What We Talk About When We Talk About Terrors

Usually nothing.  Or very little.  It’s difficult to talk about fears and their causes.  But writers tend to need to know about their characters’ fears as well as their own. 

 For characters, two important questions can focus in on a character’s motivation.  They are: 1) What is the character’s greatest fear? and 2) What is the character’s primary emotional vulnerability?  Sometimes these two questions have the same answer.

What if a writer were to ask those same questions about himself?  Especially regarding his writing? 

I have been thinking lately about two moments in writing that tend to terrify me.  The first is that moment in the middle of a story, or the second act, when I haven’t a clue what to write next.  Every action, every character, everything has stopped, waiting for me.  My brain freezes.  I begin to wonder what I’m doing, who do I think I’m kidding, I probably can’t write worth beans, etc., etc.  Or, I think the story isn’t worth pursuing further.  The physical sensation of my stomach tied up in a ball of rubber bands and being thrown vigorously against my rib cage accompanies the nauseous sinking feeling of failure.  I’m terrified I just can’t do it.  I can’t write or what I write is stupid and awful and on and on.  Even though I know this can happen (and will) and what to do when this happens, this moment still terrifies me.  The remedy, according to Steve Larson, a very wise screenwriter and teacher, is to take each primary character and ask for each: what does this character want?  What will this character do to get it?  What are the potential conflicts/obstacles to the character achieving his/her goal?  By listing each character and answering these questions for each, ideas begin to spurt and sputter, and soon I’m writing again, the terror forgotten. 

The second moment is when I need to show someone my writing, e.g. send the novel to a literary agent or someone else for feedback.  The terror strikes even when I consider letting a good friend read my writing and I know for certain I will get thoughtful, constructive feedback given gently but firmly.  But the worst moment is when I send my writing to a stranger.  I’ve heard this compared to sending a young child into the unknown, but it’s not really about the child (writing).  It’s about how the writing reflects on the writer and what the response to the writing will be.  It is about both a fear of rejection and a fear of success, slugging it out in my psyche.  I also fear that my stories are stupid when I want them to be interesting and grab readers and hold them through to the end.  I guess I don’t know any writers who do NOT experience all these fears when on the verge of showing their writing to a stranger or anyone.  The only remedy, for me anyway, is to acknowledge the terror, acknowledge what it’s about and then box it up and throw it to the back of my psyche’s closet even as I’m mailing out the manuscript.  After all, what do I want?  What will I do to get it?  What are the potential conflicts/obstacles in my way?  Surely, I am a potential obstacle to myself, and I have control over that.   So, I return to my writing — I usually have more than one project going at a time.  Immersing myself in another story I love banishes the terror of what response might come back to me about the story I’ve sent out.

Writers live with these fears all the time.  They also live with constant uncertainty — perhaps a subject for another day. 

Research: Conductors and Conducting — Part 2

Where to begin with my research into conductors and conducting?

 I worked at Orchestra Hall for the Minnesota Orchestra at the time, so I talked with other staff there.  They were generous with ideas, suggestions and sharing their knowledge and experience.  I began by reading books on conducting — history, how to — followed by biographies of conductors.  I took notes as I read books by Erich Leinsdorf, Peter Paul Fuchs (The Psychology of Conducting – excellent), Bernard Jacobson, Harold C. Schonberg, Helena Matheopoulos, Richard Wagner (really stuck on himself), and Max Rudolf, among others.  I resisted the urge to request interviews with every conductor who worked with the Minnesota Orchestra during that time.  I learned as much background as possible first.

Next, gradually I talked with people who worked with conductors, e.g. artistic administrators, publicists, assistants and musicians.  Even drivers.  I wanted to have as complete a picture in my mind of what a conductor’s life is like as I could create, what kind of education, interests, etc.  Evan would be a freelance guest conductor in the story, so I focused on this aspect of a conductor’s life rather than music director.  During this time, I interviewed only one conductor about European orchestras in comparison to American and how conductors work with each.  I already knew Evan would come from an American orchestra and re-locate to Europe, and I knew little about how European orchestras worked, so the interview was essential and productive. 

