My writing practice for the fictional biography about my
great-grandmother Leta Scott Chetister Mohr Freeman Hoose Fields Curtis Bassett
Eckman has been to work simultaneously on the writing of the novel, the
timeline of her life, and these blog entries. This has enabled me to rarely get
stuck, either in a creative way or on waiting for information. There is so much
history and so many experiences within it that in my research and writing I
have been able to skip around.
When I learn a new bit of history, for example, either from a family member or the research, I can write it up as a blog entry that I then copy and paste into the working notes of the pertinent chapter, or return to a drafted full chapter for an update. The book has basically 11 chapters—one for each of the eight marriages, one of her childhood, one of her senior years (when I knew her), and one of the long period of being single (between the marriages, respectively, to Leech Hoose and Robert Fields).
This process enables me to work at the same time on the book as a whole and on a specific chapter. Currently, I am working on a full draft of the chapter of Leta’s marriage to Robert Fields. This marriage occurred from September 17, 1937 to his death on June 19, 1946. Historically, it includes the birth of my father (my grandparents were married a year before), the marriage of my great uncle and aunt, World War II, my grandfather’s participation in the war, the births of my dad’s cousins Connie and Duane, the family reunion with Leta’s sister Mabel, and the death of Bob.
Naturally, certain details come to light in each of these historic points, and there is also the artistic embellishment. This is, after all, storytelling.
As I write the chapters, I paste in what I’ve already written (in blog posts and other notes), create segues, evaluate details, add new material, cut repetitive notes, restructure within the overall themes of the book and pay attention to the fixed history of events. While there are some jumps back and forth in time, the structure is mostly chronological.
The other day while working on the chapter of Leta’s life with Bob Fields, I did a timeline check. I had already incorporated many of the previously written blogs and historic points. I realized that I had missed one historic occurrence and had been heading in a direction in which another could not reasonably take place.
This is the first time this has happened, and I was a bit flummoxed. (Flummoxed, for me at least, is a combination of being vexed and frozen.) I was faced with a decision on what I should do. I could leave that chapter for now and move on to the next. I could reorganize it to where it needed to be. I could put the entire project aside to work on something else. The last option isn’t actually an option. I have come too far to pause right now. Additionally, this is a big project, in which time is not a good collaborator. The first option would put me off my trajectory and plan and potentially lead to some unfavorable meandering. I decided to pursue the second option—restructure, rewrite and move forward.
I believe that good writing—the crafting—is in the rewriting. It is noble and creative for a person to put some words on a page that flow from the heart. However, it is artistic to then sift that heart work through the mind, through a number of possibilities, through the ears (because reading is a kind of listening), and make that heart love into a solid piece of writing.
Here I go.
When I learn a new bit of history, for example, either from a family member or the research, I can write it up as a blog entry that I then copy and paste into the working notes of the pertinent chapter, or return to a drafted full chapter for an update. The book has basically 11 chapters—one for each of the eight marriages, one of her childhood, one of her senior years (when I knew her), and one of the long period of being single (between the marriages, respectively, to Leech Hoose and Robert Fields).
This process enables me to work at the same time on the book as a whole and on a specific chapter. Currently, I am working on a full draft of the chapter of Leta’s marriage to Robert Fields. This marriage occurred from September 17, 1937 to his death on June 19, 1946. Historically, it includes the birth of my father (my grandparents were married a year before), the marriage of my great uncle and aunt, World War II, my grandfather’s participation in the war, the births of my dad’s cousins Connie and Duane, the family reunion with Leta’s sister Mabel, and the death of Bob.
Naturally, certain details come to light in each of these historic points, and there is also the artistic embellishment. This is, after all, storytelling.
As I write the chapters, I paste in what I’ve already written (in blog posts and other notes), create segues, evaluate details, add new material, cut repetitive notes, restructure within the overall themes of the book and pay attention to the fixed history of events. While there are some jumps back and forth in time, the structure is mostly chronological.
The other day while working on the chapter of Leta’s life with Bob Fields, I did a timeline check. I had already incorporated many of the previously written blogs and historic points. I realized that I had missed one historic occurrence and had been heading in a direction in which another could not reasonably take place.
This is the first time this has happened, and I was a bit flummoxed. (Flummoxed, for me at least, is a combination of being vexed and frozen.) I was faced with a decision on what I should do. I could leave that chapter for now and move on to the next. I could reorganize it to where it needed to be. I could put the entire project aside to work on something else. The last option isn’t actually an option. I have come too far to pause right now. Additionally, this is a big project, in which time is not a good collaborator. The first option would put me off my trajectory and plan and potentially lead to some unfavorable meandering. I decided to pursue the second option—restructure, rewrite and move forward.
I believe that good writing—the crafting—is in the rewriting. It is noble and creative for a person to put some words on a page that flow from the heart. However, it is artistic to then sift that heart work through the mind, through a number of possibilities, through the ears (because reading is a kind of listening), and make that heart love into a solid piece of writing.
Here I go.
No comments:
Post a Comment