feature    reads for writers  •  exercise/prompt  •  powerful questions    quotes

doug kurtz

coaching

manuscripts

workshops

 

 

THE WRITE MIND

                                       coaching newsletter for writers

Winter 2009

December is here!

I hope there's as much great stuff happening for you this winter as there is at Write Life Coaching: new website, new manuscript services, new workshops--even a new coaching model based on story dynamics.  It's called Life Writing, and we're looking for people to test it out.  If you're struggling with conflict in some area of your life and want to move toward resolution, please email so we can talk.

Speaking of conflict, are you one of those writers whose left brain is always fighting the right?  This month's feature article, Writing Intuitively, Part 3, provides concrete steps for developing intuition and giving your creative side some extra punch.  Give it a try, you'll be amazed at where intuition takes you.

 

Have a writing or coaching related question?  Starting next issue we'll be choosing some to answer in a new section of The Write Mind.  Anything goes.  Anonymity guaranteed.  Ask yours here:

Happy writing!

 

Doug Kurtz

Writing Life Coach

Word of (the) Mouth

Resolution (rez-uh-loo-shuh n): a solution, accommodation, or settling of a problem; the act of resolving upon an action or course of action; firmness of purpose; the end of conflict.

If conflict is stress, disharmony, opposition, then resolution is ease, relief, letting go.  Both the means and the end, it's what's required and what's attained when we confront the conflicts that impede our growth and bring them to a satisfying close.

Resolution.  Make one.  Get some.  Take motivated action on your own behalf and watch the new story unfold.


first/last name

email

Writing Intuitively, Part Three

Coaching tips, techniques and resources for writers

Writing Intuitively, Part One   Writing Intuitively, Part Two

Writers use intuition in all kinds of situations, from deciding what to write, to making plot decisions, to following creative urges that make no logical sense.  Intuition is always trying to lead us to the right destination, and to get there we must learn to follow it.

 

Shakti Gawain, author of Developing Intuition, says that to capitalize on this innate faculty, we must pay attention to what’s going on inside us, quiet distracting thoughts and get in touch with that place where gut feelings reside.  In our logic-biased culture, this requires discipline and practice, but the benefits make it well worth the effort.

 

Here are some steps you can take to start developing and applying your intuition (for more detailed explanations, refer to Gawain’s book):

  • Quiet your mind.  Allow 5-10 minutes for this exercise, and combine it with numbers 2 and 3 below.  Get comfy.  Close your eyes.  Take deep breaths through your nose, exhaling slowly through your mouth.  Imagine nourishing air moving into and out of your body.  Focus it with each breath into a different body part—feet, chest, head etc.—allowing each part to relax completely.  Let any thoughts that arise float away on your exhalations.

  • Review and learn.  With a quiet mind, review your day in as much detail as possible, searching it for intuitive moments you may have overlooked.  Did you have any hunches today?  Any feelings of rightness or wrongness in your writing?  Feelings of knowing something without knowing why?  How did you handle these feelings?  Did you act on them?  Did you push them aside?  How did you feel afterwards?

  • Shift awareness.  Imagine your mental awareness moving out of your head and into your solar plexus or belly, where intuition resides.  With each breath, go deeper into this place.  Ask yourself, “What do I need to remember or be aware of right now?”  Listen for thoughts, feelings or images that arise.  Be aware of how your body feels during this process.  With practice, you’ll be able to ask more pointed questions and become more adept at responding intuitively.

  • Take action.  For one day, one week or longer, depending on your comfort level, imagine that your intuition is infallible.  Give yourself permission to act on it every time it arises, in writing or any other area of your life.  Let go of doubt and fear, and see what happens.  How does it feel to follow intuition?  To ignore it?  If you’re paying attention, you’ll notice a difference.

Once we’re tuned in, intuition can become a reliable guiding force in everything we do.  You know those synchronistic moments that happen in writing, those insights and connections that infuse our work with meaning?  They occur when we quiet our minds and let intuition speak.  When we trust it and listen, we tend to experience an increased sense of aliveness, a sense that in spite of the circuitous route we might have taken, we have somehow arrived exactly where we’re meant to be.

back to top

Reads for Writers

Doug's picks for improving your writing life

SATURDAY, by Ian McEwan (fiction/literary), review by Cat Kurtz

Ian McEwan’s Saturday is hardly hot off the press, but this year I’m making an effort to read the literary greats of our time and see what all the hype is about—and Saturday was already on my bookshelf. The praise I always hear for McEwan centers around his skill at lulling readers into the dreamy reality he creates and about halfway through the book slamming us with some outrageous, horrific catastrophe that shakes that reality to its core. Since Saturday is my first taste of McEwan, I can’t comment on his writing patterns but I can say that the catastrophe in this story didn’t make nearly as strong an impact as the lull.

