As artists, especially writers, we clasp to our work so closely as we
hide our papers under our arms. We are often intimidated to share our
works with other talented artists and can become insecure and think…Is
this good enough? Will other people like this? But is their work better?
I am sure nearly all writers have felt this way and when collaborating
with other writers, we would become even more protective and insecure of
our work. I mean, I compare myself to Charles Bukowski and am often
left feeling let down and jealous of his magnificent writing mind. In a
Brain Pickings article titled, Annie Dillard on Writing put together by
Maria Popova, Dillard states,
“The notion that one can
write better during one season of the year than another Samuel Johnson labelled, “Imagination operating upon luxury.” Another luxury for an idle
imagination is the writer’s own feeling about the work. There is
neither a proportional relationship, nor an inverse one, between a
writer’s estimation of a work in progress and its actual quality. The
feeling that the work is magnificent and the feeling that it is
abominable, are both mosquitoes to be repelled, ignored, or killed, but
not indulged.”
What Dillard says hits a little too close
to home. As a writer I can sometimes indulge in my work too deeply.
Instead of questioning ourselves and over-analysing our writing, we
should just write and write and write, whether we think it is a
masterpiece or rubbish, just keep going. No work is set in stone and can
always be edited and changed. It is all part of the creative process
and becoming comfortable with your work, but there is always room for
improvement. Creating art is to be vulnerable. It is allowing other
people to take a visit into the deepest corners of your mind and to
accept whatever criticisms or praises come your way. The most rewarding
thing for me when writing and listening to what other people feel about
my work is when they say, “I can relate to that.” To read something that
a stranger has written with their heart sitting on the desk next to
them and feeling like you can relate to what this person is going
through is the most rewarding thing about reader/writer relationships.
Yes, some may say, that we read to be informed or entertained, but the
most significant reason why I read and write is to feel less alone and
to make others feel the same.
Creating real and true
works, pouring your heart and soul into your writing is what we need
more of. To stop worrying what other people think of our work and just
create by staying true to ourselves. We must not indulge in our
insecurities; to let it all go, write and fearlessly share it with
others. Because what is the point of creating something if it cannot be
shared? Dillard says it perfectly once again,
“One of
the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it,
play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems
good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give
it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better
place later is the signal to spend it now… Anything you do not give
freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find
ashes.”
Therefore, are there times when you have been too
afraid to share your work? Or been too critical on yourself? If so,
why? The fact that you have already created something is brave in
itself.
Ryan 2. Level Of Reality
I write that Nick Earls tells that Marto records Krissy Kneen saying: Franz Kafka, preferably dead.
Ever since reading Hamlet I have loved the literary device of metafiction. It is the ability for a story to comment upon itself, for a piece of art within the fiction to move the acts of the story like it does in real life, which has so fascinated me. The use of this considerably postmodern technique in Willow Pattern by Nick Earls, in his chapter Aftermath, really resonated with me. In the chapter the reader is given a tour of the flooded library through the first person narration of Marto, a babysitter of sorts for two eccentric radio hosts. Introduced on this tour are a group of nine writers under the banner of THE FUTURE OF THE BOOK. Sound familiar?
Patricia Waugh defines metafiction as “a term given to fictional writing which self-consciously and systematically draws attention to its status as an artefact in order to pose questions about the relationship between fiction and reality”.
A master of metafiction, Italo Calvino’s novel If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller tells the story of a reader trying to read a book entitled If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller. At a conference in Florence, Calvino stated that “the spectator must not abandon himself passively and emotionally to the illusion…but must be urged to think and to participate”.
It is from this paper that I have constructed the statement identifying the levels of reality within Aftermath:
I write that Nick Earls tells that Marto records Krissy Kneen saying: Franz Kafka, preferably dead.
Each level of reality here is determined by the one preceding – think Inception. The Kafka is a version fancied by Krissy; Krissy, an observation of Marto, as interpreted by Nick; and Nick a reading of “I”, a representation of self. This “I” may signify myself but it is not me, it is a projection that is always called into play while writing. It may be a projection of a real part of myself or a fictitious mask, and is subject to change according to what is being written.
The effects of this compounding reality is noticeable in my own reading of Willow Pattern, in which Nick Earls doesn’t specifically name the writers, I am merely ascribing his characters names from the characters within Nick’s level of reality – my past; your more distant past. For you, the reader, represent yet another level of reality, determining each level below you, interpreting each in your own way, just as Krissy interprets a recently deceased Kafka as a possible sexual partner when you perhaps, may not.
To complicate matters in this exercise we could have substituted Krissy for the Nick within the story, still a separate reality from the Nick who wrote the chapter. Nick Earls introduces Marto as the first person narrator between himself and, well, himself. The reader supposes Marto is a fictional character, or rather an invented figure, occupying a fictional world in which mysterious creatures fall from tears in the sky and steal families and roaming sand storms transmigrate whole towns. If some of the characters of the written world resemble closely real people in this world of experience we begin to wonder just how much basis in truth the story, and the book, and really any story or book, actually have. Does Angela Slatter really know a supernatural detective? And if so can she help fix my wi-fi?
What makes metafiction all the more complicated and compelling is the idea that each level of reality is not only affected by the one preceding it but also by the one succeeding it. “Each element projected reacts in its turn on the element that projects it; it transforms and conditions it”.
Like my writing affects me, it changes me from who I was before the time of writing. Nick Earls’ depiction of himself has had an effect on him. We can also assume that Krissy Kneen has read Willow Pattern and that reading a representation of herself has changed her. Whether she identifies with the projection, remembers the conversation, or believes it to be entirely fictional, it affects her. All stories affect us all. As Calvino says, metafiction simply brings this to the foreground for a closer analysis of the important relationship between art and life.
Calvino, Italo. 1986. The Uses of Literature. FL, U.S.A.: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Waugh, Patricia. 1984. Metafiction: the theory and practice of self-conscious fiction. KY, U.S.A.: Routledge.
Ever since reading Hamlet I have loved the literary device of metafiction. It is the ability for a story to comment upon itself, for a piece of art within the fiction to move the acts of the story like it does in real life, which has so fascinated me. The use of this considerably postmodern technique in Willow Pattern by Nick Earls, in his chapter Aftermath, really resonated with me. In the chapter the reader is given a tour of the flooded library through the first person narration of Marto, a babysitter of sorts for two eccentric radio hosts. Introduced on this tour are a group of nine writers under the banner of THE FUTURE OF THE BOOK. Sound familiar?
Patricia Waugh defines metafiction as “a term given to fictional writing which self-consciously and systematically draws attention to its status as an artefact in order to pose questions about the relationship between fiction and reality”.
A master of metafiction, Italo Calvino’s novel If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller tells the story of a reader trying to read a book entitled If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller. At a conference in Florence, Calvino stated that “the spectator must not abandon himself passively and emotionally to the illusion…but must be urged to think and to participate”.
It is from this paper that I have constructed the statement identifying the levels of reality within Aftermath:
I write that Nick Earls tells that Marto records Krissy Kneen saying: Franz Kafka, preferably dead.
Each level of reality here is determined by the one preceding – think Inception. The Kafka is a version fancied by Krissy; Krissy, an observation of Marto, as interpreted by Nick; and Nick a reading of “I”, a representation of self. This “I” may signify myself but it is not me, it is a projection that is always called into play while writing. It may be a projection of a real part of myself or a fictitious mask, and is subject to change according to what is being written.
