Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Graphic novels engage parts of my mind that standard novels don’t. Not only am I reading a story, I’m seeing it unfold; in a way, this is counterpart? companion? to watching a movie with subtitles. Not only do I get the pleasure of piece-by-piece revelation, I can take the delightful time to admire the artistry of characters brought to life in color, line, and shading.
Every document is, essentially, a phone call — a conversation between you and your readers, and you’ve got to establish a connection before you can start talking. I’ve said that before, haven’t I?
I’ve also said a good first draft is a block of marble, from which to carve that glorious statue known as a final manuscript. Oh, and telling instead of showing is the same thing as playing a game of poker with your cards on the table. Good document structure is a tower of red, yellow, and blue blocks. Poetry is magic, punctuation is alchemy, and so is blogging about your life.
Remember last week’s article about the shape of a document? Remember that hideous image growling out at you halfway down the scroll? Well, this week your assignment is to do one better.
This week you’re going to write a sonnet. Some of you just rolled your eyes, because sonnets are child’s play. Some of you just gripped at a failing heart, because sonnets are Shakespeare-level expert stuff. If you’re in either category, you missed the point of yesterday’s post. That’s okay. I’ll say another word or two about it next Tuesday, but for now I want you to humor me.
When I was in third grade (or maybe it was second), I wrote a poem about sunset, and rest. I did it in number 2 pencil on a sheet of wide-ruled paper torn out of a 78-cent spiral notebook. I illustrated the edges, with an angry sun and an optimistic moon, and my best effort at a seagull. I can remember this in such clear detail, because I’ve still got that page. It’s creased with folds, and the pencil’s faded, but I’ve still got it, tucked away somewhere. The meter is awful.
