All contents ©1998, 2002-06 Paul McComas
Perhaps this is how it feels to be a grandparent. While reading
the work of my Advanced Fiction Writing (AFW) students -- each
of whom I’ve taught for one to five years -- I catch glimpses
here and there of my own approach to character and narrative.
At the same time, each of these nine voices is unique, distinct
-- and distinctly not my own.What’s more, my students are also my colleagues; their influence
is evident in my work, just as mine is in theirs. In my “. . .Disco
Prince” story, for example, the paragraph describing the curbside
area onto which Phil is ejected grew out of a suggestion from
my longtime student Lisa Janis to “play up the contrast” between
the glimmering interior of the Park Avenue dance club and the
dark, dismal street outside. Every story here has benefited from
similar suggestions, for each has been “workshopped” by the group,
in part or in whole, and is thus a team effort.Each of the contributors to this collection began studying with
me at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, where I have
taught the non-degreed, non-accredited Fiction Writing in Depth
“minicourse” continuously since 1998. Each subsequently was invited
into the AFW, which I founded in 2001 and teach out of my home.
Of the nine, Betsy Doherty and Lisa have been with me the longest,
while Carla Ng, having first taken my course a year ago, is the
“new kid” -- not that you’d know it from her work.The 18 short stories and one borderline-novella in this anthology
are, as the book’s title suggests, all written in the first-person
voice. In addition to this stylistic connection, each originated
in and/or was further developed through our collaborative workshop/critique
experience. But what about their content? Can a common thread
be found there as well?I believe it can. For as I dip into the minds, hearts and lives
of these wonderfully varied lead characters -- seven women, seven
boys, three men and two girls -- one theme continually presents
itself: the quest for human connection. From Pete at the Lobster
Shack and his dream of a life with Denny’s waitress Sherry, “watching
movies and having sex,” to young Paula’s need to make sure that
her connecton with her father is intact; from Karen Reyes’ fiercely
protective love for her older brother (and de facto father), the
troubled Viet Nam vet Deeze, to the nameless protagonist of “Reflection”
and her odd bond with a stranger glimpsed in a diner; from six-year-old
Andy, who is offered a helping hand by the unlikeliest of neighbors,
to Lenny, whose own neighbors spontaneously converge in the wake
of tragedy to soften the blow; from the narrator of “Still Life,”
who longs for reunion with her loved ones just about as much as
she fears it, to Marty, whose sister’s suicide has left a void
that no one can fill -- though his “Gram” comes closest; from
Phil, whose fake i.d. gets him into the disco, though not into
the Disco Princess’ bed (or her heart), to Alyssa, whose search
for affordable housing in the Big Apple brings her life into quirky
intersection -- briefly -- with so many others. . . .Our world gets bigger as its population continues to explode;
our world gets smaller as information technology creates a global
-- albeit virtual -- community. And so we navigate this bigger/smaller,
fuller/emptier, ever-shaky terrain, stumbling along the way, each
one of us very much a “person imperfect” -- though united by a
perhaps perfect goal: to reach and touch and know one another.Which brings me to Boys Hope Girls Hope (BHGH), the independent,
not-for-profit organization which my students and I have chosen
to receive a portion of the profits from the sale of this book.
BHGH came to our attention through the aforementioned Betsy Doherty,
who worked for two years (initially through AmeriCorps) at the
Girls Hope group home here in Evanston, counseling “high-potential
at-risk youth” from throughout the Chicago area.Explains Betsy, “Middle- and high-school-aged students who apply
to BHGH are admitted on the basis of need, desire and performance.”
