Writing with Purpose

Posted on by sereichert

Good morning, loves. I’ve been trying to read more lately. Everything from scientific studies on stress response, to the humor of philosophy, to the life and struggles of Van Gough, to a naughty Priest with a BDSM kink…ahem. I’m well rounded like that? And I find the more curious I am of all these very different genres, the more I start to think about my own writing.

It’s not uncommon for humans (writerly ones or not) to start to feel deflated, stuck, and more going through motions than genuinely living. We, especially in the corporation that is America, are caught up in a terrible kind of rat race (including plagues, famines, lack of health care, underpaid and overworked) and it can feel that most of our days are spent drudging through. From one task to the next, one have-to to another. Its universal in our culture.

So, because I’m an absolute book dragon, I am also reading an interesting book from the 1950s called “Words to Live By”. I’d found it in my grandparents cabin last year and have taken to reading a ‘chapter’ here and again when I’m feeling stuck. The caveat of course is that this is an old book, with some entries being incredibly biased, a little too religious, and some conforming painfully to the unhealthy standards of the time. But, because I’m an information whore, I like to read them and filter out what’s good about them.

The one I recently read was about purpose. And how we can get caught up living a very drab, unfulfilled life. The trick, the author wrote, was to live as if one of your heroes/heroines was watching. To live in such a way that the people coming after you had something to look up to, to aspire to. And I kind of think this is brilliant, because it doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to do something great or large or be someone well-known or famous. It could just mean that you are a living example. You create a set of standards. You are influential to both good and bad ends. And you never know, who will be watching.

As writers, I hope that we approach our purpose in two ways. One, that we stay true to what we write. Meaning, we write what we love and we don’t cater or cow to the demands of the market. Also, this means that we invest in our writing by constantly questioning it and striving for the best possible book/poem/essay/article we can write and genuinely care about its quality.

And two, that we use our voices to entertain, educate, encourage, and uplift. Our words matter. Even if in a hundred years we’ll all be gone, our words will survive beyond us. So make them good words. Make them loving and careful words. Make them beautiful and true. Make them words that someone reading your book 75 years later doesn’t have to mentally edit or dismiss for lack of understanding and compassion. Do your best. When you learn something new or know better than you did, do better than you did. Find purpose in the fact that your hero/heroine is watching you, (even if its just your parent, or a teacher, or your kids) and make your writing and your regular life, worth admiring.

2nd Person POV: You Are the Great White Whale of Perspective

Posted on by sereichert

Your name is Ahab but you ask the crowd to call you Ishmael. You are the outcast. A man with a singular determination that will destroy your life one league at a time. One sharp harpoon, rusty tipped after another; giant nails in the coffin of your sanity. You spend your life in pursuit of an enemy, who stole your leg, the ghost of which pains you every night, mocks you, like the monster’s great white smile…

I’ve talked about perspective before but today, I wanted to get more into the elusive and cagey fellow that lies between the literary popular 1st, and the genre popular 3rd. This is the perspective one rarely writes a novel in (though it has been done) but can pack a powerful punch when building emotional investment in your reader.

Let’s talk about “you“. That is…the 2nd Person POV.

What you may not know is 2nd person POV is often used as a more intimate alternative to 1st person. It almost feels like a narrator is putting the reader in the middle of the action and making them the lead while they hold their hand through the journey.

But why is it so treacherous?

Well, the grammar alone can be strange, and redundant. On top of that, it is easy to fall into heavy and long-winded monologuing from this perspective and forget that your novel/book/story, must also contain those vial elements of setting, other characters, dialogue, and plotline

(If you ever want to see how it’s done right, I encourage you to check out Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney: link)

So why do we bother using it? Well, like anything good and worthwhile in life, storytelling should evolve, it should test boundaries and experiment with ways to bring readers into our little worlds. In addition to that, 2nd person POV is a beautiful way to break up a scene by adding suspense, asking bigger picture questions, and engaging our readers on a more personal level.

It is an effective tool for removing a reader from a difficult situation while still keeping them interested. If your subject matter is ethically challenging (drug abuse, violence, non-conforming ideals) putting the scene or story in 2nd allows for the author and the reader to put you in the shoes of the person going through the questionable behavior. It’s a way to show the humanity behind bad decisions or the person in the crime, rather than being removed and judgmental towards the material presented.

