Writers on Fire ~ Unplugged: taker-outer

At the dawn of a new year and decade, with an auspicious blue moon lighting our path, I present a recent in-class exercise from the ongoing book-writing workshop. I hope these posts inspire you to try your hand at timed writings yourselves -- whether you are in a workshop right now or not.

Over the many years I've been teaching, I've witnessed magic happen when people write in-class, timed exercises. Everyone seems to get out of their own way and write better than themselves. There is simply no time for the critical voices to surface or for the self-conscious "writer" to tamper with the unconscious natural gift.

Our in-class exercise was inspired by the book we're reading, The Secret Life Of Puppets. We'd just read and discussed the first chapter. Intrigued by, among other things, the concept of the "grotto," I suggested everyone write a scene that was somehow magical, spiritual, sacred. Include an animal -- a real animal, or animal as metaphor. Then set the scene in either a cave, catacomb, dungeon or cellar. Extra credit offered for including a glockenspiel. (The random, and humorous element, never hurts!) Fifteen minutes. And they were off! Scribbling and tapping away.

As usual, I let them know when they were halfway through. And when they had one minute to go. That's not an invitation to wrap things up with a pretty pink bow. Not in my workshops. In that last minute, I often nudge people to throw away any last vestiges of censorship and let it rip.

Because this is an ongoing book-writing workshop, each person forged a scene that featured their protagonists and figured into their book somehow.

Here is Lisa Firestone's offering. There is an ease, a humor, and a visceral quality to her in-class writing. She takes her time, and fully inhabits the scene in a way she often doesn't allow herself when she's banging out chapters for workshop deadlines. This is something many writers struggle with if they have busy lives, other jobs. You may be goal-oriented and driven to turn out pages. To complete drafts. To nail basic narrative flow. Then you get to go back and luxuriate in filling out the promise of those chapters. These are putter-inners. (I am a taker-outer myself!) When these type of writers do allow themselves to pause, and enter more deeply into a scene, the results are remarkable. It's as if they are prying open the prose and finding the hidden pulse that beats there. I've seen Lisa experience breakthroughs with these in-class exercises, and then bring that new quality back to her book. There's nothing more thrilling.

FYI, I did not allow any of the workshop participants to alter their exercises from how they dashed them off in those 15 minutes. So flaws and frenzy are all laid bare, revealing the raw power of what they've wrought as well as giving insight into their process. There's plenty of time to nip, tuck and tweak later. The triumph is in experiencing a more integrated and focused style of writing. The writer suggests meaning by vividly rendering what's happening on the scene's surface - as well as pointing toward what's churning beneath. No mean feat!

Lisa's exercise:

Flynn swam ahead of Alexander. She knew he was allowing her to lead. He told her to head toward the crevice in the rock where the waves crashed and to wait for him to lead her inside. She tread water with the power of the wave gently lifting and lowering her. Breathing was easier than she thought it would be and she trusted Alexander’s decision to bring her there. He swam up, placed his hand on her shoulder and led her through the steep divide in the rock.

“Duck and swim under the rock here,” Alexander said to her. "I will place my hand on your head and lead you up when it’s safe." Flynn wanted to turn back, she felt too enclosed, but Alexander looked at her.

“One deep breath and we are going to make it under.” She inhaled then swam quickly until she felt Alexander’s hand rise her to the surface. Darkness surrounded them with one pitch of light on the rock forty feet behind them. She looked around the mostly still water that rose and fell gently. The power of the water remained on the other side of the rock.

“Look up at the wall.” Alexander said to her. Bright green eyes stared back, the kind that were small and set very close together with wings attached.