Each writing day (most days) I work on some part of the Book that I know I can fix: editing the next chapter, rewriting, or writing a new section needed to make it all fall together neatly instead of sitting like so many puzzle pieces half-joined here and there. Some days I work other projects, letting my conscious focus elsewhere. I hope at those times that whatever I do with the other project is instructional for the Book at a later date.
Latte & Grand Place
As much as I feel I’m making progress, I fear the end product, no matter how well-structured, no matter how keen the turn of phrase, will fall flat for lack of one crucial element: conflict.
It has been an issue from day one. I’ve tended toward Jamesian efforts—not so much in prose style but in the sense that I spent/spend a fair amount of time in dialog and thought, and in observing the characters. Recently Writers Write posted this on their blog and I went through each question. I was brutally honest with myself and while I didn’t score in the lowest ranking, I have to answer, “Why are you not making things more difficult for your characters?”
The Book moves back and forth through time and I am careful to make the analepsis both relevant and conflict-filled in my rewriting. However, the present action is still essentially a yes to #7. Not so much a heart-felt conversation as a yelling match, but I don’t see it as making things terribly difficult for my characters. More importantly, I don’t see my protagonist as active and this has been a concern for some time. I have brought some conflict into the present time for her by introducing a sore point between herself and her loving spouse. Still, she is not “trying to achieve something tangible” but is, instead, trying to achieve something emotional. It is a book of emotion. One MFA committee member referred to it as a “quiet little book.”
I suppose that isn’t all bad, but I spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about it the closer I get to rewriting the denouement. I have set an arbitrary goal for completion by next summer (2015) if only because I’m not getting any younger. (Many thanks to my cardiologist for calculating my cardiac event risk yesterday and pointing out that lupies have cardiac inflammation that puts them at much higher risk than the general population and blah blah blah. Way to go, Doc.)
I fear that all those times when I stare into space in the middle of an otherwise productive writing session or doze off because the anxiety of failure overwhelms will sabotage my timeline. Of course, that fear sabotages me as well and the anxiety builds and…
Please, someone read this and tell me what you think about the conflict checklist. Here it is again: Conflict checklist. Suggestions for dealing with my problem would be appreciated. Or, if you think I’m overreacting to a fear, telling me that would be great. Any input short of “sod off, you moron,” would be appreciated.
Recently, Rhodia Drive gave me the opportunity to play with papers by Clairefontaine and G. Lalo, two French stationers whose papers are imported by Exaclair, Inc.Clairefontaine makes a variety of notebooks and notepads as well as “Triomphe” stationery. G. Lalo makes high quality stationery for correspondence.
GraF it sketch paper.
Smooth but matte texture. Disclaimer number one: I am not an artist. I’ve been playing around with sketching people, dogs, and trees but I won’t frighten you with the results here. Still, I’ve developed a little feel for how graphite feels on sketch paper v. writing paper so I think I can speak to this a little.
Clairefontaine designed GraF it to take both ink and pencil. It is less toothy than the Strathmore I used for comparison (my only other sketch paper) so it did feel as if it didn’t want to take the graphite as readily as the Strathmore.* There is some difference in the lead darkness on one v. the other (Graf it is lighter) although the paper is whiter than the Strathmore. However, the GraF it erased better and didn’t leave as much of a scar from repeated erasing compared to the Strathmore. Both smudged easily (intentionally) although it seemed to me GraF it smudged more uniformly. Whether this is an advantage or not, I don’t know. I’m sure it is because the paper is smoother overall.
It’s important how it handles ink, of course, and it does quite well. Disclaimer number two: I like smooth paper but I like toothy paper, too. What I care about with paper is, will it stand up to my ink and my way of writing?
GraF it paper showing pencil marks, erasure, and ink appearance.
The image above shows that I used several nib types and several ink brands on the GraF it. All performed very well with no bleed-through, no feathering, and minimal show-through. As I said, the paper is matte and slightly toothy for sketching purposes but it is still fairly smooth as opposed to something like laid paper (see G. Lalo below). You’ll feel it. Your pen won’t skate like it’s oiled, but it won’t be an unpleasant writing experience.
I don’t care for using pencil on the ultra-smooth paper of CF’s other notebooks (or similar papers). It’s messy and hard to control. But, I have wanted a journal I could draw in with graphite and colored pencil and fill with ink ramblings to my heart’s content. GraF it comes as blank and dot grid notepads. I was happy to learn that the same paper appears to be in their “Crok book” notebooks. On may way to find a seller, NOW!
*Below is the same test written on the Strathmore sketch paper (Recycled sketch paper 400 Series) and more of my hideous handwriting. Strathmore is not designed for fountain pen ink so you can see the ink spread and slight feathering. Not bad considering.
Strathmore sketch paper. Pencil, erasure, and ink test.
Clairefontaine Triomphe Blank 90g
This is CF’s correspondence paper. I’ve used the same paper but lined. It is wonderfully smooth, there’s no getting around that. I don’t know if it is exactly like their notebooks and notepads. To me, it seems a little more tolerant of my ultra-smooth nibs; they don’t seem to skate so easily. I could be imagining that. It also seems to show through a little but that could simply be that I’m not accustomed to using blank paper. Their standard notebooks are 90g just like the Triomphe paper. Whatever the case, if you want smooth paper for writing letters, this is an excellent choice and is one of my favorites. A lined version is available, as well. There is the one little problem with super-smooth paper like this: dry time. If you use a very wet pen, or a very goopy ballpoint (for shame!) you will get some ugly smearing if you don’t allow the ink to dry a few seconds. Well, in the case of the goopy ballpoint, you’re on your own. You’ll see at the end that I did smear tests for all three papers.
