Posts Tagged ‘Truth’

The Faithful

Friday, July 16th, 2010

I do not believe in heresy. No surprise there, perhaps, but this belief runs deeper than you might think. One of my qualms with organized religions is how they deal with contradictory truths. The very concept of contradictory truths might seem like an oxymoron, for if one thing is true, wouldn’t that cancel out the truth of its opposite? Yes, and no – which is where the concept of heresy arose.

For instance, Stephen King is both scary and not scary. And I don’t mean some books are scary and some books are not scary, I mean the same book is both scary and not scary. If I read Cujo and I am not scared, then the truth for me is that Cujo is not a scary book, and there is nothing I or anyone else can do about it. And yet, in a mild way, for some people calling Cujo “not scary” is a kind of heresy, like saying Mozart could not write a decent tune.

And then there’s this: Let’s say you believe one thing, like, “I am going to write what I want to write and publish these writings and be paid well for it.” That is one truth. Here is another truth: “The publishing world is impossible to break into and no one is interested in what I write and I will never make any money off it.” That is another truth, or it is a truth if you believe it. Which is to say, if you follow the truth of you cannot make money off of what you write, and you follow it faithfully, you will never make money off of what you write and so that belief will be absolutely true.

On the other hand, if you follow the first truth faithfully and exclusively it will become the truth – perhaps not immediately, but eventually. The trouble is, that other truth, the one where you don’t make any money, still exists in theory if you should ever choose to believe it. You cannot remove it from the world of possibility because the beauty and the horror of the world is that all things are possible if you choose to believe them.

And so we have heresy. It’s an understandable response. Banish the unwanted truth from the pews, from the village, and we will be safe. But you cannot kill an idea. The idea of your failure will always exist as a possibility, just as the idea of your success will always exists as a possibility. Life is not about banishing what you do not want, it is about focusing on what you do want. Do not wait for what you don’t want to disappear – it will always be there for you if you should choose it. But if you follow what you do want, faithfully, every day, soon what you do not want will recede to a speck on the horizon, where it will be too small draw your attention again.

More Author Articles

Follow wdbk on Twitter

The Volume of Clarity

Thursday, May 20th, 2010

Stanley Fish writes a weekly online column for the New York Times that focuses on education, academia, literature, and politics. I’ll give it a peek sometimes and Fish always seems to have a balanced view of things. It being an online column – a blog technically, I think – each essay is also followed by readers’ comments.

Not so balanced usually. At least half the readers that take the time to opine back are upset about something or other. Either Fish missed something obvious, or he’s too liberal, or he’s not liberal enough – which ever it is, the country is headed in the wrong direction and Fish is just too blind to see that.

We are all of us brothers and sisters under the skin, but reading these I know why I try to avoid the really big family reunions. Yet aren’t these people writing? Rants to newspapers are baby steps toward finding one’s voice. We want something different! This is good. It is always good to recognize what we don’t want as by elimination we seek what we do.

Except yelling louder does not actually let one’s voice through. People who scream at town hall meetings feel they have no voice, and so they must yell if they are ever to be heard. Fear always tries too hard. However, when love speaks, the world quiets itself to listen. It is what everyone is listening for.

Thus the criticism we call “over writing.” A singer must relax her throat to hit the highest notes, and a writer must seek the simplest routes to reach the deepest levels of his work. Trust is the deal you make with the world that all you need will be provided. Trust is what lets the notes through, is what shows you the straight line through all the noise of thought. Your voice, your original tool, requires no amplification. Its volume is its clarity, and your trust that you will be heard is what beckons those around you to listen.

More Author Articles

Follow wdbk on Twitter

Moment Of Truth

Thursday, March 11th, 2010

I had one of those work sessions yesterday where I began with no idea what would happen to my poor characters. Although I rarely have things mapped out in much detail, usually, by the time I get to a new scene or a new chapter, I’ve begun to at least get some glimmers of where I am going and need only direct my narrative eye that way to see the next step.

Not so on this occasion. I had a vague idea where the characters would be in a chapter or two, but had absolutely no vision for how they would get there, which meant, given how I work, that it was not even certain the characters would be where I thought they would be in a chapter or two, which meant I really had no idea where the whole story was going.

This lent the session a Moment of Truth quality, which is an unfortunate place to begin. So after doing some laundry that suddenly needed doing, and cleaning the litter box, and washing some dishes, and checking my email once more, I faced The Moment.

Which, oddly, was no different than any other moment. Just me at my computer—where, after a bit of nothingness, it occurred to me that my characters were headed someplace cold. I tested this idea, as one does, and found that it was so. I had a sentence, and two hours later a chapter, and the sun shone a little brighter.

I was reminded of Hemmingway’s mantra: Just write one true sentence. It was the word “true” that always hung me up. I had always taken it to mean true in the philosophical sense, which is not so useful for a storyteller. However, seeking one sentence that is true to the story you are telling is useful. Once you have found that sentence you have reentered the stream of your story and you are sailing again.

Telling a story is never about a Moment of Truth. There is no moment in a river, unless you stand on a rock, in which case you are no longer in the river anymore. Telling a story, whether you are seeking your first sentence or your last, is always about remaining true to its current, which as any captain will tell you, is a continuous job, each moment as important as the next.

More Author Articles

Follow wdbk on Twitter