A Literary Take on Love and Taboo by Clarence A. Haynes

EG is very pleased today to welcome freelance editor and social commenter, Clarence A. Haynes with a very stirring appraisal of the taboo in literature. It's a fascinating read. Prepare for a treat.

During the fall of last year, I visited two good friends based in Washington, D.C.One of them, psychotherapist Daniel St. Rose, MSW, showed me a chapter from a book highlighting a couples’ dynamic he found interesting. The book in question was from Maggie Scarf— Intimate Partners: Patterns in Love & Marriage—a bestseller published in 1987 that explored underlying factors for behavior seen in everyday romance. Scarf is an award-winning writer and scholar who has a large, esteemed body of work on relationships.

The pages I looked at dealt with the issue of projective identification, an exchange system where couples unconsciously collude to place unwanted, shamed aspects of themselves onto the other person. So a person whose takeaway from childhood was to never express any feelings of anger, assertion or autonomy in her family might choose a partner who will express those feelings for her.  

In turn, a partner who was taught that being vulnerable was dangerous, who might have come from a household of nasty emotional abuse for example, will in fact then expect all expressions of vulnerability and neediness to come from his partner. Both folks caught up in the exchange will give off to each other unconscious, provocative cues insinuating what is expected. The two get to inhabit the roles which felt safe at a particular time, yet can end up causing much anguish in their current relationship.

I’ve been exploring more of Scarf’s work, like Secrets, Lies, Betrayals: The Body/Mind Connection and Intimate Worlds: Why Families Thrive and How They Fail, all containing info. that continues to be highly relevant. What struck me about her writing style is that it isn’t prescriptive in a “10 Essential Steps to Save Your Doomed Romance!” kind of way, but that it presents issues she’s observed honestly and forthrightly.

It also struck me that much of what she discusses deals with taboo, the items from people’s past that they don’t talk about because it’s been labelled as shameful, yet which they routinely re-live in their contemporary dealings.

Books like Scarf’s and ideas like projective identification are not the traditional stuff of Valentine’s Day wishes. They don’t jibe with cutesy hot pink hearts or card-based declarations of unending love. (In fact, some of the Intimate Partners revelations might make you want to throw the hot pink hearts into the trash.) They don’t work so well for quick social media showing off. These titles are about digging down deep into your shadow, with individuals starting to recognize destructive patterns from yesteryear that keep on rearing up. 

Scarf’s work speaks to the power of literature when it comes to how we deal with intimacy. The richest titles out there, whether non-fiction or fiction from a variety of genres, aren’t afraid to ditch the commercial platitudes and give some honest perspectives on relationship dynamics. Literature, as reports have presented, can give a depth of experience and vision often unmatched in other media, mirroring the very process we all need to experience when assessing who we are and how we love.

And if you are reflecting on items that feel deeply personal, it’s important to remember that books are a very private way of dealing with sometimes disconcerting realizations. It is just you and the page, and the reader has the space to reflect on what’s being presented, dream and make connections to one’s own life. These connections can be made very quietly and safely, with time to reflect on what the next move is, whether making life changes, seeking out help from a professional or talking honestly with someone who is open and cares. Scarf’s work has direct therapeutic connotations, yet novels as diverse as Toni Morrison’s historical A Mercy or Claire Messud’s contemporary The Woman Upstairs also effectively showcase the influence of a fraught, fractured past on intimacy.

From my own personal experiences and work in media, I think it’s the realm of the taboo that we have to visit more often in terms of our art and literary offerings. It contains the items we’re frightened to speak of, the shame which has been foisted upon us through no fault of our own. It’s often the place wherein lies our salvation and freedom.      

Clarence A. Haynes is a New York-based freelance book editor who specializes in literary and commercial fiction, sci-fi/fantasy, the performing arts and cultural criticism, among other genres. He also regularly writes and edits content dealing with intimacy, gender and sexuality. More of his work and bio can be found at www.huffingtonpost.com/clarence-haynes

From Adult to YA: Crime to Kids by Theo Gangi

I'm really pleased to have here today one of my favorite writers, he's such a favorite of mine that I acquired his debut novel Bang, Bang. Theo Gangi is an exciting writer. His characters are honest, daring and very human. His writing has equal parts muscle and heart. Theo is also one of the smartest writers I know and I so enjoy talking to him about literature and life. He's passionate about all things, and he injects this same passion into his work making his books an edge-of-your-seat pleasure. So without further ado, I'll step out of the way. Let's welcome Theo.--Stacey

When you’re 19 years old and you go out to a bar, you hope you don’t get carded. When you’re 34, you hope you do. The way we relate to our own ages undergoes many facelifts. Teenagers often brag about their ‘old souls’, while the middle-aged are proud to be ‘young at heart’. No matter how many birthdays we’ve celebrated, we want to be any age but our own.

