With so many different styles of writing in the world, it’s completely possible that two people can call themselves writers and not even be in the same ballpark. There are poets, essayists, journalists, novelists and bloggers, not to mention reporters, short-story writers, reviewers, and playwrights.
Everyone has strengths and weaknesses; I personally love writing fiction, although it’s sometimes difficult for me to create it. My sister is excellent at writing blurbs. Another friend of mine is great at spoken word poems. I consider myself to be good at a few things, but blurbs and spoken word poetry aren’t part of them.
But it’s the new year, and we’re all about challenges! So, I want to know what your literary kryptonite is.
What writing style makes you curl up with fear and cry?
Your challenge (if you choose to accept it) is to come up with something in that style and post it below. I’m going to come up with something too. Winner gets my love, and the satisfaction of knowing that you are awesome enough to break through everything you ever thought about yourself. Right on!
Someone said that art reveals much more of the artist than it ever does of the subject. That is especially true when it comes down to writers. Being that literature is not a visual art, every sentence that we read or write, every place, every character is ultimately filtered through the author’s own unique perspective. We may look at a painting and find it ugly, boring, or see no meaning in it whatsoever. However, in literature, we find whatever the author describes as beautiful, beautiful. No matter how plain the thing may actually be, once it is put into words, we have never known or experienced it any other way. As words are laid out on the page, the writer has exposed a piece of their own heart, by showing us the things that they find are the most valuable.
For that reason, writing is the truest, most direct form of communication. Every single person who has read Lord of the Rings knows Frodo’s exhaustion as he climbs Mount Doom, and every Harry Potter fan knows the slippery, silky feel of an invisibility cloak. Even if you’ve never had Turkish Delight, you know after reading The Chronicles of Narnia that it’s pretty much the most delicious thing ever. Writing is the great equalizer in art; it creates an experience that everyone can share, something that we can all understand the same way. Most importantly, it connects our hearts to everyone who has ever held the same book in their hands. So while writing, as an art, does expose the heart and mind of the writer, it also provides an experience that connects all of its readers. The subject, the truth of the story itself, lies somewhere between the perception of the writer and the interpretation of the reader.
On June 4, two of Inhae Lee’s teeth (or as she puts it, “teef”) jumped into a bathtub and scrubbed themselves clean with toothpaste. On August 4, they went for a dip in the pool. These are a few of the recent entries on My Milk Toof, a blog that details, through photo essays, the not-so-mundane adventures of the creator’s liberated baby teeth, lovingly named ickle and Lardee.
Each photo is a treat to behold, having been painstakingly assembled with a mix of both miniaturized props that complement the teeth’s small size as well as actual-sized objects. And though visually stunning, the narratives themselves are surprisingly straightforward. A recent post called “Sweet Treats” consisted of nearly 35 photos of the two “teef” eating ice cream, and a large majority of those photos were merely captioned with the words, “slurp slurp slurp.”
Faulkner, it ain’t.
But readers loved it. “Sweet Treats” has received over 200 comments and counting, and while there are no statistics available about the readership of the site itself, the 13,500+ fans on My Milk Toof’s Facebook page indicate this is more than just a casual project. Read more »
How would you feel if the deepest recesses of your soul became material for your therapist’s next novel? I suppose it’s possible you would feel honored – hey, at least it means your life is in some way interesting (unless your therapist’s next novel is entitled, The Biggest Wastes of Blood and Tissue I’ve Ever Counseled). I suppose it’s possible you would feel betrayed – the sacred secrets spilled on your therapist’s couch/chair/zafu are the building blocks of your life and not sources of creative inspiration. Yes, both reactions would be valid and understandable. But stop for a moment and think about the life of a therapist/analyst/healer. Day after day they are inundated with human dramas. Whether tragic, hilarious or frustrating, these human dramas are all real…and therefore inherently compelling. I imagine your therapist leaves her office every day filled to the brim with the joy, pain and universality of the human experience. So, what does she do with it all? If she lives in Manhattan, she very well may be writing about it. Read more »
Good storytelling is timeless and transformative. For me, nothing beats just sitting down and hearing a damn good story. True, sometimes it’s cool to see random stuff blown up while mutants battle it out on a big movie screen. And sometimes it’s cool to play with fancy electronic gadgets that simulate reality while I avoid my own reality. And sometimes it’s cool to use those fancy electronic gadgets to blow up virtual mutants of my very own. But if you tell me an engaging story with fascinating characters, if you pull me into lives that help me forget (and better understand) my own, and if you get me emotionally invested in the outcome…I am putty in your hands. But is the art of old-fashioned, sitting-around-a-campfire storytelling dead? Can individuals with interesting stories sit on a stage and engage an entire bitter, jaded, New York City audience? Oh hells yeah. I witnessed such a feat when I attended Visible Theatre’s True Story Project: Faith last weekend. So afterwards I did a little digging to try to find out how they managed to keep me entertained without blowing up a single mutant. Read more »
Equipped with a bevy of volunteers as well as materials found from a trash bin at a construction site, LA-based artist Liz Glynn, pictured at left, relived the rise and fall of Rome in a 24-hour-long participatory performance at the New Museum this past Monday & Tuesday. Description and photos after the jump. Read more »
Computer game designer Chris Crawford’s Balance of Power, which took the gaming world by storm in 1985, has been reimagined for today’s geopolitical landscape in Balance of Power: 21st Century. Crawford’s new release is built on the fundamentals of “storyplay,” a unique brand of interactive storytelling that presents players with nearly unlimited opportunities to influence the narrative. Crawford’s company Storytron also provides a system for creating and publishing your own storyworlds. Read more »
On June 4, two of Inhae Lee’s teeth (or as she puts it, “teef”) jumped into a bathtub and scrubbed themselves clean with toothpaste. On August 4, they went for a dip in the pool. These are a few of the recent entries on 
How would you feel if the deepest recesses of your soul became material for your therapist’s next novel? I suppose it’s possible you would feel honored – hey, at least it means your life is in some way interesting (unless your therapist’s next novel is entitled, 
Good storytelling is timeless and transformative. For me, nothing beats just sitting down and hearing a damn good story. True, sometimes it’s cool to see random stuff blown up while mutants battle it out on a big movie screen. And sometimes it’s cool to play with fancy electronic gadgets that simulate reality while I avoid my own reality. And sometimes it’s cool to use those fancy electronic gadgets to blow up virtual mutants of my very own. But if you tell me an engaging story with fascinating characters, if you pull me into lives that help me forget (and better understand) my own, and if you get me emotionally invested in the outcome…I am putty in your hands. But is the art of old-fashioned, sitting-around-a-campfire storytelling dead? Can individuals with interesting stories sit on a stage and engage an entire bitter, jaded, New York City audience? Oh hells yeah. I witnessed such a feat when I attended 
Equipped with a bevy of volunteers as well as materials found from a trash bin at a construction site, LA-based artist Liz Glynn, pictured at left, relived the rise and fall of Rome in a 24-hour-long participatory performance at the New Museum this past Monday & Tuesday. Description and photos after the jump. 
