tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-957720453833964079.post4986502323750889096..comments2023-08-24T09:20:50.033-07:00Comments on Long Pine Limited: Richard Bausch's "Design"Philip Deaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08332104632865537879noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-957720453833964079.post-50720517157083484992009-01-12T20:30:00.000-08:002009-01-12T20:30:00.000-08:00"...something that you would never even know was m..."...something that you would never even know was missing unless you'd gotten the piece in a draft..."<BR/><BR/>I think that is a key ingredient to every writing process. We walk around with an idea in our heads and we nurse it and believe in it, before we put it down. We come to love it in the abstract as if it was already written, but it isn't, of course. And that's all a necessary part of the gestation process. But like you say, until we start the hard process of writing, we can't know what is really missing. This applies to everything -- fiction, poetry, all of it. This is one of the hardest things for beginning writers to accept and understand, and it’s the lesson more seasoned writers keep learning, but not with any less pain in that learning, I would venture.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-957720453833964079.post-57274247063044425142009-01-12T18:36:00.000-08:002009-01-12T18:36:00.000-08:00It is true, that's the first work. There's a seco...It is true, that's the first work. There's a second phase also. Once the piece is in draft, you know you have the bones but there's something missing, something that you would never even know was missing unless you'd gotten the piece in a draft. In "Design" terms, to make Tarmigian a round character, we needed a round catalyst, Russell -- he had to grow in the author's mind in order for the character Tarmigian to gel. Or Nick in Gatsby to make Gatsby round. And on and on. Thanks, Jeanie, for jumping in and I hope you're doing great.Philip Deaverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08332104632865537879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-957720453833964079.post-43833569275219751582009-01-08T19:56:00.000-08:002009-01-08T19:56:00.000-08:00Phil, thank you for taking time to work out this d...Phil, thank you for taking time to work out this discussion of what "works" or "doesn't work" in fiction by giving us Bausch's story as a counterpoint to Woods (if I'm reading you right).I haven't read Woods, but I have heard poets talk about poems that "work" with great finality in a workshop, and I have seen other poets almost spit when they hear that term "work." This sort of value judgement smacks of tearing down the community in which the dialogue takes place, not building it up so that it can nurture all of us to do our good and simple work, as writers. For someone like Bausch to work seven years on a story and then contribute it to the community, now, for me, that works. I'm going to trust this writer to give me something from his heart, something that will continue to work in my heart the way, as you said, that image whispered to him from the landscape. The work is in the listening; the work is in the noticing. That's the first work.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com