After the first year of research, I increased and intensified my observation of conductors at work.  I attended orchestra rehearsals (I love rehearsals!) and concerts.  I traveled to talk with musicians at other orchestras and observe more conductors.  I stood on the podium myself after rehearsals to see what it felt like, and I learned the basic conducting gestures.  I interviewed more conductors.  Each interview was to address very specific questions that that conductor could answer due to his experience, both on the podium and in life.  For example, one conductor had worked extensively with the Amsterdam Concertgebouw, knew the concert hall and orchestra, knew Amsterdam (Evan would have concerts there).  Another year and a half passed doing this work before I felt truly confident that I knew enough to write Evan authentically as a conductor.

Then I stopped.  Research can form a solid foundation on which the imagination can build.  Too much foundation, it shows above ground and the structure doesn’t work.  I wrote about ten more drafts of Perceval before I realized that it was the first in a series of five novels.  At that point, I returned to researching conductors and conducting.  Evan needed to continue to grow professionally through the story.  So, for the last year and a half, I’ve been filling in more blanks with research: how conductors build career, build repertoire, rehearse certain works, and respond to concert halls.  I’ve finished most of this research.  The door remains open on it.  Questions pop up all the time.

Back to those questions in Part 1: Do conductors know who they are?  As in being self-aware and self-confident, about the same as the rest of us, I’d say.  Do conductors know what they want?  In music, generally.  But the best of them are always open to learning.  Are conductors stubborn?  Well, I’d have to say, yes.  They have to be in terms of leadership and communicating what they want.  The best of them also understand that they can’t always get what they want and therefore, they need to know when to let things go, compromise, negotiate.

As I’ve gotten to know conductors and their musical lives over time through interviews, I’ve learned that there’s no substitute for talking with them about their work, score study, building repertoire, programming concerts, rehearsing an orchestra, performance experience and blunders, travel and concert halls.  For example, when I walk into a concert hall, my attention focuses on the space, the seats, the stage, the orchestra.  When a conductor walks into a concert hall, he hears it more than sees it.  He listens to the acoustics and how the orchestra sounds. 

I love talking with conductors.  Each one I’ve interviewed has been generous with his time and sharing his experience and knowledge.  And I’m happy to report that I managed not to annoy any of them. 

Research: Conductors and Conducting — Part 1

Perceval began life as a short story.  I finished page one hundred and realized that I was writing a novel.  I would need to research conductors and conducting.  I knew, from my background in music, that this research would take a long time and be difficult.  What could Evan be instead of a conductor that would be easier to research?

Auto mechanic came to mind.  Lots of auto mechanics in the world.  Most people own cars and have had experience with at least one auto mechanic.  I could probably find several auto mechanics within a mile of my home.  They’d probably be flattered, too, that a novelist wanted to observe their work and learn about their lives.

The night after I made that decision, I dreamed of Evan, my main character auto mechanic, dressed in white tie and tails, glowering at me.  Suddenly his face zoomed up close to mine in the dream and I woke.  He had said nothing.  This same dream occurred with increasing frequency over the next six nights until I was getting little sleep.  Finally, I was afraid to go to sleep. 

 OK, OK.  What was the dream telling me?  Evan wasn’t dressed in the greasy overalls of an auto mechanic but as a conductor.  Although he said nothing, his expression conveyed anger — at me, hence the his-face-in-my-face move.  He’d initially appeared to me as a conductor (see October 6, 2007 post “Who is That Guy or Where do you get your ideas?”) and had announced more than once in the story so far that he was a conductor.  In the interests of being able to sleep, I gave in.  Evan was a conductor.  I would do the research on conductors and conducting.  The next night, no dream.

First insight into conductors: They know who they are and what they want and can be incredibly stubborn about it.  (Is this true?  Would I be able to verify this?  Time would tell.)

