Sue Williams

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When my father died, it was a while before I was able to handle his things without pain. But once I could, his books were important. They had been touched by his fingers, his memories, and sometimes, his notes. Books are tactile possessions, items we treasure and make our own.
-Sue Williams, Wet Ink

reposted from Sue Williams' blog Wet Ink

My five cents on a writer's truth:

Tonight, I wittered on to one of my classes about truth in fiction writing. I'm not talking about factual truth, but imaginative truth. What we see, feel, hear in our mind's eye. Our stories are a part of us, and a reader can tell when we're bluffing. Orwell wrote, "Good prose is like a windowpane," a line I appreciate on so many levels. Yes, our prose is often best when it's invisible rather than flamboyant, so that the story itself seems uncluttered by words. But the other reason why good prose is like a windowpane, is because it allows us to see into one another. It gets out of the way, and lets me look into you, and glimpse what you hold in your mind, your heart. Good prose almost makes us psychic. It removes our boundaries and merges our imaginings.

The last thing I told the writers in my class was this: When I look back on my writing life, back to before I was published, I remember people telling me to follow my own heart, listen to my own instincts. I wish, now, I had done so sooner. Because the most useful thing I have ever learned about writing is this: Though my readers are so helpful, I must first listen to what is inside me -- be it a voice, a longing, or a fantastical scene. And I must be faithful to that.

When I was a child, at Christian Science Sunday School (I am definitely not a Christian Scientist now, I might add!), we sang a hymn about a "still, small voice of calm." It's a Biblical reference, if I remember rightly, and though it's meant to allude to God, I think it's also a great way of speaking about writing. The calm voice we hear inside is often our deep, quiet truth. Listen to that. Always.

Foster it. Love it. And be grateful that it's there.

-Sue Williams, Wet Ink