If You Love Writing, Take Care of Your Better Half


I came across a bit of uncommon wisdom embedded in a list of common sense guidelines for making headway in your writing.

(4) If you have a better half living with you, make sure your better half is appeased and happy before starting.

Literature and Latte • “How to Finish Your Book on Time”

Good idea. You may not finish your book on time, but you’ll be a better writer.

So, if you love writing, take care of your better half.

Be Still and Know that I Am an Artist


Margaret Atwood tells a joke:

The Devil comes to the writer and says, “I will make you the best writer of your generation. Never mind generation—of this century. No—this millennium! Not only the best, but the most famous, and also the richest; in addition to that, you will be very influential and your glory will endure for ever. All you have to do is sell me your grandmother, your mother, your wife, your kids, your dog and your soul.”

“Sure,” says the writer, “Absolutely—give me the pen, where do I sign?” Then he hesitates. “Just a minute,” he says. “What’s the catch?”

Atwood uses this fictional exchange to explore “the problem of moral and social responsibility in relation to the content of a work of art.” The passage appears in chapter four of her 2002 book Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing. I’m still in chapter three, but I skipped ahead.

Negotiating with the Dead is a literary essay on the writer as artist. At least, that’s true of the half I’ve read so far. Chapter 3, titled “The Great God Pen,” traces the Art Wars generally, and the world of poetry and fiction as a theatre of war in particular. And she examines an interesting argument—strictly syllogistic, mind you—that “we should devote ourselves to beauty-worship.” An unexpected but crucial premise in this argument is Jesus’ declaration, “The truth shall make you free.”

The interesting story here is that art has displaced religion in a secular society. Atwood isn’t all that explicit about this. But what she says is suggestive. Her chapter begins with clichéd questions about literary worth and money. Since writers are warned against unrealistic expectations of monetary gain, they must come to grips with deeper incentives. One possibility commends “the social usefulness of art.” But writers beguiled by this idyllic motive are victims of censorship, often inflicted by themselves. “Thus, the heroes of Art became those who were willing, as they say, to push the envelope.”

In due course, this pushed artists in the direction of a “pure aesthetic” that pitted art against moral purpose. The upshot, in the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, is that beauty, rather like God, “is its own excuse for being.”

Oscar Wilde drew out religious parallels with art that imitate the language of Christianity, says Atwood. In his preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray Wilde wrote, “No artist has ethical sympathies.” He added, “Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty.”

The artist is a high priest of the imagination. But this does not require scruples. When it comes to Art, some get it and some don’t. Art for art’s sake is non-utilitarian. It disdains mammon and turns a blind eye to social responsibility. For a writer of this persuasion, there is no accountability. The only ultimate is the instinct of the artist.

Atwood explores this theme without committing herself to its creed. But she does seem to think that there are only two other motives for writing. They are writing for monetary gain and writing to fulfill a social responsibility of one sort or another.

***

Atwood is probably best known for her novel The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), depicting an apocalyptic future with the world’s women in subjection to a theocracy run by fanatical devotees of the Bible. The film adaptation appeared in 1990, starring Faye Dunnaway, Natasha Richardson, and Robert Duvall.

Reviewer Sought at “Obscure Classics”


Here’s an opportunity to review classic films at a site dedicated to Obscure Classics.

“Have you dreamed of having your reviews and essays featured on our site? Have you fantasized about the enormous fame you’d have if only you could be a member of the Obscure Classics team?

“Well, lucky for you, we’re recruiting! I’m currently looking for one or two people to add to the awesomely awesome team here.”

