The Rocks in my Pocket

            Due to my father’s belief that The New York Times is a “liberal’s magazine”, I regret to say that I have never held one in my fingertips. However, once I discovered the magic of Internet Explorer, and his faithful sidekick, Google, I began to read the articles online. While I can’t feel the words on that crisp piece of newspaper, the thrill of “scrolling down” has always sufficed.

            Yesterday, I lost myself in its newest Opinion project, DRAFT. DRAFT is where writers go to share their views on the “art of the written word”, or for those of you who are much less prestigious (like me), storytelling. From grammar to plot to character to punctuation, I cannonballed into the pithy dialogue that ensued. On maneuvering my way back out of the chaos, I picked up three friendly leeches, offering advice.

            One author, Anne Lamot, wrote a piece entitled “The Prayer of an Unconventional Family”, in which she describes the influence her quirky family had on her writing. As the title predicts, Lamot parallels religion with literature, saying things like “[the library] was our musty cathedral”. At first, this article made me resent my family for being “normal” in comparison. We read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie before I went to bed, not anything by Louisa May Alcott or Rudyard Kipling. Although I do remember watching The Jungle Book, if that counts. And I have never discussed Virginia Woolf or J.D. Salinger with any member of my family. However, I suddenly realized that this wasn’t the point. Lamot was not telling us all of this to rub it in our faces that she was raised on “fine-dining” literature. Instead, Lamot made the point that where you come from matters, and we should look back on our childhoods for inspiration. Even though I slipped this piece of advice into my back pocket, I still smiled when she spelled Beowulf wrong.

            Then I read “The Yellow Test” by author Lee Gutkind. While I was captivated by his title for the article, the title of his published book, You Can’t Make This Stuff Up: The Complete Guide to Writing Creative Nonfiction from Memoir to Literary Journalism and Everything in Between is quite frankly, ridiculous. I crossed my fingers, hoping he wasn’t going to discuss titling your work, and began reading.

            As I had hoped, Gutkind did not focus on titles. Instead, he opened with a dramatic retelling of his friend’s bike accident. The use of his own writing as an example of what he was about to say helped me visualize the lesson he was teaching, very much like YouTuber John August. I felt as though I was listening with my ear to a closed door as he explained the importance of scene to his friend, Carrie. “The yellow test”, conveniently mentioned in the title, is an invention of Gutkind’s in which he asks Carrie to highlight all of the “scenes” in a book, or the moments when something big is happening. If it’s a good story, the majority of the book should be yellow, unless, of course, you’re using a different colored highlighter. Through his unique explanation, Gutkind lodged into my head the importance of making a story dynamic. Or in other words, starting with the action, ending with the action, and making everything in between, well, action.

            Lastly, I had to stop my avid scrolling when I saw the name Molly Ringwald. When I mentioned that I was reading an article written by Molly Ringwald to a friend of mine, she responded with: “Isn’t she in The Secret Life of the American Teenager?” Obviously, as a Molly Ringwald fan I was appalled by this. How about The Breakfast Club? And I assumed that Sixteen Candles on DVD was a standard gift to receive on one’s sixteenth birthday. Nonetheless, I let it go with a simple, “yes, she is.”

            However, I was surprised to discover that Molly Ringwald writes fiction as well. Throughout her article, she argues that the jump from actress to novelist was a lot easier than some might think. Like in acting, storytelling requires a complete understanding of how to create a character. Involved in over fifty cinematic projects, Molly Ringwald rightfully earned the title as an experienced Character Developer. While she emphasizes this need to know who we’re writing about back to front, Ringwald ends with the idea that it is ultimately up to the audience to envision the characters for themselves. Any work of writing, whether it is a novel or a screenplay, depends upon two people: the author and the interpreter.

            With people always willing to share their knowledge on writing, I suppose I will be learning the trade for the rest of my life. With a so many “rocks” in my back pocket, I hope someday I’ll be able to throw a few of my own right back.

            MOVIES WATCHED: 4

            SCREENPLAY PAGES WRITTEN: 16

            NOVEL PAGES WRITTEN: 60

            PAGES LEFT IN MISS PEREGRINE’S HOME FOR

            PECULIAR CHILDREN: 248

            PAGES LEFT IN THE HOURS: 178