Chuck Palahniuk's December Essay, "A Story from Scratch, Act Three"

Well, it's great to get such a close inside look at Chuck's process for the conclusion of this essay series. He could, of course, squirrel away all his favorite techniques to preserve some air of mystery. What we've got instead is the magician who is willing to let you in on the secret. And that's pretty special. So thanks for that, Chuck. In this case, the "demystification" really doesn't spoil the illusion, at all, it only allows those of us so motivated to participate on a deeper level. Real magic.

At the same time, no explication or collection of techniques can ever substitute for individual talent, initiative, and inspiration. The essence of creativity remains mysterious. And no particular training in creative writing can ever substitute for a love of literature and for a broad, conspicuous, enraptured reading life. We're every one of us charged with the necessity of being engaged with terrific work from numerous authors, past and present. If you don't love to read imaginative literature, why would you want to make the stuff?

With that in mind, we can operate from a broad enough scope to encompass stylistic differences. You know, if Virginia Woolf were in your writing circle, you'd be a bastard to challenge her for the deep internalization of her narrative voice, the indirect dialogue, the stream of consciousness stuff... for the sometimes incredibly long yet completely lucid and comprehensible sentences, and for other aspects of her style that are so not Earnest Hemingway, so not Raymond Carver, so not Chuck Palahniuk. This remains true even though we're so not late Victorians, reading under trees, riding in horse-drawn carriages. We're not even early Modernists, horrified at the new industrialism, composing our work at the twinkling dawn of feminism, writing for people in a slower-moving world with patience and time and... no internet.

It gets tricky. But the good part is having such a wealth of literary history with fantastic models and multiple approaches to draw from in the creation of an individual style. There's never been a richer moment to practice.

On that sincere note of thanks to Chuck--coupled with its long caveat intended to acknowledge our indebtedness to the larger pantheon of English letters, without erasing the sincere thanks part--I find it curious that these essays have not stirred more forum discussions. I know people are reading and wrestling with these tools and techniques in private, questioning them, embracing and experimenting and keeping some things while discarding others. But we aren't hearing about it. We aren't talking about it.

We aren't Elvis. We're so not Elvis, yet here we are on stage.

Maybe some are afraid that to say more than "thanks" would sound ungrateful or inject doubt, and to say only "thanks" would just sound lame. Especially one brief "thanks" post after another, all in a row, like ducks. Do ducks give thanks? Maybe others are engaged in the vision of making parts of these techniques your own and breaking onto the literary scene some day soon, seemingly on your own terms, without an easy finger pointing backward to your prominent influences. Does the anxiety of influence linger about? But how sad if anything that self-interested and self-protective preempts what could have been a lively and honest discussion.

Admittedly, in attempting to kick up some talk I'm swimming around in a sea of conjecture. When you're noisy I may have some idea, but when you're quiet I have no idea what you mean.

What's working for you? Which techniques have really helped your own writing? Which parts seem like a new gospel for the making of contemporary literature and which parts seem more like a recipe for a stylistic tic--something that would brand you as an imitator? Have you had the experience of direct imitation leading beyond itself to something else--something liberating, something that meshes with your own sense of voice? Have you tried to do something Chuck's way and failed with delightful results?

Do you take your experiments out of the box and read them aloud at the local coffee house on open mic night? If so, what kind of response do you get? I've been doing things like that since long before I discovered this site in 2003, since long before I ever read one of Chuck's novels. I continue to experiment, even in public, and I've got a whole new arsenal now. Sometimes people are blown away. Sometimes not so much. But even in a distracting environment, I know that what I've delivered was competent. And no one ever, ever says, Wow, your writing really reminds me of Chuck Palahniuk!! Now that I've posted this it will probably happen, but it hasn't so far. Instead of comparing me with Chuck or with any other writers, people come up and tell me how something I've written rocketed them right out of their seat and reminded them of their own real experiences. When stories elicit more stories, personal stories, that's usually a good sign.

Anyway, what's happening with you? If you're a legacy player from our workshop, I probably haven't heard from you in ages. If you're new to the site, maybe it's time to say Hello.

Alternately, let's talk about "Fetch" a little more. Did anyone else find it a little hard to pin down the narrator's age? At first, I pictured him as a scrappy boy of about 10, looking something like a modern Huckleberry Finn, or like that kid in Sling Blade. I don't recall any direct reference to his age in that first draft. This seems like it's just the general impression I got. Maybe the easy dominance the Hank and Jenny characters seemed to have over him.

I took it as a "crush on the older girl" scenario, where he's too young to possibly compete. This also fits with the kind of adventure he's engaged in and the presence of supernatural elements. It's always easier to think of a child as more susceptible to the supernatural, like in a classic fairytale.

After reading the third draft, I'm questioning if I've placed that right, or if the narrator must have some stronger chance of being in a real rivalry with Hank for Jenny's affections. After all, he proposes marriage and also offers to buy her a car. The wager wouldn't be taken seriously if issued from a child.

And all of this is complicated for me by Chuck's defining the narrator in terms of what he doesn't know. For instance, he wouldn't know the word "stride." Who doesn't know the word stride?

It calls to mind the little boys in one of Mark Richard's terrific stories. You know, the kids who set the dog on fire who sets their house on fire. It's in The Ice at the Bottom of the World. And there it is, language. Not the subtle implications of the other characters dominance, nor the supernatural elements, as much as the use of language to define a character.