Go here for details:

How to Write Book Reviews for Your Blog


Book reviews are everywhere now. And more people are writing reviews and posting them online. Journal and magazine editors worry that literary book reviews will become obsolete and that paid reviewers will be out of a job. I hope this doesn’t happen, because so much of the reviewing done online is of a different quality and serves a different purpose. At the same time, I think the proliferation of book reviewing by bloggers is a positive development. Read more of this post

Beyond the Sounds of Poetry


In a separate post, I’ve recommended Robert Pinsky’s little book The Sounds of Poetry. So maybe you’ve jumped in and grabbed your own copy of the book to get yourself educated in the values of poetry. What comes after Pinsky’s guide? Here are a few suggestions that vaguely parallel my own path toward greater understanding and appreciation of the riches of poetry. Read more of this post

Electronic Research Tools


eTurabian

This site simplifies the process of organizing citations for bibliographies and footnotes. eTurabian is a citation generator for printed resources and online and electronic resources based on Kate Turabian’s Manual for Writers. To generate the citation format for a particular source, go to eTurabian and select the link for the kind of source to be cited: book, journal article, magazine article, newspaper article, published music score, thesis or dissertation, website, or blog. The link will bring up a page with fields for entering the required bibliographical details. Fill in each field as appropirate and click on the “Submit” button. (There are two style options to choose from before clicking on “Submit”: Bibliography and Footnotes, and Reference List and Parentheticals.) eTurabian generates the correct format for your source, consistent with the standard Turabian style. For some types of sources (e.g., blogs), the click of another link on that page brings up other style options.

eTurabian has basic and advanced functions. Full performance requires an account. Throughout the eTurabian application there are links to information if a researcher has a question about a feature of the application or an aspect of proper citation. eTurabian also has a service called “Book Citation Express.” This service assists in formatting sources when data from an online library information for that source is cut and pasted into the deignated field in Book Citation Express

Using the Combox As Your Soapbox


Most bloggers welcome comments at their posts. Some even plead for comments. Many bloggers, as I do, have a “Comments Policy” and moderate comments before letting them through. But this should not discourage you from commenting on a blog post.

This post has two objectives: (1) to encourage blog readers to practice using the “combox” and (2) to offer some tips for making the most of the opportunity to comment.

Reasons to Comment

  1. Commenting helps the blogger gauge the value of his or her posts. If a blank box appears at the end of a post, that’s a virtual invitation from the author to chime in with your response. If no one ever comments, the blogger may conclude that the traffic at his or her site is mostly accidental and that readers are mostly indifferent to what the blogger has written. Zero response does not entail zero interest. But it doesn’t indicate interest, either.
  2. Commenting allows your voice to be heard in the public square, even if you’re not a blogger yourself. The common good depends on participation in dialog with others. Sipping sodas with your best pal and talking politics is a different kind of exercise than packaging your thoughts for broader consumption.
  3. Commenting encourages others to comment. I’ve known plenty of students who don’t want to be the first to ask a question or make a comment in class. Sometimes the period for class discussion begins with several moments of awkward silence. But once a student breaks the ice, others have no trouble jumping in.
  4. Commenting helps you discover and clarify your own ideas. When I begin to write, I usually have some sense of what I want to say. But this general goal congeals into something more specific during the act of writing. Putting my thoughts in writing helps clear the cobwebs in my thinking. So I benefit from my writing, even if my readers don’t. The same goes for blog commenting.
  5. Commenting gives others an opportunity to benefit from what you have to say. Your comments don’t have to be brilliant to be valued by others. Often, the simplest observations are the most useful. There’s actually a good reason to think that the best comments come from readers who are most reluctant to comment. If they push past their reluctance, they may be more likely to make a thoughtful or encouraging or provocative or practical contribution.
  6. Commenting ensures that you reflect on what you read, and so your reading investment pays greater dividends.
  7. Commenting promotes discussion. Sooner or later you’ll find others commenting on your comments. The original author of the post may recede into the background while others carry on a conversation with each other about the topic of the post. This kind of give-and-take yields several benefits. It tests the clarity of your writing as you hear what others think in response to your comments. If properly moderated, it exemplifies respectful discourse among people who disagree and reinforces this important conversational skill. It can be edifying as you see how others benefit from your ideas. It can even lead to new online relationships. A blog post can function like the old-fashioned water cooler at the office, as a place where people, who otherwise might never meet up, interact with each other, learn of common interests, and make new friends.

So there are plenty of reasons to step into the fray now and then as you graze the blogosphere for morsels of insight, entertainment, education, and tips for improving your life in some way or other. No doubt there are many other reasons to comment on blog posts. If you think of any, why not share them in the combox below?