The effects of this compounding reality is noticeable in my own reading of Willow Pattern, in which Nick Earls doesn’t specifically name the writers, I am merely ascribing his characters names from the characters within Nick’s level of reality – my past; your more distant past. For you, the reader, represent yet another level of reality, determining each level below you, interpreting each in your own way, just as Krissy interprets a recently deceased Kafka as a possible sexual partner when you perhaps, may not.
To complicate matters in this exercise we could have substituted Krissy for the Nick within the story, still a separate reality from the Nick who wrote the chapter. Nick Earls introduces Marto as the first person narrator between himself and, well, himself. The reader supposes Marto is a fictional character, or rather an invented figure, occupying a fictional world in which mysterious creatures fall from tears in the sky and steal families and roaming sand storms transmigrate whole towns. If some of the characters of the written world resemble closely real people in this world of experience we begin to wonder just how much basis in truth the story, and the book, and really any story or book, actually have. Does Angela Slatter really know a supernatural detective? And if so can she help fix my wi-fi?
What makes metafiction all the more complicated and compelling is the idea that each level of reality is not only affected by the one preceding it but also by the one succeeding it. “Each element projected reacts in its turn on the element that projects it; it transforms and conditions it”.
Like my writing affects me, it changes me from who I was before the time of writing. Nick Earls’ depiction of himself has had an effect on him. We can also assume that Krissy Kneen has read Willow Pattern and that reading a representation of herself has changed her. Whether she identifies with the projection, remembers the conversation, or believes it to be entirely fictional, it affects her. All stories affect us all. As Calvino says, metafiction simply brings this to the foreground for a closer analysis of the important relationship between art and life.
Calvino, Italo. 1986. The Uses of Literature. FL, U.S.A.: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Waugh, Patricia. 1984. Metafiction: the theory and practice of self-conscious fiction. KY, U.S.A.: Routledge.
Kat 2. Work Self To Lather. Rinse, Repeat
Life lesson #34 from the remix: writing about procrastination makes me procrastinate. A lot.
It’s ridiculous. So far today I’ve wandered from my laptop six times, for no real reason. I’ve thrown on music, cleaned… done everything but sit and type.
As a writer, I’m a fantastic procrastinator. I’m even better at justifying procrastination. I moved house this week, and if unpacking isn’t the perfect procrastination tool, I don’t know what is. Every time I look up from my screen, I see something else I should go and sort. Every time I look back down, I remember how the chairs are too short for the table I’m working at. Maybe I should go and get the chairs from the garage? Maybe another coffee?
The silly thing is that I love to write. When I’m terrorising my keyboard or notebook, I’m happy. It’s when I stop that I notice the things I should be doing. I’m not alone, though. When the proverbial starter pistol fired for the 24 hour project, the determined slap of keys didn’t exactly echo through the room. Many of the writers found themselves going for coffee, or posting online- anything but writing their story.
Until last year, the idea of procrastinating with something I loved baffled me. It wasn’t until one of my lecturers made an offhand remark that I understood. Like with most things, writers procrastinate because writing is hard.
Baumeister and Vohs tell us that we procrastinate for many reasons. Sometimes, it’s to protect ourselves from the negatives of poor performance- this is especially true if it’s a task you’re being evaluated on (and haven’t I just wandered into dangerous territory?) Another theory is that procrastinators hold a sense of self-uncertainty from early in life. If we got in trouble for poor results, we’re more likely to procrastinate. This is also true if you had controlling parents. Which is all well and good, but my upbringing was fine and failure isn’t exactly high on my priority lists. Right now, I’m working myself into a lather over a severe case of life-in-the-way.
Thankfully, it may not be all about childhood issues and forging parental bonds with teachers or bosses. According to Clegg and Bailey (2007, 1307), there are four types of procrastination:
In his memoir, On Writing, Stephen King argues that the cure for procrastination is ritual and habit. Force your butt in a chair every day at the same time, and for a certain amount of time or word-count, and your brain eventually learns that it’s writing time. Have a writing spot, and use it daily. It’s advice I’ve followed to the best of my ability, but now that my writing spot isn’t available, I’m
floundering a bit. Somewhere along the line, I’ve started associating my desk with my ability to write. I’d advise not doing that. Maybe it’s a case of write daily, but write in different locations so you remember that it’s not the stuff around you, it’s the stuff inside of you that matters.
So, for what it’s worth, here’s what I’ve learned about procrastination this week
Clegg, Stewart R. and Bailey, James R. 2007. International Encyclopedia of Organisation Studies. Accessed September 16, 2013
King, Stephen. 2000. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. New York: Scibner Publishing.
It’s ridiculous. So far today I’ve wandered from my laptop six times, for no real reason. I’ve thrown on music, cleaned… done everything but sit and type.
As a writer, I’m a fantastic procrastinator. I’m even better at justifying procrastination. I moved house this week, and if unpacking isn’t the perfect procrastination tool, I don’t know what is. Every time I look up from my screen, I see something else I should go and sort. Every time I look back down, I remember how the chairs are too short for the table I’m working at. Maybe I should go and get the chairs from the garage? Maybe another coffee?
The silly thing is that I love to write. When I’m terrorising my keyboard or notebook, I’m happy. It’s when I stop that I notice the things I should be doing. I’m not alone, though. When the proverbial starter pistol fired for the 24 hour project, the determined slap of keys didn’t exactly echo through the room. Many of the writers found themselves going for coffee, or posting online- anything but writing their story.
Until last year, the idea of procrastinating with something I loved baffled me. It wasn’t until one of my lecturers made an offhand remark that I understood. Like with most things, writers procrastinate because writing is hard.
Baumeister and Vohs tell us that we procrastinate for many reasons. Sometimes, it’s to protect ourselves from the negatives of poor performance- this is especially true if it’s a task you’re being evaluated on (and haven’t I just wandered into dangerous territory?) Another theory is that procrastinators hold a sense of self-uncertainty from early in life. If we got in trouble for poor results, we’re more likely to procrastinate. This is also true if you had controlling parents. Which is all well and good, but my upbringing was fine and failure isn’t exactly high on my priority lists. Right now, I’m working myself into a lather over a severe case of life-in-the-way.
Thankfully, it may not be all about childhood issues and forging parental bonds with teachers or bosses. According to Clegg and Bailey (2007, 1307), there are four types of procrastination:
(1) academic
procrastination, concerning postponing academic assignments;
(2) life
routine procrastination, dealing with current life routines, such as
buying Christmas presents or filling out tax forms;
(3) decisional
procrastination, which means lack of timely decision making, in minor or
major issues; and
(4) compulsive procrastination, which includes task
and decisional procrastination in the same person. These four types may
be subsumed into task and decisional procrastination.
In his memoir, On Writing, Stephen King argues that the cure for procrastination is ritual and habit. Force your butt in a chair every day at the same time, and for a certain amount of time or word-count, and your brain eventually learns that it’s writing time. Have a writing spot, and use it daily. It’s advice I’ve followed to the best of my ability, but now that my writing spot isn’t available, I’m
floundering a bit. Somewhere along the line, I’ve started associating my desk with my ability to write. I’d advise not doing that. Maybe it’s a case of write daily, but write in different locations so you remember that it’s not the stuff around you, it’s the stuff inside of you that matters.
