There are two basic ways to practice a new skill:
Doing basic drills, isolating the new skill to learn and practice it.
Applying the skill to a real situation.
The best way to learn something is to do both types of practice in tandem—you start with number one and then as soon as basic proficiency is reached, quickly move on to number two.
For example, last week’s writing exercise was to write 5 sentences in a predicative style—which could be done in either method, or both. Some people probably thought immediately of number one, and understood the assignment as “Write 5 random, unconnected sentences in this style.” This is a great first step, to get the feel of the different cadences and how the style elements work.
Others might immediately jump to number two, and think, “Oh, cool, I’ve got this story I’m working on—I’ll try this exercise out on a paragraph or two,” which is the process of applying the skill to a situation that they are likely to actually use it in.
Both methods have their pros and cons when taken on their own. In number one, the problem is that the writer is focused only on mechanics, and doesn’t necessarily get a feel for how to use the skill—in this case, a style—in the context of a story. How does the writer propel the story forward, reveal details about the character, and all the other purposes a fiction writer must use those mechanics to achieve?
And that is where the second method comes in. But the second method, on its own, also has a pitfall: When we are working on a personal project, we often bring a lot of preconceived ideas to the table, which isn’t the best way to learn something new. This could be as simple as losing our focus—we might start out working on this style and voice, but then get mired in the character and story, and slip back into our usual way of writing, instead of practicing.
It’s a good idea to make your writing practice include at least a little bit of both. Write a few sentences in bullet points, just to practice, and then write a narrative paragraph (or a few)—whether on a story you make up on the spot, or drawing from your personal project.
LAST WEEK’S EXERCISE—
I ended up writing a couple paragraphs in my practice last week. I still feel like I need more practice on the predicative style, but I do like the beginning of this story enough that I may continue it…
Axel stood on the shifting peak of the bruise-colored dune and looked down on the wreckage of his ship. The AKR Advocator sprawled in a smoking scrap heap beneath the blackened scar on the rocks where it had crashed after his ejection. There was no need to get closer to know the Advocator would not be rejoining the battle that day, but its pilot was by no means resigned to sit it out. He turned and headed east, slogging through the soft purple sands.
The distressful whine of a ship’s engine cut through the oppressive quiet of the purple desert and Axel looked up. The pearly yellow cloud layer, omnipresent on this moon, diffused the bright sunlight into an all-over sheen that made him squint against the glare wherever he looked, and it took him a beat to locate the ship. He thought he saw a flash of red on the tail, but it was too far to say it was the AKR Icharus. It came in well and the pilot navigated expertly toward an open sandbed between the plentitude of rocky spires. Axel watched and even at that distance could see—or imagined he could see—the sudden tug-of-war the pilot found himself engaged in against the invisible force Axel had also encountered, and saw this pilot, equally unable to wrangle his ship, give in as the nose wobbled and then veered. A tiny puff of orange preceded a billow of black smoke.
I think the hardest part for me was starting in medias res, but having to write in strict chronological order—not going back in time much to explain things. Possibly more explanation is needed, but it was a good practice to excise it all for this exercise.
Comment: What did you find most difficult about this exercise?
THIS WEEK’S EXERCISE—
Much has been written about the ingenious device of using the observant and admiring Dr. Watson as the narrator of the classic Sherlock Holmes stories. In honor of the upcoming birthday of the famous characters’ creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (22 May 1859), we’ll briefly parse some of the effects of the “observant sidekick” narrator, as demonstrated by the character of Dr. Watson, and then create our own original story in a classic imitation-style writing drill.
From my own observation of Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, these are few of the effects of using Dr. Watson as the narrator—as opposed to an impersonal omniscient narrator, or from the POV of Holmes himself:
Sympathy: It’s much easier to care about the kindly Dr. Watson than the know-it-all, bohemian Holmes, who is frequently more interested in the mystery than in the person. (This is one reason why the stories are better than most of the TV shows and movies—Holmes is actually more sensitive and appealing in most of the stories than he seems on the screen, but the germ of that overblown antisocial insensitivity does appear in the stories as well.) This creates “a way in” for the reader.
Suspension of disbelief: Dr. Watson’s admiration for Holmes teaches the reader the desired response they should have toward Holmes, which both increases Holmes’s appeal and also makes us less skeptical that we might otherwise be of his methods. If someone as seemingly reliable as Dr. Watson thinks Holmes and his methods are authentic, we are more likely to share that opinion—much the same as we trust a friend’s recommendation over a chance meeting or an advertisement.
Suspense: Dr. Watson is as much in the dark as the reader through much of the story. This creates an additional bond between narrator and reader (increasing sympathy). But it also keeps the reader in suspense because they are outside the POV of the most active main character—Sherlock Holmes.
Can you think of any additional effects of using Dr. Watson as a narrator? Share them in the comments!
The Exercise:
There are two types of imitation writing exercises. Either you take a writing sample and imitate its form but supply original content, or you use the same content as the sample and supply a different form. For this exercise, we will do the former, and take a short passage from a Sherlock Holmes story, rewriting it using different characters.
Let’s take two weeks to work on it, and break it down into two parts. First, for this week, we’ll brainstorm character duos. What pair of characters could use the same dynamic of respectful admiration between the narrator and the protagonist? What are the different effects that might arise from changing characters?
For example:
A woman narrator writing in wifely admiration of her husband’s actions in their adventures or exploits, regardless of his worthiness of her admiration.
A detective writing admiringly (in a purely professional sense) about his criminal nemesis.
A gentleman in love describing the absurd shenanigans of his lady, unable to view her behavior in any way but with respect and approval.
EXERCISE: Brainstorm 3-5 different character duos, and select one pair for next week’s exercise.
ALSO—If you’d like to get ahead for the narrative exercise coming next week, go ahead and find a passage from a Sherlock Holmes story you would like to imitate, using your own characters. (The stories are in the public domain and can be found online. Here is one resource.)
Since we are focusing on the effects on the reader of the “admiring narrator-observer,” you might try to pick a passage that shows the dynamic between the two characters (but you don’t have to).
To further simplify, let’s limit our search for a useful passage only to the beginnings of the stories. (For example, the beginning of “The Red-Headed League” shows some of the mutually respectful admiration between the two colleagues.)
Now go write something! (And have fun with it.)
—AF