Showing posts with label Heather Dyer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heather Dyer. Show all posts

Is Success Dangerous for Writers? – Heather Dyer




Once published, writers often find themselves under pressure to produce a second book within a certain time frame. This creates conditions under which it can be difficult to be creative.

In the following interview by Julia Copus, I explain how publication led to a 5-year writing block, and reveal what needed to happen for my creativity to return: 







Heather Dyer, Royal Literary Fund Consultant Fellow



Just for a Laugh - Heather Dyer


© Peter Bailey
from The Boy in the Biscuit Tin by Heather Dyer

I think I know the precise moment that I moved from being a reader to a writer. It was a joke that did it. My snort of laughter jolted me clean out of the story and back onto the velour footstool in my parents’ front room. I sat there for a moment, staring at the book lying open in my lap. I could hardly believe that the rows of printed letters on the page had physically moved me. A book could be that powerful.

I thumbed through the whole book looking at all those individual words – page after page of them – each one different from the one beside it. Someone had actually chosen each one! That was when I first began to appreciate the author behind the story, and realized that if wanted the stories to continue, I could choose more words, myself. I could bring the marionettes back on stage, and continue their adventures . 

Humour is powerful in many ways: it jolts us out of one closed perspective; it helps brings villains down to size; it releases tension; it puts things in perspective. Humour is good for us. It just a shame that humour is not rated more highly by critics and readers. ‘Funny’ books tend to seen as light and not literary. In Ricky Gervaise’s comedy series Extras, Kate Winslet jokes that she’s doing a holocaust film because it’s the only way she’ll win an Oscar. And the irony was that – in real life – this is exactly what happened with her film The Reader. Humour always loses out to gravity. But can’t we have both?


Sometimes, children tell me that my books are funny. I don’t tryto be funny, but somehow humour always surfaces. And when it does it feels like the whole point.

Why is humour so powerful and so gratifying? Perhaps it's because it jolts us out of our narrow mindsets into a wide, free space that liberates us. Humour, like metaphor and haiku and Zen koan, momentarily disorients us by putting us between two opposing images or ideas at the same time. And in that moment – just for a second – we are free.

Books About Flying - Heather Dyer

I appeared at the Biggest Book Show on Earth this week. The authors were each asked to speak for 15 minutes on ‘Why I Can’t Live Without Books’.

Me wearing the wings. Photo a selfie courtesy of Shoo Rayner, fellow writer and illustrator, on the left!

Books allow us to step into other people’s shoes, and see how it feels to live other people’s lives. Books help us to empathise. Books allow us to meet larger-than-life characters, go to unfamiliar places, and witness extraordinary events. And they allow us to experience things that would never be possible in our real lives – things like flying!

As a child, all my favourite books had some flying in them. One of the first was Enid Blyton’s wonderful The Wishing Chair. How thrilling it was to read about the wooden chair that grew wings whenever Mollie and Peter least expected it – and carried them off to fantastical places.


And who could forget that flight across Narnia on the back of the winged horse, Fledge, in The Magician’s Nephew by C S Lewis?



Then there was the flying carpet in Nesbit’s The Phoenix and the Carpet. When the carpet grew threadbare and there was risk of falling through it, flying became even more exciting – and I cried when this book was finished.



But the most fantastical flying object must be the peach in Dahl’s James and the Giant Peach. James harnesses hundreds of seagulls to lift the peach out of the water and fly it across the Atlantic.


Flying has found its way into most of my own books too – be it by magic carpet, wings – or more unusual vehicles, like Elinor’s bedroom in The Flying Bedroom. 



Clearly, I have not lost my longing to leave the ground. Who has? Flying is really about freedom - about being light, about being able to leave your worries on the ground and about gaining a whole new perspective on the world – rather like books themselves.  

The Right Book at the Right Age - Heather Dyer

One reason that new writers have their books rejected is because their writing style doesn't match the content: either the language is too sophisticated for such a simple storyline - or the story is too long or complicated for the target readership. 

Admittedly, it's difficult to categorize books into specific age categories. Children are individuals, after all. Some advanced readers might not be very worldly-wise, and won't yet be ready for 'grittier' stories. Meanwhile, some of their peers may be ready for 'older' content but can't handle more sophisticated language.

But to give your story the best chance of publication, the content needs to match the writing style for that particular age category.

The publishing and bookselling industry tries to help buyers by dividing books into four main groups: picture books, young or early readers, middle grade readers (an American term) and young adult novels. As part of a new course I'm teaching in Writing for Children, I’ve started trying to identify qualities common to books in each age category. Boundaries will be blurred - but I'd love to know what you think of this chart. Am I right? What haven't I considered?
 
Picture books
Age 0-5
Early readers
5-7
Middle grade
7-11
YA fiction
12+
 
     0 - 200 words
24,32 or 40 pages.
 