So, for what it’s worth, here’s what I’ve learned about procrastination this week
- I’m brilliant at it (how about you? What’s your crowning moment of procrastination?)
- Remove the word ‘should’ from your vocabulary. It’s a dodgy word at the best of times, but it’s a way of making you feel guilty about whatever it is that you’re doing.
- Realise that not everything has to be done now.
- Don’t associate stuff with your ability to write/draw/do your work.
- If all else fails, have a friend who will shamelessly bribe you with cupcakes and DVD nights.
Clegg, Stewart R. and Bailey, James R. 2007. International Encyclopedia of Organisation Studies. Accessed September 16, 2013
King, Stephen. 2000. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. New York: Scibner Publishing.
A Lost Letter From Lyn
Note: Letter found at God’s Acre, Archerfield.
Letter #59
Dear Dad,
I suppose I should start with the obvious first. I’m alright. No spider bites, no cuts to help them scent us. We’re good.
It took far longer than we thought to make it to Archerfield without the car. The airfield was deserted, just as you thought it would be. I’d hoped you’d be there. Seriously, where are you?
There were spider trees everywhere, even some inside the buildings. We found a truck on site, and hit some local stores for supplies (thank God for Bunnings, right? Never start the end of days without one). It took a week, but we’ve got a pretty good fortress set up, and a food and water supply. Even the plane fuel is good for the burnings. If the floods come back we’re screwed, but who isn’t?
Dave says we’re already screwed, so it doesn’t matter if we’re screwed and soggy. He’s such an idiot. Honestly, you were right. Never bring your ex to the end of the world. There’ll be nothing but bitching and whining if you do. You told me, and I ignored you. I should have let that spider gnaw his balls off when I had the chance.
The trees here scream as they burn. It shouldn’t surprise me, but no matter how often I clear the airfield, I can’t get used to the sound. It’s this high pitched wailing that gets picked up by the survivors until the whole airfield echoes with the sound. I learned fast to make sure I burned all of the trees. If you leave any left nearby, they wail all night. The funeral rites of trees. Who knew?
Ryn and Dave refuse to help maintain the boundaries. They say that for all they know, they could be murdering a loved one. Murdering? I mean, really? I think they just can’t stand the screaming. Neither can I, but someone has to do it, right? I wish I had the luxury of letting ‘I don’t want to’ be an actual reason not to do something. They say ‘live and let live’, but the trees aren’t exactly playing by those rules. They’re aware enough that the ungrounded trees know to wait till dark to try and reach us.
It takes a few days for new ungrounded to make their way close enough to us to be a problem. So far, none have gotten too close before they’ve taken root, and we’ve even managed to scare some of the ungrounded away with fire. If they stay and take root, they get burned. Ryn and Dave don’t want me to widen the gap between us and the trees, but it needs to be done, right? The spiders are moving further from their trees, and staying away from them longer. We’re ok for now, but how long will that last? You said to keep Amber safe, but I don’t know how long we can keep playing nice. The spiders are heading for the garden beds- I’ve found two hiding under the leaves already. Amber isn’t even allowed to garden anymore, and she’s furious.
I know what you’d say if you were here- screw ‘em. If they’re ok getting bitten, they can go adopt a spider. We’re trying to escape them, not make them pets.
I wish you were here.
-
Hey Dad, it’s two days later. I didn’t have a choice. I did it. While they were all sleeping this morning, I snuck out with the super soakers full of petrol (for the spiders), and the jerry can. The spiders mostly hide near the trees in the daylight- it’s the best time to kill them.
Dave woke up as the third tree burned. I’ve never heard him so angry. The son of a bitch punched me right in the face!
Dad, he’d been bit a week ago! He’s been trying to stop the burns because he’s about two days from being one of the ungrounded.
I didn’t have a choice. Two days, and the spiders would come as he called. He said you’re dead. Everyone is. That he watched the spiders take you. It’s just Amber and me left, and we couldn’t last long. He pushed Ryn into the reach of a pair of spiders yesterday.
He murdered her.
I didn’t have a choice. If it’s just the two of us, then I need to protect her. Why can’t you just come back already? Where the hell are you?
Please don’t be dead.
The ungrounded are slow, slow enough to dump petrol on. As a person changes into one of them, they start moving slower, too. They all sound pretty much the same, though.
I wish I’d had a choice. I wish Ryn, at least, hadn’t been bitten. Dave- not so much.
Help us, Daddy.
Lyn.
Letter #59
Dear Dad,
I suppose I should start with the obvious first. I’m alright. No spider bites, no cuts to help them scent us. We’re good.
It took far longer than we thought to make it to Archerfield without the car. The airfield was deserted, just as you thought it would be. I’d hoped you’d be there. Seriously, where are you?
There were spider trees everywhere, even some inside the buildings. We found a truck on site, and hit some local stores for supplies (thank God for Bunnings, right? Never start the end of days without one). It took a week, but we’ve got a pretty good fortress set up, and a food and water supply. Even the plane fuel is good for the burnings. If the floods come back we’re screwed, but who isn’t?
Dave says we’re already screwed, so it doesn’t matter if we’re screwed and soggy. He’s such an idiot. Honestly, you were right. Never bring your ex to the end of the world. There’ll be nothing but bitching and whining if you do. You told me, and I ignored you. I should have let that spider gnaw his balls off when I had the chance.
The trees here scream as they burn. It shouldn’t surprise me, but no matter how often I clear the airfield, I can’t get used to the sound. It’s this high pitched wailing that gets picked up by the survivors until the whole airfield echoes with the sound. I learned fast to make sure I burned all of the trees. If you leave any left nearby, they wail all night. The funeral rites of trees. Who knew?
Ryn and Dave refuse to help maintain the boundaries. They say that for all they know, they could be murdering a loved one. Murdering? I mean, really? I think they just can’t stand the screaming. Neither can I, but someone has to do it, right? I wish I had the luxury of letting ‘I don’t want to’ be an actual reason not to do something. They say ‘live and let live’, but the trees aren’t exactly playing by those rules. They’re aware enough that the ungrounded trees know to wait till dark to try and reach us.
It takes a few days for new ungrounded to make their way close enough to us to be a problem. So far, none have gotten too close before they’ve taken root, and we’ve even managed to scare some of the ungrounded away with fire. If they stay and take root, they get burned. Ryn and Dave don’t want me to widen the gap between us and the trees, but it needs to be done, right? The spiders are moving further from their trees, and staying away from them longer. We’re ok for now, but how long will that last? You said to keep Amber safe, but I don’t know how long we can keep playing nice. The spiders are heading for the garden beds- I’ve found two hiding under the leaves already. Amber isn’t even allowed to garden anymore, and she’s furious.
I know what you’d say if you were here- screw ‘em. If they’re ok getting bitten, they can go adopt a spider. We’re trying to escape them, not make them pets.
I wish you were here.
-
Hey Dad, it’s two days later. I didn’t have a choice. I did it. While they were all sleeping this morning, I snuck out with the super soakers full of petrol (for the spiders), and the jerry can. The spiders mostly hide near the trees in the daylight- it’s the best time to kill them.
Dave woke up as the third tree burned. I’ve never heard him so angry. The son of a bitch punched me right in the face!
