Write Well

Sawtelle Dogs

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 15:42:21 -0600

Last night I drove into Kansas City to see David Wroblewski, author of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, speak at Unity Temple on the Plaza. First he read a chapter called "Almondine" from the paperback edition of his book.

Afterward, he took questions for the better part of forty minutes. Before he opened up the floor, though, he detailed his theory of novels--he said, in fact, that novels' purpose is to create a dual world for the reader, a world where you're waking up and having coffee and going to the doctor, but, in the meantime, you're wondering, What are the people in that novel getting up to? He said lots of people think this is a side effect of reading novels, but, he said, he thinks it's the main purpose of a good book.

He made it sound almost like long, good novels are companions for us as we travel through our lives. He also talked about how he learned to write and craft novels--through computer programming. He said, Not to get too artsy about it, but first drafts for him are like making clay to sculpt later. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle took him 15 years to write.

He talked about linguistics and animal behavior. He answered some questions about an Edgar Sawtelle movie and about the next book he's writing, but I don't want to discuss it too much because who knows how much is meant to be public information. The new book, he said, is not part of a trilogy, but the books are triptych.

He also talked about novels as "braided objects" where themes, images, characters--or anything, really--will emerge, travel briefly on the surface, and submerge again. These braids appear later on and that's part of the fun. After the reading and the Q & A, during the signing, I asked him what novel exemplified his ideas about the novel as a form, and he said in his MFA program there was a group of writers who were devoted fans of a book called So Long, See You Tomorrow, a novel by William Maxwell.

I ordered the book today on Amazon. It seems that Maxwell, the former fiction editor of The New Yorker, was praised by John Updike as "one of the wisest and kindest [voices] in American fiction." You can learn a lot more about Maxwell (and read some of his writing) by clicking over to NPR's website.

Anton Chekhov's Rules for Writing

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 20:26:34 -0600

On May 10, 1889, Anton Chekhov (already an influential literary figure in Russia) wrote a letter to his older brother, Alexander. His brother had taken up writing years before, too, but only with inconsistent success. In the letter, quoted by the translators in Anton Chekhov: Stories, the famous author laid down six principles that "make for a good story":

Absence of lengthy verbiage of a political-social-economic nature;
Total objectivity;
Truthful descriptions of persons and objects;
Extreme brevity;
Audacity and originality (flee the stereotype);
Compassion

"It is a remarkably complete picture of Chekhov's artistic practice," Richard Pevear writes. Pevear, incidentally, is one half of the best Russian translator team working today; his partner is Larissa Volokhonsky. Together they have translated many works of Russian literature, from Tolstoy's Anna Karenina (their translation was a national bestseller) to Nikolai Gogol's Dead Souls (which was gifted to me by a dear friend) to Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov.

There's no telling if Chekhov's rules still make for a good story (as John Gardner said, "The god of novelists will not be tyrannized by rules.") But, even admitting there are no rules for a good story or novel, one can see the similarity in Chekhov's rules to the rules that governed the personal philosophies of Ernest Hemingway and Raymond Carver. In fact, Carver's short story "Errand," printed in his collection Where I'm Calling From, specifically deals with Anton Chekov. The lyrical short story (which tells of the moments following Chekhov's death) was written shortly before Carver himself died, and, in my opinion, it's as beautiful as anything he ever wrote.

Francine Prose also thinks highly enough of Chekhov that she included an entire chapter on him in Reading Like a Writer; so far as I can tell, this tenth chapter, "Learning from Chekhov," is the only one that deals exclusively with a legendary writer. Other writers are mentioned, of course, in previous chapters: that's the book's premise. But Chekhov is the only one who gets his own chapter.

It's interesting (and worth noting) that Prose leads off the chapter with a page-long anecdote about her life at the time. She was depressed, anxious, and forced to commute two and a half hours every day to her teaching job by bus. And Chekhov, she says, moved her, distracted her, and showed her the world -- his stories told of sorrow and, most importantly, of hope.