500-1,500
 
10-20,000
 
          50,000+
Full colour illustrations
Black and white line drawings every other page
Black and white line drawings every few pages.
 
No illustrations
Domestic or fantasy settings
 
Usually domestic settings.
Domestic magic and high fantasy. Realistic settings with parental supervision unless there’s a good reason (fantasy)
The wider world. High fantasy.
 
 
 
 
Larger font size, restricted vocabulary. Dialogue.
 
Large proportion of dialogue, more complex.
 
 
 
Shorter sentences
More sophisticated sentences.
Lots of interior monologue, reflection, longer speeches.
Text works with illustrations.
Very short paragraphs.
Paragraphs a bit longer.
 
 
Nearly no description
Minimal description, but a few sparkling details true to a young reader’s perception of the world.  
Detailed setting and character description.
 
Detailed setting and character description.
 
Usually in third person
Usually in third person. Some character development possible.
Usually in third person.
Rounded characters. Character development more obvious.
Often in first person, and present tense. It’s all about me.
Anthropomorphism, inanimate objects made animate. Familiar roles, settings, objects.
A talking animal almost always points to an early reader. Children in comic or adventure situations, usually having a good time, nothing too awful happens.
Children in danger, frightening situations, facing fears and fighting good and evil. But the real world isn’t too real.
Can be very dark and realistic. Dystopian futures, tragedy, abuse, drugs, etc. Also comedy sex/romance.
 
No sex or romance.
Romance is light and about friendships. Or subliminal.
Anything goes.
For the youngest bracket, not necessarily stories with problems solved, but simply an exploration of the world.
Often deal with smaller problems resolved in a shorter time frame. Stakes are lower.
Children with flaws, interactions with peers. Children save the day or resolve things themselves. Growing understanding of the world and their place in it.
Young adults dealing with finding their own way in the world, changing the world or making a name for themselves; asserting themselves; finding own values.
Can be present tense.
Past tense, no leaping around in time or flashbacks.
Still rarely using flashbacks unless short recollections by a character.
Can play with chronology; transitions, flashbacks etc.
Happy endings or comforting closure.

 
Happy endings.
 
 Happy or at least hopeful endings.
Usually at least hopeful, but recently have been a few with bleak endings.




Listen to RLF Fellows talk on the subject 'Why I Write' 

 

 

The Hero's Journey - Heather Dyer


Most - if not all - contemporary stories are modelled around Joseph Campbell's classic 'Hero's Journey', which he says represents ‘the pattern that lies behind every story ever told’. It’s a pattern that maps both outer journeys and inner, spiritual journeys.

Joseph Campbell created this mythic pathway by travelling the world collecting myths from primitive cultures. He discovered that all myths had certain sequences of actions, or stages, in common.
 
Typically, The Hero’s Journey follows the protagonist’s progress as he/she crosses the threshold from the known world into the unknown. The protagonist then faces various challenges and meets archetypal characters who perform specific roles. Typically, the hero confronts a dragon or the equivalent, and either dies or appears to die in order to be resurrected. He/she may then receive a gift, which they take back to the known world to benefit humanity.

Personally, I wouldn't advocate crafting your story according to a formula like this - but it's fascinating how (even without intending it) when a story 'works' it does seem to follow this pattern.
 
It can be helpful, therefore, to superimpose this pattern onto our stories at the first draft stage and ask ourselves the following questions:
  1. Have we established our protagonist in the 'ordinary world' before we turn their lives upside down and make them venture out into the 'unknown'?
  2. Does our protagonist need to meet a mentor - or gain wisdom from some other external source - in order to help them on their journey of transformation?
  3. What is the 'dragon' that our protagonist has to face? Is it something or someone outside themselves? Or might the dragon be their own internal 'demons'?
  4. Does our protagonist face their dragon and reach a point of 'death and rebirth' - which could mean that they have to face their worst fears, relinquish their strongest beliefs or greatest dreams - and change and evolve as a result?
  5. What is the 'gift' that they get? Is it knowledge, courage or something more concrete?
  6. Does their new insight or situation then allow them to overcome an old problem, or help somebody else?  
Finally, can you relate The Hero's Journey to your story? Or even to stories in your own life? Or is it possible to create a story that doesn't follow this pattern at all - but still works?

Heather Dyer's latest book is The Flying Bedroom.





 
 
 

 

Hushing and Holding - Heather Dyer


© នរម
I’ve been reading a book called Fearless Creating: a step-by-stepguide to starting and completing your work of art, by Eric Maisel. Like Dorothea Brande’s classic book Becoming a Writer, this is less a ‘craft’ guidebook, and more a ‘process’ guidebook. It’s the sort of book that describes the creative mind set and shows you how to develop it.

One of the exercises that Maisel says is the most important in the whole book is the ability to ‘hush’ your mind. ‘Hushing’ says Maisel, ‘is what we do when we go into a museum and sit in front of one painting for fifteen minutes.’ Hushing is a ‘quieting and an opening’ – and there is no creative life without this ability to hush.