One of the perks of writing works of fiction is an outlet for fanciful desires. Draw a character, and jump into his or her shoes, or his or her age. When I was in my mid-twenties, the protagonist of my crime thriller Bang, Bang was 38 years old. Why make Izzy 38? I honestly couldn’t say. I didn’t know anyone who was 38. I had no real personal insight into the mind-set of a man two years away from 40. It sounded like a good age to be tired enough of whatever you were doing in life to stop doing it (in Izzy’s case, robbing drug dealers). 38 sounded grizzled and world weary, and likely just enough distance from my own age so that I couldn’t possibly confuse my protagonist with my self.


Seems only right that now that I’m in my mid–thirties, I’m subtracting years instead of adding them. I keep thinking 11 or 13. I’m drawn to odd years rather than even. There is again enough distance from my own age to make the character a separate creation. I’m less romantic about the veiled, edgy dangers of the real world, and more prone to nostalgia. I’d rather spend time with good kids with good hearts than lost causes and small-time drug dealers.

As I read and reread young adult novels,  

certain characters, scenes and dynamics would trigger almost physical memories. Good YA has the power to recall moments that moved your world when you were a child, like Harry Potter’s first birthday cake, or when Bambi was running away, the gunshot fired and you knew (spoiler) that Bambi’s mother was gone forever. A YA novel can make even an adult reader more vulnerable to its story, as the tales recall a time when we were more vulnerable to life. Every experience was newer, more magical, and more devastating. I don’t remember when my parents had that dreaded conversation with me about death. I’m sure they did; they had to. But I do remember when faceless hunters shot Bambi’s mother dead.

It wouldn’t surprise me if most of our earliest exposures to death were presented to us through the fictional lens of our favorite young stories. Kids grow at such a rapid clip, and the stories they digest serve a more vital developmental purpose. They see their heroes leave home, confront their fears, and return stronger—almost a psychological metaphor for getting through 3rd grade. A child’s responsibilities are to read, experience and learn. They aren’t’ reading as downtime from their jobs, right before they pay the house bills. They aren’t taking a break from life when they read; they are living it.

One of my old favorites was a Japanese manga (though I didn’t know that term then) called The Lone Wolf and Cub. It was the story of a father and son, roaming feudal Japan as the baby cart assassin. Something in those stories has influenced most everything I’ve written in one obscure way or another. That feeling of complete immersion is what I’m trying to replicate when I tell any story. I recall those books as a waypoint for my writing. The old style ink-penned, black and white art of the father and son resonates to this day. I even pick up a charcoal stick and draw them from time to time.

Theo Gangi is the author of the breakout crime thriller Bang Bang. His stories have been anthologized in First Thrills, edited by Lee Child, The Greensboro Review, The Columbia Spectator and the Kratz Sampler. His articles and reviews have appeared in Buzzfeed.com, The San Francisco Chronicle, Mystery Scene Magazine, Inked Magazine and Crimespree Magazine. A graduate of Columbia University’s Masters in Fine Arts program, he teaches at St. Francis College and lives in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. You can find him online at: http://www.theogangi.com/index.html

Revision, and Revision, and Revision by Susan Arscott

Excuse me Will, but I’ve got my own spin on this soliloquy

A Shameless Rewrite

Revision, and revision, and revision,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of my YA novel;
And all my earlier work has lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, bad sentence!
A writer’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his angst upon the page,
And then is read no more. It is a tale
Writ by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.


With apologies to Shakespeare for my bastardization of Macbeth’s haunting soliloquy (only Shakespeare could make repetition sound so gorgeous) as a way to express most writers’ gloomy attitude as they begin their revisions. Even those of us who feel energized by revision (I include myself in this disgustingly cheerful bunch) can’t help but sigh at the amount of work they must do as they start on page 1 of their 300-page manuscript.

However, it is only through revision that we can make our writing shine. I wish I could compose an amazing piece of fiction first draft, but I can’t. If you are one of those, please know that I hate you and want to knock you severely about the head and shoulders, because I, unfortunately, am not that talented.

You wrote that in one sitting? Take that, you show off.

And because of my lack of initial brilliance, I have become quite the master of revision, hence this post. If you, like me, dump everything into your first draft then you, too, must revise. The key to this process (described below) is to separate yourself from your manuscript; doing so allows you to return to it with fresh eyes and new ideas on how to improve.