Tips for Commenting

So how do you do it? How do you join the party and realize the benefits described above?

Let’s face it—this isn’t rocket science. It doesn’t have to be complicated. It’s better if it isn’t. But here are a few suggestions that might make commenting more enjoyable for you and those who stumble across (rather than over) your words.

  1. Think about why you went to this post in the first place. Was it accidental? The result of a targeted search? Recommended by someone you know? What pathway led you there? And what did you expect to find in the post? As you read the post you’ll be measuring it against the expectations you bring to it. These are things to write about.
  2. Notice any new thoughts you have as you read the post. Your comment at the end of the post becomes a record of these thoughts that might be lost forever if you don’t put them in writing when you have them. (There are ways to aggregate your comments at various posts across multiple websites.)
  3. Track your feelings while reading the post. In a post about “Leaving the Perfect Comment,” Teli Adlam suggests that you ask how you felt after reading the entry. By paying attention to feelings you have, you gain insight into yourself. Reading the post may have surfaced an internal response that you didn’t expect to have. This gives you something to write about.
  4. Evaluate the argument of a post. Many bloggers offer arguments for claims they make. The combox presents an opportunity for you to assess the argument. You might challenge some premise or evidence used to support the claim. You might offer additional evidence in support of the claim. You can do this whether or not you agree with the conclusion. And you can do it without being belligerent, so don’t hold back. When I “blog an argument” for something, I know the claim and the argument are being released into the broadest possible arena. Why would I risk this? Partly to test the strength of my beliefs or ideas. Partly to see whether my reasons are persuasive to others (something I won’t know unless there are responses in the combox).
  5. Interact with comments others have made. Keep the conversation going. See where it leads. You may want to subscribe to receive email alerts when new comments are made to a post of special interest. Learn about aggregating all your comments across WordPress blogs here.
  6. Be positive. Think of ways to affirm the blogger and others who comment. You can do this without agreeing with their claims or approving of their suggestions.
  7. Proofread your comments before you hit the submit button. Put your best foot forward. Correct any untoward typos or grammatical goofs. Note: If comments are moderated by the blogmaster for the site you’re on, your comment will be screened by the moderator before it appears at the end of the post. Some editors will make minor edits, either to correct typos, repair sentence structure, cull unwelcome language, or what have you. If you know that your comment will be screened, you can ask the screener, right there in your comment, for assistance with your submission.

I’ve given seven reasons to use the combox when you read blog posts, and seven suggestions for leaving your mark. Think of the combox as your soapbox, a socially accepted way to be heard on things that matter to you and others.

***

Here’s a bonus tip: Express yourself with passion. You may not relish the media spotlight. But you probably care about things that pop up on this blog, or you wouldn’t be here. David Avran’s advice makes sense even when it comes to leaving comments at a blog post. Messages that stir meet three invigorating criteria: relevance, credibility, and passion. Go for it!

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Patsi, over at the Blog Squad, describes proper blog etiquette for leaving comments.

Get Thee to the Novel!


This is Cynthia Ozick’s advice. It’s a vital antidote to the crowding of the mind by the . . . well, by the crowd. Ozick values “The Din in the Head,” the title of her essay in defense of the novel.

Cynthia Ozick

Cynthia Ozick

Problem? That special form of consciousness that is the unconstrained play of the mind is overwhelmed with noise from the outside world. The crowd, the human community, is her metaphor for this noise, because it is such a typical source of the noise. The problem has worsened with “the ratcheting up of technology.” So many things contrive to sublimate the maelstrom of the heart, “that relentless inner hum of fragility and hope and transcendence and dread.”

Solution? Reading that returns one to interiority. Two forms of literature have this power, and both are sadly neglected and increasingly hard to come by: the personal essay and the literary novel. “Literary grandeur is out of style.”

Why does Ozick value the din in the head over the din of the crowd? Din—defined by Merriam-Webster as “a welter of discordant sounds.” Who wants that going on in his head?

