feminist spin on it.

A major concept I have hit upon in my analyses of retellings is the idea of a “hinge.” In all of the retellings I have looked at, there is some element that connects the old work to the new one, some sort of a hinge. Very frequently, it is plot points, and almost inevitably, characters. But sometimes there are other elements that connect the retelling and the classic. Sometimes it is language or phrases, the use of diction. The novel makes frequent use of that, and the author adopts a very old-fashioned tone that seems fitting for Shakespeare.

Gertrude and Claudius is a masterwork that stands on its own as a successful “retelling” of Hamlet. Structured in three parts, the novel is a prequel to Shakespeare’s play. It focuses on the backstory of two crucial characters, Hamlet’s mother Gertrude and his uncle-turned-stepfather Claudius. I have examined a number of retellings: how they function, how they are crafted, how they work. What strikes me so saliently about this novel is it is a retelling heavily built on character. Of course, this is only natural, given that it is a prequel; it cannot borrow the same plot as the original. But what the novel does so brilliantly is flesh out to key characters in Hamlet and show us their motivations for doing what they have done. This is not to say that there are not some overlapping plot points, especially at the ends of Part II and in Part III. But giving us the backstory of characters who have caused or triggered Hamlet’s grief makes the play so much more vivid. Showing us the actual murder scene with Claudius poisoning his brother is very satisfying, as we it learn only by hearsay in the play. Therefore, Hamlet is the aftermath of the novel, and it makes full sense when we know what evil machinations have happened before.

One of Updike’s motivations for writing the novel is to give the female character some agency. In general, Shakespeare’s plays heavily emphasize men; Hamlet is no exception. Gertrude is not a minor character, but she is not necessarily given her full due. In the play, she is a wife and mother. She is second to the men, and seems at times passive, an innocent victim, helpless in the sway of the powerful king, or too weak to stand up to her son. Gertrude and Claudius gives us the chance to see Gertrude as a key agent in her destiny and in the outcome that will happen in Hamlet. The title itself is a giveaway–she is included in the title and given top billing. Therefore, we can assume that Updike is taking a rather feminist angle upon retelling Hamlet. The presence of Ophelia also represents Updike’s woman-centered retelling.

Updike has essentially constructed the novel so that Parts I and II culminate in Part III, as any good novel should. Everything in the novel has been building up to the end. But what is especially brilliant is that Part III is building up to the play, so everything at the end of the novel will culminate in the actions of the play. “[Hamlet] was letting it be known that he resented his mother’s swift capitulation to his uncle’s suit.” Just before the end, we get the beginning of the play, where the watchmen see the ghost of the King. “It was rumored that battlement sentries on the midnight watch had been seeing an apparition in full armor.”

But the ending of the book belongs to Claudius: he has married his queen, he has been crowned, he has summoned Hamlet back to Denmark to train him to be the next King, and therefore has established his dynasty. Updike himself has lined up all the ducks, so to speak, in his novel, so that the play can shoot them all down. All of our expectations for a successful reign will be threatened by the vengeant Prince. The play is his story.

Foreshadowing is frequently used to hinge the two works: Updike is connecting us through the sense of doom. Also, there are frequent biblical allusions, especially to the Garden of Eden and snakes. The novel is also very much historical fiction, drawing on details of conquests and kingdoms. The sense of the past is palpable; we could truly imagine this love affair and murder happening as part of Danish royal history.

But none of these craft elements would matter, none of this analysis would hold any relevance if it were not for the fact that Gertrude and Claudius is just incredibly well written and a pleasure to read. We read the classics because they know they are time-tested and will please us. Hopefully the retellings should as well.