A long while back, when I was in the 7th grade, I had the chance to meet Madeleine L’Engle at a young writer’s conference. I think I only shook her hand and said hi, not knowing what else to say, even though she wrote one of my all-time favorite children’s books, A Wrinkle in Time. I didn’t have an appreciation for the mastery of her art until I was much older.

A few years ago Carole F. Chase helped L’Engle compile bits about her life into a book called Madeleine L’Engle {Herself}. It’s essentially a collection of little vignettes about her life, about faith, and especially about writing.

I’ve turned to this book a few times since I picked it up earlier this year and am always surprised at the wisdom within the pages. For example, this snippet:

Write from Experience

You must write from your own experience. There simply is no other way to write.

Stanislavski, the great director of the Moscow Art Theater, always taught his students that you have to act out of your own experience, that you cannot act anything you haven’t experienced. Once when he was doing a production of Othello, the young man who was playing Othello went to him in great frustration and said, “Mr. Stanislavski, you tell me I have to act out of my own experience. And Othello has to murder Desdemona. I never murdered anybody. How can I act out of my own experience?” Stanislavski just looked at him and said, “Have you ever gone after a fly?”

In just two paragraphs L’Engle presents a means to solving some of toughest writing challenges by helping you realize that sometimes all you need is perspective. How can you write from experience when you haven’t experienced what you are writing about? Quite simply, she implies, by looking at the situation from a vantage point that would be familiar to you. A few people have to die in my novel (history killed them off before I did!) so this particular advice is poignant.

This also struck a chord with something else I just read, an excerpt from a 1961 Hemingway interview that was reprinted in the newest issue of Writer’s Digest, Oct. 2007. His advice to the writer:

“When you write,” he said, “your object is to convey every sensation, sight, feeling, emotion, to the reader…when you walk into a room and you get a certain feeling or emotion, remember back until you see exactly what it was that gave you the emotion. Remember what the noises and smells were and what was said. Then write it down, making it clear so the reader will see it too and have the same feeling you had.

“And watch people, observe, try to put yourself in somebody else’s head. If two men argue, don’t just think who is right and who is wrong. Think what both their sides are. As a man, you know who is right and who is wrong; you have to judge. As a writer, you should not judge, you should understand.”

What both of these writers are essentially saying is that you need to employ your best critical and creative thinking skills in order to be able to sound like you know what the hell you are talking about. When you aren’t writing, listen, pay attention and think. When you are writing and need to figure out the best way to convey to your readers a certain gesture or exactly how the afternoon light strikes the kitchen table, think back to what you do know and find a way to paint that into the scenes of places unknown.

Another creative tool which adheres to what Hemingway suggests is that of visualization. I think that some writers employ this well, but to many people it doesn’t come as naturally. For me I have a general view of each scene but I tend not to dig down into all the details that are needed. For my drafts this is fine–I have a need to spit out the plot so it ends up on the page, but when I go back to revise, that’s when the visualization comes into play. For example, if I take a portion of my Friday Snippet from last week and look at it:

Prokopton was a merchant who specialized in everything non-edible. Whatever you needed, he always seemed to have on hand or if not, would be able to readily procure. Over the last two years, Thrasius purchased cooking utensils, everyday pottery, silver serving platters and even furniture from Prokopton. Apicata loved the big bear of a man. He always had small toys or knick-knacks to share with Apicata, who he called “little bird.”

That day he gave Apicata her own tiny wind-up bird that walked, a gift that shocked Thrasius and also brought a tear to his eye. The merchant clearly held a soft-spot for the little girl–the bird was most likely quite costly. Due to their rareness, wind-ups were not for children–they were entertainment pieces meant for the adult table and could often sell for many thousand denarii.

 

“Prokopton, are you sure about that gift?”

 

The merchant nodded, his plump cheeks reddening a little. “It was my wife’s. I have no children to pass it on to. Please remind her of me when she grows. I will be sad not to see her every week.”

 

In just this little snippet I can see how visualization would make all the difference. If I close my eyes and really think about this scene, what would I envision? Prokopton’s stall needs more detail, as does the merchant himself. I can picture how the three of them stand as they are talking, how Prokopton hands the bird to Apicata, what they are wearing, the looks on their faces, what the weather is like, the sounds of the market, the smells, the colors. Since I might not want to overdo my description, I can pick a few key details, most notably finding a way to better describe the wind-up.

I’ve not been to ancient Rome, obviously, but I have been to outdoor markets in third world countries, so I have an idea of what my market might be like. I had the idea of the wind-up from a documentary on ancient machines–they definitely did have the ability to create a toy like I described but it would be seen as a very expensive wonder meant to entertain. So while I’m making up the bit about the bird itself, I’ve seen the excitement in the eyes of a child when they receive a new toy. I know what it’s like to say goodbye to people for whom I have affection. I can throw my experience and bits of myself all over this scene and when I sit down to rewrite, this will be much richer.