On travel, writing and anything in between.
16.05.2012
© Claire Scobie
I keep getting asked how to use dialogue effectively. Recently one author told me that until she’d worked out how to use dialogue, she couldn’t get to grips with her memoir—nor her style.
Then yesterday, at the Sydney Writer’s Festival, another writer was bemoaning the fact that despite keeping a regular journal, she rarely wrote about the people she met, nor kept a record of any of the conversations. Now she finds her writing doesn’t sing and is too bogged down with description.
When I was writing Last Seen in Lhasa, an agent advised me to have dialogue on every page. I didn’t realise how important it was in the early drafts. By the end, I pretty much had done just that.
So why is dialogue so important?
It helps create character.
It is the best way to ‘show not tell’. Through dialogue you ‘show’ your characters—who they are, how they act and react.
It humanises a story.
When you combine dialogue with ‘stage directions’—how a person talks and moves—the
reader can visualise the person or people.
Dialogue immediately creates a scene by externalising the action.
It breaks up the writing and changes the pace.
It also advances the narrative.
It adds authenticity to your writing and shows you have actually met people on your journeys.
It provides other voices to the narrative—the reader doesn’t just hear you.
How to Master the Art
When you are travelling make notes of what people say, as well as who says it. This includes yourself.
If you are quoting someone directly, and want to use the person’s real name, ask permission first.
Learn how to condense an exchange. Change as little as possible of the quote, unless to clarify.
A direct quote repeats exactly what the interviewee said. If you don’t have a person’s exact words, you can paraphrase, but you cannot change the meaning of a person’s words. When you paraphrase, don’t use quotation marks.
Drop in a few foreign words to add authenticity—but keep the meaning clear. If necessary, translate.
Dialect can be useful but don’t overplay it. Use subtly.
If you’d like to learn more about the craft of travel writing, my next five-week travel memoir course starts on 23 May.
10.05.2012
This Monday, hot off the plane from London, I attended the launch of travel memoir Growing Old Outrageously. Held in Sydney’s Belvoir Theatre it was launched by comedienne and journalist, Wendy Harmer.
Both the authors, Hilary Linstead and Elisabeth Davies, are now in their seventies and the book hilariously chronicles their friendship and journeys post-retirement. Known as Hil and Liz, the pair went to school together in England and re-met after 35 years. As Liz so aptly says, their book could herald the launch of another sub-genre of travel writing—'old bird lit'.
In many ways the pair couldn’t be more different. Hil is outgoing, loves food and shopping; Liz is solitary, prefers a museum over a fancy meal and always travels light. While Hil left England aged 21 and emigrated to Australia, becoming the first theatrical agent for directors such as Baz Luhrman and Gillian Amstrrong, Liz stayed in grey London working as a civil servant.
I was especially excited to be at the launch because I mentored Hilary when she was writing her part of the memoir. She came to one of my travel workshops in 2009, told me the gist of the book, and asked if I’d take her on. I could instantly see the attraction of the story—and believed that her exuberant personality could carry it through.
At that time she was struggling with how to weave together their disparate journeys over a sixteen-year period and their two different writing styles. It’s hard enough writing your own book, but co-writing it with someone who lives thousands of miles away is really tricky.
Initially Hil and Liz tried to write a chapter each, but that didn’t work. So straight away we worked on finding ways to seamlessly link their journeys. Sometimes this meant focusing on one trip over another, and leaving some places out altogether. We also looked at how to smooth out the voice, to create a single coherent narrative.
On and off, over nine months, I worked with Hil as she wrestled with her sprawling manuscript. In between, she negotiated with Liz and together they wrote and re-wrote their memoir. Much of Liz’s contribution was the imagination, skilful editing and a strong narrative line, needed to knit the book together. The result is a humorous, rambling and inspirational globe-trotting account, which shows the development of a friendship—and their staunch differences.
At the book launch, Liz thanked Hil for all her efforts. She said, if it wasn’t for Hil’s ‘vision, hard work and persistence’, the book would never have been finished.
I thought that really nailed what is required to write—and most importantly—complete a book.
Vision — you need that in the beginning when you are just starting out. But you need to hold on to it during the writing. It will inspire you to carry on, even on those dark days.
Hard work — you don’t necessarily have to be a trained writer to tell a story. You do need to be prepared to do drafts and re-drafts to make the story the best it can be.
