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David J. Marsh

~ Biblical Narrative ~ Literary Fiction

Category Archives: Writing Life

That Counter-Cultural Somersault

16 Wednesday Jun 2021

Posted by davidjmarsh in Creative Process/Craft, Writing Discipline, Writing Life

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I’ve concluded that it’s not the writing that’s difficult. What is difficult is making and maintaining space in our lives in which creativity can occur.

I've concluded that it's not the writing that's difficult. What is difficult is making and maintaining space in our lives in which creativity can occur. Click To Tweet

Creative work isn’t necessarily difficult. Such effort is a matter of tenacity, the acquisition of a skill––not unlike learning to play the piano, leaning French, or learning to weld. But creative work requires two elements: 1) focused attention on a task and 2) solitude. Our culture does not promote either of these. There are a hundred demands for our attention at any given moment and antidotes for being alone are just as plentiful. We have come to believe the myth that multitasking is not only possible, but a desirable skill. Being alone is seen as a state to be avoided, and boredom has been all but eliminated from our experience.

Great results can come from being alone and bored. Focused attention on a task allows for deep learning. Solitude reduces stress and allows us to hear past all the noise our society generates. And this is the space in which creative work gets done.

Creativity is in our DNA. It is part of our created design. Thus, the greatest task is not doing the creative work, it is routinely performing that counter-cultural somersault of building a fortress in which to focus, alone.

Crush or Commitment?

02 Wednesday Jun 2021

Posted by davidjmarsh in Creative Process/Craft, Role of the Writer, Starting a Novel, Writing Discipline, Writing Life

≈ 1 Comment

I have a long-form fiction project I’d like to discuss for a moment. Let’s call it Fabula. (Fabula is Latin for story.) When I’m working on Fabula I enjoy it very much. I enjoy the discoveries I make as I cobble it together and the connections inside the story that are generated. The characters, especially the protagonist, have me hooked. The writing really clicks. This could all be interpreted as a reason to stay with the project, evidence Fabula has legs.

But there’s an issue. A nagging, always present, issue.

I am missing an underlying motivation for Fabula. I don’t know why I’m writing it. I don’t know what question I’m seeking to answer, what curiosity I’m exploring.

Completing a novel is a great deal of work. The project must create fire-in-the-belly for the writer. The micro-delights I’m experiencing will occur with any project and can’t take the place of the story’s reason for existence. Any confusion on the author’s part of a crush (being enamored with the daily writing) and commitment (the depth of underlying, long-lasting, motivation for a project) will be sniffed out by the reader and impact their experience as well. A reader can tell when the author found this deeper purpose in creating a manuscript. They can also sense a missing core. Such energy (or lack of it) translates. As always, the reader’s experience comes of the author’s.

Three Portraits of a Reader

21 Wednesday Apr 2021

Posted by davidjmarsh in Reading as a Writer, Writing Life

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He reads Robert Alter’s translation, The Five Books of Moses. Seeking to understand the literary qualities of the Hebrew––a language he studied for three weeks of a nine-week course at the Jewish Community Center in Indianapolis in 2002.

He reads Billy Collins’ The Art of Drowning in order to infuse his prose with poetic sensibilities. He believes this is working. He also believes Billy was a stronger poet then than he is now.

He reads Anthony Doerr’s early short story collection, The Shell Collector, which includes the “The Hunter’s Wife.” These stories, tinged with magical realism and masterful depth of setting––it’s instructive to look from here to All the Light We Cannot See.

Three Portraits of a Writer

07 Wednesday Apr 2021

Posted by davidjmarsh in Writing Life

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He writes as if composing a letter to a friend. Head bowed over his laptop, words drop like spring rain, silence but for the soft click of keys and the tick of the wall clock.

He appears to be a middle-aged man who’s forgotten his task. Pencil in hand hovers over the paper, his head is lifted, he stares off into middle space, listening, the story not yet in words, but coming, from that mysterious fold where ideas, inventions, and, imaginations are born.

