What makes it art? - by Vijaya Schartz

ANGEL MINE is Vijaya's latest novel.
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You take a picture of a building, and it’s just a building. Then you see a photograph of that same building in an art gallery, and it’s art. What makes it art? It’s the same building. But the artist waited for the perfect time at sunset, when the light hit the pillars just so, and the sun glanced off the metal roof, and the color of the sky echoed that of the turning leaves on the surrounding trees. Then the artist chooses a different angle, and the entire tableau takes another dimension. When you look at art, you are moved. You feel something.

 

You take a selfie, and it’s a portrait. But someone talented will play with light and shadow, maybe choose a black and white medium. And will speak to you and make you feel something, so that the portrait will look happy, or haunted, or sad, or intriguing. It’s still your face, but in the hands of an artist, it became art.

  

Similarly, a painting can be flat and inexpressive, while another painting of the same subject will make you feel something. People loved or hated the great painters of their times because they made them feel. And sometimes these feelings were uncomfortable. Hatred and guilt are strong feelings. Picasso had many enemies before being recognized as a genius. True art brings emotion to the person experiencing it.

Degas

Picasso

Gauguin

A movie documentary can be informative without emotion. But an artist will make that documentary poignant and get the audience to stand up and cheer and clap at the end. A fictional movie will use music to set the mood, and sounds and special effects to make the audience feel anticipation, fear, love, victory, etc.

And so it is with a novel. It can be a series of actions from characters in a setting, or it can be a true experience for the reader. We are painting with words, expressing emotions to make the reader feel, and our novels become a work of art.

So the secret for a writer is to feel deeply. Only then can we use words to make the reader feel and care about our characters and our stories. But like with any art, there is also a technique, like there is for painters, photographers and film makers. And it takes practice to master the technique. The secret to get the feelings on the page is in the details. A description will fall flat if it doesn’t include visual as well as other important sensory details. Smells, sounds, touch, taste, and visual effects, as well as the physical sensations experienced by the character in the story will evoke the same reactions and awaken the same feelings in the reader.

After reading ASHES FOR THE ELEPHANT GOD, readers told me they could feel the heat, smell the flowers and the spices, and hear the music, and taste the foods of India. They felt transported to another place, another time, another culture. It’s because I brought my own love of India to the pages of the book, and because I felt it, I was able to bring it to life in the writing and make the reader feel it as well.

Vijaya Schartz, author
Romance with a Kick
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
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So whose POV is this? Tricia McGill

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Most authors use third or first person Point of View in their books these days. These seem to be the preferred views by editors. I’m not sure how other authors decide which route to take, but as far as I am concerned it’s usually chosen for me by my characters. Most of my books are written in third person. In Leah in Love, Leah told me firmly that it was her story and she would tell it in her own inimitable way, and that was the most fun to write as I just went where she led. And boy did she lead me on a merry chase. My current book began life as third person POV but when I reached about page 70 it hit me that it just wasn’t working and so it became changed to first person POV. Another case of the character telling me she wished to tell it as it happened.

Most reading this know, of course, what POV in a novel is, but just in case you aren’t sure, the four main POVs are:

First Person: When “I” am telling the story, relating my experiences, feelings, and no one else’s.

Second Person: The story is told to you. This one is uncommon in fiction.

Third Person—limited: Common in commercial fiction, where the character/s relate their experiences. This one creates hurdles for writers (myself included) as we can easily be accused of head-hopping by critics who despise such chopping and changing. A fault I had to overcome early on, as I tended to jump from one character to another.

Third Person—omniscient: Still about “he” or “she” where the narrator can delve into all the character’s thoughts.

https://thewritepractice.com/point-of-view-guide/

One of my first literary favourites was Wuthering Heights. I must have raved on about it at my place of work because one Christmas the lovely woman in charge of our workroom gave me a beautiful bound and boxed copy, which I still treasure. The edition of the book I possess was published in 1953. I have trouble reading it now as the print is so small that I need a magnifying glass.