Dad, he’d been bit a week ago! He’s been trying to stop the burns because he’s about two days from being one of the ungrounded.
I didn’t have a choice. Two days, and the spiders would come as he called. He said you’re dead. Everyone is. That he watched the spiders take you. It’s just Amber and me left, and we couldn’t last long. He pushed Ryn into the reach of a pair of spiders yesterday.
He murdered her.
I didn’t have a choice. If it’s just the two of us, then I need to protect her. Why can’t you just come back already? Where the hell are you?
Please don’t be dead.
The ungrounded are slow, slow enough to dump petrol on. As a person changes into one of them, they start moving slower, too. They all sound pretty much the same, though.
I wish I’d had a choice. I wish Ryn, at least, hadn’t been bitten. Dave- not so much.
Help us, Daddy.
Lyn.
Taking The Willow Patterns Further
A story doesn't have to stop at the end of the book. As our bloggers have been discussing over the past few weeks, the final product doesn't need to be the only creative product.
With the idea of creative collaboration in mind, we invite the public to read the Willow Patterns stories and come up with different responses to how the character felt, what was going on in the background, or what might have happened next.
Anything from photographs to poems can be included, as long as they are related to the Willow Patterns and follow along the story the people before you have concocted.
To start things off, here's a piece by Ryan from a Willow Pattern perspective that sets the mood for the responses we, and hopefully others, will create.
Kat has devised a letter written by Lyn, one of the characters, addressed to her father, as if it had been lost and undelivered. . .
To all, whom it does concern.
We find ourselves here at the edge of the earth with an attempt to read a parallactic palimpsest. With each turn of the earth, history rewrites all science fiction fantasy and apocalyptic prophecy written in the skies. We stare off into chaos and wonder. What will the future hold?
We have become so that there is no longer a future to behold. We are living in the future - time travellers, screaming through space and time at such a rate that we miss everything passing us by. We just shut our eyes against such great velocity.
But we must open our eyes and look around. The world is changing. Where once were trees, there is sand. Where cities were, trees now stand. Species die out, perhaps never to return, perhaps in millennia. Species change, adapting under the whim of Mother Nature.
We have evolved in so many ways that are unrecognisable with our puerile grasp of time. These changes can be seen though, in the subtle intricacies of art and the stories we tell, reflecting each own epoch, and the accumulation of all moments before, along with our own subjective future.
This is how we make meaning. We communicate.
So talk to me, tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine.
There were once here, in this land, nine wanderers. They roamed, much as we do now. Only theirs was a perambulatory to pass on a story. We move because our blood moves. We move because the trees don’t. We move to survive, to live.
They were magicians, turning words into meaning to survive.
Like the Babylonians in their high tower, disgracing a god with universal language, we must remember how to communicate again. We ourselves must tell the stories that need be told, our stories. For each story becomes our own as it becomes part of us and shapes us, like a mother’s words or the nurturing earth. But we must leave their high tower and reach toward the high seas. Be gone and allow the earth, jilted, to mourn, and mend its broken heart.
They met in a kingdom of books, these vagabonds, a stronghold of wisdom. A centre of pansophy to breed ultimate knowledge in all reaches, with hopes that the truths passed down the ages through these stories would find homes in the collective consciousness, sprouting ganglia around the world.
Their words reached many, but nine is so far from universal.
Then knowledge became ubiquitous, a spiders web transcribed across the planet for all to be caught in, if only they were to walk the right path. It can be hard to have direction though, when there is no one to lead the way; and there were only wayward wanderers to reveal this spidery tapestry at fingertips length.
With lines of communication down we must take it upon ourselves to rework this tapestry as without communication there can be no shared knowledge. For knowledge not shared is a lesson not learnt and we will continue to make the same mistakes that lead us here.
This is why art is both egotistic and altruistic. It focuses solely on the artists’ perception of the world and sense of life but shares this openly and honestly with all.
I plead for your openness and your honesty. We need now more than ever to communicate. To unite in our new minority and adapt to new lives, be formless as the water we thrive upon.
Where are you in the story, your story? Where has the story brought you?
Don’t let me be schizophrenic flotsam talking to his reflection. I’m no Narcissus, I’m not that pretty. I’m just alone and afraid and I need help. We all do. But I’m not afraid to ask for it.
What advice has been passed to you from this story, that story, your story, any story?
My advice to you is this: head to sea, home of pirate radio, where the dark tides are predictable and there are no spiders, no trees, and, when the time comes, no walking dead. But don’t go silently, we’ve been silent long enough.
You can reach me on the airwaves or the waterways, and by surfing waves we can reach all the strays, because you are loved. And whether you’re walking down deserted highways or back alley byways, if you don’t see a soul and a soul doesn’t see you, then you can rest assured that someone does and it’s quite a view.
So record a message, for me or the world or a missing loved one.
This is Martin, babysitting all survivalists on Four Double B.
With the idea of creative collaboration in mind, we invite the public to read the Willow Patterns stories and come up with different responses to how the character felt, what was going on in the background, or what might have happened next.
Anything from photographs to poems can be included, as long as they are related to the Willow Patterns and follow along the story the people before you have concocted.
To start things off, here's a piece by Ryan from a Willow Pattern perspective that sets the mood for the responses we, and hopefully others, will create.
Kat has devised a letter written by Lyn, one of the characters, addressed to her father, as if it had been lost and undelivered. . .
*
To all, whom it does concern.
We find ourselves here at the edge of the earth with an attempt to read a parallactic palimpsest. With each turn of the earth, history rewrites all science fiction fantasy and apocalyptic prophecy written in the skies. We stare off into chaos and wonder. What will the future hold?
We have become so that there is no longer a future to behold. We are living in the future - time travellers, screaming through space and time at such a rate that we miss everything passing us by. We just shut our eyes against such great velocity.
But we must open our eyes and look around. The world is changing. Where once were trees, there is sand. Where cities were, trees now stand. Species die out, perhaps never to return, perhaps in millennia. Species change, adapting under the whim of Mother Nature.
We have evolved in so many ways that are unrecognisable with our puerile grasp of time. These changes can be seen though, in the subtle intricacies of art and the stories we tell, reflecting each own epoch, and the accumulation of all moments before, along with our own subjective future.
This is how we make meaning. We communicate.
So talk to me, tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine.
There were once here, in this land, nine wanderers. They roamed, much as we do now. Only theirs was a perambulatory to pass on a story. We move because our blood moves. We move because the trees don’t. We move to survive, to live.
They were magicians, turning words into meaning to survive.
Like the Babylonians in their high tower, disgracing a god with universal language, we must remember how to communicate again. We ourselves must tell the stories that need be told, our stories. For each story becomes our own as it becomes part of us and shapes us, like a mother’s words or the nurturing earth. But we must leave their high tower and reach toward the high seas. Be gone and allow the earth, jilted, to mourn, and mend its broken heart.
They met in a kingdom of books, these vagabonds, a stronghold of wisdom. A centre of pansophy to breed ultimate knowledge in all reaches, with hopes that the truths passed down the ages through these stories would find homes in the collective consciousness, sprouting ganglia around the world.
Their words reached many, but nine is so far from universal.
Then knowledge became ubiquitous, a spiders web transcribed across the planet for all to be caught in, if only they were to walk the right path. It can be hard to have direction though, when there is no one to lead the way; and there were only wayward wanderers to reveal this spidery tapestry at fingertips length.
