Chuck Q & A - September 2004
Please remember, these Q&As are dated, so don't go off anything in them as if this is current information.
Reality Check:
by Chuck Palahniuk
If you’re reading this, I’m on book tour, reading somewhere. Or signing books. Or stoned on Xanax on some airplane. Since my first tour in 1996, I’ve done book events for a dozen different publishers, in the States and in Europe. The trouble is, no publisher really “teaches” you how to tour. Probably, no publisher wants you to know how rough your life can get. You might refuse the job or give them back their advance money. So, authors get trained by the bookstores and the “media escorts” whom the publisher hires to meet you at each airport and shuttle you between media obligations and book signing/reading events. Notice how I didn’t mention the hotel room? That’s because you might not see the room until midnight or later, and you’ll be getting that next wake-up call at 5:00 AM for the 7:00 AM flight to the next city. And I didn’t mention food, either, because you probably won’t have a chance to eat… That’s okay since sitting on long flights, every day, backs up your colon until your insides fossilize.
Before one tour, the author, Douglas Coupland, emailed me: “Enjoy that room-service club sandwich at midnight, every night.” That image is the essence of book tour – if your hotel even has room service that late.
Besides carting you around, the Media Escorts – typically retired or semi-retired folks with nice cushy cars, like realtors’ cars – they tell you good stories about the other authors they’ve carted around. Juicy gossip about who refuses to touch books or readers because of the possibility of virus-caused brain tumors. Or who always asks where he can find a batch of transgender prostitutes (you’d be amazed which author this is…). And who drinks all night and tries to cancel the next day’s book event.
Media Guides also tell you NEVER to accept manuscripts from people. And they back up this advice with horror stories about lawsuits over plagiarism. Because of all this accusation and liability, the guides say that many authors tour with a big, cardboard box that they place at one end of the table where they sign books. As people approach and try to pass them an unpublished manuscript, the Famous Author will smile and be gracious and do anything NOT to touch the manuscript. The Famous Author will say, “How kind of you! Please, would you put it in The Box so it won’t get lost…?” All evening, that box fills up with manuscripts and stories.
But once everyone is gone, after the doors are locked, the Famous Author asks the bookstore staff to destroy the box and be his witnesses that he never touched the contents. Books, stories and letters, they all go into the trash. THAT’s how lawsuit-wary authors and publishers have become.
Me, if I accept a manuscript, I usually read and comment on either the first ten pages – the most important part of any first novel. Or the first hundred pages, if I have a lot of free time. Or, I lose the damned manuscript in the rush between airports. These three options seem to just piss off people who think I have a magic wand that gets people published; if that were the case, all my friends would be touring with books. But nope. Most of my friends’ work gets rejected no matter how much I praise it to publishing people.
So, if you give me a manuscript, chances are it will get left behind in a taxi or a hotel room. It’s nothing personal. That’s the chaotic nature of a book tour.
The moral is: If you have a manuscript that’s ready for market – send it to the people who can publish it: Agents and Editors.
IMPORTANT: If you see me on tour, and you have a good question… a good, writing and workshop-related question… and you want a good prize at a book event, when I ask for questions, raise your hand and shout: “Workshop.” The Password is WORKSHOP. And hearing your shout, I’ll seek you out. So… “Workshop.”
Watch for the October writing topic. I’ll announce this year’s mailing window for letters.
The Q&A
1. From Petra:
What if the narrator is a third party, should the narration of the story have to be near to the character’s way of talking? For example if the character is a person with weak word usage, should the story also be told in a word-saving way?
Chuck Responds:
By “third party” I assume you mean “third person.” The sort of Voice-of-God narration most books use. Sure, you can use ‘burnt tongue’ to color the book’s voice, and help reinvent the world or the characters, but if no one takes responsibility for a very distinct voice, it seems like readers will assume it’s the author’s voice. Your personal voice. And ultimately, does it add anything to the story, telling it in an odd way that no character takes responsibility for? In Diary, what seems like a very bitter, opinionated third-person narration is finally revealed to be the voice of the “real” author, as revealed on the last page. So, if you’re going to the trouble of crafting a very distinct voice for a story, consider having even a small, peripheral character own that voice before the end of the book. Again, people today know the “teller” shapes the story, so you can get an extra dimension of realism by presenting some form of narrator for your fiction. Someone who “owns” and takes responsibility for the story.