This is important because Chekhov is often mistakenly viewed as a pessimist or a fatalist or a cynic. His writing, it has been said, is too sad. There's an old saying this reminds me to include here: "In a Russian heart there is always winter." But Anton Chekhov's winter is not the winter of depression. This wintry landscape, this void sensed by readers, is a blackness so deep and overarching and crushing that nothing escapes it; when faced with it a man or woman can do little but - to borrow an image from Pevear - beat their heads against the cobblestones in despair. This calls to mind the endless sorrows in Shakespeare's King Lear. How can people carry on beyond their breaking points? Somehow, from this void, the men and women and children in Chekhov's stories do carry on. Slowly, painfully, the author and his characters grope their way forward in darkness. To the untrained eye, literary critic Lev Shestov, wrote, they might not even appear to be moving. "It may be Chekhov himself does not know for certain whether he is moving forward or marking time."

"His only hope lies in utter hopelessness," Pevear writes of Chekhov. "Anything else would be 'a lie or a form of violence,' a general idea or a utopia at gunpoint. And it is here, in this 'void,' that Chekhov begins 'seeking new paths.'"

Winter is often used by second-rate writers as a metaphor for death, the end of things, a trite extension of the human condition - that is, mortality. But by writing beyond hope, exploring the darkest winters of humanity, Chekhov was detailing a very different version of the void: A winter of stark beauty, resolute survival, and unyielding compassion detached from philosophy but indebted to the force of nature colloquially known as God.

If anyone is interested, you can buy Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky's Anton Chekhov: Stories by clicking here. You might also want to check out Lev Shestov's "Creation from the Void," an essay published in 1908, four years after Chekhov's death (it's the highly respected article I quoted above). The text is available for free by clicking here.

"The Writer is Lost"

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 07:48:47 -0600

First of all, the serious novelist can seldom punch straight through, write from beginning to end, knock off a quick revision, and sell his book. The idea he's developing is too large for that, contains too many unmanageable elements--too many characters... too many scenes... too many moments... He may work for weeks, even months, without losing his focus and falling into confusion, but sooner or later--at least in my experience--the writer comes to the realization that he's lost.

John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist
"The Writer's Nature, Part IV," Page 64

I have been writing a novel for the past eight weeks or so--maybe more like six--and three weeks ago, after my novel-fragment appeared in KU's MFA workshop, I became hopelessly lost. This loss of focus occurred around the same time my students' papers were due and around the time I was conferencing with those students. I was putting in an extra 13.6 hours a week on teaching. The novel, as it stands, is something like 14,397 words long. 51 pages, give or take, and I anticipate the final product being upwards of 60,000 words (between 200 and 250 pages long).

By the time I figured out where the narrative needed to go and what needed to be done with the writing--Thursday last week--I was kind of a mess. I needed a friend to tell me it was going to be all right. Luckily, my wife is supportive of my projects. She always helps me keep things in perspective.

I'd also been thinking a lot about the ghosts of writers, the "refined and distilled spirit" of a writer that Wallace Stegner talks about in On Teaching and Writing Fiction, and I wanted to talk to another writer by reading his or her books and hearing, from the mouth of a professional, that these things I was going through are normal. At the same time, I was wondering, with a sort of detached bemusement, why the hell I even came to an MFA program at all if what I really wanted was time to write. I chose KU's MFA because I was promised the chance to write, write, and write more; I have no interest in being a professional teacher, which, up to this point, is mostly what I've been studying.

And I thought, Wait a minute--where have I heard those things before? And then it hit me--I needed to commune with the refined and distilled spirit of John Gardner.

I picked up On Becoming a Novelist that day. Rather than tear apart and fix my novel, I needed to get my head on straight.

During my last years in college, my adviser--he was just an acquaintance at the time, a novelist from the Iowa Writers' Workshop--recommended Gardner's books to me. Talking with Gardner, the older, experienced critic and author, gave me insight into fiction. His books helped me make the first leap from bumbling amateur to a professional--if somewhat inexperienced--freelance writer. Somewhere in his books, I remembered, I had decided I wanted to become a novelist.

Probably it was in the "Preface," which detailed a strange issue "young novelists" face, one I hadn't thought of (but one I was dealing with at the time; am still dealing with, if you want to know the truth).

The young man or woman who announces an intention of becoming an M.D. or an electrical engineer or a forest ranger is not immediately bombarded with well-meant explanations of why the ambition is impractical, out of reach, a waste of time and intelligence. ... And the discouragement offered by other human beings is the least of it. Writing a novel takes an immense amount of time... The writer asks himself day after day, year after year, if he's fooling himself, asks why people write novels anyhow... Almost no one mentions that for a certain kind of person nothing is more joyful or satisfying than the life of a novelist... More people fail at becoming successful businessmen than fail at becoming artists.