 

Here’s the basic plot. Henry Perowne, successful neurosurgeon and family man, wakes up early and feeling weird. He sees a plane about to crash and this surfaces his fears about his family’s fate in a post-911, pre-Iraq-war era. Later, on the way to a squash game, he gets into a minor car crash with a man named Baxter who seems not only violent but ill. Perowne leaves the scene unscathed but after his squash game, at the end of the day, Baxter re-appears at the Perowne’s home during a small family reunion and the consequences are pretty rattling.  Still, at the end of the day, that’s what you’re left with—a day in the life of Henry Perowne.

 

The climax of the book is nowhere near as interesting as the way McEwan lulls readers into complacency on the way there. He weaves seamlessly between physical, psychological, and emotional observation. Not much seems to happen in the plot and yet the narrative moves expertly forward because of the impact each seemingly inconsequential moment has on a character. In bad fiction and even more so in bad non-fiction a writer includes pointless, endless detail just to show off how much research she did or to paint a vivid picture. While McEwan spends an entire chapter on a squash game that squash game is doing narrative work.

 

He establishes character by showing how each of the two men plays squash. He observes the relationship between the two men by stepping a little further back and focusing on the exchange between them, analyzing competitive drive and their similar/dissimilar motivations. He develops the novel’s themes by showing the influence of the events prior to this game on the protagonist’s mood, actions, and revelations during the game. And finally, he establishes the authenticity of this fictional world by showing every last detail of the game. I don’t know a thing about squash, nor do I have any real interest in learning, but by the end of the chapter I was on the edge of my seat in anticipation of how it’d turn out. That’s because McEwan could make me see exactly what was physically happening  (he also does this with a surgery, a blues concert, and poetry) while dipping into characters’ psyches and showing why each step is narratively and psychologically significant. This is what makes McEwan the king of nuanced detail.

 

What a writer can learn from him is how and where to linger in your plot, how to make description both beautiful and useful, how to toggle between the external and internal landscapes of your story, and how to realize your particular writing talent and fully exploit it. According to the choreographer Twyla Tharp “All of us find comfort in seeing the world either from a great distance, at arm’s length, or close-up. We don’t consciously make that choice. Our DNA does, and we generally don’t waver from it. Rare is the painter who is equally adept at miniatures and epic series…” If your focal length is close-up, learn how to paint scenes from McEwan.  Amazon link

back to top

Characters in Conflict

Monthly writing, skill building and problem solving exercises

In real life, conflict is a drag, but in fiction it's the driving force of story.  Without it, plots lose momentum, characters lose motivation, readers lose interest and the whole machine grinds to a halt.  When conflict resolves in life we're free to move unburdened to other things, but when it resolves in fiction the story is over.

 

To infuse our writing with a driving sense of purpose, we have to identify the most compelling conflicts--internal, external, interpersonal, etc.--and develop them to maximum effect.  Good writers do this intuitively, investing characters in conflict with motivation and capabilities equal to those of the adversary.  Remember Cormac McCarthy's protagonist in The Road?  If he didn't have his son's well-being to motivate him across the cannibal infested landscape, how far do you think his weak heart would have gotten him?  If Superman didn't have criminal genius Lex Luther to go up against, he'd be sitting at home watching reality TV.  The point is, conflict does nothing to drive story if the oppositional forces are unbalanced.

 

The following exercise is a great way to ensure that the characters you put into conflict come equally armed.  To get started, think of a conflict from your own life, a time when you were in a serious disagreement with someone and felt they were in the wrong.  Once you have a conflict in mind, write a letter to yourself from the other person's point of view.  Take on the voice and perspective of the adversary as he or she explains why you were the one in the wrong.

 

This exercise works best for interpersonal conflict, but can be adapted for other types as well.  Try writing a letter to your protagonist from her manic depression; to your hero from the hostile tundra he's stranded on; to your antagonist from the rabid dog that finally does him in.  Forced to consider the motivation and capabilities of the opponent, you will see that sustained, hard-to-resolve, driving conflicts--the ones that make compelling stories--have to be well-balanced; otherwise, they relinquish their grip with barely a whimper.

*adapted from Now Write!, edited by Sherry Ellis

back to top

Powerful Questions

"Quotes"

The right question can change your outlook, challenge your assumptions and set you on a new course.  How would you answer these?

  • What internal, external, and interpersonal conflicts are you experiencing in your life right now?

  • To confront these conflicts head on, which of your character traits will you have to embrace, embody, develop?

  • What specific, concrete actions can you take this month to move yourself definitively toward resolution?

 

back to top

"The engine of fiction is somebody wanting something and going out to get it.  And if you let him get it right away, you’re killing the story.” –Sol Stein (American novelist and publisher; 1926-)

 

"It is hardly possible to express strong feelings or to arouse the interest of an apathetic listener without conveying to some extent this sense of conflict.” –S.I. Hayakawa (writer, teacher; 1906-1992)

 

"The series of problems that a character faces and her attempts to solve those problems are what makes a story interesting.” - Othello Bach (children's author, motivational speaker; 19??-?)

"Resolve and thou art free." Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (American poet; 1807-1882)