Do you think Chuck ever goes a little overboard in making his narrators less intelligent or less educated than himself, in order not to sound "writerly." And would you generally rather read things that tip in this direction? I mean, I love the work of Raymond Carver, Mark Richard, Denis Johnson, and others who frequently narrate from the perspectives of characters much less educated and less developed than their creators. But I'll also happily read a novel where the narrator is an anthropologist or a museum curator thrown into an adventure--as long as the novel is otherwise good.

Sometimes it's a relief, for me, to find no brakes at all on the range of vocabulary and the erudition used. How about for you? How about for anyone who's ever read Nabokov? Humbert Humbert is a creepy pedophile, but he's allowed to use his creator's full range of vocabulary and imaginative vision. It's like spending time (safely) with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the brilliant psychopathic psychiatrist from The Silence of the Lambs. You know, the cannibal who has read Marcus Aurelius. Well, it's not exactly like that. Humbert wouldn't be a threat to most people and his voice, while equally erudite, is less chilling, less scathing, less invasive, and far more lyrically tuned. He'd be a much better dinner companion than Hannibal, and endlessly easier to listen to than say, Holden Caulfield.

Has anyone else noticed that virtuosos of thought and language are conspicuously absent from the "minimalist" style? What, if anything, would make this a necessity? Has the culture, at large, grown so anti-intellectual that brainy characters have no say?

Vig!!

I’ve been meaning to respond to these posts. It’s just been a lot. I work at a store and during Christmas shit is hectic. I’ll be able to write a longer reply in January.

Just wanted to comment on two points: I’m writing a book, and I use Chuck’s tools every day. And I’m so glad that he shares his tricks with us.

Second, I don’t agree at all that “virtuosos of thought and language are conspicuously absent from the "minimalist" style.” Just the opposite. I find thought and language nowhere to be found in other more “classical” or “deep” books. Or if they exists, they are buried deep within thought-verbs, endless describing of scenery, and loads and loads of writing that could have been cut out [without subtracting] from the book (Crime and Punishment anyone?).

What I love about Chuck’s minimalism, is that he takes a character and a theme - like mortality/self-value and Tyler Durden - and puts them both, or perhaps together, through experiment after experiment. Through transformation after transformation. He takes an idea/thought/statement and he twists it inside out, turns it on its head --- in short: rethinks it so many times in so many forms, that - by the end – he has provided aha-experiences a zillion times more often on every book than any other author I know of.

Only other author I can think to compare him with, not including Amy Hempel, is Shakespeare.

Chuck Palahniuk for me is the postmodern Shakespeare. In my opinion: the two greatest authors who have ever lived. Shakespeare also pealed off all the bullshit, all the thought verbs automatically become nullified since everything is dialogue. Everything is literally action (talking is an action). You don’t have to worry about excessive scenery descriptions since he wrote plays. The scenery is taken care of by the set. Instead every line, every word, is boiled down to bare minimum. To an effective punch-line. Barring all the bullshit out of the story.

To me Shakespeare and Chuck are the greatest “virtuosos of thought and language” because they don’t squander it. They use every inch of what they have with great impact and reflective elegance.

Anything else, classical or modern/post-modern, again Amy Hempel not included, gets it’s volume turned down after reading one of their works. Nothing else satisfies you any more. You start demanding more. Not because the two are simple, entertaining, short and "anti-intellectual." But because they are simple, entertaining, short and at the same time more intellectual and thought-provoking than anything else you've come across.

PS. Reading Titus Andronicus by Shakespeare, the usage of shock to get your attention is definitely set to a “Chuck-standard.” Or maybe it’s the other way around?

/hleJAC<

Hey, wow, thanks for weighing in hleJAC!

(It took me a day or so to see that someone finally did.)

Let me clarify one of my points.  When I said:

Has anyone else noticed that virtuosos of thought and language are conspicuously absent from the "minimalist" style?

I was not referring to the authors!!  I was referring to the characters!!  I would not for even one milisecond mean to imply that Chuck is less than a virtuoso of thought and language!  Nor was I out to denigrate Mark Richard or Denis Johnson.  Hell, Gordon Lish declared Mark Richard one of the few real geniuses that ever came through his classes at Columbia. 

I was pointing out merely that authors in this school seem to prefer lower class and lesser educated characters, (characters with lots of burnt-tongue mistakes and the need to express themselves with less than half the vocabulary of a professional author.)  And I'm wondering out loud if readers prefer such characters, as well.  Like, do you only want to read about tough blue collar guys who think intellectuals are sissies?

(I know that Chuck has the occasional med school dropout and so forth.  That makes an interesting exception.)

What I find conspicuously absent in these books is the presence of a Hannibal Lecter or Humbert Humbert class of intellectual character, one with the full resources of classical education at his disposal, yet fascinating character flaws (perhaps even villany) to make him something more interesting than a Sunday lecturer.

It's no less an artform to use characters with limited education and vocab and still make brilliant great work from it.  You're absolutely right about a certain profundity emerging almost miraculously in the total effect.  I would go so far as to say that the compression and musicality of Chuck's prose achieve a level of punk rock genius. 

(I can't agree that it's Chuck and Shakespeare and nothing much fit for consumption in between, but I feel you on this...)

In any case, a big thanks to you for taking time to respond.  Stay tuned for our site news on New Year's Day, as it will have important implications for the future of the Workshop.