Clairefontaine Triomphe. Top quote in wet writing medium nib, bottom quote, dry XXXF nib. Some show-through visible from other side (wet writer, dark ink).
G. Lalo Verge de France
A lot of fountain pen users balk at laid paper but I’m not one of them. I love the stuff and I particularly love to use a very fine nib on it. Oddly enough, using a fat, smooth nib makes it feel more unpleasant. Better to tip toe through rocks than walk with flat bare feet on top of them. It’s more than that, however. I actually like the tactile feedback of the sharp nib on the laid lines (the narrow ridges on the paper). It’s part of the process. I equate it with the way many people prefer old mechanical keyboards over the membrane keyboards. I’ve tried to capture the lines in the picture here.
Laid lines of G. Lalo Verge de France. The vertical lines are chain lines and do not affect texture.
Laid lines of G. Lalo Verge de france. The Vertical lines are chain lines and do not affect texture.
It’s entirely personal preference and if you know that your pens can only tolerate smooth or glassy surfaces, Verge de France isn’t for you.
From an inky point of view, this paper was tiny bit picky. I was sent “White” which looked distinctly “cream” to my eye. Nice color but I’d never call it white. You won’t be able to tell from the pictures that the Noodler’s Apache Sunset is fainter and shows less shading on the G. Lalo than on the other papers. The darker inks were fine. My Violet Vote ink, which tends to write rather wet, almost seemed to feather. It’s not as noticeable after the fact but was when I was writing.
I wrote at length on the back of the G. Lalo just to confirm my preference for fine nibs and the Violet Vote’s behavior. Yup.
G. Lalo Verge de France ink test. Inks used, top to bottom: Noodler’s Apache Sunset, Diamine Mediterranean, Iroshizuku Yama Budo, Noodler’s Bulletproof Violet Vote, Diamine Umber.
Last image. The smear test. They all did about the same. I was surprised that the Verge de France, with its texture, smeared as much as it did. But all were good at 20 seconds. The ink is Diamine Umber in a custom XXXF nib. Umber is not known for smearing. I consider it a middle-of-the-road ink, neither too saturated nor too weak.
Smear test of three papers.
So, wrapping up. European paper makers come through with great stuff. No big surprise there. Is this Big Box, grade-school priced stuff? No. They aren’t ridiculously expensive either. All three are worth giving a go if you love to write letters and/or draw.
Disclaimer number three: Other than three sheets of paper to play with and the fun time writing this, I get diddly squat from Rhodia Drive or Exaclair without paying for it. This little blog entry is uncompensated except by the sheer enjoyment of the process.
I’ve been grieving since Monday, August 11. In this time, I’ve written and rewritten a short-short ghost story, but the ending eluded me. Without an ending, there really is no story. I don’t mean putting it in a nice box and with a bow; I mean just giving it words that inform the reader, “This is all I have left to say.” I couldn’t find those words no matter how hard I stared at the two pages of story, or meditated on it, or lay with eyes closed trying to picture its scenes. Nothing said, “Here! Right here! These are the words for which you are looking.” So I put my story aside and wallowed in grief some more. I watched some wonderful old videos and some bad, distracting television. I did some hardanger. I tried not to think about those two pages.
Wednesday night Husband and I went on our nightly two-mile walk and I asked him for input on the story. He talked about the ghosts in the story and how sometimes ghosts haunt people “in a positive way.” That didn’t help me directly but I liked the theory. I’ve certainly thought about it plenty of times and I’ve written stories in the past that have drawn on it though I’ve never made much of those stories.
We arrived home and I took one last look at that danged short-short. As I read it, I thought of Husband’s comment and of a “good haunting” and thought how I hope Robin Williams could look down now and see that thousands of schlubs like me thought he was amazing and inspirational. I carried these thoughts in parallel as I read through those two pages, thinking of ghosts and death and trying to find the clue in my piece to finish that damn story.
Suddenly it was there.
Two or three words in the piece jumped out at me and I knew how to end it. They had nothing to do with ghosts or haunting (or comedy) but were entirely independent of those thoughts. I raced to get a pen, scratched the ending on the page and set about cleaning up for the night.
I was struck, however, by the strong sense of not having found the ending but having it presented to me.
It isn’t a new or unique idea, the thought that when a person dies, their energy goes out into the world. Different belief systems have embraced it for centuries. As I got ready for bed I had to ask, why not? Why couldn’t the energy of someone brilliant be making its rounds throughout the world, touching the fevered creative minds of those trying to paint pictures, sculpt forms, write plays or books? Why can’t that energy be a catalyst in the universe: a spiritual butterfly effect in which it bounces off one particle in space and from there spreads out and makes its way to League City over three days where a struggling writer says, “Damn, I’m going to miss that guy. I wish I had one-tenth of his genius. Maybe then I could finish this damn story.” Poof! That particle tweaks a neuron where the idea has been hiding and the neuron fires and the idea is ready to go on the page.
Why the hell not?
About twenty more pages of thoughts followed from that thought but I will spare everyone. Besides, as I said, these are not new ideas: positive thinking, getting back what you put into the universe, blah blah blah. Much of it is just downright controversial and I’m no philosopher, just a writer thinking about how I got my story ending.
Well, I have my ending. I had, I know, Husband’s help most of all. Perhaps I also had a stray subatomic particle that leapt from the bounds of that wild, brilliant soul and, in a roundabout way, struck a nerve.