John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist,
"Preface," Page xxiii - xxv

So, if you're wondering what's normal for a novelist, or for a writer, and you need some words of encouragement, you can't do better than the reassuring tone of Gardner, whose literary-firebrand-and-trouble-magnet reputation doesn't detract from his fierce, protective tone when he talks about the young novelists he taught in life--and that he continues to teach today.

The question one asks of the young writer who wants to know if he's got what it takes is this: "Is writing novels what you want to do? Really want to do?"
If the young writer answers, "Yes," then all one can say is: Do it. In fact, he will anyway.

John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist,
"The Writer's Nature, Part V," Page 72

Dueling Typewriters

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 16:39:55 -0600

Lawrence, KS - This November, in the midst of National Novel Writing Month, champions* of literacy in Kansas, the almost-but-not-quite-fabled Bathtub Writers' Collective, will stand up for their literacy initiatives... by sitting down at an antique typewriter.

The Dueling Typewriters 2009 Charity Write-Off will benefit Bathtub's programs for Lawrence and Kansas communities, especially our version of Writers in the Schools (WITS). The grueling competition will pit man and woman and machine against one another in what can only be described as a life-threatening and irresponsible spectacle.

Also, since this will be November, and the duel will be held outdoors, it will probably be very, very cold. Medical professionals may or may not be standing by to offer encouraging words, to mix up hot chocolate, and to check the writers for signs of Sudden Onset Carpal Tunnel Syndrome (SOCTS). Not to mention frostbite.

If you'd like to participate in Dueling Typewriters 2009, or if you'd like to sponsor your favorite wordslinger or wordsmith or some such thing, contact Benjamin D. Cartwright immediately. You may also email the collective at bkswriters@gmail.com.

*We use the term 'champions' loosely and metaphorically in this sentence.

Measurements of Time

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 10:02:57 -0600

Our ability to measure and apportion time affords an almost endless source of comfort.
-Richard Yates, Revolutionary Road, Page 225

I love the short, bizarre chapter in Revolutionary Road that opens with the sentence above. Especially the way the old man, who can't remember the date of his wife's death, and who, momentarily disoriented, panics when he feels the encroaching presence of infinity. "But soon the merciful valves and switches of his brain begin to do their tired work," Ford writes, "and 'The Spring of Nineteen-Ought-Six,' he is able to say. 'Or no, wait -- ' and his blood runs cold again as the galaxies revolve. 'Wait! Nineteen-Ought -- Four.'

Food for thought.

Early Morning

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 07:21:19 -0600

I'm up early again looking over the yard behind my house into the trees along the edge of the creek. Chipmunks, rabbits, and cardinals gather around the spilled birdseed under the feeder my wife hung on a decorative hook near the patio. She's away this morning -- I dropped her at the airport in Kansas City for a flight to Wisconsin -- but normally about this time she'd be headed to work. Me too, actually.

I've been reading a lot this past week but stalled when it comes to writing on my novel. I am 10,000+ words in though so hopefully I can pick it up this week. In the meantime, Brian Kiteley's The River Gods and Candice Millard's The River of Doubt: Theodore Roosevelt's Darkest Journey have kept me distracted. Wonder why I'm into rivers all of a sudden. Both of these are fantastic books and you should read them as soon as possible. You heard it here first.

Moon City Review is Released

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 10:37:51 -0600

Yesterday I received my copy of The Moon City Review 2009. I have to say I'm impressed and I didn't know if I would be. I'm especially in love with the photography and the quality of the text from world famous authors: Julie Blackmon, Ted Kooser, Burton Raffel, Miller Williams, Michael Czyniejewski, John Dufresne, and Kevin Brockmeier. The journal is a slick re-entry into the world of publishing for the Missouri State English Department, which has struggled to compete with other literary journals on a national scale. The Ozarks has a rich history of art, writing, and culture. I'm glad someone has decided to showcase it.

You can order the anthology in my store by clicking here. My story "The Lexicon of the Sword" appears on page 104.

