Writing The Great (Not So) American Novel

There comes a time (whether finished or not) when an author is asked, "So, what's your novel about?" It's an exciting question, but for most writers, a dreaded one.

Depending on the day, most authors might answer with a short synopsis the best they can, responding with a sanguine pitch, or if not, they grumble, "You'll just have to read it to find out!" I choose not to grumble; after all, it's a luxury to be asked, even if only out of social etiquette. However, in my case, with my latest story, it's not so easy.

Syrahawk first started life as an indie-style murder mystery, a completely different genre from what it ended up becoming. After a while it mutated into an immigrant story based on Central American immigrants emigrating to the United States. But this didn't sit well with me: The idea of writing The Great American Novel (a coming to America story) . To write about factual countries (such as Honduras and the U.S.) that have exacting details and define particular experiences (ones I have never experienced myself), it just didn't make sense to me. Instead, I decided the story was more about alienation, being ostracized, isolation, outcasts, personal suffering... And the costs and sacrifices involved in a loving relationship that has falling under intense scrutiny and pressure. Those things I could identify with. Those things I have experienced.

So the novel was not about Central America or North America. It became a story about fictional landscapes and fictional borders. Like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the main city was a fictional amalgam, but unlike his story, One Hundred Years of Solitude, which is set in South America, mine was not in any of the Americas. It was in a universal time, a universal place (like Fahrenheit 451 or A Brave New World). I was writing what I hoped to be The Great (not so) American Novel. And this is where the question, "So, what's your novel about?" becomes a little tougher to answer. The best response I have is: "Well, it's about a couple who emigrate to a new country without documentation and find themselves trapped in an unfriendly city... It's a love story of sorts, with satirical elements and a dystopian atmosphere. It's a not so American novel, and I'm glad I wrote it."

To Publish Big, Small, or Go The Way of The Red Headed Stepchild

Like all authors of speculative fiction (not commissioned) there comes a time when you have to make the decision to publish with a large house, small house, or choose that red-headed stepchild of a house: Your own house. I'm talking about Self publishing of course. But this is all dependent on how seriously the author takes her or him self. And to self publish does not mean "not serious." On the contrary, self publishing can be a very big step toward self respect; because taking control of your work and being responsible for the fate of your personal vision is a true sign that you are indeed a careerist, and not just a fluke, like a one-time marathoner (author guilty as charged).

This is precisely the dilemma I find myself in, and the more trade mags and industry websites about publishing with big houses I read, the more I feel a smaller house is for me. But than after I read about all the benefits of the DIY ethic in self publishing, I start to think maybe that's the way to go. Don't get me wrong, it's always a morale booster to have an industry insider, such as an editor or agent, to want your book for their company or associates. That would be just fine. But is it the best option for my current book?

Well, lets see what I want first:

1) Freedom of vision, my vision. This does not mean I would not rethink the story if I thought somebody had something critical to point out. I just want freedom to voice my story, not someone else's idea of what my story should be.

2) Freedom to design the cover art. It is essential to my needs as an author. I write with pictures and scenes acted out in my head. I am a visual writer. It is the only way I know how to write. The cover art is part of that vision. It is the ultimate calling card. (Yes, I believe in the reader's independent interpretation of the author's vision, but the author needs to start somewhere, and it better be strong).

3) Freedom to invest. Freedom to sell. Freedom of the outcome. I like the idea of shelling out the cost for 100 hard copies, than selling those books at your own pace, on your own time, on your own terms. I'm in no rush to be a blockbuster author. As long as I believe in my work, than selling well, or not selling at all becomes irrelevant to knowing that I did my best, and I can't beat myself up about that, no matter what.

4) I want my book to last. Firstly, I need integrity. The story I am writing is not meant for a specific era, not a moment in time, not a current bestseller on some news media list. The book I am writing is meant to be timeless, universal, parable-like-- quite possibly the stuff of folklore. This is where I believe self publishing might fail, and where a small time press might help. I've heard stories of authors who went with a small press, only for some years later, the aforementioned press to go under. But before it does, there's a larger press (or its international subsidiary) waiting in the wings, ready to pick up that jewel that never quite got the exposure it needed. When a book is around for many years, it is tested to some degree, and sometimes a larger company can see that the book in question has a platform, a following, and it is worth saving. In terms of self publishing, that book's nine lives might just come down to one if you don't have the support of a relevant publisher.