Persistence — it’s one thing to bang away at the computer, it’s another to grit your teeth to the end. So many writers, many of them very good and talented, don’t make it that last mile to see the manuscript through.
But when you do succeed, and you are lucky enough to get a book deal, it’s all worthwhile. There’s nothing like holding your first book and celebrating it amongst your friends, family and peers.
If you are in Sydney and want to see Hil and Liz, they are speaking about Writing in the 70s at the Sydney Writer’s Festival on 17 May, at 4pm.
My next five-week travel memoir course starts on 23 May.
26.04.2012
© Poles
This week I’m writing to you from the grand institution of the British Library in London. I’ve done much of the research here for my novel, trawling through records from eighteenth-century India held in the India Office Records. Now I am in the editing stages and I hope, on the homeward stretch…
The BL is home to some of the world’s most famous books. The original Magna Carta, some of Leona Da Vinci’s sketches, the Gutenberg Bible, Mozart’s hand-written musical diary and over 14 millions books. Some rare books are only on display during exhibitions; others can be read and looked at in its many reading rooms. My favourite place to write and read is in the cavernous Rare Books Room.
Amazingly (and rather disappointingly) I haven’t had to wear white gloves to look at some of the works I’ve requested. Many have thick yellowing pages and are written in faded ink, still visible 250 years after they were written. It’s always a thrill to read an original diary and imagine the person who wrote it. It makes history real and brings the past streaming into the present.
What I love most about the Library is the atmosphere of furious study. Everyone is focused, everyone is busy. It’s like when you enter an ancient church and the air is thick with the sacred. As soon as you enter the Library, a stone’s throw from King’s Cross station, and walk up the marble steps, you know you are going to get a serious day’s work done.
On every available seat, people are working and the places fill as soon as the doors open. Today, I saw one woman breast-feeding with one hand, typing with the other. Inside the reading rooms, the atmosphere is hushed. You can’t dawdle or daydream here. You can only get down to the task in hand, only stopping for a quick tea and homemade cake in the café on the second floor.
Sitting here makes me realise how important it is to break out of our ordinary writing routines. I’m guilty of if myself. Back in Sydney I go to my office, day in and day out. I rarely make a trip to the beautiful old New South Wales Library or take my work to a café.
But it’s like when you go to a yoga class and push yourself much harder than if you practise at home on your own. Writing around other people makes you squeeze that extra bit out of yourself. Far from it being a distraction, a change of environment can boost your output.
Just as long as you don’t spend too long eating cake…
Thoughts?
28.03.2012
Writing is often about fixing: fixing big things like structure and small points like punctuation. Once you know how to fix something—and this comes through trial and error—then you know why some pieces work and some don’t.
It also helps to know what sort of writer you are. At a recent workshop one woman described how she likes to write the bare bones of a story and then flesh it out. As a result her writing is pared back and minimalist. In some places, just enough was said. In others, she skated over the surface and more depth was needed.
This writer is likely to spend longer doing the actual writing, and less time editing.
Another participant was the type of writer who piles in the detail. Her forte was description and colour and sensory stimulation. In some places it worked, in other parts it was over-written. As I count myself in that camp, I know that as much time is spent editing and re-writing, than actual writing.
For me, it’s important to get the words down on the page. This is the raw clay that I will fashion into my glazed pot.
In the workshop we then discussed whether those who like to pile in the words are hoarders. I’m not enough of a psychologist to know the answer, but for sure, writing does reflect deeper aspects of ourselves. And while I’d say I’m more of a hoarder than a minimalist, there are times in writing when I love to chuck things out…
There’s actually nothing more satisfying than getting a red pen and taking a piece of writing and cutting it, fashioning it, sculpting it into the shape you want the narrative to be.
Louise Dougherty (A Novel in A Year) has a saying that goes something like this. Never read your own work without striking extra words out.
When I get to the stage of cutting a story, I know I’m on the homeward stretch. That’s when I really polish the piece of prose and clarify exactly what I want to say.
I should add here that whichever camp you’re in, the more you write in a particular way, the quicker you become. When I was first working as a feature journalist, a 3,000-word profile could take several weeks. Now, if I have to, I can do it in three days.
But as for fiction, I’m learning the hard way. I’ve been piling it all in and am now ready to have a ruthless edit.
Wish me luck!
