The LRR Blog

December 3, 2011

Call for Nonfiction Submissions/How You Know You’re a Nonfiction Writer

By akpalazzo in LRR

Call for Nonfiction Submissions/How You Know You’re a Nonfiction Writer

1.  You know you’re a nonfiction writer if there are moments you cannot shake.  Granted, we all have them.  Mine include the night down by the ferry, when I sat beneath the one blinking stoplight at 11 p.m., feet propped on my dashboard, a.c. running.  I listened to the late night fisherman cast their lines and reel their reels until I fell asleep, only waking when the ferryman rapped on the window at dawn; “Are you crossing this morning, Miss?”

They include the day Will and I ran along the river, right before a summer storm.  The soft soil gave way under our Nikes, the cornfields undulated in the wind, the stalks roared until Will stopped and shouted, “God.  Sounds like Ragnarok.”  And I looked up the river half expecting to see the ship of nails because he was right.

2.  You know you’re a nonfiction writer if you feel compelled to write these moments down, not only after the fact, but during.  You separate yourself from the scene and become a viewer instead of a player.  You have had a Tuesday morning tangled in someone else’s comforter.  You have replayed in your mind the slight dilation of his pupils, the sharp curves of his shoulder blades, the wisps of hair that drift across his forehead.  You have sat, Indian style, and watched him sleep because he is the most beautiful person you have ever seen.  But then you’ve pulled yourself away from the sleeping boy, and grabbed a napkin and a pen to write the moment down, because it would be unbearable to forget.

3.  You know you’re a nonfiction writer if you need to get these moments just right, and while you come close, the finished product will never quite suffice.

If you’re a nonfiction writer, send me your best characters, your little deaths, your early morning runs, your raw memories.  There need not be any concrete exposition, climax or resolution.  Send me your honest thoughts, your burnt toast, your sibling rivalries, your Tuesday morning comforters.  I’ll read them.

E-mail submissions may be sent to submissions@longriverreview.com.  Deadline is January 30, 2012.  I expect great things.

Your nonfiction editor,

a.k.p.

August 30, 2011

start the semester off right!

By ryan.w in LRR

by putting pen to paper.

it’s a free form of meditation.

May 20, 2011

Interview with Jeff Shaara, New York Times Bestselling Author

By admin in Interviews

1. How much research do you complete before you feel confident enough to write in the voice of the historical figures in your novel?

Typically, I read 50-60 books for each book that I write, nearly all of them original sources (diaries, memoirs, collections of letters etc.).  Once I feel I have my cast of characters and that I’m comfortable speaking for them, then I’m ready to write.  I never write a little, then research a little.

2. A school of thought argues that historical fiction is beneficial to education because it encourages readers to research the back-story of characters, thus learn more about history. Is this at all a goal of your writing?

I didn’t start out with that goal, and I can’t really let that guide me even now.  I was astounded to hear from teachers who were using my books in their classrooms, and it made me see that I had a responsibility to “get it right.” Don’t mess around with the facts.   Even though I am now aware that students might be reading my stories, I still focus on telling that story as accurately and as completely as I can.  I never want to target a single audience or what marketing people would call a “demographic.”

3. You have written that readers argue that there are many other civil war stories to tell, but you do not have the time, or the backing, to dedicate to every Civil War story.  What makes a story worth telling for you? This question is particularly in reference to your focus on minor characters of history like Thomas Gage – why them.

There is some guidance that comes from my publisher, who insists that, for now anyway, I stick to large scale “epic stories” (thus, they rejected an idea for the War of 1812).  So, if I’m going to focus on a larger story I need to find the voices who will do that story justice.  Usually this starts with the people at the top, the commanders, those who are responsible for the decisions that change history.  That also includes those voices on the “other side,” the bad guys, if you will, whose decisions are equally as crucial.  But once I reached the 20th century in my stories, I realized that those guys at the top were no longer leading their troops into the fight, and so, I had to find voices much closer to the action.  Thus, now, in all my books, there have to be those characters who are often composites, who bring the reader (and me) right into the action.  I have found that it makes a good contrast to the meetings and command decisions taking place far in the rear, to have to character out front who must endure or accomplish what someone else has simply drawn on paper.

4. You recommend getting the “lay of the land” before one begins to write about a certain moment in history, much like an actor attempts to live with the family of a real life character they are going to portray.  Would you say that you take on the role of each of these characters in your process, that you’ve somehow “lived” through many American Civil Wars?

I do feel that way.  It’s critically important for me to walk the ground before I write any story (though sometimes that isn’t terrible practical, such as my first WW2 story which takes place mostly in Libya and Tunisia).  But seeing the ground, stepping through rocks, feeling the sand or the mud, all of that is important for me.  It makes sense to me that if I’m going to put you into the mind of a character who is charging up a hill into the guns of the enemy, it’s much better if I’ve walked (or run) up that same hill, rather than just looking at a photo in a book.  Once I feel comfortable with that part of the research, I do try to find those characters who I can relate to.  If I can’t get into someone’s head, it’s very hard to speak for them.  Ultimately, the characters you see in my books are people I feel very close to.

5. When you first decided to write the prequel and sequel to The Killer Angels, you had no previous experience in writing. How did you prepare for this new undertaking? Did you take any classes or consult any writers?

