Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

January 25, 2012

Second Chances

Filed under: Behind the Eyes,Books,Editing,Love,Second Chances,Uncategorized,Upcoming Work,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 10:46 am

After I finished writing my first YA book, Behind the Eyes (Dutton: 2005), my then eighteen-year-old daughter Anna said to me with characteristic honesty that it was a good book but that I had held back. I had held back from being as knowledgeable and wise and funny as she knew I was. I don’t know if I denied or admitted it to her. I try to remain non-judgmental to my family’s comments about my books so that they can be free to voice whatever they think (I don’t always succeed at this), but I do know that in my heart of hearts she was right. For some reason, I held back. I was, like Hector, the young main character of the book, afraid to share the gifts I was given. So when I wrote Marcelo in the Real World, I did my best to not hold back, to leave it all on the page. I’ve tried to do the same with other books I’ve written, even though I still have a ways to go. I know, for example, that there is still a gap betwen the humor and lightheartedness of my life and the books I write, but I’m working on that. After all, it’s not always easy to transform knowledge and wisdom and humor into art which is essential in writing a novel that will interest and maybe even touch another soul.

I came to accept Behind the Eyes as one of those learning and growing experiences that every writer has and I moved on. Then a year or so ago Arthur A. Levine/Scholastic decided it would be nice to have all of my books under their imprint and they purchased the expired rights to Behind the Eyes. Cheryl Klein and I had long thoughtful discussions about the book and we decided that we had a choice to publish the book with minor changes, major revisions or somewhere in between. We went for the middle-path. A place to travel in life, as well. So in a few more days I will give Cheryl final revisions (there have been a couple of drafts already) to the book which is scheduled to come out in the Spring of 2013. A second chance. How rare is that? I have absolutely no need for second chances for Marcelo or Death Warriors or Irises, but as to Behind the Eyes, I am so grateful to be given the opportunity to not hold back. For in addition to the knowledge, wisdom and humor that my daughter correctly perceived I had witheld, I also held back on love. How could it happen that I could create a character like Hector without truly loving him? It makes me sad to think about this. I guess learning to love (characters and real human beings) takes time and mistakes galore. All that I can think of is that I had to learn about love and about self-forgiveness before Hector could love himself and others, before Hector could chisel his way through the granite ways of self-acceptance.

So I’m off to pour all I have into the final revisions of this old and new book and, with Cheryl’s help, this will become art. I’m not holding back. I’m leaving it all on the page. 

 

January 13, 2012

Letter to a Young Author

Filed under: Beauty,Love,Uncategorized,Vocation,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 10:55 am

Friend,

I am glad to hear about the joy you’ve found in writing. You ask if this is not a sign that you are meant to make of writing your life’s occupation. I don’t know. Is writing your vocation? If I may borrow the words from another author friend: “Vocation is the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s great need.” You have found gladness, but are you writing to the world’s great need? The world’s great need will be met when you write the one novel you came into this world to write. It is the one that scares you the most, the one you think no one will publish and if it is published then no one will read and if it is read then no one will understand, except perhaps another soul like yours. Spend your life trying to write this one book. You may never get there. What matters is that you get closer and closer to it with every book you write. Direct your life so that on your deathbed you can say I never gave up trying. Don’t be afraid of failure. And if you fail, look for the door that opens to the place you were looking for all along. Have the courage to write with beauty. Let your prose strain towards poetry. Sometimes there is no other way to say what you need to say. But remember always the honest beauty of bread and water. Believe in the invisible. Have an unshakeable faith in the existence of the soul, yours and the person you write for. If people call your writing religious because of this, so be it. Find others who have made or are on the same journey and cherish them as fellow travelers. Rejoice in their effort as if it were your own. There is no room for envy on this trip. Build a harbor to protect your gift, but make sure your daily catch comes from the open ocean. Find a job that can be friends with and not jealous of your vocation. If you are fortunate enough to make a living from your writing, you’ll need to be even more attentive to your calling, for its voice is hard to hear amidst the clanging of praise. Be lighthearted but don’t forget the seriousness of it all. The tragedy and glory of life is that it can be squandered and loss and waste are real. Be humble. Let your vocation be a prayer no one hears but you. Important as your writing is, it is not your whole purpose. Most of all, be open to love and be grateful for it in whatever form it comes. And if love doesn’t come, love nevertheless. Love, its gladness and its pain, will show you what the world most needs.

November 27, 2011

Feeding the Soul

Filed under: Soul,Uncategorized,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 2:59 pm

I got an e-mail recently from a seventy-year-old woman. She said, “your writing fed my soul.” I was so touched by her words. I also had this funny sense of both knowing and not knowing what she meant. I hope that we all have had at some point in our lives the sensation of having our soul nourished by a work of fiction. How it happens or when it happens is all kind of magical. Nor, in my experience, is there a particular kind of book that triggers this peculiar satisfaction. I say “peculiar” because unlike eating real food, this food is a funny mixture of contentment and yearning. Paradoxically, it “feeds” by awakening a kind of aspiration that is and is not like hunger. Sometimes I wonder whether an author can consciously write for the reader’s soul. There may be authors out there who can, but they play with fire. I’m sticking to the Zen archer’s humble rule: aim to the side and let the target hit the arrow, if it wants to. And then there is this disturbing question: is there any relationship between writing FOR the soul and writing FROM the soul? That, after all, seems somewhat more within the author’s control. I once wrote a book pretending I had sixty or so days to live. That little exercise in existential visualization took me to a place I’ve never been before. I was, among other things, surprised to find so much humor there. Flannery O’Connor says that every author has a bone to which they return again and again to gnaw and gnaw. The image assumes that we have found our bone or at least know where to look for it. To write from the soul is to gnaw at and be gnawed by the bone of your ultimate concern.You cruelly burden your poor characters with your question and then trail behind them as they struggle for some kind of answer. You’re the gold miner and your characters are your pick and shovel. Nor is the soul purely a place of darkness and dirt. If you’re writing from there you’re still sitting outside in the reception area. Nor does writing from the soul make this endeavor any less a simple task, a craft, the job and duty that must be meekly done. Still, you’re in the bowels digging or in the heights welding. A certain courage is required.

« Newer Posts — Older Posts »

Powered by WordPress