For the next two weeks I’m away. My next blog will be after Easter.
23.03.2012
This week I’m delighted to share the news with you all that my travel memoir Last Seen in Lhasa is being launched as an e-book on Kindle on 31st March. (I will make the link live as soon as I can for instant download!) Not only does this mean another outing for the work, it also makes it accessible to a new audience.
These days many books go out of print within a couple of years, so the fact that mine is still selling six years later is exciting news.
People still ask whether I always intended to write a book and why I did it. The first few times I went to Tibet, I did as a journalist. I’d always dreamed of writing a book—who doesn’t? But it took quite a few years before I committed to the project.
During all this time I made copious notes and have a shelf-ful of journals. I also became very active in the Tibet cause and my perspective shifted from a journalist, to someone raising awareness about it.
The decision to commit
Five years after my first trip, in 2002, I saw this extraordinary documentary called Yogis of Tibet.
For those of you who haven’t read my book, it centres around my friendship with a wandering Tibetan nun who I call Ani. While I knew she was a yogini (a female yogi), I didn’t know how few women practitioners like her were left.
After watching this documentary I realised that Ani is the last of a generation. That clinched my decision to write my book about her, our friendship and my seven journeys to Tibet.
Prior to this, she’d given me permission to write in general about her. I then went to Tibet again and told her what I intended to do. She generously shared many stories with me about her life, her spiritual tradition and her family.
Once I knew I was writing a book, I was worried it would change my relationship with Ani. I didn’t want my later journeys with her to become ‘research’. Thankfully, nothing changed. I think that was because we had a strong foundation: we were friends first and foremost.
The result
Every month I still receive emails from readers asking after Ani. Her story has touched over 20,000 people, probably many more. For me, that’s deeply humbling. I only wish she could know all of that.
The situation in Tibet is appalling right now. Over the past year, 29 Tibetans have self-immolated. That’s right, they’ve set themselves on fire as a protest to Chinese rule. This isn’t the place to have a political rant, but for those who care, there are some amazing Tibet organisations—Australian Tibet Council, International Campaign for Tibet and Free Tibet—who are working hard for the plight of the Tibetan people.
I worked on my book for nine years. I now know it has captured a snapshot in time. Every ounce of effort was worth it.
So for all of you writing a book, the road may be long, but the rewards are great—and often unexpected.
Keep on trucking!
16.03.2012
As we all know the publishing industry is changing fast. A couple of weeks ago Anthony Horowitz wrote a provocative piece asking ‘Do We Still Need Publishers’ in The Guardian. He mentioned a couple of newbies that are muscling in.
Apple has launched its own publishing arm—iBooks Author. While they say it’s as simple as ‘drag and drop’, according to Horowitz they take 30% of the profits. That’s fair enough. What is more worrying is you can only sell your book through Apple stores, so in effect, Horowitz says, ‘they own you.’
I also learned about On the Unbound. This intriguing British project allows authors and readers to ‘decide which books get published.’ This is how it works. You submit your book idea to the site. Then readers will pledge support (i.e money) to ‘make the book happen.’
As a sponsor, you then get your name printed in every edition of the book. I need to find out more if this actually works, but it’s another exciting example of entrepreneurialism in times of uncertainty.
Keen to learn more, this week I also attended the informative seminar presented by Geoff Bartlett on Self-Publishing. Geoff is a journalist, author and a veteran tutor at the Sydney Writers Centre. In two hours, he covered all the nuts and bolts of how to self-publish, as well as the pitfalls—and delights.
One of the most challenging aspects of self-publishing is the amount of grunt work you do to promote yourself. Otherwise your garage (or worse, your living room) is likely to be full of unsold books.
Authors have to do so much promotion anyway. But when you self-publish you do it all—the publicity and marketing, as well as designing the book and working out how to distribute it. It’s not for the faint-hearted!
Travel writer and journalist Stephanie Dale worked out the system very successfully with her first book My Pilgrim’s Heart about her epic walking tour across Italy, through the Balkans and into the Middle East.
She sold the first 1000 copies of her debut memoir in just a couple of months. She now offers advice and workshops to writers who want to self-promote. In essence it boils down to living and breathing your book for as long as it takes. You are the brand, as well as the author.
Thoughts?
07.03.2012
When scriptwriters are trying to squeeze the most juice out of a dramatic situation, they call it squeezing the lemon.
