Posts in Category: Book Reviews
The ESP of Writing
Books are like magic in the sense that through a group of words, sometimes even a short sentence or two, a writer can project an image and carry the reader to a different time or place.
But a meaningful character description reaches somewhere beyond the physical realm. It is a momentary glimpse into a person’s soul. Stephen King describes this type of description in his book “Stephen King on Writing” as something akin to ESP. This is the subtle art of a writer who can project an image into the reader’s mind without stating a detailed physical description of a character or place.
A good example of this type of writing is from favorite writer Eleanor Lincoln Morse. In her book “An Unexpected Forest” she describes, in a few short lines, a woman’s “soulful appearance” through the eyes of her main character, Horace.
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Ripley’s campground was on the edge of a shallow river not far from Horace’s house. He and Bob drove through the gate and stopped at a log cabin. A woman in high heels came to the front porch. “I’m here to try out my new tent,” said Horace getting out of the truck. Why would she want to know this? He saw that she didn’t. She had the face like someone who’s been sitting in a laundromat too long, watching clothes tumble in a dryer.
This description speaks to me of a woman whose life has been caught up in a never-ending cycle of unhappy circumstances, and she’s grown weary to the point of losing hope.
A few paragraphs later Horace continues with his observation of the woman.
How did you end up here? He wanted to ask. This wasn’t where your life was going when it started out. It took a wrong turn somewhere. Her high heels were covered with dust.
From these few sentences, we learn much about the woman and about Horace, too.
Horace is an empath. His observations of the woman give us the sense that he feels empathy for her plight in life.
“Her high heels were covered in dust.” To me, this is a haunting statement. This woman has dust on her shoes. Who wears high heels at a campground? Maybe she has run away or is escaping from something in her past? Obviously, she is someone who is out of place in an outdoorsy environment. Does she have a job elsewhere? Are her shoes dusty with age or a dying remnant of another life that she still clings to?
Could you feel this woman’s presence or, perhaps, see a picture of her in your mind’s eye without reading her physical description? I wonder how many of us saw an image of the same woman?
An Unexpected Forest by Eleanor Lincoln Morse
A soulful, well-crafted story about a handful of mismatched (unexpected) people, who come together on a journey of discovery and change.
Me and Stephen King
Stephen King and I have little in common as far as our writing genres go. I have never been a fan of horror stories or movies—too scary! But I did become a fan of Stephen King after reading his book: On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft.
While I’m still not a fan of horror stories, I do understand now (from a Stephen King point of view), how and why he chose the writing direction he did. I also appreciate the way his book “On Writing” describes the process of writing in a non-academic and often humorous way. This autobiography/writing and editing guide gave me an entirely different view into the Stephen King psyche. I would recommend this book to readers and writers alike, whether you are a fan of horror stories or not.
So in honor of Stephen King, I am “taking a stab” at my first horror story.
The Wrong Suitcase
The newly built townhouse complex sat in the middle of a vast sunbaked flatland, a land void of color–the buildings painted in nondescript shades of drab. The only landscaping in sight was the claustrophobic patch of lawn between our sliding glass door and the tall wooden fence behind—just enough room for a couple of lawn chairs and nothing more.
Thank goodness it was a temporary stopover, or so we were told. My parents had always been secretive about these sorts of things, and we had learned over the years that it was better not to ask. Why, pray tell, would us kids want to know anything that could possibly affect our future and well-being? But even at the young age of fourteen, I assumed it had something to do with finances.
The heat that summer, along with the embarrassing sounds coming from the adjoining neighbors, crept into my upstairs room. But what sold it for me was the view, especially at night when the shadowy light fell on the dump behind the old suitcase factory, revealing a pile of rejected suitcases with nothing inside.
Now, I ‘d like to tell you that I didn’t climb the fence that summer. That I didn’t steal that one lone suitcase from the edge of the pile. That I didn’t open it. That I didn’t find what was lurking inside.
Okay, I’m beginning to scare myself.
P.S. The above is based on a true story.