With lines of communication down we must take it upon ourselves to rework this tapestry as without communication there can be no shared knowledge. For knowledge not shared is a lesson not learnt and we will continue to make the same mistakes that lead us here.
This is why art is both egotistic and altruistic. It focuses solely on the artists’ perception of the world and sense of life but shares this openly and honestly with all.
I plead for your openness and your honesty. We need now more than ever to communicate. To unite in our new minority and adapt to new lives, be formless as the water we thrive upon.
Where are you in the story, your story? Where has the story brought you?
Don’t let me be schizophrenic flotsam talking to his reflection. I’m no Narcissus, I’m not that pretty. I’m just alone and afraid and I need help. We all do. But I’m not afraid to ask for it.
What advice has been passed to you from this story, that story, your story, any story?
My advice to you is this: head to sea, home of pirate radio, where the dark tides are predictable and there are no spiders, no trees, and, when the time comes, no walking dead. But don’t go silently, we’ve been silent long enough.
You can reach me on the airwaves or the waterways, and by surfing waves we can reach all the strays, because you are loved. And whether you’re walking down deserted highways or back alley byways, if you don’t see a soul and a soul doesn’t see you, then you can rest assured that someone does and it’s quite a view.
So record a message, for me or the world or a missing loved one.
This is Martin, babysitting all survivalists on Four Double B.
India 2. In Conversation
It’s been one week since the Brisbane Writers Festival, and my brain is
still processing all of the conversations. It was my first year as a
volunteer and although it meant that I had to hand in two assessments
one week before they were due, it was worth it. I assisted at the
artist liaison desk, which welcomed all of the artists to the festival.
We provided them with their run sheet, lanyard, and assisted them on
where they needed to go. The bonus of working on this desk with so many people spare meant I had spare time to slip into some
of the shows.
I got to see three panel discussions, which were so insightful that I couldn’t type the notes into my iPhone fast enough. What I suppose is a really important question for our group at this stage, is one that Emily explored in her last blog post, “The Art of Questioning”. One of these panels didn’t seem to be fuelled as much by the moderator as it was by the panel itself and their interactions between responses. This created a natural conversation, comparing observations on how they approach or view particular issues. Another panel relied completely on the “trust your reader” method and read segments from a written work. Of course this would only attract a public that was interested in reading their work or had already done so. There wasn’t anything to learn or take away other than the utter enjoyment of discovering something new or simply relishing in a topic you love.
The most informative was moderated and prepared with a series of succinct questions. As any journalist knows, a good interview is in the art of asking a good question. Because ‘a good question’ is something quiet mystifying, I have spent the morning researching tips on how to be a good moderator. I thought this might be useful for our interview questions, as most moderators are skilled in the art of conversation. The art of good conversation is what I believe to be the catalyst for great answers in an interview. On the Harvard Business Review Blog Network, I found an article called “How to Moderate a Panel Like a Pro”. They mention that the panel discussion was invented by someone who liked to sit three feet above his audience, talk with five of his closest friends for an hour, and barely acknowledge that there are 100 other people in the room, usually sitting in uncomfortable chairs.
Thankfully, I have never sat in an uncomfortable chair while been ignored by the moderator or panel themselves. However, this article does provide a few good guidelines that suggest stirring a pot of questions about the latest industry controversies and hot issues. We might want to consider what approach we take with our questions, like the topic of mythology in their work. Or, we might want to discuss the future of the book and if the overall project has changed the way they think about writing and how it’s become digitalized. Is it ready, available, instant, and a craft that appears to have no sleep? With so many questions to ask, what do you think we should include?
I got to see three panel discussions, which were so insightful that I couldn’t type the notes into my iPhone fast enough. What I suppose is a really important question for our group at this stage, is one that Emily explored in her last blog post, “The Art of Questioning”. One of these panels didn’t seem to be fuelled as much by the moderator as it was by the panel itself and their interactions between responses. This created a natural conversation, comparing observations on how they approach or view particular issues. Another panel relied completely on the “trust your reader” method and read segments from a written work. Of course this would only attract a public that was interested in reading their work or had already done so. There wasn’t anything to learn or take away other than the utter enjoyment of discovering something new or simply relishing in a topic you love.
The most informative was moderated and prepared with a series of succinct questions. As any journalist knows, a good interview is in the art of asking a good question. Because ‘a good question’ is something quiet mystifying, I have spent the morning researching tips on how to be a good moderator. I thought this might be useful for our interview questions, as most moderators are skilled in the art of conversation. The art of good conversation is what I believe to be the catalyst for great answers in an interview. On the Harvard Business Review Blog Network, I found an article called “How to Moderate a Panel Like a Pro”. They mention that the panel discussion was invented by someone who liked to sit three feet above his audience, talk with five of his closest friends for an hour, and barely acknowledge that there are 100 other people in the room, usually sitting in uncomfortable chairs.
Thankfully, I have never sat in an uncomfortable chair while been ignored by the moderator or panel themselves. However, this article does provide a few good guidelines that suggest stirring a pot of questions about the latest industry controversies and hot issues. We might want to consider what approach we take with our questions, like the topic of mythology in their work. Or, we might want to discuss the future of the book and if the overall project has changed the way they think about writing and how it’s become digitalized. Is it ready, available, instant, and a craft that appears to have no sleep? With so many questions to ask, what do you think we should include?
Lauren 2. Enough Recollection, Time For Creation
As someone who writes and maintains their own blog, I can understand the difficulty of getting creative. Many authors, writers, painters, creators and other creative people like to discuss how they get into a creative mood; or how it gets into them. Because for me, it is one hell of a challenge.
In one specific journal piece written by Paulus and Dzindolet (2008) there is an interesting discussion on the comparison between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. I agree that during the first creative stages, intrinsic motivation can be the most important. Whenever I go to write something, whether it be a blog post, a short story, or a review, I need to have a personal reason for doing it. Something that's interesting or compelling I want to express, or I have an urge to get a head start on a particular topic.
Now compare this to a challenge set to write a book in 24-hours. At first there is that intrinsic motivation to complete the task or to see what kind of story can be produced in a short, intense period of time. But what happens after the 16th hour when your exhaustion starts to set in and what was initially motivating you has now been washed away with four shots of espresso and two packets of TimTams. That's when the extrinsic motivators help.
Being in a room of other people under the same pressure pushes you further. I know I would be a lot more productive if I had other people around me either pushing me to finish my project or at least suffering under the same terror as I. There is also that looming fear of failure for not getting it completed in time, and while the extrinsic influences may cause a stifling to the original creativity coming from the intrinsic ones, you need those external forces to push you over the finish line.
With that in mind, it's time for us to start putting our ideas for Remixed into the grinder to see what comes out.
For me, I'm fascinated with the number of words used in the book. if:Books kindly provides a spread sheet presenting all the words included in either the chapters or the book, and when you start to think about it, the words themselves mean nothing.
Take for example this image I made:
"The" is used 3237 times throughout the book. It's such a simple word and when you see it repeated so many times like in the image above it begins to lose meaning. But without it the book would not have the same meaning. And without the word I wouldn't have been able to make this image that depicts both the beauty of typeface and the integration of words as art.