The typed, printed manuscript lies before him. He attempts the impossible––to read the story as if he’s encountering it for the first time, to see it as a reader. He pencils edits––move this sentence to the top of the paragraph, delete that phrase, build the tension of this scene––working the draft, he hopes, to the benefit of a reader he’ll never meet.

Writing at Papa’s House and Yours

24 Wednesday Feb 2021

Posted by davidjmarsh in Creative Process/Craft, Ernest Hemingway, Writing Life

≈ 2 Comments

Monday morning, instead of logging on to my computer in my home office and dialing in for my first meeting of the day, I made my way to Ernest Hemingway’s home in Key West, Florida. 

While I’m not not greatest among Hemingway fans, it was on my bucket list to roam through the house where he lived while he composed such American literary masterpieces as The Green Hills of Africa, and The Snows of Kilimanjaro.

The highlight was poking my head into his writing studio on the second floor of a building behind the house. While much of the house is minimally furnished, feeling much more like a museum than a home, his studio seemed like a space that remains fully his, the only room he might walk into and find functional and intact.

I was reminded again of the importance of having a place set aside for writing, or your creative work of choice. Having a space set up and purposely furnished is just as important as a garage for a mechanic, a wood shop for a carpenter, or an operating room for a surgeon. It need not be a large space or an elaborate one, but productivity comes of place. And judging from the work that Hemingway produced at his Florida home, he understood this as well.

Available Yet Unpredictable

18 Wednesday Nov 2020

Posted by davidjmarsh in Writing Life

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We live in an illusion of cause and effect. We believe that if we do this, that will happen. Our expectations match this myth. We have low or high expectations based on the perceived actions of ourselves or others. The myth states that if we plan and execute we will see results.

This week I’m in Black Mountain, NorthCarolina, for a writers conference. I arrived with no elaborate plan. Sure I’d picked a few workshops to attend and planned to meet up with my publisher, but what would I take away from the week?

As I prepare to head for home tomorrow I find I’m taking a lot away. Much more than I anticipated. After a brief conversation, I’ve begun drafting a proposal for a talk at two other conferences; I’ve connected with another debut writer with whom I hope to collaborate; and I’ve been exposed to a master teacher of the craft of fiction whom I will continue to read.

What these developments all have in common is they had nothing to do with actions I took—I did not make a plan and take action to accomplish these outcomes. There was no cause and effect. These take-aways could not have been planned. 

I simply made myself available.

This is how we must live. We must simply make ourselves available. Put ourselves in places, in environments where what we want to accomplish takes place. Make yourself available and see how The Maker will impact those you meet and move your work forward through your willingness to be present.

To Wrangle and Capture

04 Wednesday Nov 2020

Posted by davidjmarsh in Creative Process/Craft, Qualities of Good Fiction, Reading as a Writer, Writing Life

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The poet Billy Collins’ latest book was released in September, Whale Day. As I do with every new Collins collection, I’m reading it slowly, treating it like the candy dish it is. Most evenings I dip in for a poem or two, often reading them aloud to my wife and the dog.

Nearing his 80th birthday, it amazes me how Collins continues to produce thoughtful, insightful, and edgy work. In this collection I find him yet more introspective, pushing his aesthetic a little further––a twist here, a turn there. It’s a delight to read.

That said, as I approach this collection––reading as I do, as a writer––I’m reminded that Collins has mastered that skill all writers (perhaps especially poets?) must master: the sensibility to wrangle and capture those moments that trigger the eye or heart, those moments in which the common man simply shrugs, grunts, and ambles on.

And this is the take-away for writers of all genres. Don’t let those moments that cause you pause to simply slip by and slide downstream. Grab a detail, a perspective, or an image from those experiences and use them to anchor your writing. Your writerly perception is a skill you must hone, for you are not like all the other lookers-on. You are a writer.

