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8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
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Marisa Silver on the Short Story
Synecdoche in Short Fiction
Havent you heard the short story collection is dead? And yet
you keep turning them out (with distinction, I might add).
What keeps bringing you back for more?
Yeah, the short story and its multiple deaths. All those
pronouncements about things being over - the hula hoop, say,
or having non-mediated conversations with actual human
beings - they're usually wrong. Every time I read a great short
story - a William Trevor, a Deborah Eisenberg - I'm brought
back to why I wanted to write in the first place. The short
story, to me, carries the essence of what is magical about
writing: that a full human being can be conjured in a sentence,
that an emotional state can be suggested with two or three
behavioral gestures, that something ineffable but essential
about life can be conveyed in a mere twenty. Sometimes you
stand in front of a painting at a museum and the image just
hits you. It transports you. With one gaze, an entire narrative
opens up and you are enlarged. That's what a great short story
can do.
The Negative Space in Fiction
If you have to write a lot more is the most obvious
difference, what would you say is the least obvious and most
interesting difference between writing a short story and
writing a novel?
http://form-of-fiction.blogspot.com/2010/04/marisa-silver-on-short-story.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/three-minute-interview-3mi-marisa-silver.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/three-minute-interview-3mi-marisa-silver.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/three-minute-interview-3mi-marisa-silver.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/three-minute-interview-3mi-marisa-silver.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/three-minute-interview-3mi-marisa-silver.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/three-minute-interview-3mi-marisa-silver.htmlhttp://form-of-fiction.blogspot.com/2010/04/marisa-silver-on-short-story.htmlhttp://form-of-fiction.blogspot.com/2010/04/marisa-silver-on-short-story.html8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
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The least obvious difference between writing short stories and
writing novels is that what you decide not to say is as
important as what you decide to say. A story should suggest
all that you decided not to tell within its pages. It shouldsuggest relationships and history that you don't go into, rooms
that you don't describe. The negative space of a story is half
the story you're writing.
The Antagonist's Truth
This weekend I basked, once again, in Jean Renoir's
sensational film, "The Rules of the Game." If you've seen it, I
won't bore you with a re-cap. If you haven't seen it, rent it
immediately. It is one of the all time great films - an elegant,
subtly subversive film that is both hilarious and utterly
affecting. Renoir himself plays a major role, a sort of
Falstaffian character named Octave, and he utters what isprobably the films most famous line:
"The most awful thing about life is this: everybody has their
reasons."
I heard that and, after suppressing my schoolmarm desire to
correct the grammar, thought about a question I am often
asked: how do I feel about my characters when they do
terrible things or make awful decision? And the truth is,
although I know that many characters I've written have made
bad decisions, I have never thought of any of them as being
"bad" people. As a matter of fact, except for a sociopath, who
one could argue is not fully in control of his moral compass,
I'm not even sure I really know what a "bad person" is in any
http://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/the-rules-of-the-game.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/the-rules-of-the-game.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/the-rules-of-the-game.html8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
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objective sense. I think the key to writing real, credible, and
palpable characters is to understand exactly what Renoir
means with this line of dialogue - that everyone, even those
who do awful things to others, acts on a set of needs anddesires that are subjectively authentic. We want what we want
because we are driven by some genuine emotion, and even if
we act cruelly, that compelling emotion does not become any
less genuine.
So, what ends up being true, all the time, (and I think this is
one of the reasons Renoir gives himself, the film's director,that very authorial piece of dialogue,) is that, in terms of
character, a writer's job is twofold: first, he or she has to do
the very hard work of feeling a character deeply, of
understanding what happiness or hurt drives that character, so
that it becomes impossible to lay superficial judgment on any
behavior. A writer has to get to a point where it never occurs
to him or her that what the character is doing is "bad" or"good" only that it is necessary and inevitable and it is the
only thing the character can do. And then the second part of
the writer's job is to figure out how to convey that character to
a reader.