When I finished my first draft of The End of Normal, formerly known as The Threshing (I know, awful right?), I set it aside for a bit in order to let it stew, and perhaps for me to get stewed a time or two. Anyway, after giving both my manuscript and myself a breather, I began rereading and revising with the help of my MFA mentors. I rinsed and repeated this step until I thought it was ready for an opinion outside of my MFA program. I gave my manuscript to a couple of friends, and yes, a couple of relatives (believe me when I tell you that my mother hated it and didn’t even try to lie) with instructions to be honest, which they were, bordering on the precipice of brutality. After getting back their comments, I made changes and foolishly thought, “Eureka, I’m ready to submit this sucker.”

I was wrong. I sent it to three agents I met at a conference. One immediately shot me down. The other two actually spent the time to send me lengthy emails about the problems with my manuscript. At that point (end of January 2013) I sent my book to an editor for a professional edit and critique. Good ones are expensive, but they are worth it. Professional editors help you pinpoint the problems so you can either once again revise or toss the whole thing out and start on something new.

The person editing my book wasn’t in love with my story and didn’t encourage me to submit it to anyone; she was more into NA romance than my upper middle grade science adventure. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, she pointed out numerous really dumb things I’d done and helped me come up with ideas to fix them. To give you an idea of how much my first draft changed to the final, I’ve got the first part of both for your edification, or more likely, your little bit of daily humor.

First revision of the first paragraphs of The Threshing:

Sitting under the jagged ruins of what once was a concrete overpass in one of the largest cities in the world, I look at the others slumped against curved concrete walls, together yet apart. It’s odd that we still find comfort being together. I guess it’s a human thing. But even though we come together at night, we remain strangers. We share space in concrete cave but nothing of ourselves. It’s easier.

As I look at the others’ faces crusted with layers of dirt and grime, I wonder if they, like me, long to be back in our old world. To be back to the way things were before the Threshing. Our strange alien masters tell us we are the chosen, we few remaining ones who have survived but I wonder if the truly fortunate were those who died quickly at the beginning, before discovering real pain and suffering. I think -- no, I know those who did not survive the first onslaught were far luckier than those of us stuck here in this living nightmare.

Dark, depressing, and not well received. After many revisions (I can’t even begin to tell you how many), this is what will be published in June.

The End of Normal (Note the new title)
Part One: The Gloaming (the editor suggested dividing into parts, which I’ve done)
 
One

On the last morning of normal, I wish I could say I did something important, something that mattered, something noble even, but I can’t. No, instead of performing some major act of amazing, I wasted an entire hour pulling on and tugging off jeans, shirts, and sweaters, searching for that one combination that would make me look incredible.

Why was I so reckless with my time that morning? Because it was the day I had decided Sawyer Rising–hottest guy in school, goalie extraordinaire, and so gorgeous, just a hint of his crooked smile made me weak—was not only going to notice me, he was going to talk to me.

For forever I’ll regret my obliviousness to what was really important. Sadly, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Absolutely nothing.

Instead of weaving back and forth like the earlier version, this starts on the morning before their lives change, allowing the reader to meet the characters in their original world. Although I really liked my gloomy apocalyptic stuff, my many revisions and reader comments forced me realize that it didn’t do my book any favors, which is another lesson all writers must learn, which is to bravely kill off all of our darlings.

As a treat for those of you still with me, I’ve included a link to Patrick Stewart reciting Macbeth’s soliloquy. It’s beautiful and I hope you’ll take the time to enjoy it. Every day should have a little Shakespeare in it.

http://youtu.be/HZnaXDRwu84

After receiving a BA in international business and French history, Susan lived in Yokohama, Japan, with her husband Mike while he served in the U.S. Marine Corps. When they returned to the States, she taught at a Catholic Girls High School until she thought her head would explode from all the things she learned from her students. She then worked as a community college fundraiser and became an active board member, officer, and president of the national organization, Council for Resource Development (CRD), a nonprofit institution serving the 1,655 community colleges in the U.S.; she also was a member of the board for the American Association of Community Colleges.

In the fall of 2010, Susan decided to pursue her love of writing and enrolled in Spalding University’s MFA program in Louisville, Kentucky, under the direction of one of her favorite authors, Sena Jeter Naslund. At Spalding, Susan discovered her love of Middle Grade and Young Adult fiction, completing her first YA novel, The End of Normal, for her graduate thesis. Susan also has two books in progress; their working titles are Spillover and Entranced.

She is a member of SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators), Broad Writer’s (the society to promote and support science fiction, fantasy, and horror written by women), and the Writers’ League of Texas. Susan lives in Seabrook, Texas, with her husband, two children, a deaf dog Chester (who does not know sign language), and Vladimir the cat.

In The News--A Response to Gender Wars

Last week EG's "In the News" feature discussed the idea of gender wars in publishing. An EG member James D. King, had a very thoughtful response that we share for today's "In the News" feature. Read the original EG post here and the original New Yorker article that spawned the discussion here.

And here is James King's response to to it all...

The EG blog of January 13, 2014, entitled “Gender Wars”, was about women writers not getting a fair shake in the writing world. EG saw the argument as being not so much about gender, but more about concept. Concept in the view of whether a piece was judged by The New York Times Book Review to be great literature or ignored as run of the mill genre writing. I agree with the author’s analysis of the situation that could be characterized as a “tempest in a teapot.” These are my thoughts:

My view of great writing can be summed up in the old saw about art; “I don’t know what great art is, but I know what I like.” In other words, a New York Times reviewer may tout an author as a fabulous literary writer, but I won’t buy the book if I don’t like the writing. Like vast majority of America, I don’t read The New York Times Book Review. I know that defines me as a literary troglodyte only capable of appreciating Spiderman comic books.

When you think about it, 99% of all books that have ever been printed no longer exist. Both pulp fiction as well as great literature went to the recycle bin side by side.Why? Because they served their momentary purpose of entertainment. Sure, some books educate, illuminate or fascinate the reader, but most exist to amuse us, to take us away from reality, to remove us from our daily lives. Some may quibble about the reasons people read books and I admit they are varied, but I would posit that all of those reasons can be summed up by the word, entertainment in its broadest sense.

Ultimately, what the book industry does is sell books. Without the profit motive we would be in the same situation as the 14^th century world where only the rich could afford expensive hand written books. Taken a step further, the books that I buy provide the profit margin that allows for the production of the often less profitable “great literature”. 

Consider this. The bestselling author in modern history is Dame Agatha Christie. Her writings have sold well over two billion books, not to mention inspiring movies, television and radio shows and the longest running play in London. Was she considered a great literary writer? No, but her books sold well because they did what the reader wanted, they entertained. When she wrote she had the reader in mind, not a New York Times critic. I’m thinking that a top literary critic would rather take poison than read one of her books. I’m also thinking that the profit from her books allowed more than a few publishers to print great literary works that were lucky to break even and that book critics approved of.

 Do I think that great writing should be abandoned? Of course not, it has its place as part of the writing spectrum. I envision this spectrum to be a bell curve, like the ones that were used to grade tests in high school. At one end is great literature, with a capitol “L”. At the other end are cheap, formulaic, genre paperbacks. In the middle is everything else, that is, what the majority of the public actually buys and reads.

I have purposefully ignored defining what should be considered great literature. I’ll let others more knowledgeable and caring argue that. I do know that really good writing can be entertaining and sell well. I also know that poor writing can be entertaining and sell well. I believe that writers are compelled to write and can only do the best that they can. The public will let us know where we fall in the literary spectrum. Erudite literary critics will continue to babble to those who will listen.

Jim is a native of Washington, DC and still lives close by in the Maryland suburbs. He has held a number of occupations some of which are, taxi cab driver, electronics technician, police detective, antique dealer, school security guard, real estate agent and author.

Jim has penned many articles for periodicals, such as “The Art Theft Archive”, “American School and University”, and the “Maryland Writer’s Association Newsletter.” His first traditionally published book, with co-author, Jack Burch, is “Ghost Burglar”. It is about a case that as a detective Jim investigated. “Ghost Burglar” won the Independent Publisher’s Associations 2013 “IPPY” National Bronze Medal in the True Crime genre.  Jim belongs to two author critique groups, is a board member of the Maryland Writer’s Association/ Montgomery County Chapter and also blogs about his book at www.ghostburglar.com. He also works occasionally at an independent book store.  

Ghost Burglar details the criminal life of Bernard Welch who ravaged the Washington metropolitan area and became America’s most “successful” burglar. It is estimated that in a few years this man stole over fifty million dollars in property. In the process he became a serial rapist and murderer. Welch lived openly in a Virginia mansion and had a summer home in Duluth, Minnesota, both with indoor pools. During his life Welch escaped from two escape proof prisons. Jim was a lead investigator in these cases and over a five year period met many obstacles, both personal and professional until Welch was arrested. One of the twists to this case is that it was responsible for stopping the funding in America of international terrorist groups.

 

Jim grew up reading science fiction and as a writer it has become his true passion. Since working security at middle and high schools his focus has been on the young and early adult markets. His stories do not contain the high tech aspects that are currently popular in sci-fi movies. Rather, he imagines the future to be a background to display the human ability to overcome problems and change.