At this point, I wished desperately that at least one of the other music students I’d known in college had gone on to become a conductor, someone I might be able to call a “conductor buddy” and use as a resource.  No such luck — none of them had pursued conducting.  Conductors are very, very busy people and many of them travel for months at a time.  So, as far as interviewing conductors was concerned, I wanted to make certain what when I requested an interview, I had a compelling reason for it.  For example, a specific question that I knew a specific conductor could answer.  I wanted to make friends of conductors, interest them in my writing, not annoy them by inadvertently wasting their time.

To be continued….

Getting to Know…Characters

Characters are mysteries when they first appear.  I need to discover their backgrounds, personalities and motivations, but as with real people, it takes time and effort to get to know them.  I have my ways to pry from them the essential information, e.g. what is their emotional vulnerability?  Or what is their biggest fear?  What do they want?  Who are they?

I begin with a list of questions of the basics and write the answers fast without thinking too much about it in order to disengage the left side of my brain (the logical, rational side) and open up the possibility of contradictions in a personality or behavior.  I want to discover beautiful incongruities.  I imagine this exercise as a conversation between me and the character.  The character sits next to me as I type or write the answers out longhand.  The character can be forthright (rare), coy, flirtatious, subdued, evasive (often), etc.  That initial reaction gives me a glimpse into his or her personality.

What are the questions?  Name, place of birth, birth date (I like to also include astrological sign and Chinese birth signs which often conflict but can give more insight into personality), physical appearance, family, schooling, interests, present living situation, dreams, likes, dislikes, etc.  Any questions that stop or block me I leave to answer later.  I have another set of questions — a dossier — I use to supplement the character questions and use it to “interview” the character rather than a friendly social conversation.

For Evan Quinn, his name stopped me.  I had no idea what it was.  Or the rest of his family.  I knew only that his father (a poet) and his father’s best friend (a composer) would figure prominently in his life.  Naming him, his family, his father’s best friend and his family, and creating family trees for the two families took about six months.  As necessary, I used “stand-in” names in order to continue to write.  As with the naming of a baby, what name a character carries reflects his or her personality and is important.

Sometimes details emerge that aren’t covered in my character questions or dossier.  For example, as I worked through several drafts of Perceval, I realized that I needed to think about giving both Randall Quinn (Evan’s father) and Joseph Caine (Randall’s best friend) publication or performance credits, i.e. a list of works.  Randall’s publication credits required no research.  However, I researched composers and how their works are listed, creating a list for Caine in the process, trying to give each piece of music a mini-history and some relation to Evan’s life.  As Caine’s list grew, I realized Evan was closer to Caine and his music than he was to his father and his writing.  Caine would be Evan’s godfather and mentor.  Randall Quinn and Joseph Caine would be rivals for influence of Evan and his life.

Usually before I begin writing the first draft, I try to complete the characterization questions for the main character, his or her adversary, and the major secondary characters.  This is not written in stone.  Writing the characters is also part of the process of getting to know them, putting them in situations, “talking” to the people around them, seeing how they behave, what they say.  Characters are as unpredictable as real people, and they can change as the story develops.  It’s important that I remain open to the possibilities and let the characters speak and act for themselves.

I have followed this method for the first two novels in the Perceval series, but for the third novel, I decided to experiment with the process and let the characters reveal themselves to me, in their own time and way, as I wrote the first draft.  That is, the characters new to the story, not the established characters.  I meet them as Evan (or Sofia) meets them.  After I finish the first draft, I’ll probably converse with and interview each of the new characters, ask my questions, to fill in any holes or dig deeper into their motivations and desires for subsequent drafts.

Each of the established characters develops in each novel of the series.  Evan Quinn, the main character, learns and grows the most over the course of the five novels, while the other characters support his development as well as make changes and grow in their lives as they participate in the story. 

I enjoy spending time with these people and in their world….