Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

November 12, 2008

The Writer as Actor

Filed under: Marcelo in the Real World,Writing,Young Adult Literature — Francisco Stork @ 8:33 pm

A question that is frequently asked is whether good writing can be taught. Another way of asking the question is: what part of good writing is innate talent (the kind of thing that you either have or you don’t) and what part is craft that can be learned through discipline and application. I think that there are two aspects of writing that seem more like a gift than others. One is the ability to join together apparently disparate ideas or images to form a new one. The other is the ability to temporarily be someone else. In the exercise of this second quality, the writer becomes the character he is writing about in order to speak and think and act like her. The process is not unlike that of an actor who “gets into character”. The actor must access the personality of the person he is portraying. This empathy, this chameleon-like ability to change, to transform into another being, is the gift of the good writer and the secret of great art. Here I think of Cervantes and the dialogues between Sancho and Don Quixote and how the narrator disappears and we have two different persons talking to each other. I imagine Cervantes switching back and forth from Sancho to Don Quixote with schizophrenic delight. The reason why I think that this is the secret of the great novelists is that it is this ability that allows them to create such real characters. How do you create a character that will live in the imagination and life of the readers? You need to become that character as you write. Actually, you need to become every single character that you create, even if that person is a post office clerk that takes up one sentence in your novel, that utters one line.

Wendell is a character in Marcelo in the Real World, who is not a good person. In a recent visit with students at Boston University, I was asked if it had been hard for me to create and write about someone like Wendell. It must have been difficult to imagine someone so evil. Unfortunately, evil characters are not that hard to access. Such is the nature of humankind. Much harder I think is to access someone who is good and pure like Marcelo. It is as if goodness and purity are more removed from our every day life. I mean, not a caricature goody-goody goodness, but a real goodness, the kind of goodness that is believable, that is real. I think that in the process of temporarily becoming a Wendell or a Marcelo in order to write about them and hopefully make them real to the reader, in that process I learned a little more about myself. I also learned that there are some aspects of writing you can practice and learn and get better at and others, well, others you pray will be given to you.

November 6, 2008

Unknown Seeds

Filed under: memories,Upcoming Work,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 8:46 pm

One of the questions that I am asked by people who have read the “advanced review copies” of Marcelo in the Real World is what inspired me to write about a young man like Marcelo. I am not sure that we are ever able to accurately pinpoint the origins of an idea. We carry a seed within us. It came to us when we were a child perhaps. Then one day something happens and the seed presents itself to our consciousness and we water it with attention and we make it grow. When I was a boy growing up in Mexico, I would buy every Sunday a comic book called “Vidas Ilustres” or “Illustrious Lives”. The comic book presented each week the life of a different saint. I collected hundreds of these and the lives of saints filled me with visions of heroism and sacrifice. Was this the seed that forty-five years later turned into the story of a pure, saint-like young man who spends his time reading the holy books? During my senior year at Spring Hill College I lived in a L’Arche community, a Christian community where people with developmental disabilities and “normal” staff lived together with as few barriers between them as possible. Was this the seed that thirty-eight years later turned into the story of a young man diagnosed as having Asperger’s Syndrome? I can try to answer as best I can what inspired me to write Marcelo in the Real World – but my answer in the end will be a guess. The wind blows where it wills. We carry within us seeds placed there by the life we lead. And then one day the seeds present themselves to us gently or forcefully and will us to make them grow with life.

October 20, 2008

Religion and Literature

Filed under: Current Events,Religion,Young Adult Literature — Francisco Stork @ 7:32 pm

Donna Freitas, a teacher in the Religion Department at Boston University and a writer of young adult novels (The Possibilities of Sainthood – Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2008), invited Cheryl Klein (my editor at Arthur A. Levine Books/Scholastic) and me to talk to her Religion and Children’s Literature class tomorrow. I thought I would jot down some thoughts here in preparation for some of the tough questions I may get asked. In particular, I’m worried about someone asking me: “What role does religion play in Marcelo in the Real World?” So here’s a practice run of what I might say. Marcelo, the protagonist of Marcelo in the Real World, is a young man consumed with God and all things religious. God and the Holy Books that pertain to God are his “special interest.” Marcelo prefers the term “special interest” to the term “obsession” because obsession has certain pathological connotations. When you are obsessed with a subject you are forced by an inner force to think about that subject. A special interest, on the other hand beckons your attention without compulsion. Marcelo enjoys thinking about God. He chooses to think about God and read the Holy Books that pertain to God. He would rather do that than anything else. His religious interest is non-denominational. He likes all religions. He reads all kinds of Holy Books. He manifests no sense that one religion is better than another. Moreover, Marcelo’s interest is not simply intellectual, he hears something that for lack of a better word, he calls “music” that no one else can hear. This music fills him with a sense of “longing” and of “belonging.” What happens when someone with Marcelo’s faith, let’s call it, is asked to function in our modern corporate world? I believe that this question, at the heart of the book, is ultimately a religious question. It is not a question that is associated with any religious dogma. It is the question of how a a faith can survive the pressures of the modern, competitive, ego- centered world. What do you do if like Marcelo, you are suddenly overcome with the question: “how do I live with all the suffering?” What if the suffering in the world grabbed you like an iron hand around your throat and wouldn’t let you go? What if you are privileged to see and sense God’s goodness in you, while at the same time, you are forced to witness the pettiness and meanness and evil that surrounds you? How do you go on living? These are the questions, living, burning questions of Marcelo’s life. To Marcelo, these are “religious” questions – and so, I would say, that the role of religion in the book is in the asking certain type of questions when the asking is done with mind, heart, body and soul.

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