The aim is to get the most emotion possible out of a scene. It could be the most fear, comedy or suspense. Whatever you are trying to do, you take it one step further.
In fiction this amounts to pushing a character out of their comfort-zone; making them do something memorable and often shocking.
In non-fiction I see it differently. It is where you dig deeper into yourself and into your own writing.
You push yourself to name that elusive emotion as you finally stepped inside the walls of the Forbidden City. You take yourself to that exact moment of fear as the car was about to swerve. You drill down to the most raw and honest parts of yourself and then put them on the page. Uncensored.
Why is this important?
As writers we are trying to get our readers to care. If they care about you, they will connect with you. They will want to keep turning the pages and follow your journey.
Writing can be very exposing. Especially when the main character—the protagonist—of your book is you. So you don’t want to spill lemonade on every page.
Instead, aim to get the most out of any given situation at key plot points in the narrative and at any turning points in the character arc. If these are heightened, they have greater impact.
Bill Bryson does it with humour. Colin Thubron does it by removing himself from the narrative. Through his absence we are able to connect directly with the country and people he describes. He calls this being ‘a clear mirror’. In Shadow of the Silk Road, he then ramps up the drama in an unforgettable scene in Azerbaijan, when he is having root canal treatment without an anaesthetic.
Elizabeth Gilbert does it when she is down on her knees praying for answers as her marriage falls apart. In A Journey to Ladakh, Andrew Harvey gives a heightened sense of spiritual awareness on his first day in Leh, the capital of Ladakh.
All of them—in their own unique way—have squeezed the lemon.
So, how do you do it? And where do you avoid doing it?
29.02.2012
© Vladimir Melnikov
I’ve just finished my first five-week
travel memoir course of the year. As always, it’s exciting to see writers develop over the time we spend together. I always leave feeling inspired by people’s journeys and their courage to share them.
Now, I’m not one to have a gripe but this blog has one. (Drawing a deep breath)… I’m often amazed how many people attending my courses read so few books in the genre.
Not everyone, of course. There’s always at least one who is an avid reader. But often there will be a couple, or a handful, who have hardly read any travel memoirs. Yet they are there because they want to write one.
It’s a bit like wanting to make horror films and never watching a single flick. Or deciding to become a pastry chef and never eating the sorts of patisseries you want to cook.
One of the best ways to learn how to write is to read. Reading anything is good, but particularly reading the sort of book you want to author.
Start reading for fun. Pick up a book and see what you like and what you don’t like. Try to understand which books work and which don’t.
Then if you’re really serious about writing your own, begin to read critically. This means working out the book’s architecture—how it’s structured. Look closely at the bricks and mortar—the syntax or sentence construction—and language.
A good exercise is to copy out word for word an entire paragraph. This will help you understand how a writer thinks. You notice details which you would normally skim over when reading.
New writers often try and emulate other writers until they find their own voice.
I heard a story from travel writer William Dalrymple (City of Djinns, From the Holy Mountain) about how, when he first started out, he wanted to write like the classic English writer Patrick Leigh Fermor (A Time of Gifts).
Dalrymple’s first attempt at his own book was derivative of Leigh Fermor’s style and it never saw the light of day. But the process of trying to write like him was hugely instructive. Dalrymple then went on to write In Xanadu, which established his long and industrious career.
Most of all, reading helps you decide what sort of book you don’t want to write. And when you know that, you get clear on what you do.
That wasn’t too much of gripe was it?
23.02.2012
There’s nothing worse than staring at a black screen. Or thinking you have so many colourful options to begin your story that you don’t know which to choose. Here’s a few techniques to get started
A travel article needs a compelling lead: to grab the reader’s attention.
In a travel news piece the lead is often no more than 25 – 30 words. It answers the five journalistic questions — who, what, where, when and why.
In a destination story there are more options. You need to decide which is the strongest element in your story: the place, narrative, character or theme.
Narrative: based on story-telling techniques pulls the reader along.
Descriptive: evokes the place you are writing about. But don’t let this be excessive.
The dramatic plunge: lands the reader in the middle of things or in media res. Then you back-track to how you got there.
Pivotal moment.
A curious fact or anecdote or question.
Evoke an emotion: make the first sentence mysterious.
Start slowly, with more exposition—detailed description. This sets the scene and from there you go into the main story.