It may be that our self-saturation with inputs from a manufactured world is welcome precisely for its power to silence the din in the head. Ozick believes we need rest stops along the information highway. Our obsession with the delivery system of one kind of knowledge deafens us to another source of knowledge. Yes, knowledge. The literary novel imparts knowledge, but not systematically. Thus, it is not a delivery system. But there is truth in fiction, truth that surfaces through varied “cobwebby knowings.”

There are truths that have that cobwebby texture in our minds. It can’t be helped. And there’s no knowing them, at least initially, without this sort of acquaintance. But do we prize this sort of knowledge? Arguably, we do not. It is more likely that we are confounded by the claim that this is a kind of knowledge.

I believe that there is such knowledge and that it is foundational to the knowledge enterprise. Our reasons for believing so much of what we believe are often beyond articulation. And yet they are sound. They ground much of what we know through a peculiar form of consciousness, experience that is possible only under conditions of quietude. But what’s the novel got to do with that? The novel is the distillation of imagined experience. By reading I am able to experience what is otherwise beyond my frame of reference. And this puts me in cognitive contact with truths whose nature determines how they can be known. I concur with Ozick; reading carefully crafted fiction is one way they can be known.

Cynthia Ozick’s essay can be found in One Hundred Great Essays, edited by Robert Diyanni.

Cynthia Ozick Links:

Quotations: On Writing


“If you don’t feel like writing, you can always read about it.”

—Doug Geivett (title of my post here)

“All the valuable writing I’ve done in the last ten years has been done in the first twenty minutes after the first time I’ve wanted to leave the room.”

—Ron Carlson, Ron Carlson Writes a Story

“The process of writing is an adventure; you never know how things are going to configure themselves. When I begin a book, I know it’s going to transform my life.”

—Charles Johnson, in his interview with Diane Osen for The Book That Changed My Life

“Writers write for two reasons. One is that they have something they want to say. The other, equally compelling motive is that they have something they want to find out. Writing is a mode of exploration.”

—Margaret Lucke, Writing Great Short Stories Read more of this post

Faith, Film and Philosophy—The Evolution of an Idea


A book I did with James Spiegel, Faith, Film and Philosophy: Big Ideas on the Big Screen, was released late last fall by InterVarsity Press. Today I heard from Cindy Gould, leader of a reading group called “Verbivores” (suggesting an appetite for words). Cindy asked about the origin of the book, how we decided on films to write about and how we selected contributors. Here’s the answer to that question.

Jim and I are college professors who teach philosophy and enjoy film. We decided we wanted to bring these interests together into a book. When big ideas are packaged in a compelling film, they have great potential to influence culture. We wanted to test this thesis by inviting other philosophers who like film to share their perspectives. We wanted this to be fun, so we thought about friends of ours who share this interest and asked them to participate.

We had an idea how long we wanted the book to be and decided we could manage about a dozen chapters. We ended up with fourteen. We didn’t start with a detailed structure for the book and then recruit authors to fit into that structure. Instead, we began with a list of people we knew we would enjoy working with. They also had to be people with talent for thinking about cultural trends and a gift for writing with wisdom and an engaging style. With list in hand, we approached each one with the basic idea and asked this question, “If you were to write a chapter for this book, what film or films would you want to write about, and what ideas would you like to discuss?” We picked the authors; they picked the films.

Now I have to qualify. We knew that if we were going to do a book of this kind, we had to include a chapter on The Matrix. Some people think of this film and its sequels as the most philosophical of relatively recent films. A potential reader couldn’t pick the book up expecting to find a discussion of The Matrix and be disappointed. Instantly we knew who we needed to get for this chapter. We just hoped he would agree. He did.

When we had chapter proposals from everyone, we recognized there was this remarkable range of film coverage that included the classic and the contemporary, the familiar and the intriguing, the safe and the edgy. On top of that, our hoped-for contributors had all settled on different topics and issues, resulting in a surprising balance of treatment of themes in philosophy. With chapter ideas set side-by-side, a natural structure for the book emerged. People who liked film could read this book and learn more than a smattering of philosophy—philosophy made (almost) painless.

I’m anxious to hear how the Verbivores respond to the book during their discussion on Wednesday. Maybe some of them will post their comments here.