A Chat Virgin Breaks His Cherry

I had my first extended chat experience with my guest blogger/writer Robert Jones. We went at it for two and a half hours, talking writing, unloading our personal burdens and occasionally our phobias and neurosis. Chat is certainly different from email and telephone. In email you get time to think out your thoughts. In chat, you have to be more spontaneous and things come out of your mouth you might not ordinarily have written.

On the phone, Robert says he feels less open and wary of saying the wrong thing. Writing chat frees him of that. What was really fun was not having to wait for a response from the other side. The Chat Wizard would say, “Bobby is typing,” and I was free to also type at the same time. In vocal conversation that is called overriding your talking partner and kind of rude and annoying, in chat totally cool. For me it was like  a jazz riff, a stream of subconscious, let it all fly. I imagine if Jack Kerouac were alive and young today, he would adore chat.

As opposed to chat, when I write email I always am careful to express myself clearly, and correct typos. That’s the writer in me. In chat, I didn’t have that luxury. I guess it felt liberating, because when working on a novel I’m always judging what I am typing while doing it, making a lot of decisions and choices as to wording, grammar, and the rhythm of the things I am putting down.

I am not a fan of chat per se, and would never just do it about daily trivia. I see that as a waste of time, better suited for email. Chat has electricity, it is happening in the Now and you can either grab hold of the current, hang on to it and go for the ride, or fall by the wayside.

The experience reminded me of when I was a sports writer and had to go into locker rooms with only a few ideas of what questions I wanted to ask. Once there, I had to do what the Marines do, improvise, adapt and overcome. Winging it in a locker room one-on-one interview with millionaire, writer-adverse athlete is stressful, because any pause in your questions and the person, who would welcome a chance to get away from you, would close the conversation and escape.

Sometimes my mind would vapor lock, I had no idea of what I wanted to say or where I was or who I was even talking to, like my brain had stopped working. My back would always break out in a sweat. You’re losing this guy, say something, dummy. Usually I just blathered something nonsensical, but it bought me time to unscramble my brain, and then a real question would pop into my head.

Chat was nothing like that. I kind of dug it. Didn’t like that I was still doing it closing in on 3 a.m. EST., which would result in me getting up later than I usually do and cut into my valuable novel writing time. Bobby is on the West Coast, it didn’t faze him. When I brought up my time/sleep/writing problem, he scoffed at me and asked, are you addicted to your schedule? What I should have said to him is: a writer must be disciplined in his/her work habits. Instead, I got defensive and said some meaningless dribble.

But in a way Bobby was right.  Some of the best experiences I’ve had, and would one day recall and use in my writing, came when I abandoned my scripted life. Some real gems emerge from doing that.

Amazing how much you can learn from a 28-year-old fledgling writer. Different generation from mine. Foreign to me in some ways. But I improvised, adapted and overcome my inhibitions and habit addictions.

Chat. Thanks, Bobby, for the enlightening experience.

The Rules of the Game

Agents, editors and writing “teachers” (is that an oxymoron?) all have their own nifty set of rules: Never do this. Always do that. Be careful of… Avoid too many commas. Try to not use “that” if the sentence reads fine if it is eliminated. Don’t begin a sentence with “And” or “But.” The list goes on and on. Pay strict attention to these rules and you could wind up with a severe case of writer’s constipation.

If Jack Kerouac had adhered, he’d probably never have written a word and wound up teaching Latin, geology, the fine art of drinking cheap wine or just sitting on the rocking chair in his mother’s house watching the seasons change. But Kerouac was not one to be told how to express himself. Like a lot of other great writers, Kerouac followed his inner voice even when people were screaming at him to conform. He didn't even use a typewriter the way other novelists did.

The standard typewriter back then just wasn't suitable for Kerouac's style. He wrote very fast in a sort of jazz riff, so he had no patience for changing paper. Instead, he had a roommate who was an AP writer steal one of the long spools of paper used back then in wire service machines. Those machines would teletype news that rolled off and cascaded to the floor in one long piece containing multiple stories. Copy boys would then use a scissor to cut up the stories and deliver them to the appropriate editors.

Armed with this big AP roll (think toilet paper custom-made by Charmin for Goliath) he'd hook it up the cylinder of his typewriter and start the music, writing and writing and never having to pause from his rhythm to pull out paper and insert another page. Rules weren't for Jack, who wrote some of the longest sentences every put on paper, often a paragraph or more, using commas whenever it suited him.

The point of this riff/rant is that some of the best and brightest have ignored rules and done quite well. When I was laboring under the dos and don'ts, I felt they constricted the flow and rhythm of my words. One day, feeling especially frustrated, I decided to leaf through the novels of my two favorite mystery writers, Michael Connelly and Lee Child. To no great surprise they broke many of the rules, and it wasn't just because they were bestselling authors who could do as they please. They were faithful to their own style which was evident early in their careers. 

Sure there are certain elementary rules which theoretically are necessary to writing a novel or a screenplay: have a beginning, middle and end; define your characters early and have them change and go through an “arc;" don’t telegraph what’s going to happen next or 40 pages down the line, let it come out gradually and surprise the reader. Etc...

But that being said, history has shown us that style trumps even these basics, in both novels and film. Orson Welles’ in the 1941 classic movie “Citizen Kane” abandoned linear narrative in favor of a then radical mosaic structure which was more suited to the telling of his story. Nine years after Kane, the great Japanese director Akira Kurosawa -- undoubtedly influenced by Welles (as he was by many Western directors) -- created one of his masterpieces, “Rashomon,” in which a crime is recounted from five different witnesses, each having their own perspective on what actually happened. (Rashomon was most recently copied in the American movie "Courage Under Fire," starring Denzel Washington and Meg Ryan, and pilfered by other filmmakers).

The lesson? There is no lesson. If you're a writer who turns to the craft to express emotions and ideas without regard to the “Voice” telling you: “Don’t,” then money is not the main reason you took up the insane act of putting words onto paper in the first place. Sure, it’d be great if you got the big bucks down the line, but mostly you do it in the beginning to just be “you” in print, not the person your parents, peers or teachers expected you to be.

Well, I guess I’m wandering, another rule no-no. Where is my tight, coherent string of thought? Hell if I know. I’m a rogue writer. I live in the “Void,” a place where chaos and random events shape lives, creative writing, and in a larger sense, the planet. If you have realized I have absolutely nothing instructive to say about writing, go read Dear Abby, Page Six of the NY Post or the National Enquirer in order to find true wisdom. Me? I'm going to move on now to much more important things, like structuring my Netflix queue, checking out what my very few friends are saying on Facebook and immerse myself in email. I mean, let’s get our priorities straight!