I also want to try expressing the difficulty of forcing your brain to function at odd hours, just like the chart shows:
To me it displays a good example of the first initial intrinsic motivation with a big spike of extrinsic in the last few hours. The only question is, what other ways can we display it?
In one specific journal piece written by Paulus and Dzindolet (2008) there is an interesting discussion on the comparison between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. I agree that during the first creative stages, intrinsic motivation can be the most important. Whenever I go to write something, whether it be a blog post, a short story, or a review, I need to have a personal reason for doing it. Something that's interesting or compelling I want to express, or I have an urge to get a head start on a particular topic.
Now compare this to a challenge set to write a book in 24-hours. At first there is that intrinsic motivation to complete the task or to see what kind of story can be produced in a short, intense period of time. But what happens after the 16th hour when your exhaustion starts to set in and what was initially motivating you has now been washed away with four shots of espresso and two packets of TimTams. That's when the extrinsic motivators help.
Being in a room of other people under the same pressure pushes you further. I know I would be a lot more productive if I had other people around me either pushing me to finish my project or at least suffering under the same terror as I. There is also that looming fear of failure for not getting it completed in time, and while the extrinsic influences may cause a stifling to the original creativity coming from the intrinsic ones, you need those external forces to push you over the finish line.
With that in mind, it's time for us to start putting our ideas for Remixed into the grinder to see what comes out.
For me, I'm fascinated with the number of words used in the book. if:Books kindly provides a spread sheet presenting all the words included in either the chapters or the book, and when you start to think about it, the words themselves mean nothing.
Take for example this image I made:
"The" is used 3237 times throughout the book. It's such a simple word and when you see it repeated so many times like in the image above it begins to lose meaning. But without it the book would not have the same meaning. And without the word I wouldn't have been able to make this image that depicts both the beauty of typeface and the integration of words as art.
I also want to try expressing the difficulty of forcing your brain to function at odd hours, just like the chart shows:
To me it displays a good example of the first initial intrinsic motivation with a big spike of extrinsic in the last few hours. The only question is, what other ways can we display it?
Maddy 2. The Creative Process And Our Favourite Chapters
My second blog entry I based upon reflection of the Willow Patterns
24 hour book and how actually the whole thing/process/book made me feel. I feel
like expressing how I actually felt about the chapters and some of the
content that was written by each of the authors. First of all I loved
how the stories were all small chapters and every time you finished
reading one you knew that there was going to be something completely
different to follow. It wasn’t just an ordinary novel that is more times
than not based on that one single story; where chapter after chapter
the story would evolve around the content and you would find out more
and learn more as the chapters go on. Willow Patterns was just a
completely different angle with new beginnings each chapter
every single time. Yes, the story was based around certain features and
topics for the writers to include but I found that each and every
author’s version one was so different and cleverly written, so
distinctive from the next!
I must admit, not all of them tickled my fancy and I even thought in my opinion some may of gone a bit too far with the imagination, extending into almost erotica content! But then again this is a university subject, we are not little children anymore and the authors are incredibly talented and good at what they do; they had no restrictions on writing and were free to do and act as they wished. My comments about them being quite full-on and confronting is probably quite an uneducated comment in the writing world on which I really know nothing much about. I am not prudish either so it just must be my lack of experience with writers and how far their imaginations can go.
Gilkey (2008) explains 4 parts of creativity. This is the creative process and its 4 distinctive parts.
1. Preparation
2. Incubation
3. Illumination
4. Implementation
A writer, for example Gilkey (2008), explains preparation as writing, reading or revising earlier work. This process is necessary to plant the seed that leads to the 2nd process. These authors on the project for Willow Patterns, prepared beforehand by thinking about the assignment that was put before them and planning what they may write about. I feel that they would have had little time to prepare, the real preparation was knowing about the project and that literally once they entered the State library they had only that 24-hours to create something great.
Incubate is the process for the writers to work on their ideas, and develop a story. They were not distracted by the busy outside world, rather in their own world working at a fast pace.
Illumination I think would have been when these writers established a story, established their ideas and they began writing so furiously trying to get all those ideas in their head on to paper (or The Wall).
I think we all know what that implementation process entailed for the writers. This is when their work was created, published, out on the shelves, and online for the public to see. Their work, which was done in a hectic 24 hours, was now complete. I guess this would of been the proudest moment for them on this one particular project as I’m sure all writers consider their work to be a proud moment to commemorate.
I’ll mention briefly a couple of my favourites. There were 2 chapters that I fancied quite a bit, chapter 5 ‘A strange Way to Catch Barramundi’ by Geoff Lemon. I enjoyed how it was a change from the usual Library scene where everything happened there. It was still revolving around the major floods but it was a complicated story about 2 brothers and a wife, the wife became trapped for days upon the flooding and had gone missing. One of the brothers was married to her while the other had been in love with her for years. It was a complicated web of love and after the wife was found she could not fully regain herself, which was awful in the end, but I am a sucker for love stories, whether they are sad or not!
I also enjoyed chapter 7 ‘Uninterrupted Study’ by Christopher Currie. It was just humorous to read a chapter about classic uni students stuck in a group, not knowing who each other are and trying to get a whole assignment written in one day. Everyone has different personalities, has places they wanted to be, are different in their perspectives of work ethic and it was quite easy to relate to being a uni student myself!
What was yours? Can anyone share with me their experiences with the book and how it made them feel? I would be quite interested to know, I bet there are a few different answers!
I must admit, not all of them tickled my fancy and I even thought in my opinion some may of gone a bit too far with the imagination, extending into almost erotica content! But then again this is a university subject, we are not little children anymore and the authors are incredibly talented and good at what they do; they had no restrictions on writing and were free to do and act as they wished. My comments about them being quite full-on and confronting is probably quite an uneducated comment in the writing world on which I really know nothing much about. I am not prudish either so it just must be my lack of experience with writers and how far their imaginations can go.
Gilkey (2008) explains 4 parts of creativity. This is the creative process and its 4 distinctive parts.
1. Preparation
2. Incubation
3. Illumination
4. Implementation
A writer, for example Gilkey (2008), explains preparation as writing, reading or revising earlier work. This process is necessary to plant the seed that leads to the 2nd process. These authors on the project for Willow Patterns, prepared beforehand by thinking about the assignment that was put before them and planning what they may write about. I feel that they would have had little time to prepare, the real preparation was knowing about the project and that literally once they entered the State library they had only that 24-hours to create something great.
Incubate is the process for the writers to work on their ideas, and develop a story. They were not distracted by the busy outside world, rather in their own world working at a fast pace.
Illumination I think would have been when these writers established a story, established their ideas and they began writing so furiously trying to get all those ideas in their head on to paper (or The Wall).
I think we all know what that implementation process entailed for the writers. This is when their work was created, published, out on the shelves, and online for the public to see. Their work, which was done in a hectic 24 hours, was now complete. I guess this would of been the proudest moment for them on this one particular project as I’m sure all writers consider their work to be a proud moment to commemorate.
I’ll mention briefly a couple of my favourites. There were 2 chapters that I fancied quite a bit, chapter 5 ‘A strange Way to Catch Barramundi’ by Geoff Lemon. I enjoyed how it was a change from the usual Library scene where everything happened there. It was still revolving around the major floods but it was a complicated story about 2 brothers and a wife, the wife became trapped for days upon the flooding and had gone missing. One of the brothers was married to her while the other had been in love with her for years. It was a complicated web of love and after the wife was found she could not fully regain herself, which was awful in the end, but I am a sucker for love stories, whether they are sad or not!