Character: Part Two
How is it that fictional characters made of words typed on
paper become real in a reader's mind? How does that alchemy
happen? I'm always surprised each time it happens for me -
when I realize that I have fully accepted a character I'm
reading, that I've made that little leap of faith that allows me
not to question the artifice that is fiction but to surrender to
http://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/character---part-two-1.htmlhttp://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2010/04/character---part-two-1.html8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
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the invention. I know that fiction is not "real", that the
characters I'm reading don't exist. But they have become real
for me, and so are as real as my dreams are, as real as my
thoughts.
It's hard for me to put into words how I work to convey
character because, as I'm sure is true for many writers, the
process of working is such a subconscious and associative
one. Things just sort of "happen." Characters feel like they
arrive on the page. But they don't simply arrive, they are
arrived at, even if the journey towards them happensunconsciously, while you're asleep or driving in your car or
thinking about a grocery list. I think about creating character
much the same way I think about getting to know a person. At
first, I might seize on some superficial information to try to
get a grasp on who a person is - the way he wears his hair, the
way she smokes her cigarette. I listen to speech, I listen for
accents, I look a the lines on someone's face and try to guessat his age. There's a scar? I think, what's that about? I'm just
grasping for things to hold on to as I begin to formulate an
idea of who this new person is. Then, if I get to know the
person better, I also get more information - personal history,
emotional responses to given situations. I experience how that
person behaves, how they respond in certain situations. And
the more information I get, the more I reformulate my
understanding of who this person might be.
It's the same with a character in a story. I start off with a tiny
shred of a thing about a character - the texture of her hair, the
way she walks across a street, a sense in my mind of how her
voice might sound. Then I start writing scenes and I give her
words to say. Sometimes the words feel wrong to me and I
8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
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know that this is not what she would say and so I'm beginning
to eliminate possible ways she might be. And when I give her
words that feel right, I get a sense of her attitude, of what she
wants to reveal about herself, what she's hiding, what sheknows and doesn't know about the world.
It's an old trope that action is character. In some ways I agree
with this, in that one of the sharpest ways to convey who a
person is is to see how they respond to a situation. So, I throw
action in the way of my character. I create problems for her
that she has to work her way out of. What's maybe not trueabout the trope is that there is always the possibility that a
person is acting uncharacteristically, that something has
provoked her to behave in a way that is unnatural to her. And
then when this is explored, character is revealed in yet another
way.
The thing I always try to remind myself of is that people don'treally know themselves perfectly, and that much of how we
perceive of our own characters has to do with a certain
mythology that we have created about ourselves and where
we stand in the world. So I think about this as I construct a
character, that there is no perfect "truth", no absolute
definition of a person. And I remember that a person is only
as she is perceived by another, and so, once again, there is a
level of ambiguity.
Once I'm besetting my character with all sorts of problems
and situations she has to behave in, I begin to focus on the
tiny things. The way she moves her hands around a cup, the
way she might feel about the rain, the way her skin might feel
when she's standing next to another person. All these tiny
8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
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details, the real existential experiences of her every moment,
are, I think what finally drives a character home for a reader.
The idea is to be as specific as possible, to realize that one
person's taste of salt differs from another, that it mightengender specific associations that tell us about who she is.
Every single detail I use gives me a chance to create
resonance, to engage with a character's history, with her
emotional state, with her expectations. So I choose the
particular details to focus on that will convey the most, that
will round her out and make her flesh.
How is it that fictional characters made of words typed on paper become real in a reader's mind? How
does that alchemy happen? I'm always surprised each time it happens for me - when I realize that I y
accepted a character I'm reading, that I've made that little leap of faith that allows me not to question
the artifice that is fiction but to surrender to the invention. I know that fiction is not "real", that the cters
I'm reading don't exist. But they have become real for me, and so are as real as my dreams are, as
real as my thoughts.
