Another interesting exercise is to parse, on paper, a sentence by a known author. We used to do this in school - circa 1963 - usually taking a Henry James sentence … which soon turned into a Thomas Brothers roadmap. Fun times.
Thanks for that vivid comparison and memory trigger. My mother copied several paintings at the Louvre during her graduate studies in the 1930s, including works by de la Tour, Veronese, Rubens, and more. She was a heck of a writer, too, albeit mainly in Polish.
On it, re the Shirley Jackson recommendation. Not so sure about the "copy out a writer's story" part -- won't it make us (me) feel worse about what I'm writing? Oh hell, why not. Thanks.
This is wonderful—I will take my practice of rereading a beloved story one step further: I'll sharpen my Ticonderoga, pull out some college-rule notepaper, and start copying.
Just in time. I’m ready to pay attention to me again. Thanks for this. I think you intuitively knew we (us sensitives) needed a gentle push.
The closest comparison to this exercise was when I wrote a ton of notes and self prompts on the pages while reading Sedaris’s A Carnival of Snackery. I need to reopen and get busy.
As an "adult improver" chess player, I can attest that one of the foundational methods for increasing one's chess ability is to play through Grandmaster games, move by move. Yeah, that whole inspiration "sliding up your fingertips, through your arms ... and right into your noggin" thing really works!
Another interesting exercise is to parse, on paper, a sentence by a known author. We used to do this in school - circa 1963 - usually taking a Henry James sentence … which soon turned into a Thomas Brothers roadmap. Fun times.
I do this daily just to warm up.
As for Sallie … I believe she is silently singing that line to the song “Charlie Brown” — Why is everybody pickin’ on me?
Like learning to paint by copying the masterpieces in the museum in the classical tradition, this is a tried and true writing exercise.
Thanks for that vivid comparison and memory trigger. My mother copied several paintings at the Louvre during her graduate studies in the 1930s, including works by de la Tour, Veronese, Rubens, and more. She was a heck of a writer, too, albeit mainly in Polish.
On it, re the Shirley Jackson recommendation. Not so sure about the "copy out a writer's story" part -- won't it make us (me) feel worse about what I'm writing? Oh hell, why not. Thanks.
Think of it as lovely communion (not competition); it’ll work (maybe)!
Minor typo: The article is 'Garlic in Fiction', not 'Garlic and Fiction'.
Ah, grazie, Michael. Fixed.
It is common for art students to be assigned to copy masterpieces. I don't see why it wouldn't work for writers.
In fact, in my one and only undergraduate creative writing class, the estimable Alicia Ostriker assigned us to write pastiches.
This is wonderful—I will take my practice of rereading a beloved story one step further: I'll sharpen my Ticonderoga, pull out some college-rule notepaper, and start copying.
Hey, Sallie.
Just in time. I’m ready to pay attention to me again. Thanks for this. I think you intuitively knew we (us sensitives) needed a gentle push.
The closest comparison to this exercise was when I wrote a ton of notes and self prompts on the pages while reading Sedaris’s A Carnival of Snackery. I need to reopen and get busy.
Thank you.
Just what I needed, Benjamin. How did you know? Thanks to you and to sweet Sallie who always makes me smile.
This met such a need. Thank you so much for the link to the Jackson article. And Sallie is the belle of the ball.
I still do that exercise sometimes with lyrics that particularly impress me.
As an "adult improver" chess player, I can attest that one of the foundational methods for increasing one's chess ability is to play through Grandmaster games, move by move. Yeah, that whole inspiration "sliding up your fingertips, through your arms ... and right into your noggin" thing really works!
I love this writing, Benjamin.