Children, it is possible to drive yourselves crazy worrying about the state of the world. Yes, it is true that 'yesterday this day's madness did prepare.' It is also true that 'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' Listen to Jesus, and don't do the world's work for it by running around screaming, 'The sky is falling!' or, 'The US president/British PM just did X!' which is pretty much the same thing.

What does this mean to us writers? It's okay if we have a bee in our bonnets. But we shouldn't let apian menaces make us crash the vehicle. Let's take things one at a time, do our due diligence, and concentrate on communicating the essentials.

The problem with modern communications is that sometimes, they're too rapid. They create a false sense of urgency. Sometimes, the expression festina lente, or 'make haste slowly', is the best response.

Think about it when you're writing. Your characters are in the middle of a mad-dash, action scene. Does it have to go on like that? No, indeed. While the milk train's gathering momentum downhill, and Little Nell is screaming her head off because she's tied to the railroad tracks and facing imminent demise. . . you can insert another chapter that starts, 'A long time ago, in a village far, far away, there were a simple woodcarver and his wife. . . '

As long as you eventually tie that woodcarving couple into the action, you have every right to slow things down.

Curiously enough, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias as it fell was Oh no, not again. Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the Universe than we do now.

Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

If you know the book, and I'm sure you do, you realise that this very restful, philosophical comment occurs in the middle of an otherwise exciting action sequence.

In other words, it's possible to slow things down. Okay, maybe not when you're driving a car at speed, a deer runs out onto the road, and a collision seems unavoidable, and. . .

It might be a good time for a flashback. Right between the deer sighting and the inevitable crunch – or last-minute swerve. Why, you could put a whole novel in there. You've heard the saying, 'My whole life flashed before my eyes?'

Another way to deal with all this manufactured urgency is to turn it off, and talk about something else. Not something completely different: just something that deals with the issue in a different way. You're worried about the threat of nuclear annihilation? Write about kids at play. You can de-escalate their conflicts a lot easier than you can play doctor with Realpolitik. Might be more interesting, too. You want to talk about racism and its dangers? Do what Rod Serling and all the others in the days of censorship did: make up a science fiction story.

In the play The Andersonville Trial, by Saul Levitt (1960), General Lew Wallace (a novelist himself, he wrote Ben Hur), says, 'We are not empowered to move this trial into the next century.' I believe the historical Lew Wallace really said that, too. He meant they didn't have the chance to get any distance on the issues they faced at the end of the Civil War. The play in 1960 intrigued people because, to their surprise, none of the issues had gone away. The problems were still there to be solved. A few years later, when the play was shown on US television, it shocked people: they saw things somewhat differently again, in the light of Vietnam. I would argue that a play like The Andersonville Trial demonstrates how absolutely useful it is to have writers around, and to be able to take the time to think things out objectively.

So, in all the rushing around, remember: sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Don't try to solve all the problems at once. Take time out. Concentrate on one issue at a time. Somebody might come along and find your input timely.

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

06.11.17 Front Page

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