2. From Chixulub:
What are your thoughts on the impact of e-mail and chat rooms on the way people speak? I have dialogue segments in my novel that are Instant Messenger exchanges between people, and I try to capture the shorthand of the Web without leaving my reader completely confused. “OMG, I (3 U,” would be an obvious and simple example of this sort of nonsense. I also see writers use this sort of technique as a chorus, a way of hiding guns, and other things you’ve covered in previous essays. In terms of cyber-speak, where is the line?
Chuck Responds:
Watch out… You’re going to drive your foreign translators nuts with this shorthand. Also, keep in mind that readers will subvocalize (say inside their heads) your narration. At least the first time they read it. You don’t want to challenge them too long. But beyond that, repeating this type of shorthand will make a great “pause” where the reader skips and lands harder on what follows it. As a chorus, sure, you can use it, but it might not be as interesting and unique as something you might invent entirely by yourself. Using ordinary words, why not create the next cultural buzz phrase? That’s half the fun of writing -- shaping the culture.
3. From eob29:
When getting started saying it wrong, is it best to write the phrase correctly and then mutate it or just mutate it and move on? It seems like one of those art forms that is very difficult to do well but easy to execute it poorly. So, I am wondering if there are exercises to go along with this workshop or do we just dive in?
Chuck Responds:
My only exercise is to pay attention when folks talk. Listen for the odd ways they stop and start a conversation, or change the subject. Keep eavesdropping, and build a little inventory of the odd phrases people invent when they talk too fast or miss-state things. In a way, the burnt tongue phrases have to evolve organically from the character, so keep your character in mind and listen to people who you imagine are similar to your character. Pretend you’re an actor, researching to play a character, studying accents and speech patterns.
4. From JohnnySega:
You mention how speaking with a burnt tongue can drive copy editors crazy. As an early writer, did you run into problems where they tried to correct your burnt tongue moments, thinking you didn't know better or that you would be better off sticking to classic rules? At that early stage, how do you protect those moments in your writing without a reputation strong enough to make sure they don't mess with it? Or am I not giving editors enough credit?
Chuck Responds:
Once you establish your authority in the story – head or heart, wise – your reader or editor will allow you to experiment with “voice.” Keep your mistakes consistent, and you can defend them as “style.” Authors tell me that publishing houses prefer to hire copyeditors who speak English as a second language; supposedly, those people are more adamant about correct grammar. That’s why you have to defend your language and have a good reason ready when the editor wants to polish it to a standard, bland perfection.
5. From Entourage:
Chase here from Indy...I understood your essay--great points were made--but from a young (as in inexperienced, or yet to be published/discovered) writer's standpoint, how can a fresh voice write with a "burnt tongue" and still be accepted...isn't writing with a "burnt tongue" somewhat bold? It SEEMS easier for established writers, like yourself, to constantly reinvent their characters...how can an un-established voice write their characters the way they want and still be taken as seriously as established writers?
Chuck Responds:
Write a great story, something so compelling that you establish your authority and preclude any questions. Few people watch “The Wizard of Oz” and say, ‘hey, that could never happen…’ Charm and dazzle your reader, and make sure your burnt tongue is serving a purpose: creating character, adding poetry for contrast, adding authority, whatever.
6. From jzk87:
Hey, Chuck. In the essay this month you mention the use of poetic language as a way of speaking with a burnt tongue. This pertains to my own writing in that writing poetically is something I obsess about. I'm the type of writer who thinks or feels every word means something and every sentence must be 'perfect'. Anyway, how much should I fret over the poetic nature of my work? Is this crucial to distinguishing between the Melvilles or the Steinbecks as opposed to the R.L. Stines? Do you find yourself worrying about the same thing when you sit down to write? Thanks.
