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http://www.yvonnefoong.com/archives/2006/07/blogathon-2006-kicks-off/

Storytelling is no arcane art, because believe it or not, we are all born storytellers. It is simply a matter of getting your perspectives right.

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http://www.yvonnefoong.com/archives/2006/07/what-i-crave/

There is a very famous story from France which illustrates why I crave a big brother.

Once upon a time, there were two friends who grew up in a rural valley. It was the most beautiful place you could imagine. Sunsets and sunrises that literally turned the moutain peaks ablaze, and reflected off the shimmering waters of a vast lake. It was just as well that these two friends loved to paint. Self-taught, they spent countless hours honing their art.

But over time, they realised that in order to become true artists, they would have to travel to faraway Paris. All the best art schools were situated in that great metropolis. And so, they said their farewells to their families, packed up, and leaped onto a train.

They reached Paris after a lenghty journey.

Their awe at the bustling citizens and bright lights soon turned to dismay, however. They discovered that their money was not enough for them to enter art school. In despair, they made a pact. One would work while the other studied. And when that one graduated, he in turn would work and support his friend through art school.

This would work. This had to work. They had no choice. They didn’t even have enough money to return home, even if they wanted to!

And so, one laboured hard as a carpenter, while his friend studied diligently. All seemed as it should be. The arrangement was working well. Thank God.

But then, as time passed, the friend who worked as a carpenter discovered that his hands were growing numb, cracked, and rough, with each passing day. There were even tremors. In his tears, he knew he would never be an artist. An artist needed delicate and sensitive hands, didn’t he? But his hands were ruined. Ruined!

Nonetheless, he kept his affliction a secret from his friend. He didn’t want to distract his friend from his studies. Nevermind if his dreams were dashed. At least one of them would achieve it. That was all that mattered now. At the end of each workday, he would even take time in the evening to pray to Almighty God for his friend’s studies.

One day, the one who was a student returned home early. He noticed his friend hunched over in his carpenter’s studio, hands clasped together and raised in prayer. A shaft of dying sunlight illuminated his shivering hands. He was stunned to see how cracked and rough they were. And in that moment of moments, he knew… he knew what his friend had sacrificed for him.

Deeply moved, he went on to paint that famous painting that has been endlessly reproduced. I’m talking about the one that most Christians might be familiar with: two hands, clasped together, and raised in prayer.

Most people associate it with prayer. But then, most people don’t know that it is, in fact, a tribute to the true friend.

Something difficult to find in today’s world, isn’t it? This is what I crave but never find.

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http://www.yvonnefoong.com/archives/2006/07/write-it-like-you-are-living-it/

Yup, all the deep emotions aside, I have just spent three posts delving into what I believe. That if you want to be a good writer, you have to write it as if you are living it. Simple enough to understand, but most people don’t actually wrap their minds around the concept the right way.

Many writing instructors have this habit of telling their students to imagine that they are watching a ‘movie’. Then these instructors ask them to write down what they ’see’. I am always horrified when I hear such things. Horrified to the max.

What most people don’t seem to understand is that stories are not two-dimensional (which movies are, since they feature sight and sound) or even three-dimensional (which is real life). They are strictly one-dimensional, constrained to words.

To put this into context, have you ever written something for which your conversation with a friend goes like this:

“So, what did you think of my story? Tell me, honestly!”

“It’s… okay… I guess.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, no. I mean, your English is great. No mistakes. And your descriptions are really good. But it’s just that… I don’t know.”

“Come on.”

“It’s… somewhat… I can’t put my finger on it. But it’s a little flat, somehow.”

Yes, flatness. That’s what happens when you try to describe your story like it is a movie. Pop culture is the problem. Everyone is all into cinematics and spectacle. And yet, that’s where the problem is. You are writing like you are seeing it. Not writing like you are living it.

The fact of the matter is, good writing is more like listening to a good radio show. Broadcast stations like the BBC used to have many, many good radio mysteries and dramas. It is hard to imagine now, but in the era before television and movies skyrocketed, they were a staple. Incredibly vivid, despite their minimalist use of dialogue and sound effects, they created pictures in your mind. Here’s an example.

The narrator says, “I walked into a rotting skidrow hotel and asked the old guy at the counter for a room.” The old man wheezes and says, “That’ll be a buck.” We hear four coins being set one at a time on the counter. Then footsteps plod up creaky steps.

Notice how clean and simple that was? I didn’t need to describe the hotel to you. In fact, as soon as I mentioned it, you saw its seediness in your mind. I allowed you, the reader, to provide the mental picture and supply your own details.
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http://www.yvonnefoong.com/archives/2006/07/be-careful-with-your-visuals/
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http://www.yvonnefoong.com/archives/2006/07/triangulation-a-revolutionary-idea/
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http://www.yvonnefoong.com/archives/2006/07/in-conclusion/