I had no idea about point of view in those days and just enjoyed the story as told by two of the characters. We never got into either Cathy or Heathcliff’s head and I later came to realise how special this was, considering it was the only full-length novel written by Emily, who for most part led a sheltered and secluded life. Sadly, she never lived to hold her published book in her hands, as she died in the winter of 1848 of tuberculosis, a disease that had already taken her sisters Maria and Elizabeth and would later take Anne. In Bonamy Dobrée’s introduction, he calls the book ‘Sheer creative genius’.

I quote from his assessment: “What may seem nearly as astonishing when considering a first novel, written before much had been said about the craft of fiction, is that Emily Bronte seems to have been acutely alive to the problem of presenting her material, of making her vision tell upon the page. She must certainly have pondered the technical side of novel writing, and it surely was deliberately that she chose the two narrators as vehicles for her tale.”

There have been a few movie adaptations of Wuthering Heights and I saw one of the originals in my youth that starred Sir Laurence Olivier as the tragic Heathcliff and Merle Oberon as Cathy. Despite the story being told by Mr. Lockwood the new tenant at The Grange and taken up by the all-seeing servant Nelly, it was so magnificently written that we know the feelings of every character without going into their point of view. I doubt very much if I could achieve anything remotely as creatively special as this.

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Handling the Hook

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I may not put enough effort into the hook for my novels.

So, I decided to focus this morning. My story is a good old western. My location for reflection, a chair overlooking Lake Ontario. I didn’t rethink on where to think about the the hook. Oh boy. Perhaps I’m already complicating it. Nah.

First, I take a few breaths. In for four seconds. Hold for two seconds. Out for four seconds. Hold for two… Concentrate on the water. The steady waves splashing on the shore. Boats bobbing. Bobbing. Hook. Of course: Fishing hooks. The hook should be simple. So I’ll buy number 10 or 12.

Yikes, I must focus. Some background music will help me stop getting off track. Some jazz. Extra bass would help. Oh, wait. I’ll need bait for the bass hiding under those rocks at the end of the point.

Doesn’t this call for worms? Or maggots. OK, maggots. I might be getting away from the task at hand. Steady now. Back on topic. What was it. Right, the hook. Breath again.

Reel in the distractions. Um, reel. I’ll need a quality one with a sensitive drag.

Not making headway on the novel hook but I sure have narrowed my focus onto the key subject. You know, hip waders or chest waders?

That’s it. I’ll get my gear, land a few fish and get to work on the subject of the day.

Writers, they know how to get things done. Hang on! That’s it.

The dunn horse stood tall on the dry hill as the morning wind swept away the fog, revealing the focused cowboy in the saddle,  gripping the rifle with unwavering resolve.

That wasn’t so difficult.

The Cunning Cliché by Victoria Chatham

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I call clichés cunning for the simple reason they are so ingrained in our lives it’s easy for them to slip into our writing, unannounced and right under our noses. Hopefully, they only appear in your first draft, but sometimes it takes an eagle-eyed beta reader to ferret them out. These short phrases encapsulate a precise meaning most people recognize and so we use them almost without thinking.

But what, exactly, is a cliché? According to Webster’s, it is ‘something that has become overly familiar or commonplace.’ The problem with clichés is that, rather than enhance your writing, they make it mundane. I found this out the hard way after having submitted the first ten pages of a novel to a Harlequin editor at a conference. In her opinion, if I removed all the clichés, I would only have had half that number of pages to submit. Amongst those she pointed out were ‘cut like a knife’, ‘legs that went on forever’, and ‘like a bolt of lightning.’ She went on to explain that the use of clichés were the hallmarks of lazy writers and that if we, as writers, couldn’t replace them with fresh, exciting descriptions that kept readers reading, we didn’t deserve those readers.

