|
From: Sharon, garnet57@swbell.net
Hi Nicola, How do you know one of your books is complete?
How do you determine the length of a novel? Is there a certain
amount of pages you must create before it is considered a
novel? When you get to a dry area, what do you do to recharge your thinking? I have never written a
novel before, this is my first. I need a little
guidance and would appreciate it greatly if you could answer
my questions. Thank you and I do enjoy your novels very much.
It sounds as though you're working in a vacuum; you probably
need to sign up for a creative writing workshop, just to get
some feedback. It's hard to learn to write on your own:
possible (it's how I did it) but hard (I could have shortened
my learning curve if I'd had some classes).
A quick answer with regards to length: a novel is done when
you've said what you wanted to say, when you've finished telling
the story. It's as simple as that. "Story," of course, is not
a simple word. To me it means a tale, a description if you like,
of the internal change of a character--what prompted that change,
how the change manifested, how the character felt about it.
One of the tricky things about writing about Aud is that her
story is constantly evolving. Each novel is merely a chapter,
and episode, in a larger story.
|
|
From: anonymous
i don't normally write fan mail, but re-reading Slow
River for the third time it occurred to me that the novel
differs from most cyberpunk works in that it does not resort
to neologisms, except as necessary. that is, there is a distinct
lack of futuristic slang, no addition of instant ersatz hipness.
having reached this realization, i had to go back and read
the whole novel again, start to finish, and found myself
appreciating anew the clarity of the words. each is inevitable:
perfect, and perfectly placed. and then i read the blue place
again, and ammonite (appreciating anew words like 'benthic'
and 'igneous')... i have read the word 'shimmer' several
times in descriptions of your prose by critics. i am
beginning to understand why.
my question is: how do you choose what you write? is
writing a state of grace (i read in your paradox interview
that you were raised catholic, as was i, though perhaps british
catholicism is not the same) where the words simply come to you?
or must you struggle, picking, discarding, picking again,
before you arrive at the perfect choice?
Even though you sent this before Stay was published
(I really, really will improve with this Ask Nicola stuff,
I promise) I've since had more reviews that use the word
"shimmer," notably the New York Times Book Review,
though I've noticed that "lyrical" is now neck-and-neck
for the honour of most-used word, with "taut" third by a nose.
Actually, that's not true. The word that appears most in reviews is "lesbian" but that fact irritates me so much I try not to think about it. Who Aud has sex with is utterly beside the point. Maybe I'll have her humping some boys in the next book just to stop reviewers fixating on her sexuality.
As for how I choose what to write...well, the words just come. I see the world in metaphors; my need to restate other people's words in metaphors drives my friends crazy but I can't help it, it's how I make sense of things. In Ammonite words like "benthic" and "igneous" (which I think I used to describe Aoife) occurred to me probably because I was thinking on a much larger scale than usual--planetary, in fact--and geological references seemed appropriate, especially for Aoife who is implacable, as easy to argue with as a lava flow or the tide.
"State of grace" is a term I haven't heard used for a long time but, yes, I think it's appropriate for that place I go to when the writing is going well (for more of the joys of writing, see my essay for Bold Type). There's really very little like it; perhaps the meditative state of zazen or the rare in-the-zone moments of physical activity (martial arts, tennis, dance, whatever) where everything just...flows. It's a sort of calm ecstasy. And then it ends, and you have to do the work. Sigh.
One thing, though: there's really no such thing as "British" Catholicism, not many things at all, actually, that are British. Most people from the UK think of themselves as English or Welsh or Irish or Scottish (dunno about that last one, maybe it's Scots, or Scotch). The difference between the national characters is as marked as that between, say, the US and Canada.
|
|
From: From Eric Burleson
I got a kick out of reading the "instructions" for this site because I recently read _Slow River_ for a literature class at UNT (the class focuses on Science Fiction). I just have a couple of comments.
First of all, your novel was one of the best novels I have read in a long time. I took this class so that I would be "forced" to read "for fun". My major is actually in International Politics, so most of the materials I read are case studies and political diatribes. It's so refreshing every once in a while to be able to read fiction. I am glad my professor chose your novel for the class. It's comforting to know that there are still extraordinarily talented novelists such as yourself producing work today.
Second, and I apologize if this sounds like a personal statement, but I assure you it is a legitimate inquiry: Do you have any formal training in bacteriology(?) etc., or did you just wing the technical parts of the book? As one with no understanding of chemistry or biology, the technical parts of _Slow River_ were very easy to follow. Also, why did you use a Water Treatment as the family business? It seems to me that _Slow River_ is more about the identity issues Lore deals with, and not so much about a possible application of science. (Disclaimer: this is not homework. I am just curious.)
Again, much praise for _Slow River_. I loved every minute of it.
No, no formal training in bacteriology. The first
time I started a degree course it was to study
microbiology. I found it to be so mind-boggling
boring that I left after eight weeks. Why a water treatment plant? Because when you're not actually having to do it, that is, peer through a bloody microscope til your back starts to groan and your eyes turn red, and click a stupid little counter for hour after hour, the idea of microbiology is very cool. And it was an opportunity to build something in my head that might work, somewhere, sometime--or at least I could pretend it would without having to go through the cruel disappointments that plague real scientists. Just another opportunity for the author to play god . And then there are all those rich sewage metaphors...
|