A Blind Man in a Textile Shop

21 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by davidjmarsh in Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Role of the Writer, Writing Life

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Perhaps this is an illness of all creative writers. Perhaps it’s an illness with which I alone suffer. In either case, I am constantly seeking the perfect metaphor to describe the craft of making fiction––language to best describe the way it feels to write.

Today I believe I hit on one that comes very close to satisfying my search. It describes well the process, the act of writing, the work of finding your way as you place word after word, laying narrative onto paper, story onto screen.

Writing fiction is like being a blind man in a textile shop.

So often, I am guided by my gut, that invisible monitor and detector of aesthetic, rather than by the words my eyes read or the rationale divvied out by my conscious self. Today, while working on my current novel-in-progress I felt suddenly as if my sight had gone dark and I was reaching, feeling the text to see if it had the right hand––as those in the textile business call it. I felt that there was a sensor in my core that had taken over and was weighing the words, worrying them for accuracy. It was physical, yes, but ultimately intuition was judge. The text had to feel right, create a sensation when held.

Writing fiction is like being a blind man in a textile shop. 

Yes, at least for today this metaphor will do.

Two Careers

23 Wednesday Sep 2020

Posted by davidjmarsh in Writing Life

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Few writers, at any stage in their career, can make a living solely off their writing. Most of us have a full-time career, what we often call a “day job.” While most of us dream of focusing all of our time on writing, our energy would be better spent learning the skills necessary and reaping the benefits of managing two careers. Here are a couple of skills where I’ve found my writing and my corporate life complement and strengthen each other.

Public speaking isn’t easy for anyone. It requires a pair of skills: writing and speaking. I have found that my ability to do this well at the office has grown as I’ve learned to read my creative work before an audience. In both cases I must compose remarks that introduce, deliver, and engage. I have found the creativity with which I do this in my writing life carries well to the corporate setting.

Project management skills entail the ability to methodically and in an organized manner get work done by forming a team and facilitating the effort of others toward a vision. Having these skills serves my writing career in too many ways to count. Because of my background in project management I know how to break down work, prioritize and sequence tasks, and apply timelines to accomplish them. I also know how to engage others and join forces to accomplish much more than I ever could alone. These serve my writing, workshops, readings, and promotional events––anytime I need to collaborate with others creatively.

As you consider it, you will soon find many overlaps, large and small, between your two careers. You will also find that having two (or more) careers isn’t that uncommon because many others have seen the benefits.

One Year Anniversary

09 Wednesday Sep 2020

Posted by davidjmarsh in Debut Novel, Role of the Writer, Writing Life

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Tomorrow, 10 September, will mark the one-year anniversary of the release of my debut novel, The Confessions of Adam. In recognition of this milestone, here are three take-aways from the experience. 

  • Involve Others. You will not be able to launch your debut alone, and you don’t want to. Engage the skills of others to help shepherd your book into the world. I enlisted an eager and willing team of friends with diverse skills such as event emcee, graphic designer, web plugin integrator, book club leader, and small business owner. Some of this was organic as I worked to create a local launch of the novel and let my needs be known, but in the end I had a base of people who were creatively engaged with me and vocal advocates for our unique effort.
  • Keep Writing. It is critical that you start and make progress on your next project. You may find you’re consumed with the book you’ve finished and have stopped writing. This may seem prudent or even helpful in the short-term, but once the excitement wanes, you’ll be left only with the writing. Make sure it’s not a blank page. The writing is the only part of the process that you fully own. Keep doing the work. I kept writing. It became a solace.
  • Tend to Everything Else. Over the last year I’ve seen voluntary and involuntary job change, the one-year anniversary of the death of my mother, the birth of my first grandchild, a close friend traverse cancer, and a global pandemic. The rest of life marches on even as this momentous goal you’ve worked toward for so long is realized. Give the people and events of your life their needed attention and consideration.

And remember to take a moment to enjoy it all. To use David Gibson’s phrase––life is gift, not gain.

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