The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words all being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. You might, if you chose, develop any part of the picture, for the idea of sequence does not really exist as far as the author is concerned. Sequence arises only because words have to be written one after the other on consecutive pages, just as the reader’s mind must have time to go through the book, at least the first time he reads it. If the mind were constructed on optional lines and if a book could be read in the same way as a painting is taken in by the eye, that is, without the bother of working from left to right, and without the absurdity of beginnings and ends, this would be the ideal way of appreciating a novel, for thus the author saw it at the moment of conception.
~ Vladimir Nabokov
What a wonder. (No need to reply.)
I *heart* anything and everything Nabokov. Swoon.
Gee, if you hadn’t put Nabokov’s name at the end, I would’ve gone on thinking that you wrote this, at least for a while. Then again, I suspect you don’t use the phrase “for thus” very much.
In other news, I just read A Fair Maiden. I didn’t swoon, but I suspect it’s one of those books that linger, the taste and bouquet unfolding over time.
No swooning? Oh my, I was head over heels. I loved the fairytale vibe and the oddness of the whole thing. JCO can do no wrong in my eyes.
XO
It was too short. I didn’t feel like Katya had enough time to develop, but the ending induced a bit of swoon. Sex and sorrow, a winning combination.
Interesting. I thought it was perfect, but then I much prefer shorter works, both as a reader and writer. I was thinking today that I’d like to write a novella when I’m finished with this project; it’s the just-right length for me. (Marching past the dildo-commercial double entendre.)
(snort!)
Like Tulasi-Priya I thought you wrote this as I began to read. After that, I was struck by how much this quote echoes what I’ve been feeling as I write the WIP on my site. The characters and events are in my mind yet I’ve been struck more and more these days by all the different ways other writers would tell the same story. I know that would be about more than sequence, but sequence is where my mind’s been.
Structure, oh yes. I’ve spent the past weeks bashing my head against my story until finally the damn thing came apart. Such a fucking mess. But usually my writing is better after I break it and put it back together. We’ll see.
(Poor Vlad is rolling over in his grave.)
“Dear Aunt Myrtle, Thank you ever so much for taking that set of old doilies my great-granmama Vladimyra left behind and sewing them into such a cunning sweater. I haven’t wanted to take it off and in fact am wearing it as I write…”
{snort} Tetman, you stinker.
Very funny, Tetman, but I think it’s adorable.
Ha, ha. And ouch. I’m not sure because I can’t see the front, but that seems to be the sort of thing I’m trying to get back into. Could it be sexy if it had a v-neck and just a push up bra underneath? I need a man’s opinion for my notes …
Sexier with the doily sweater, since it’s already so open, would be a modest silk chemise of subdued tone, bra optional.
Ah! Many thanks for that — you’ve actually made me rethink comfort, but I won’t bore you with the details.
I watched Big Fish tonight. It’s remarkably . . . remarkable, and not a little silly, and told in a circular jumble that only makes sense from the storyteller’s eclectic point of view and sense of truth.
But at the end, the movie says that if one tells stories often enough, one becomes those stories, and live as long as they’re told.
Nabokov possibly wouldn’t have liked the movie, but I think he would have approved of the concept.
His quote hit me at an interesting time. I’ve been trying to force myself to write in a linear fashion, point A to point Z. But what I always want to do is hop around, and I think it’s because that’s the way I read books. Never do I start at the beginning and go to the end, I read like I’m exploring the rooms in a house, I’m all over the place. I’ve just about decided to go with it as a writer. It’s annoying because of course I want to write the best scenes first which leaves me wrung out at the end, but what the hell. I’d probably be wrung out anyway.
I’m interested to see what you come up with.
My daughter has a journal that she wrote in with invisible ink. The pen broke, though, and now she doesn’t have a way of deciphering her words. She’s still holding on to it, though. She knows one day she’ll figure out a way.
You may have a writer on your hands, MSB.
I can only hope.
“f the mind were constructed on optional lines and if a book could be read in the same way as a painting is taken in by the eye, that is, without the bother of working from left to right, and without the absurdity of beginnings and ends” Love this idea, and I wish that it could be true, in a way, but our poor brains do not work like that it seems.
I’ve been reading ‘Maidenhead’ by Tamara Faith Berger. I wonder if you’ve heard of it. Erotica seems hardly the word for it – coruscating sexuality, with fascinating commentary from meta-characters within it. Thought, when reading, what you’d be making of it.
Coruscating sexuality? You do know how to pique my interest. I haven’t read it but obviously with a description like that, I’m in.
Interesting thought, to read a work like viewing a painting.
I love the photo… not quite how I picture you working on your book, Averil.