Unstuck in my Own Brain: Tips on Writing from Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

I read several Vonnegut novels in quick succession back in the early 1990’s, and he sits in my pantheon of favorites as a result. For some reason, although I never memorize first and last lines from novels, I’ll never forget the bracketing words of Slaughterhouse Five: “Poo-tee-WEET?” The sound of the bird, having nothing to do with the storyline as I recall, appears at the beginning and end of this novel. (I think it actually appears at the end of the first chapter and then again at the end of the book but I don’t have a copy to check and somehow the meta-reality of memory serves me pretty well for the purposes of this post.)  

In a way, it defines the circularity and the infinite repetition that defines how Billy Pilgrim’s “unstuck in time” journey proceeds. The creative brain lives outside of time as represented by the story. Memories are in the now. I’m sure I’d have to re-read the novel to give a better idea of just why it stuck with me. It might have helped that I also saw the movie, similarly sometime in the ‘90s. And now, with these memories swirling in the Tralfamadorian bubble over my head, I struggle to find something, anything to write about. 

This is part of my attempt to overcome a stubborn and long-lasting block. This block has me questioning my sanity, intelligence and purpose in life. It threatens to throw me into a dark pit out of which I cannot climb. I always think that a good writer has to have had extraordinary experiences, just as Vonnegut’s being in the firestorm in Dresden in WWII must have fired up a burner inside his creative mind, slowly cooking up the magnificent piece of literature that is Slaughterhouse Five.
So here’s Vonnegut’s list; I intend to pick something out of thin air and apply these rules to it somehow. But the real trick is finding the sticking point. My entire life feels “unstuck” right now. Wish me luck:

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. Advises the Would-be Writer of Stories

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.                                                 

Thanks, Kurt. I have some books that have suffered the cockroach attack (although it was mice in my case). So now it is time to ruffle the index cards in my dying brain, create a whole bunch of scenarios, and see if a strong character emerges. One of my projects is the 2012 Samurai Fiction contest  over at samuraiarchives.com . Please, folks, if you’re at all into Japanese culture, history or even into cheesy martial arts films, submit something to this contest. I’m tired of winning it almost every year with only 3-4 people to compete against. But I enter compulsively every year, just because I enjoy doing it.

Until next time….Poo-tee-WEET?