One of the first lessons my father would give to his creative writing students at Florida State was: “I can’t teach you creative writing.”   With all due respect to those who write “how-to” books on writing, I don’t believe those can produce a writer.  I didn’t talk to anyone about how to go about tackling this, but I knew that in the end, my father was most concerned about telling a good story.   I knew the kinds of research he had done to put The Killer Angels together, that he had relied on the personal rather than just the historical references.  I did the same.  But from that point on, I have no idea how the story flows from the mind to the written page.  Every writer is probably different in how they approach this, but in my case, I visualize the scene, I hear the dialog, and I just write it down.  That sounds a little strange, I know.  But I don’t understand it myself.

6. In writing Gods and Generals, how much was your father, Michael Shaara’s style in The Killer Angels an influence on your approach to the story?

His format was very important- carrying you through the time-line from different points of view, switching back and forth.  I’ve adopted that in every book I’ve done, but he was the first that I’m aware of to do that with a historical novel.  Beyond that, I made no attempt to mimic his writing style.  I don’t think anyone can do that for long- you run out of energy for it, or you spend so much time focusing on the style, that you lose the story-telling.  Many people have used the word “seamless” to describe the transition from my father’s work to my own, which I take as an amazing compliment (and also, I take it with a grain of salt.  I’m a long way from being compared to Michael Shaara).  But my sister made the observation that my father’s writing has probably influenced me more than anyone else, and in fact, I learned to type as a kid by re-typing his manuscripts (long before there were computers).

7. (In reference to Gods and Generals) As an author, was it difficult parting with your interpretations and leaving them to the mercy of director Ronald F. Maxwell?

Yes.  I will never allow that to happen in that way again.  I had no input at all into the script for the film version of Gods and Generals.  I understand that a director or screenwriter has his own idea of how the story should be told, but if you’re going to use my work, and my name, there should be more of my story included than the 10-15% or so that ended up in the movie.

8. After so many books, why do Civil War stories still demand your attention?

Three things:  My own interest in the subject.  My publisher’s interest in the subject.  And most importantly, the size of the audience for those stories.  It is a passionate audience, which I really appreciate.

9. Is there any historical figure, in or outside of American History that given the chance you would write about?

One that greatly appeals to me is Napoleon.  I hope that one day down the road, I can tell that story.

Fave FIVE:

1)   Favorite moment in history?

July 4, 1776

2)   Favorite place to write?

My own office – quiet and solitude

3)   Favorite childhood memory?

Going fishing in a boat by myself when I was six years old.  My father trusted me to run the motor, to know what to do.  And, I caught fish.  I doubt that sort of thing is done much these days.

4)   Favorite historical site?

Three: Gettysburg; The American cemetery at Omaha Beach, Normandy; and The Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor

5)   Favorite word?

Brenda

Shaara’s latest novel, The Final Storm, is available now.

 

Interview by Lynnette Repollet

 

May 9, 2011

A Writer, a Teacher

By admin in LRR

I haven’t been able to sleep the past few nights. I’ve got a tangled mess of butterflies, nerves, and every other anxious creature living in my stomach. I feel as if the next part of my life will be a lie. I’m a fraud.

I’ve never taught a lesson. I know nothing about a child’s brain. I’m not an Education major. I’m an English major. I am not a teacher. I am a writer.

Yet I am a teacher, according to Harrison High School in Colorado Springs. I leave in three weeks to organize my classroom, attend professional development days, and write out nametags. My focus as a writer will be pushed under the rug. I will not have time to ponder the assignment I have yet to finish—I will be berating the students who have yet to do theirs. I will be grading instead of editing, holding parent teacher conferences instead of contacting publishers.

But the part of this gig that I can’t really wrap my head around is the fact that I will be teaching these kids how to write. I write, I don’t talk about it. I’m overwhelmed at the thought of tapping into a part of myself that has never been drawn out. I think of writing as a tangible thing the same way I think about biting my nails: I don’t think about it. I do it. It is more than a habit, it is me.

Not every person is a good writer. Not every person will be a good writer. I do not believe it is my job as a teacher to make good writers. A good writer, like a good singer, has grace. They were born that way. But every single student deserves the tools necessary to craft and strengthen her or his voice. I think that everyone has their own story and every person deserves to have a way to share it. This is what I want to teach in my classroom: the ability to share one’s thoughts, ideas, opinions, and emotions in a way that will be heard. Writing is meant to be read. Our voices are meant to be heard. As a teacher, I want to provide students with the space and tools necessary to craft their thoughts into words and have those words be significant.

Writing is the human voice etched on paper. I’m not a good speaker. I’ve been told I stop talking before a conversation is over. I get distracted by people’s hair or shape of their nose, and forget to make eye contact. I’ve been known to walk away from an argument because I just can’t quite say what I want to say. But on the page, I am in control. I can manipulate, persuade, and coax emotion from the reader like a Siren’s song. Every person should have the power to do the same. Writing is an outlet for anger and frustration. It is a vessel for questions, a vein that carries thoughts into the world and fuels us to want to know more. Writing grants a person the freedom to not only use her voice, but provides the opportunity to be listened to. When I think of it this way, when I think of cultivating a garden of growing voices, I am overwhelmed with excitement, fear, and those tangled knots of nerves.

I guess its not so bad…