I also enjoyed chapter 7 ‘Uninterrupted Study’ by Christopher Currie. It was just humorous to read a chapter about classic uni students stuck in a group, not knowing who each other are and trying to get a whole assignment written in one day. Everyone has different personalities, has places they wanted to be, are different in their perspectives of work ethic and it was quite easy to relate to being a uni student myself!
What was yours? Can anyone share with me their experiences with the book and how it made them feel? I would be quite interested to know, I bet there are a few different answers!
Kirsty 2. It's Kind Of Fun To Do The Impossible
"It's kind of fun to do the impossible." - Walt Disney
Bar graphs. Scatter plots. Pie charts (mmm pie).
Aside from the word pie, none of these mathematical terms resonate with me very well. But yet I am being thrown in the deep end of analysing them, and more ways completely foreign to my creative brain of presenting the data of the 24-Hour Book.
We are progressively sifting through the data available and let me just tell you it is overwhelming! It’s like looking at that delicious recipe in your favorite cook book but being too afraid to cook it because it has too many ingredients and complex procedures, so you end up going to a restaurant and leaving it up to the professionals. We are attempting to be those professional chefs and bring you that delicious pie. The problem is, we’re not professionals, but I guess that’s the fun of the game.
I also feel we can’t complain going into the amazing, overwhelming world of the data when the 9 authors had to go in and actually produce a book in 24 hours! In the theme of cooking this prompts me to think of certain baking tasks that would be seemingly impossible to achieve in a refined timeframe. Or is Willow Pattern an indicator that nothing is impossible? Audrey Hepburn did say, “nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘I’m possible’!
So, I am calling all you bakers out there to attempt to find a way to bake a cake in 24 minutes. I mean a proper cake too, not just soggy batter that’s started to crust around the edges. If I get plausible comments below of your creative recipes to make a cake in 24 minutes, I’ll try them out and post up my results.
I look forward to the challenge and the results (seeing them and eating them!)… do you?
Disney, Walt. 2011. 1001 Inspirational Quotes. Austin: Garden State Publishing.
Hepburn, Audrey. 2005. How to be lovely: The Audrey Hepburn way of life. USA: Penguin Group.
Bar graphs. Scatter plots. Pie charts (mmm pie).
Aside from the word pie, none of these mathematical terms resonate with me very well. But yet I am being thrown in the deep end of analysing them, and more ways completely foreign to my creative brain of presenting the data of the 24-Hour Book.
We are progressively sifting through the data available and let me just tell you it is overwhelming! It’s like looking at that delicious recipe in your favorite cook book but being too afraid to cook it because it has too many ingredients and complex procedures, so you end up going to a restaurant and leaving it up to the professionals. We are attempting to be those professional chefs and bring you that delicious pie. The problem is, we’re not professionals, but I guess that’s the fun of the game.
I also feel we can’t complain going into the amazing, overwhelming world of the data when the 9 authors had to go in and actually produce a book in 24 hours! In the theme of cooking this prompts me to think of certain baking tasks that would be seemingly impossible to achieve in a refined timeframe. Or is Willow Pattern an indicator that nothing is impossible? Audrey Hepburn did say, “nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘I’m possible’!
So, I am calling all you bakers out there to attempt to find a way to bake a cake in 24 minutes. I mean a proper cake too, not just soggy batter that’s started to crust around the edges. If I get plausible comments below of your creative recipes to make a cake in 24 minutes, I’ll try them out and post up my results.
I look forward to the challenge and the results (seeing them and eating them!)… do you?
Disney, Walt. 2011. 1001 Inspirational Quotes. Austin: Garden State Publishing.
Hepburn, Audrey. 2005. How to be lovely: The Audrey Hepburn way of life. USA: Penguin Group.
Emily 2. The Art Of Questioning
Currently my team members and I have now fully grasped the concepts and objectives for the Willow Patterns remixed project and are well under way to achieving these objectives.
We have completed our first task successfully, which was partly due to the consistent communication between group members on Facebook. Everyone has made a commitment to reply to comments, to upload drafts for everyone to check over, and to provide positive feedback. This constant communication and collaboration has resulted in a more cohesive thought process, which is evident when reading through our finished task (our overview for our Willow project).
The next task am now focusing on, is preparing questions to ask the authors involved with Willow Patterns. These interviews are important as they will reveal information on the experiences of the 24 hour book project, which will provide us with further material and stimulus to use for our own project. Furthermore, uploading and sharing the interviews with all of the authors will be good for both the projects publicity and the Brisbane Writing Centres publicity, as these interviews would be of interest to the fans of these local Brisbane writers and avid readers in general, and thus encourage them to read and engage with our blog.
Considering this, I have been researching different interview styles and skills in order to prepare for my interviews. Bill Gilliam who wrote a book specifying in interviews for research purposes argues that the most important component of an interview is that the questions must be open. “Questions asked or topics raised must be open so that the interviewee is determining their own answers; doing this provides a truer representation of their thoughts as they are less inclined to say what they think the interviewer wants to hear” (Gillham, 2005).
Consequently, when constructing my initial questions, I tried to take this on board, leaving my questions open ended, so that each author were free to interpret and respond to the questions in any way they liked. For example “Why did you decide to become involved with Willow Patterns?”
Gillham also states that interviewing is a difficult mix of maintaining and following a structure (set questions) while simultaneously taking advantage of opportunities when they arise naturally during the interview (2005). I believe what he means by this is, although an interviewer should always have a clear idea of the questions they want to ask, they must also be prepared, that questions they hadn’t thought of originally, may arise through the natural course of conversation. This will be an important thing to keep in mind if I conduct my interviews in person, however if I conduct my interviews through email, I will miss the chance to ask any follow up questions or questions in relation to something the author says in conversation. This puts me at a slight disadvantage as there is the potential to miss out on added information. To try and solve this, my final question can be “Is there anything you would like to add?” which hopefully will encourage them to discuss anything not specifically mentioned in the questions.
Applying these tips to my interviews should hopefully allow me to engage with the interviewee in a way that will give me the best responses and maximise the amount of information I receive.
To finish, like my fellow colleagues before me I am posing a challenge to the readers of this blog. If there is one question you would ask any of the featured writers in Willow Patterns, if you got the chance....what would it be? Send the questions in on our blog, and we can ask them, on your behalf! (It must be noted, however that any distasteful and inappropriate questions will be removed immediately)
Des 1. Anxious Collaborators
T. S. Eliot says, “anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity,” and that is exactly what The Willow Pattern 24 hour book achieved. Let’s all admit it, writers are a different kind of breed and throwing nine successful writers into a room to write, create, edit and publish a book within 24 hours, well their anxiety would have definitely been sky-rocketing with caffeine induced shakes. I have always believed that deadlines stifle the creative process and that you have to be in the right place at the right time to write; as I usually write in the late hours of the night alone in my bedroom when my mind is buzzing right before I fall asleep. However, the writer’s involved in Willow Pattern have changed this belief I have held so close and I would like to shake each one of the their hands.
