My copy of Ian Thomson's Cherries arrived this week and I am happily turning the pages and enjoying these tales.
A full review will be published in due course, but characters, plot and perception are all there.
"He brought a particularly Welsh kind of misery to his conversation. He was universally known as Dai Hat, and when asked why, he would only reply darkly that he used to have one."
Those are the sort of sentences one never learns to write in "creative writing" classes. In fact, they are the sort of sentences that anyone attending a creative writing class could never write.
Creative writing classes engender a sort of grim "originality" that can be spotted a mile away by the people who should be writing: readers.
Those who read a lot understand more about good writing than anyone who learned writing from a textbook. They know that a good character is like a drawing by Matisse or Picasso: three or four lines says it all, and the viewer fills in the rest and the picture rings true.
Readers appreciate the rhythm of sentences and phrases; the sensuousness of word combinations; the sense of when the plot needs a turn, or something new to move it along. Because these things are only learned from experience, those who would write should read. Anything and everything.
There is no need to finish books or stories you don't like; pass them on an move to more verdant pastures. Those who would write should, however, take the time to identify why a book failed to appeal and learn from that failing.
The acid test of good writing is what it is like read aloud. How easy is it to read while giving the sentences sense? How do the rhythms flow and fit together? How are the scenes constructed? Do they have a shape? Are you encouraged to read on?
We are in an age when data is the driving force. The propositional is believed to hold all the value, but it does not. Story-telling is not a binary activity, its secret ingredient is magic. Or, it may be like great chefs say, great dishes must be made with love.
Time for the next cherry. . . .
A full review will be published in due course, but characters, plot and perception are all there.
"He brought a particularly Welsh kind of misery to his conversation. He was universally known as Dai Hat, and when asked why, he would only reply darkly that he used to have one."
Those are the sort of sentences one never learns to write in "creative writing" classes. In fact, they are the sort of sentences that anyone attending a creative writing class could never write.
Creative writing classes engender a sort of grim "originality" that can be spotted a mile away by the people who should be writing: readers.
Those who read a lot understand more about good writing than anyone who learned writing from a textbook. They know that a good character is like a drawing by Matisse or Picasso: three or four lines says it all, and the viewer fills in the rest and the picture rings true.
Readers appreciate the rhythm of sentences and phrases; the sensuousness of word combinations; the sense of when the plot needs a turn, or something new to move it along. Because these things are only learned from experience, those who would write should read. Anything and everything.
There is no need to finish books or stories you don't like; pass them on an move to more verdant pastures. Those who would write should, however, take the time to identify why a book failed to appeal and learn from that failing.
The acid test of good writing is what it is like read aloud. How easy is it to read while giving the sentences sense? How do the rhythms flow and fit together? How are the scenes constructed? Do they have a shape? Are you encouraged to read on?
We are in an age when data is the driving force. The propositional is believed to hold all the value, but it does not. Story-telling is not a binary activity, its secret ingredient is magic. Or, it may be like great chefs say, great dishes must be made with love.
Time for the next cherry. . . .
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