If you're interested in submitting your work for the next MCR -- that's 2010 -- then click over to the official MCR page and check out the call for speculative fiction submissions.

Kansas Bathtub Writers' Collective

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 09:33:16 -0600

Are you a writer in Kansas? A writer who loves Kansas? And do you feel lonely? Drift aimlessly no more -- the Kansas Bathtub is the place for you. Begun by students at the University of Kansas, especially the M.F.A. and Ph.D. in Creative Writing programs, the Bathtub collective is a group of writers who just want to have fun and write well. We gather at least every two weeks to talk about writing, organize community programs like Writers in the Schools, and to eat good food and drink good drinks.

If you're interested in the collective, which is not officially part of KU in any way, you can find out more about them by clicking over to KansasBathtub.org.

Preorder the MCR 2009

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 09:26:01 -0600

The Moon City Review is back. Reformatted as an anthology, this 2009 edition features the invited work of nationally renowned authors. It also publishes unknown authors; I am one of those writers. My short story "The Lexicon of the Sword" will appear in MCR this August. Click on the link above to preorder it today from my Amazon store.

MCR 2009 also includes poetry and fiction by Burton Raffel; poetry by Ted Kooser, Miller Williams, Marcus Cafagña, and Michael Burns; fiction (and an interview) by Kevin Brockmeier; short fiction by John Dufresne and Michael Cyzniejewski; and criticism by Billy Clem. A special section, "Archival Treasures," features original and unknown work by Rose O'Neill, arguably the Ozarks' most famous graphic artist.

AWP in 2010

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 11:08:22 -0600

I'll be participating in the 2010 Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) conference in Denver, CO, as part of a panel with Brian Shawver, Jane Hoogestraat, D. Gilson, and Linda Moser. The panel discussion focuses on the standardization of creative writing curriculums.

From the proposal by Dr. Moser:

Creative Conformity: Standardizing Fiction and Poetry Courses. This panel focuses on Missouri State University's recent attempts to standardize the curriculum of its multi-section introductory creative writing courses. We will present the rationale underlying the decision to standardize, and we will discuss the processes by which we selected the standard texts, topics, and methods. Finally, we will share the effects of the project on student performance, assessment and graduate student mentoring.

If you'll be at the conference in Denver, April 7th - April 10th 2010, please drop by and join the discussion!

San Francisco Writers' Grotto

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 09:13:58 -0600

Two weeks ago, while on business in San Francisco, I took time off from my research to attend the San Francisco Writers' Grotto sampler course in Personal Essay and Memoir writing. The class, taught by Linda Fraser, was an excellent taste of San Francisco's literary scene.

For those who want to write professionally, I would recommend you seek out writers like those who populate the Grotto: professional writers, or, that is to say, practicing writers. By the same token, many universities have practicing writers in residence. Nothing offers practice in writing like the writing-intensive courses in an MFA. However you get it, from an MFA or from a Grotto-like community, advice from real writers publishing regularly is invaluable to the up-and-coming writer. Don't think you can go it alone. As always, the best way to get good advice is to be quiet and to listen.

If anyone is interested in the Grotto's classes, you can find a schedule of Fall classes online here.

The University of Kansas

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 09:18:21 -0600

Since I last wrote something here, in April 2009, much has come to pass. I decided to accept an instructor position at KU. The job will pay for my tuition and will also afford me a (modest) stipend. This is the best way to get an MFA and a PhD. My wife, Sarah, landed a wonderful job close by where we live. She's making more money and she's excited about her new job: marketing shoes.

Besides moving, and our wedding and honeymoon, I spent a lot of time with my father pulling up the carpet and laying down hardwood in our new house. My dad has been indispensable this summer; he knows how to do so much. And now, thanks to his hard work, the house is almost finished. All that remains is the odd job here and there.

I spent two weeks in San Francisco in July. Researching, walking around, absorbing the city. I'm planning to redraft some old stories set in the city by the bay soon. In the meantime, my short story "The Lexicon of the Sword" will appear in the upcoming Moon City Review 2009, which will be an anthology with award-winning and nationally-recognized authors in it. Reports of Updike letters showing up in those pages, though, were premature: Although MSU has the letters, Updike's estate is greatly restricting publishing permissions. From what I hear, Updike himself expected as much, but it means that what will appear in the book is a scholarly article dealing with the substance of the letters, not the letters themselves.