The thought of collaborative writing, bouncing ideas off each other and meshing stories to create one final product is what Willow Pattern achieved, but at the end of the day it is not just about the final product, it's about the creative process and everything that came to be the Willow Pattern 24 hour book. The countless creating, editing, cutting, word counting, changing of the writer’s works plays a huge part of what the book means today. A year on and Willow Pattern is still making a lasting impact by allowing other people to explore and add their two cents into the process through digital media. Sometimes it can be easy to dismiss the process and just focus on the product, however there are pages and pages of data on the process of how these nine writers, fingers fiercely typing, created this masterpiece. That is the beauty of writing. It is subjective. Each of us interprets and obtains different things out of it.
Now a group of university students, including myself are collaborating and working together to create different representations of the book. Although each of us in this group are diverse and comprise of different disciplines, we all have one thing in common. We all desperately wanted to be apart of the Willow Pattern project after reading the brief because it is one of the most innovative, original endeavors I have come across. We, as a group, have been brainstorming ideas and generating responses such as blog posts, poems, letters, interviews and data analysis to make the Willow Pattern project as interactive and collaborative as possible.
So, similar to Ryan’s Haiku challenge, I propose you to write a free verse poem. Free verse poetry does not require any rhyming schemes, but does tend to employ other types of creative language such as alliteration, assonance and repetition. Think of T. S Eliot’s poems. However, there is one rule. You have to include a title of any of the nine chapters in the Willow Pattern book.
Maddy 1. Short-Distance Team Writing Experiment
My blog post today consists of my personal interest in writing as a collaborative process and how together 9 authors delivered something out of the ordinary with outstanding professional conduct under a 24 hour time limit. You would have read previously from blog posts below about the 24 hour process and what came about it – the book ‘Willow Patterns’. I have a very big interest in books, and to see what they have become and what they are capable of these days is so much more than I would have imagined for the future of writing. I can’t believe how technologically advanced we are these days and what endless possibilities seem to arise through simple group projects.
The 9 authors gathered at the State Library and began their work to write a book within 24 hours. The stories they were writing was posted online to allow readers to watch the story unfold and to submit ideas, suggestions, and contributions across all different media outlets. Simon Groth mentioned why a decision was made to write, edit, and publish a book in such a short time, explaining it as an ‘experiment', an exploration of how the digital process informs and influences collaborative writing and editing in a combination of face-to-face and screen-to-screen’ (Groth, 2012, p. 4). Collaboration is one of the major words that have come about from the 24-Hour project. It is because without constant collaboration between these authors, face to face and online with readers, this book would not have come about. By constantly uploading versions of their stories online, the authors allowed people within the community to make suggestions, comments, and assist in the process themselves.
Collaboration for this project went much wider when it stopped being just author to author; instead it became face-to-face and screen-to-screen, author to author, author to editor, and book to audience.
Collaboration was one of the main concepts for this project. Collaborative writing is not huge in narrative fiction, with only a few books being written by more than one writer, and barely more than three authors. To prove that writers do love working together and bouncing ideas off each other, they met physically in one place, constantly discussing their stories and the progress they were making despite the pressure of the 24 hour time frame.
It must have been quite easy for all the writers to participate in this project as they are passionate about the same thing: writing; being in that room full of knowledgeable, smart, and creative people would have been an interesting and unique encounter. According to Mclaughlin (2013) there are 7 traits associated with remarkable writers, and I must admit I am envious:
1. Diligence
2. Patience
3. Faithfulness
4. Learners
5. Givers
6. Readers
7. Purposeful story tellers
I envy the patience of writers, and how easily they read. I love reading and always have, but I haven’t picked up a book in months (excluding Willow Patterns) which leaves me a little disappointed in myself. I would blame a lack of free time or simply forgetfulness, but that just seems like a childish excuse.
Spring, M (1997) offers a really interesting site which talks about the collaborative process and what it means to authors, specifically the 9 authors - (a bit of a dated article on collaborative writing, but I am sure the concept of collaboration in writing hasn’t changed much in the past few years). It appears the collaborative process of writing face-to-face, screen to screen, etc. was a successful collaborative process experiment. From reading this article, and from the response they received from the community, it is clear to me that these 9 talented authors achieved what they set out to do. They established a goal beyond the tangible using a collaborative effort, and divided writing tasks evenly between them. All were to write 1 chapter in 24 hours relating to a various outlay of topics that were given to them which included mentioning a librarian named Sammi Bernhoff, a beautiful vase, missing children, a looming disaster and radio shock jocks.
They communicated ideas verbally but also digitally on the event and involved a vast array of people to contribute to the writers’ ideas of their chapters and what they should include, and how they were going throughout the process as well. Effective communication is imperative and I think these writers got it right! The concept of delivering a book edited published and everything else in 24 hours is mind blowing, and they did it with the collaborative effort of 9 authors writing vigorously, editors spell-checking madly, and the watchful eye of the public to assist.
So if you haven't already, read the stories that were produced in such an amazing fashion. And maybe start to think of what you could do in under 24 hours that couldn't normally be done. What would you try and do?
India 1. The Discourse Of Collaborative Learning
I’m one of those writers that hide their work. I hold it so incredibly close to me that I feel guilty when telling friends “I’ll email you my piece tonight” when I’m secretly plotting how I’ll never show them a thing. The concept of writing without a plan for 24 hours straight, surrounded by eight talented authors makes my inner thighs sweat. Needless to say, as I read the project description for Willow Patterns, my right arm shot straight towards the ceiling, beaming “pick me!”.
Initially the intrigue was towards the nine authors of Willow Patterns and their creative process. I was fascinated by the brain of Simon Groth and wanted to know every thought process each writer had at every minute. The idea that creative collaboration invariably leads to productive work is one that has been challenged by current research (e.g. Vass, 2003), indicating that the benefits of paired creative writing are inextricably linked to the quality of collaboration as well as other contextual factors.
I wanted to explore these contextual factors and what exactly the researchers meant when describing “quality of collaboration”. Do you have to like the people you are collaborating with? Does your work need to be fundamentally coherent with theirs? What if you are opposites? How will it work? Well, it did! Nine writers. 24 hours. One book. In that time they managed to interweave stories, keep their own unique voice and make it all sound fantastic. They each displayed an impossible amount of critical thinking while remaining subjective and improvisational.
Now, we are a group of 8 students remixing the leftovers of a successful collaborative project. One usually cringes when hearing about a group assessment or collaborative project, mainly because of the large melting pot of ideas each student brings that never quite add up to anything intellectual. This project is teaching each of us how to collaborate creatively and consists mainly of three major processes: planning, translation (of data), and reviewing. It contains equal amounts of fusion between the productive and analytic phases. It incorporates two interlinking and interdependent processes, engagement – the generation of creative ideas; the emotional engagement with the material – and reflection – the conscious break of the chain of association; reviewing, contemplation and planning.
What we will walk away with and leave you to mull over is an idea of how the writing process is activated. Some attribute creativity to deliberate explorations and transformations in the mind. In contrast, others argue that low focus thinking – is the foundation of creativity, by which unique analogies are formulated as emotion surfaces and binds thoughts in the dream-like associative process. We could join these two arguments, and posits that the two types of thinking are both crucial to the writing process. They are combined by the mind's conscious effort to recreate an emotional experience, which prompts the composition of the written text. Perhaps I will learn to reveal some stories to you after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)