In a previous post I mentioned writing books I thought were helpful. An eclectic one I had not yet mentioned is Denny O’Neil’s book The DC Comics Guide to Writing Comics. I recommend it to anyone interested in writing, period. The specific technical advice is for the collaborative world of comic books, but the ethos of the book is good for any writer. In a section on dialogue, O’Neil says,

“Observe how other writers use dialogue. You’re not going to copy them, exactly. Rather, you’ll try to learn what effects they achieve and how they achieve them. As the great haiku poet Basho suggested, don’t imitate the masters but seek what they sought.”

I think this sentiment applies to more than just dialogue. I think it reflects a great value in how writers should read and learn from texts. What do they take away from a work that helps them do their job. Seeking what your heroes sought on your own terms will help your own storytelling voice grow and strengthen and become more dynamic. What is it that Shakespeare or Dante or Homer or O’Neil or Whoever was seeking in their work?

Most writers have one grand subject that they keep returning to, some master level theme that they explore through a series of permutations. David Morrell, in Lessons from a Lifetime of Writing, had his early mentor Philip Klass (who wrote under the SF penname William Tenn) describe this major theme, the one that is most important to you, as a ferret that hides in your subconscious. It darts, hides, mutates, and does not want to be found. Writing stories to discover as well as reveal and explore this theme is a lifelong gig, but as you do so you do see these themes crop up. Morrell often writes of orphans in search of family and the nature of individuals in a hard world. Philip Young argued that Hemingway’s big theme was that of a wounded man trying to become whole. Poe was obsessed with death and the wonder at its precipice. Harlan Ellison’s work often deals with revenge and redress of injustice at heavy prices.

The more you write, the more the edges of this major theme come into sight. Noticing these things can be enlightening and uncomfortable. What if your great theme has dark edges? According to Klass, if you fear your theme, you are on the right track. Fight it, wrestle it, turn it into art both ugly and beautiful and see how it flies. When these themes emerge and you work them into stories, you start to notice others who are near the same camp, writers who sought what you’ve just discovered. I know I read a lot of writers who touched on themes that seemed to interest me before I knew they were part of my work, but the more I looked at my stories, the clearer that picture became. I still think one should read as wide as possible, but there is also much to be gained from learning from those closest to your own fictive worlds, writers who have found what you’ve just begun to discover.

JSR

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