And it is now that I realize that self publishing fits the e-book reader model very well. I'm not a fan of e-books (the concept anyway), but I realize the future value of such a technology, and I feel that this element of publishing just might make my argument about books fizzling out irrelevant. In the e-book case, manuscripts truly don't burn, compliments to Mr. Bulgakov. Sorry Kafka, in this day and age, even if Max Brod followed through with your wishes, the internet would have made your wish nearly impossible. 

Well, I'm just thinking out loud-- if you can consider a blog loud. Anyway, I haven't made up my mind yet, but just by rereading this post, I can see I'm close to a decision. Hope this might help some of you other writers out there, or just confirm that you're not the only ones still confused about our current state of publishing options.

The Wrap Up

So the Patchogue Artspace Opening came and went and the work is done and the smoke has cleared and here I am, recollecting the flurry of happenings that raged along with All That You Can't Leave Behind.

Firstly, the play was only performed on one night (Wednesday) instead of two--which it was originally scheduled for, but I still consider it a success, despite the lack of a Saturday showing. When you're not paying your actors and you don't have a back-up, you can expect that one might not be able to make it. So I think the lesson learned here is to have an understudy on hand, especially for your leads. Note taken.

Secondly, the stage was constructed beautifully just in time for the play, but unfortunately, the curtain and curtain frame were not in place for the play... So, as with any theatrical production, turning the house lights off signals the beginning and turning them back on signals the end. Viola, problem solved. However, next time would be a good time to have those curtains ready. I wouldn't recommend putting on a stage play without them.

Lastly, the room's acoustics didn't change overnight and because of this highly expected outcome, there were periods where the dialogue was swallowed up by the size of the room and its nasty habit of sounding like a giant tin can. Miking the stage might be a solution for the next production that will happen in the same space, but I believe a better solution is to bring the audience as close as possible to the stage... Or maybe, if feeling unsophisticated and risque, stuff the actor's ears full of cotton as to make them shout to one another just to be heard. That'll show em'.

Down To The Wire

It's Sunday at 2 pm and James just handed me a Martini; three days before All That You Can't Leave Behind is to be performed for the first time on stage. Stacy is here too, she's the other lead actor, and without her the play wouldn't be possible. It's a first for many things today. We have our first table reading and decide that it was good, but it'd be better to take it into the gallery where the play will be performed. After a cocktail or two and some experimentation the dialogue loosens and the chemistry is becoming evident. This is going to be good!-- but there's one catch. The acoustics of the gallery are not the best. The actor's voices are being swallowed up. And to make things more complicated, the play requires a good degree of dynamic range in its vocal delivery. So Gary and myself, sitting far back where the audience will be seated, bring this issue to Stacy and James' attention. They agree a mic'd stage is not a very good option, since actors move about and dealing with a sound mix in such a situation can be tricky, if not obnoxious. Eventually the volume issue is dealt with and resolved to a certain degree, but the day is not finished.

It's about 5 pm and my mother has shown up with some air brush make-up and all her accessories to work on Stacy and James. She's going to do a trial to see how her make-ups work with their skin tones and textures. The good thing is that they don't require much for the style of play we're doing and the trial is over before I even knew it began. After spending some time with the parents, they're soon on their way back home and I'm talking with a fellow resident about recording the play on a camcorder. It would be nice to "tape" the play on an HD camera but it's looking like a futile effort, as Donald's camcorder is just that: A camcorder, and an old one at that. Then comes the hammering of nails from the storage room. And that reminds me that the stage isn't complete yet. Because Tom is still building it, the two remaining "quadrants" of the stage still have to be constructed. But there's no need to worry, because Tom works at light speed and by the time it takes me to sum up this blog, he'd be done and moving onto dinner. But there's more than just the construction of the stage to deal with. The tops of the stage sections, all six of them, have to be carpeted, carpeted by the rug that was so generously donated to me by Frank Loria of Loria's 112 Carpet Center in Medford (the wood for the stage was graciously supplied by Sachem Building Supply, so a thank you to them as well). To make a long story short, we carpet one of the sections and realize we might just need more time to do this than we thought, so that will have to be pushed off until tomorrow night. That and the curtains. Ah! The curtains. I knew I forgot something. That we can take care of on Tuesday, one day before the play, and in the meantime, we'll be rehearsing every night. We're going to make this play sizzle and we're going to make it be heard, even if we have to get a sound system. There's still much to do, but for now, there's no telling what kind of curve ball will be thrown our way. I just hope it's not thrown so fast.