Hushing sounds a lot like the open, receptive state of mind that is associated with ‘right-brain’ awareness, and is also the state of ‘choiceless awareness’ that meditation aspires to. When the mind is quiet and receptive – and not busy with mental chatter – ideas can rise to the surface.
Some writers achieve this state of mind by walking, swimming, doing yoga or washing the dishes. Others know it when they wake up in the middle of the night to write something in the notepad beside their bed. Maisel suggests that it’s only when the conscious, busy, ‘thinking’ mind has grown quiet that insights and ideas can surface.
Maisel also explains that ‘hushing’ needs to be practiced in conjunction with ‘holding’, if any real work is to be done. 'Holding' is the ability to carry an idea for a book or a painting (or any other project )loosely in the back of your mind as you go about your day. By holding the project in the periphery of your vision you allow the ideas and stimuli that you encounter during the day (or during your working practice) to enter it and inform it. I’ve also heard this process called ‘being in the grist’, when almost everything you experience seems to somehow relate to, or feed into, the container of your novel.

Have you experienced the processes of ‘hushing’ and ‘holding’? If so, how do you achieve them?
 
Heather Dyer's latest book is The Flying Bedroom.
www.heatherdyer.co.uk
 

Bird by Bird - Heather Dyer

 
© nao-cha

“Bird by bird, son,” says Mr. Lamott, when his son is overwhelmed by a school project on birds and doesn’t know where to begin: “Just take it bird by bird.”

'Bird by bird,' is also what I tell myself when I’m facing the immensity of writing a new book. Often a new creative endeavour is a journey into the unknown. We advance paragraph by paragraph, scene by scene – often without being entirely sure where we’re headed. We keep our heads down, measuring our progress word by word.
But sometimes it's helpful to measure our progress not by word count, but by time spent writing. Therefore, 'bird by bird' could also mean ‘moment by moment’.

In October, Nicola Morganset up an October ‘NanoWrimo’ (Novel Writing Group) for authors in the Scattered Authors’ Society. All those who signed up agreed to declare our writing goals at the beginning of the month and encourage each other to keep on track daily via Facebook.

I signed up for the group to help motivate myself to write. But I didn’t declare a daily word count. My goal was simply to open one of my two writing projects – one fiction, one non-fiction – and work on it for an unspecified time first thing every morning. Only after this could I start my other work: editorial report writing, lesson planning, admin, errands…
I used to clear the decks of all this 'other stuff' before tackling my creative writing. But last year other work built up to such an extent that the decks were never clear. I ended up batting off one ‘urgent’ task after another, just to keep up. If I did get to pause I found myself panting and out of breath – not a conducive state of mind for creativity. I realized one day that it had been nearly a year since I’d properly given some attention to the sort of writing that all my other work was meant to support.

And what did I discover during the October Wrimo? I discovered that even fiddling ineffectually with my writing projects tended to produce at least a sentence or an idea that I could build on the following day.
Also, dipping into the worlds of my books – even for just half an hour – allowed these worlds to develop bit by bit in my unconscious. Then, in quiet or preoccupied moments (like walking to work or showering or meditating) lines of dialogue or new ideas tended to arise in my consciousness like bubbles in a pot of porridge on a low heat.
Bird by bird my projects grew, so that at the end of the week I was undeniably further on than I had been at the beginning.
But best of all, I no longer felt the guilt associated with not having been 'creative’. It was only once this guilt was lifted that I realized that I had been struggling to work through a low-level stress caused by the knowledge that I had neglected something that was important but not shouting for attention; something hovering in the background, waiting. I found that by attending to my creative work first, this stress disappeared.
And in the end, I still got as much 'other' work done. If anything, I became more efficient, more patient,  and worked with a greater focus – because I have already satisfied that ‘thing’ hovering in the background.

This way of working is not new to me – in fact, I advise all my students to try working this way. But somehow I had let my priorities slide. The October NanoWrimo group prompted me to remember my priorities. I feel better for it – and so does my writing.

 Bird by bird,” is the title of Anne Lamott’s book about writing and about being a writer.
Heather Dyer's latest book is The Flying Bedroom.
www.heatherdyer.co.uk
 

 

Why Do I Write? - Heather Dyer

 
To learn what I think. 
To preserve beautiful moments or images. 
To understand. 
To discover truths. 
To make children laugh inwardly. 
To give children somewhere to go. 
For the pleasure of arranging words as precisely as musical notes. 
To feel as though I'm discovering the story that pre-exists. 
To feel I'm receiving communications from something bigger. 
To remember. 
To go on an adventure. 
To make something that reflects my self. 
To contribute something positive. 
Because when I was eight I was told I did it well. 
To make something that goes beyond me. 
To make something that lasts after me. 
 
Why do you write?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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