Chuck Responds:
Of course, language is important, but the story is king. The story is GOD. The language must serve to illustrate and demonstrate some aspect of the story – otherwise, it’s just the author showing off. Consider that even poetry can serve a purpose: to lull the reader, to describe, to create a sympathetic emotional response, or further the plot. And just because a sentence is simple, don’t assume the writer didn’t agonize over it. Those simple, effective sentences – while not showy – can be the toughest to write. When I sit down to write, my only question is: “Am I having fun? Am I surprised by what’s happening, here? How in the hell can I ever read this in PUBLIC?”
7. From Endless:
I understand that the point of all of this is telling a story in a way that is compelling to your audience, and all of these style nuances are different ways in which to do that, but what are some of the tricks that you use to know when it's too much. How do YOU know when you've used too much stylistic language, even when you're using it in the three examples that you gave in this month's essay? Do you read it out loud? How do you evaluate when it's slowing the reader down to draw attention, or slowing the reader down with frustration, etc?
Chuck Responds:
Bingo. You read it out loud. Writing for National Public Radio, I learned this trick in college. Tom Spanbauer makes each student read his or her work out loud. Doing that, you will hear exactly where the story loses energy and digresses from the plot for too long. Then, read it out loud in a bar where no one wants to hear a story…
8. From Lovehate:
When I'm writing dialogue I tend to add in a fair amount of profanity, particularly when a character is stressed. Do you make a conscious decision to avoid a certain level of profanity in your writing? And if so, why?
Thanks for the workshop, it's made a difference.
Chuck Responds:
If you squander your profanity, you might be left with nothing strong enough to express the crisis moment of your story. In the “Guts” story, I reserved the word “fuck” for the saddest moment, when the fathers says, “That dog was fucking nuts…” That’s why I avoid using words such as fuck and cunt. Those powerful Saxon words, so heavy with short dentil sounds, you don’t want to waste them. Until someone invents some new, more powerful profanity, use the existing stuff wisely. But hey, that would make a GREAT story: somebody inventing a word so obscene it’s scandalous, again.
9. From kasey_carpenter:
We've asked a lot of each on the forums here about "rituals." There was an article recently in a writer's magazine that discussed rituals that writers employ to help them set mood, or to invoke thought and writing "flow." Excessive sharpening of pencils, lighting candles, partaking of your drug of choice... So Chucky P (and thanks for my necklace) what is yours?
Chuck Responds:
Warm water. Every morning, I take the plot thread for the day’s work into the shower and think while I wash and shave. During the day, if I get stuck, I wash a sinkful of dishes in warm, soapy water. That also helps with my carpal tunnel pain, and keyboarding, but the mindless labor and warmth helps my mind relax. Then, the perfect next idea just seems to arrive. Katherine Dunn (Geek Love) swims while writing. I hear that Stephen King is another shower writer. So I always take paper and pen into the bathroom, every morning. Enjoy the necklace. Beading and masonry work are more (seemingly) mindless tasks that generate good ideas.
10. From Malakaiii:
Hi Chuck!
Just wondering how you get strangers to talk to you. I've heard you tell stories about people chatting to you on airplanes and other places, and I was curious what you use to start up a conversation with them.
And of course, thank you for the workshop!
Chuck Responds:
Look at the person you’re with. People may not always look back, as you attempt conversation, but they’re always aware if you’re looking at them. This is the best way to prove your interest and gain their trust. Always meet their eyes, and turn enough to watch them even when they’re not watching you. Laugh when they’re funny. Don’t challenge their story. Relax and let the other person become the center of the universe. Trust that they will tell you funny and heart-breaking stories, and they will. Let yourself disappear and just be entertained. Your rapt attention is a drug that gives people permission to reveal more and more. You might tell an anecdote that steers them to discuss a topic or theme you’re trying to develop, but don’t try to pump them too hard.