A Productive Meeting

So living in a building full of artists with different talents is not such a bad thing. Being that this is the case I'm in, I have requested the services of a neighbor upstairs (let us call him Gary), who manages other talents, especially actors and models. This is very helpful for someone writing a stage play, someone like myself.

Well, the other night Gary had over a few of his talents-- two of which are playing the leads in my play-- for dinner. I went by Gary's after they had their eats to meet up with the actors I would be working with. Not only was there left over food and cake-- both picturesque and mightily delicious (thanks to Gary's other talent)-- but the actors were equally pleasant. We had plentiful conversation and the chemistry seemed to be flowing between the three of us, who had never met before. One of the lead actors (aka: Jason) actually flew into NYC from Charlotte, NC to be in this play, so I was very grateful that he pulled through, and I must admit, he was worth holding out for. It was a pleasant night, and we even set a date for a rehearsal, which the two leads agreed would be better if they improvised rather than be on book. I couldn't be happier with that. Freedom to move about creates fantastic moments. Looks like the actors are a check on the checklist: First priority!

 Next up: A mad rush to secure donated lumber to build a stage, taking time off work, rushing to Home Depot to rent a truck and the man who is helping us build the perfect stage.

Things Get Complicated

So the original plan never turns out to be the final plan, well not always, not in my case.

The stage play that I wrote and am looking forward to directing was originally scheduled to go off at the end of the month on a Saturday night. That seems questionable now. We are taking steps to build a stage, create a sliding curtain, and secure the props necessary to make the play go off, but without a secure date, it's hard to instill confidence in the actors who will lead this play. That is key. You need actors who are confident not only in the material, but the way things will function. It appears to be best practice to have a back up for everything, so if you have four people moving props, find another four who can be there at the same time, just in case. It's all about contingency. And that goes for the actors and lighting. You never know if somebody's car will break down or they might have a personal crisis: A family member who ends up in the E.R. Who knows? Anything can happen, but despite this, it's important to solidify a date. You can't ask a woman out to dinner and say, "Well, I can pick you up on Tuesday, or maybe Friday instead-- no, Tuesday!"

Just like that hot date, a stage play needs a concrete date. Actors have to be notified. The lighting person. The press has to be notified. Friends. Family. Plans need to be made and as of right now, those plans are shifting every few hours.

The script is finalized, the props and stage are being worked on, but what about that date? My stage play's characters have enough dubious situations in their lives, the actors playing those characters don't need to relive the same thing. Save the drama for the stage. Save a date.

Next up, what will come of all this? We have two nights that keep shifting back and forth. It could be Wednesday, it could be Saturday. The actors are coming for a meeting in two days. I have never met them before and I am very excited to do so. But I might just be more excited about squaring away a time of day I can call home: Home for a play.

And the drama continues...

Let The Drama Begin

On July 30, 2011 Patchogue Artspace will be holding a grand opening; one that will show off the diverse talents of all artists living in the Artspace building at 20 Terry Street. This is going to be a big event for the public and as such, everybody involved is working hard to make it the best opening it can be, including the man who runs Patchogue Village, Mayor Paul Pontieri himself. As one of the tenants of the Artspace building I thought it might be a good idea to participate in the opening so I signed up to write and direct a stage play.

So, what to write about?

Spending five years immersed in a novel that revolves around a fictitious country and a story that uses elements of magical realism and Kafkaesque plot devices, I slowly developed a hankering to do something less exaggerated, a little more concrete-- as in concrete realism.

The first thing I did was look for something with drama; something that hit close to home. And boy oh boy, I had something-- something I dealt with weeks before moving into Artspace and many weeks after: "How do I fit all this stuff I've been saving up over the years into a smaller space? And what can I eliminate, donate, destroy, trash, light on fire, downsize to rid myself of the myriad distractions that come along with relocation? And it wasn't just me who suffered these quandaries, it was my better-half, my next door neighbor, the girl downstairs, and God knows how many other mover and shakers there are across the country... The world for that matter.

I decided the play would be about a couple. A happy yet tormented couple. A couple who needed to get rid of things. A couple who didn't exactly see eye to eye on what to get rid of, but a happy couple nonetheless.

Now that I knew what to write about-- and what the scope of the stage play would be (a one act)-- I set out to write it. And it came in flashes; a few flashes to be precise. Then I was done. Now what?

Next up: What I did with the play once it was written, and how I connected with the right people to make things happen.