As time has gone on, I have come to mostly catch myself but there are those genre-centric phrases that still leap out at me.  Anyone who reads Regency romances will recognize the phrase ‘her toes curled in her boots’ or ‘she shattered’ at the culmination of a sexy romp. Then there is the descriptive phrase for our hero whose ‘hair was slightly longer than fashionable.’ I must admit to having used that last was one myself and not catching it until after the book came out in print.

One way to overcome using a cliché is to ask “who,” “what,” “when,” “where,” “why,” and “how” as answering these questions can jump-start your imagination and provide specific details to more fully engage your readers. Clichés, more often than not, date themselves and are therefore worn-out and well past their sell-by date. Old and stale does not make for a good read. For more on the subject of clichés, look on the Internet for some of the American humorist Frank Sullivan’s essays about Mr. Arbuthnot, the Cliché Expert, as published in The New Yorker magazine or, just for fun, take a few of your favorite clichés and re-write them. I dare you!

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Care For A Hint Of Spookiness With Your Tea?

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Care For A Hint Of Spookiness With Your Tea?

All Hallows’ Eve is with us again, bringing Jack-o’-lanterns, trick-or-treaters and, of course, ghosts. During my research into such entities in Victoria, our province’s great capital (and most haunted city in Canada), I came across many a hair-raising story and thought them an appropriate subject for this month’s blog. I have borrowed a few from previous blogs, so if you are a regular reader you might feel some spooky déjà vu!

One of the most famous ghosts in Victoria is the departed spirit of Doris Gravelin. Brutally slain near the seventh hole of Victoria’s Golf Course by her husband Victor and tossed, lifeless, into the rough. Victor was later found drowned in a water hazard near the ninth, with her shoes tucked in his pockets. It was ruled a murder/suicide. Several people have seen the sad figure of this woman as she now wanders the seventh fairway bloody and, well, dead. (Guess the moral of this story is never talk during his back-swing).

But she’s not the only female ghost in Victoria. Hike thorough Beacon Hill Park and you might run into a screaming brunette, who was oddly murdered on the spot where for years a blonde ghost had been seen. Called the Doppelhanger ghost, she is often seen with a male lower half. I have no idea why this is, obviously no fashion sense.

Then there’s Bastion Square and Helmcken Alley, near the sight of the original fort and courthouse. Apparently in those early settlement days the First Nations didn’t garner any respect and thousands of graves were merely covered over. Lots of ghosts, chain rattling and a few unpaid parking tickets.

What’s a castle without a ghost or two? Craigdarroch Castle, famous tourist site, with reports of sudden whiffs of candle smoke, feet running downstairs and a young girl staring out the windows.

The Bard and Banker Pub, once owned by Robert Service, famous poet, who wrote The Cremation Of Sam McGee, and now haunted by him after the experience of tripping over several dead people left after a ship wreck in his funeral home. Not your usual enlightening source of artistic inspiration.

The tale of a young Chinese boy who haunts Fan Tan Alley after he murdered a girl that scorned him. The crowd gave chase and beat him to death in the alley.

Rogers’ Chocolates, where the couple that opened the store are often seen and passing dogs stop to growl at their suite above the shop.

Of course, the stately Fairmount Empress Hotel does not escape unscathed. During recent renovations, two workers quit, claiming to see a man hanging from a noose. It was later discovered that indeed, in the fifties, a man had hanged himself in that very same suite. Many old employees that rather enjoyed their jobs and have never left, even after death, have been reported still wandering the halls. Now that’s dedication to your job.

I myself came across a report that a guest had told the staff that his wife’s luggage had been opened when they got back to their locked room and her clothes had been taken out and “ghost clothing” (his words so I presume they were old fashioned) had been put in their place.

It is also reported that the man that built the Empress and the parliament buildings, Francis Rattenbury, frequents his old glories, looking for recognition after dying in an unmarked grave.