If we see, third-hand, a man using cocaine in a bathroom we will make all kinds of judgements, but when the writer says something like,

“You promised yourself this would be the last hit, the one-way ticket to get you back to where you needed to be in your circle of friends. After all, those friends are the only family you have. What’s one little white line? They are cheering you on from behind and it feels like being on top of the world for that one brief inhale.”

2nd person POV is a beautiful way to get inside the characters head and making you the character at the same time.

2nd person is also great for allowing the writer to break a bit of the fourth wall and talk to a reader directly. Which can be fun, and strange but like I said, experimenting brings us to new ideas about how writing can affect us and our readers.

One of my favorite ways to use 2nd person POV is in a broader sense of humanity. I utilize it occasionally in poetry when dealing with universal ideas of loss, scarcity, war, hardship, joy, birth and death. Authors can tell the story we all are a part of and bring clarity and consciousness to larger metaphysical concepts and philosophy.

This method is often employed in passages scattered throughout a 3rd or 1st person POV novel, as a character telling a larger-picture story or asking a question that begs for more introspection.

If you’d like to give it a try remember: Avoid long monologues, stick to the action (just like any good writing), and don’t forget to do the work of writing (dialogue, scenes, sensory info). Also, start small, poetry, flash, short stories are a great venue for experimenting.

Converting current WIP (works in progress) or parts of them into 2nd can help you suds out the emotion you’re trying to hook the reader with as well as give you a fresh perspective on a character or scene that is simply not working.

Good luck out there.

Remember this Saturday (7/30), Episode 5 (“The Rainstorm”) of Westbury Falls will be available on Kindle Vella (link)

Turning Point

Posted on by sereichert

No one likes to be rejected. Well, I can’t generalize, maybe there are those that get a kick out of it. Maybe for some, it serves as a driving force to continue with even more fervor. Maybe they’ve never had a problem with self-esteem or feelings of inadequacy.

I’m not one of those people.

My rational brain knows that there’s nothing personal meant. My rational brain knows that it’s just one opinion in a sea of possibilities. But day after day, letter after letter, even the most devoted to their art have to ask…did I miss my calling as a waitress?

Or a forensic anthropologist, or an archaeologist, or a pilot, or a teacher, or an EMT, or…ANY other job that doesn’t require me to put my heart in the hands of someone else to be judged and weighed to justify doing what I love?

Wouldn’t it be nice to just go into a nine-to-five, perform some task that doesn’t have to have any of my heart in it, go home, and get a paycheck and possibly health insurance if I’m lucky?

Writers…man, we’re a strange breed.

Rising in the dark early hours, still up at dark late hours, scribbling on napkins and notebooks. Our mental faculties always distracted to some degree by the dialogue in our heads. We write, we pour out, we mull over, and edit, and form, and shape, and create. We fester and brood. And when it looks, to our over-thinking eye, that it might be something worth sharing we throw it out into a world that’s saturated with thousands of other ideas worth sharing.

And we wait. And we hope. And we fester some more.

So it should be a relief when we get the rejection…the thirtieth or first, because now we know. And It’s better to know.

Isn’t it?

So you can go back to the drawing board and change your heart all over again. Mold it into something someone wants to read…make it something that’s acceptable.

Sometimes, you do everything they ask and find you hardly recognize your own voice afterwards.

So one has to wonder; if we take our hearts and cut them to fit the trend of the market, how much of us are we really offering to the world? And is it worth selling out to get our name on the front cover? And what makes that any different than a nine-to-five, heartless job with dental?

Except there’s no dental…

So much time, effort, and tears spent trying to tell the world a story, or explain the feelings of our hearts only to be told it isn’t enough. That if we change our story, that if we change our hearts we might be able to garner a $2.50 royalty someday.

Sounds like madness to me.

Sounds like unchecked mental disease.

At some point, don’t we have to admit, that maybe, our thoughts, our stories, are just not good enough, and maybe it would be less painful to just stop trying.

After all, life’s plenty painful enough on its own.