Some writers say no story should start with a quote. I disagree—as long as the person talking is a key character in the story.
In a travel memoir, the first line should give a clear sense of what the book will be about.
A technique I do with participants at my travel memoir classes (last call for this weekend’s Sydney course) is to read the first lines of a few books.
Here’s three.
‘I wish Giovanni would kiss me.’ Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything
by Elizabeth Gilbert.
‘January. The year began with lunch.’ A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle.
‘I arrived in the Alice at five a.m. with a dog, six dollars and a small suitcase full of inappropriate clothes.’ Tracks by Robyn Davdison.
Straight away you hear the writer’s voice. You know whether it will be serious or humorous.
A good first sentence will establish the tone of the story. It will often introduce the narrative thread or the strongest theme running through the book.
Of course you’re unlikely to get it first time. If it’s a longer piece, or a whole book, it will probably change. Often when you’ve done the whole story, you realise that the beginning actually starts in para (or chapter 3 or 4). You’ve got to be bold enough to cut the first two.
It’s normal to take a while to warm up.
When you start you think you need all this backstory. But you don’t. If the reader is curious, then they’ll want to find out more.
One piece of advice: don’t start a travel story at the airport. Or even on the plane. That comes later. Get us to the destination first!
Over to you, how do you begin your stories?
16.02.2012
Recently two people asked me the same question. ‘I want to write a book, but should I bother and do a blog instead? Or do both?’ I thought it was a subject worth unpacking.
In those situations, I always ask: How much time do you have to devote to your writing? We all have a well of creativity and if you draw too deeply, it can run dry. Blogs can be a big timesuck. You can easily spend several hours on your blog rather than devoting time to your memoir or finishing a travel article. And having a whizz-bang blog doesn’t equal a publishing deal. In fact, it can (occasionally) work against you.
At one of my workshops last year I heard a story about a travel writer who blogged excessively about his amazing journeys. When he came home, he pitched a book proposal to an Australian publisher. Initially keen, in the end they didn’t run with his book because he’d told too much of his story online.
Ask yourself some crucial questions on why you are setting up a blog
To give yourself a platform?
To earn money?
To travel the world?
Who is your audience: friends or family?
Are you serious or part-time?
What is your point of difference?
Travel blogs started out as online diaries: simple, straightforward and non-commercial. They were the next step up from round-robin emails.
Entrepreneurial travellers like Barbara Weibel turned this idea into a full-time vocation. A fifty-something American, Barbara turned her back on a job she disliked to follow her heart. Now she travels the world writing about culture and people at holeinthedonut.com. Hugely prolific, she publishes a photo a day and her thousands of followers ‘travel with her vicariously.’
Then there’s the gazillions of online travel guides & information sites out there. These usually focus on a particular place / follow a theme. i.e how to travel with ageing parents, how to couch-surf across Europe.
I’ve mentioned nomadicmatt.com before. He started out with backpacking tips and now uses his blog to fund his travels. He also has a useful e-book on How to Make Money with Your Travel Blog.
Gary Arndt also travels non-stop & tells the world about his adventures at everything-everywhere.com. All these blogs make money from advertising and sponsorship. Gary also sells his photos.
But money isn’t the only reason to blog. Writers who have published book will often use blogs as a way to self-promote and build a following.
Walter Mason, author of the delightful Destination Saigon (you’ll hear more from Walter soon), is a great example of a blogger who’s also savvy with social media. The two go hand-in-hand. Using Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Tumblr—to name a few—will expand your networks and build a conversation with your audience. His blogs are personal and reflective of his keen interest in Vietnam and spirituality.
Alexis Grant started off writing about her travel memoir, a story of ‘a journalist who backpacks solo through Africa.’ Now she’s expanded into a social media strategist and offers online courses on ‘How to Make your own Luck.’ Plus she offers lots of writing tips and gives a weekly round-up of other websites worth following. (Thanks Patty for putting me on to her!)
What’s exciting about blogging is you can make it whatever you want. You can be personal or keep it professional. You can upload photos, videos – make it a vlog — & do podcasts. Check out Indietravelpodcast.com for more information on podcasts.
But with over 100 million blogs out there, the more focused, the better. If you decide you want to blog and write, just be strict with how much time you actually spend blogging.
And enjoy the ride!
For those in Sydney, my next weekend travel memoir workshop is 25/26 February at the Sydney Writers Centre.
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