There are over a dozen other confirmed sightings in other locations all over Victoria, but the most chilling tale is of Laurel Point. Back in the early 1800’s what is known now as Laurel Point on the inner harbour of Victoria, was called Deadman’s Point. It was the burial place of the Lekwungen First Nations peoples. They believed that the dead never truly leave us and had set up a whole village for them and considered the area as sacred. Like the Parsi of India, they don’t bury the dead. Instead they’d set them out in nature, where the elements would allow the bodies to break down and return to the environment. They’d gather up the remains and would place them in baskets that they would mount in trees. Left alone the dead spirits had a place to be where they would not disturb the living.

In 1885, a European named Jacob Sehl arrived. He bought Deadman’s Point thinking it would be a great place for his furniture factory. He proceeded, ignoring any warnings from the First Nations peoples, to clear and take down all the trees, burn and destroy all the baskets and bones. Appalled and frightened the native chief moved all of his people inland, claiming the dead will be very angry. All went unnoticed until January of 1894, when fires broke out in his factory, and at his house over a kilometer away, at the same time. His wife Elizabeth went mad after this, claiming she saw, ‘Firemen Spirits’, running around the house, rubbing their hands along everything, stoking the fires. She died six months later of insanity. After losing everything Jacob returned to Europe a broken and bankrupt man.

But the story doesn’t end there. William Pendray bought the point and again, not concerned with native warnings, built his new factory there. He was worried about the fires though and installed a sprinkler system, highly advanced for its time, to protect everything in the event of another fire. Proud of his new factory, he walked through the building as it was being finished. Strangely enough, one of the large steel cylinders holding the water for his sprinklers broke away and fell forty feet, crushing his head.

Wait, there’s more.

His only son Ernest was expected to take over and like many young males of the time enjoyed riding his horse and buggy at breakneck speeds through town. As he approached the factory gates, his horse came to a skidding halt. Ernest was thrown from the buggy, straight in front of the horse. The horse then bolted and one of the heavy carriage wheels ran over Ernest’s neck, decapitating the man. It is reported that two male ghosts haunt one of the rooms of the still standing Pendray Hotel, their former home.   

On Laurel Point now stands The Inn At Laurel Point. Many of the guests have complained about weird things happening to them, ghosts turning lights on and off, coldness, televisions changing channels. The restaurant, even on bright sunny days, always appears gloomy and dark inside.

BC’s famous artist, Emily Carr, has also been seen at her home, at St. Ann’s Academy and at the James Bay pub. I guess the old gal is still looking for more inspiration for her next painting.

And if you’re feeling really brave, drive along Shelbourne Street near Hillside Shopping Mall in the wee hours before sunrise in October. Many people have reported driving along and having the whole area shift to an earlier time with just a dirt road.

Even my son, Rory, a Chef De Partie at Nautical Nellies in downtown Victoria, famous for its seafood and chowder (to die for, pun intended!), has experienced the ghost that haunts its kitchen. He has reported pots flying off their wall hooks and objects sliding across the counter by themselves. “It’s not that I mind the ghosts, Dad,” he explained. “It just makes it so damn hard to get orders out on time when you’re chasing utensils around the kitchen”.

So on the thirty-first, spare a thought for all Victoria’s residents and their trepidation at answering a knock on the door that night, wondering just who, or What, might be on the other side, asking “trick or treat?”

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Sincerely

Frank Talaber

twosoulmates@shaw.ca

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Frank Talaber’s Writing Style? He usually responds with: Mix Dan Millman (Way of The Peaceful Warrior) with Charles De Lint (Moonheart) and throw in a mad scattering of Tom Robbins (Even Cowgirls Get The Blues).
PS: He’s better looking than Stephen King (Carrie, The Stand, It, The Shining) and his romantic stuff will have you gasping quicker than Robert James Waller (Bridges Of Madison County).

Or as is often said: You don’t have to be mad to be a writer, but it sure helps.

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