Talk to
yourself. It’s okay.
If I were not a
writer, but say, a normal person, trying to write a clever guest post
about writing, I’d start with this: Writers are weird. Everyone
knows that. So, it must come as no surprise that we tend to talk to
ourselves. I don’t mean while walking down the street or while
doing dishes. I mean in front of our computers and in different
voices. If you want to blackmail me, forget the sex tape. Record me
writing.
Hardy har har.
I can do better
than that.
What the hell
are ya talking to yourself for? Losing your marbles? You didn’t
even eat lunch yet. Why don’t you stop acting crazing in front
that, what is that thing? That thing! That weird looking typewriter?
They don’t make typewriters like they used to. Not like they made
‘em back in my day. I typed eighty-eight words a minute. Did you
know that? Eighty-eight words a minute. Isn’t that something else?
A what? A lap-what? Oh it’s a computer? A computer, ya don’t say.
Hmm. It’s so small. Well, anyhow, now go eat. Then you can go back
to typing and talking in strange voices in front of that, what do you
call it, lapbottom. Oh laptop. Yeah yeah, your laptop. Go. Eat.
That’s Grandma
Ant. She’s a character in Better
in the Morning.
And, yes, she’s a character. She’s also dead. She died at a ripe
old age and still talks and walks and acts like she did when the
protagonist Veronica knew her when she was still alive: old and funny
in the way old people are so adorably funny sometimes.
She doesn’t talk
like me, the author, a young (relatively!) educated lawyer from the
east coast now living in Los Angeles. She talks like Grandma Ant. So,
I have to talk like Grandma Ant. Yes, I have to get into character.
Yes, I would have said that even if I weren’t living in La La Land.
I’m not that affected!
When the voices
have gone silent
Every writer fears
the blank page but what if your character who won’t talk to you?
You’re staring at a blank page in silence, which can feel awfully
lonely. Hey, that may be the best time to be caught on tape
‘writing,’ not such a great time for writing itself. In these
situations, I sometimes turn to YouTube and search a character’s
attributes: Old Italian lady (for grandparents) or lawyer explains
judgment process (bitchy coworker) or Kathy Bates (who I picture as
the snarky boss). You can’t and would never take direct quotes but
it’s not even about the words they’re using. It’s about getting
an essence and running with it. I mean, writing with it. It’s okay
to imitate that person (by yourself in front of your computer like
the weirdo you are) enough to start talking like them and then
getting it all on the page as quickly as possible.
When the voices
won’t shut up
The flip side of
course is this.
Husband’s friend:
My
daughter just turned two. Here, look, this was her at her party
yesterday.
Me: Aw!
She’s so beautiful. Gah bless her.
Husband: Did
you just say “God bless her?”
Me: I
actually said “Gah bless her” but yes, it’s a side effect of
the book I’m writing. What’d ya want from me?
Doh!
Doh!
Some of the
vernacular of your characters may slip into yours. It happens. It’ll
go away. Eventually. I’m told.
It’s okay
If your loved ones
think you’ve gone mad, it’s okay. If your YouTube search history
is rather suspect, it’s okay. If you start talking like an old
person, it’s okay. As long as you get out on paper the book you
were meant to write, it’s okay.
Now, go eat
something.
Get your copy of
Fern Ronay’s book, Better
in the Morning
here:
