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Welcome to The VERB!
Feng
shui (fung-shway), which
literally translates to wind-water in English, is the Chinese art
of creating harmonious surroundings that enhance the balance of yin and
yang.
Now I don't claim to be an expert on
the subject, but I do claim to be sensitive to my surroundings. For
instance, when it's cold and rainy outside, I don't get much writing
done because I'm too busy trying to hibernate like a bear. If my office
needs vacuuming and dusting and tidying up, or I have a long fat cat
stretched across my keyboard, I feel these things have to be corrected
before I can concentrate on the manuscript before me.
So adhering to this whole harmony and
balance theory, I decided to rearrange my office. I moved my hutch desk,
organized the cables and cords behind it. (A royal pain.) I moved my
printer, scanner, filing cabinets, shelves and... well, by the time I
finished, I couldn't tell if my yin and yang were balanced, but I did
feel much more aware of my surroundings. And that's when it hit me:
there's a lot of stimulation going on in here!
I work on a PC and a laptop.
This allows me access to two CD-ROM drives, and the ability to play DVDs
and/or CDs on both. Simultaneously. I don't
do that, mind you, but I can. I also have a TV in here, which is
turned on all of the time but muted half of the time, a MP3 player and a
phone.
Aside from my books, the only item I have that
counterbalances all
this visual and audio input is my quiet, unassuming
Zen garden. It sits
to my right, and whenever I have creative questions, whether with my
manuscript or a client's, I find answers just by raking the sand. And it
occurred to me the other day, while
in the stillness of my
pondering, that I'm not the only one suffering from stimulation
overload.
We can't hear
ourselves think. And its effect is showing up in
our stories: a struggle with originality.
I'm not talking
about plagiarism. Most writers aren't even
aware they've borrowed from another until it's pointed out to them. But
when a reader, after perusing the first few chapters of a manuscript,
is instantly able
to guess which movies and books have influenced the authorthere's
a problem. And that's why literary agents and
editors, who are inundated with stories highly reminiscent of the latest
bestselling book that becomes the latest
blockbuster film, reject these manuscripts with the dreaded D word:
Derivative.
It's true that
folks such as Tolkien, Rowling, Puzo and Spielberg cast huge shadows. But it's
imperative that once the author begins to submit his work, he has purged
himself of their world and moved on to projects that derive from him.
These are the stories the writing industry yearns to publish.
So... a few
tips to consider when building that great story:
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Reject the first thing
that comes to mind because it is almost always something you've already
seen or read.
Take the time to analyze your reactions to the stories you
love. What is it about them that you find so attractive?
Take the time
to make a comprehensive list. Which characters are your favorite? Why?
Which scenes stick in your head? Why? Once you know what
ignites your creativity, you'll know how to use it to your
advantage.
Take the time to stretch,
I say, streeeeeeetch your imagination. Carry those treasured story elements
you listed above in
an entirely different direction. Give readers something they haven't read before.
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Tolstoy once wrote,
"In the
name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you."
I bet he had a Zen
garden.
Elizabeth Guy
Editor


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This issue
was published
under the musical
influence of...

The Civil War
soundtrack
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