While continuing to be a part of their own families, each girl
and boy in the program lives with as many as seven peers and three
or four residential counselors for up to six years as she or he
attends academically demanding secondary schools, prepares for
college and learns to live and grow in a unique second-family
environment. “The program,” Betsy concludes, “runs on the belief
that each scholar will develop the skills, confidence and compassion
essential for leadership and service, both now and in the future.”The contributing authors of this book are honored to lend the
voices of First Person Imperfect’s 19 protagonists to BHGH’s resolute
call. (For more information, call 847-256-5959 or go to www.chicagobhgh.org)In introducing this, a collection of my students’ work, I would
be remiss were I not to acknowledge both of my own faculty mentors
(I’m lucky; some people don’t even get one). In high school, Jan
Martin taught Modern Lit in a way that revealed to me the “secret
language” of fiction: symbolism and subtext, foreshadowing and
framing devices. Her approach to literature made me want not only
to read, but to write. Then, in college, Mark Dintenfass showed
me how to write, constantly challenging me to stray outside my
comfort zone and dare to be true to my characters. I’ve modeled
my own fiction-writing workshops largely on Mark’s. Indeed, both
he and Jan helped me become -- for better or for worse! -- both
the writer/editor and the educator that I am today.The same goes for my students. Each of the contributors to this
collection has proven instrumental to me in my growth as a writer,
a teacher and -- with this collection -- an editor. I’d also like
to thank the newest AFW student (too new to our group, unfortunately,
to make it into this anthology), Kim McNabb, for bringing to the
proofreading of this book both the expertise of a professional
editor and the sensitivity of a writer.In both of the classes that I currently teach, I share four key
aspects of my own approach to fiction writing, the first being
the primacy of character. Setting and theme are important too,
but I challenge my students to all but ignore the plotline (I’ve
been known to write the word “story” on a leaf and toss it out
the window), instead allowing it to develop on its own. There’s
no need to outline, or to think too far ahead; if you create engaging
characters and place them in a setting appropriate to exploring
your theme, then the plot is, quite simply, whatever happens.
Besides, how can you know the ending -- or even the middle --
of a story at the outset, when you barely know the characters?
Character-driven fiction requires that the author exercise only
partial control over the machinations of the plot -- particularly,
I think, when the story is in the first person. Ideally, you want
to reach the point where you and the protagonist are writing the
story together.Secondly, I encourage my students to focus on writing in the moment.
Many authors over-rely on back story and flashback, particularly
in the opening pages. You’ve picked up a novel, and you’re a paragraph
or two in. The protagonist and the present moment have just been
established. . .when suddenly, you’re reading about the arrival
of this fellow’s grandparents at Ellis Island 80 years before.
Why should you care? You don’t even know the guy. The reader should
meet the characters the same way we meet people in real life:
not by immediately hearing their life stories, but by watching
and listening to them in the moment. How is his posture? Does
she gesture when she talks? What makes him laugh? What pisses
her off? Bring a moment to life in vivid detail, and then move
forward from that moment -- taking the now quite engaged reader
along for the ride.(Granted, writing in the first-person voice does give an author
some leeway in this department; arguably, the reader is “in the
moment” as long as he or she is paying attention to that which
the protagonist feels compelled to say -- whatever it may be.)Thirdly, I extol the virtues of the plausible suprise. A plot
development can be plausible but predictable (reader response:
“I believe it, but I figured that would happen”), unpredictable
but implausible (“I didn’t see it coming, but I’m not sure I buy
it”), predictable and implausible (“I had a feeling that would
happen, but it doesn’t ring true”) or -- the Holy Grail of story
development -- plausible and unpredictable (“I didn’t expect that,
but, wow -- it makes perfect sense!”). How does a writer grab
said Grail? Simply by composing non-outlined, character-driven,
in-the-moment narrative that, by its nature, ushers one’s unconscious
into the writing process. You can’t plan a plausible surprise,
but it’s a natural byproduct of writing what I think of as “organic
fiction.”Finally, I introduce a theoretical construct that I call the Tightrope
of Disclosure. As author, you stand at one end of a tightrope:
the beginning of a story. You must make your way to the other
side -- the end -- disclosing information all the way. If you
lean too far to one side, you’ll fall off the rope and into Confusion:
the reader will have no idea what’s going on. Lean too far the
other way, and you land in Obviousness: you’re hitting the reader
over the head. Throughout the narrative, you must strike the perfect
balance. How? Here’s my shortcut solution: while the reader should
at no point wonder what is going on, it is acceptable -- even
advisable -- for him or her to wonder why.As you read the stories in this collection, I think you’ll find
that each of my AFW students has incorporated portions of this
sensibility into her or his own writing. You’ll also find places
where they’ve gone their own way -- and more power to them! In
the words of the late Montana writer Richard Hugo -- words (from
his essay “Writing off the Subject”) that I read aloud at the
beginning of each term at Northwestern -- “You’ll never be [a
writer] until you realize that everything I say today and this
quarter is wrong. It may be right for me, but it is wrong for
you. Every moment I am, without wanting or trying to, telling
you to write like me. But I hope you’ll learn to write like you.”Betsy, Carla, Drew, Elizabeth R., Elizabeth S., Emile, Laura,
Lisa and Sarah: my congratulations. Each and every one of you
has learned to write like you.
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