In other news, I will be participating in a panel discussion in the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) Conference in April 2010. The panel, which includes Brian Shawver, D. Gilson, Jane Hoogestraat, and Linda Moser, will deal with the issue of standardizing a creative writing course curriculum. The conference will be in Denver, Colorado, and the keynote address will be given by Michael Chabon.

Now that I'm settled down, the wedding, honeymoon, and move are over, I'll try to keep up more with this blog.

The Premiere of Grigori Efimovich

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 11:16:27 -0600

Andrew Paul Jackson's Grigori Efimovich: The Memory of Liars premieres this month at the Boston Conservatory in Massachusetts. The one-act opera, on which I served as librettist, details the shaky connections between Felix Yusupov, a bumbling traitor to Russia's last Tsar, and his co-conspirators in the death of Rasputin. The monk from Siberia, Grigori Efimovich, has been called a sexual deviant, the devil incarnate, and the downfall of imperialist Russia. He was also a father, a mystic, and the beloved guardian of Alexei, the Tsarevich, a sickly boy and the heir to the throne of the Russian Empire

The story of Rasputin's death achieved near-mythic status because, in part, of Yusupov's Gothic-Horror account of the murder. Yusupov's word is not to be trusted; the memory of liars is a flexible thing.

Based in part on the scholarship of Andrew Cook (To Kill Rasputin), the opera attempts to detail the murder's participants -- including Rasputin himself -- as historical men who lived and died at the onset of the twentieth century. As opposed to caricatures, that is. If you're in Boston, and interested to see the opera, please be advised that seating is limited. The curtains go up Tuesday, April 28th, at 9 pm in Senlly Hall.

The Lexicon of the Sword

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 15:22:10 -0600

My short story The Lexicon of the Sword will appear in the Spring 2009 Moon City Review. The MCR is rebooting its image with a whole new look, so I'm flattered the fiction editors thought enough of the story to include it in this inaugural issue.

If you'd like a copy of the journal when it comes out, send your name and mailing address to

ben [at] benpfeiffer [dot] net

Rules for Old Men Waiting: Book Review

Wed, 25 Feb 2009 09:26:09 -0600

Lately I've been reading more. I finished Dan Simmons's Drood, for example, the Gothic re-imagining of Charles Dickens's last five years of life. This was a very long book, and, I must say, quite good. It certainly held my attention.

After Drood, I finally picked up a slender book I've been meaning to read, off and on, for years.

When released in 2005, Peter Pouncy's Rules for Old Men Waiting won numerous awards, including the American Academy of Arts & Letters' Howard D. Vursell Memorial Award. I came across the book one day at Barnes & Noble, where it had been selected as part of their Great New Writers series (or whatever they call it).

The book is short, especially compared to mammoth works like Drood, but carries something I love about short novels: An incredible concentration of feeling. The book is only 208 pages. Yet the compassion is so thick it almost leaks out of the pages. Each sentence is written and polished and perfect. As well they should be. Peter Pouncy took his time writing the book: Twenty-three years, to be exact.

For those who are math-inclined, yes, that is nine and a half pages per year. The pace doesn't bode well for a sequel, and more's the shame, because Pouncy is a terrific writer.

Rules for Old Men Waiting was worth the wait. The story centers around Robert MacIver, an old widower, who has come to his house on the cape ("older than the Republic") to die. The ensuing 208 pages are a patchwork of creation and death, two different but ultimately entertwined aspects of life. As he waits for the end, MacIver recalls his life and his love for his wife, Margaret, and for his son, David, who have both preceded him in death.

While he waits, MacIver struggles with the violence inside him. He recalls his work as a World War I historian and scholar; his own service in World War II; and his son's service in Vietnam.

Since he is losing his life, MacIver, a grizzled old Scot, finds it hard to focus. So he formulates a list of rules: Hence the book's title.

The last rule, Rule 10, is this: Tell a story to its end.

I can't go on right now; I don't want to ruin the end of the book for those of you who might read it. But suffice to say that Rules for Old Men Waiting should be a classic piece of literature along with other great novels about love, creativity, death, and war, including Tolstoy's War & Peace and All Quiet on the Western Front.