How is it that fictional characters made of words typed on paper become real in a reader's mind? How
does that alchemy happen? I'm always surprised each time it happens for me - when I realize that I
have fully accepted a character I'm reading, that I've made that little leap of faith that allows me not to
question the artifice that is fiction but to surrender to the invention. I know that fiction is not "real", that
the characters I'm reading don't exist. But they have become real for me, and so are as real as my
dreams are, as real as my thoughts.
It's hard for me to put into words how I work to convey character because, as I'm sure is true for many
writers, the process of working is such a subconscious and associative one. Things just sort of
"happen." Characters feel like they arrive on the page. But they don't simply arrive, they are arrived at,
even if the journey towards them happens unconsciously, while you're asleep or driving in your car or
thinking about a grocery list. I think about creating character much the same way I think about getting
to know a person. At first, I might seize on some superficial information to try to get a grasp on who a
person is - the way he wears his hair, the way she smokes her cigarette. I listen to speech, I listen for
accents, I look a the lines on someone's face and try to guess at his age. There's a scar? I think,
what's that about? I'm just grasping for things to hold on to as I begin to formulate an idea of who this
8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
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new person is. Then, if I get to know the person better, I also get more information - personal history,
emotional responses to given situations. I experience how that person behaves, how they respond in
certain situations. And the more information I get, the more I reformulate my understanding of who
this person might be.
It's the same with a character in a story. I start off with a tiny shred of a thing about a character - the
texture of her hair, the way she walks across a street, a sense in my mind of how her voice might
sound. Then I start writing scenes and I give her words to say. Sometimes the words feel wrong to me
and I know that this is not what she would say and so I'm beginning to eliminate possible ways she
might be. And when I give her words that feel right, I get a sense of her attitude, of what she wants to
reveal about herself, what she's hiding, what she knows and doesn't know about the world.
It's an old trope that action is character. In some ways I agree with this, in that one of the sharpest
ways to convey who a person is is to see how they respond to a situation. So, I throw action in the
way of my character. I create problems for her that she has to work her way out of. What's maybe not
true about the trope is that there is always the possibility that a person is acting uncharacteristically,
that something has provoked her to behave in a way that is unnatural to her. And then when this is
explored, character is revealed in yet another way.
The thing I always try to remind myself of is that people don't really know themselves perfectly, and
that much of how we perceive of our own characters has to do with a certain mythology that we have
created about ourselves and where we stand in the world. So I think about this as I construct a
character, that there is no perfect "truth", no absolute definition of a person. And I remember that a
person is only as she is perceived by another, and so, once again, there is a level of ambiguity.
Once I'm besetting my character with all sorts of problems and situations she has to behave in, I
begin to focus on the tiny things. The way she moves her hands around a cup, the way she might feel
about the rain, the way her skin might feel when she's standing next to another person. All these tiny
details, the real existential experiences of her every moment, are, I think what finally drives a
character home for a reader. The idea is to be as specific as possible, to realize that one person's
taste of salt differs from another, that it might engender specific associations that tell us about who
she is. Every single detail I use gives me a chance to create resonance, to engage with a character's
history, with her emotional state, with her expectations. So I choose the particular details to focus on
that will convey the most, that will round her out and make her flesh.
It's hard for me to put into words how I work to convey character because, as I'm sure is true for many
writers, the process of working is such a subconscious and associative one. Things just sort of
8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
8/9
"happen." Characters feel like they arrive on the page. But they don't simply arrive, they are arrived at,
even if the journey towards them happens unconsciously, while you're asleep or driving in your car or
thinking about a grocery list. I think about creating character much the same way I think about getting
to know a person. At first, I might seize on some superficial information to try to get a grasp on who a
person is - the way he wears his ha
ir, the way she smokes her cigarette. I listen to speech, I listen for accents, I look a the lines on
someone's face and try to guess at his age. There's a scar? I think, what's that about? I'm just
grasping for things to hold on to as I begin to formulate an idea of who this new person is. Then, if I
get to know the person better, I also get more information - personal history, emotional responses to
given situations. I experience how that person behaves, how they respond in certain situations. And
the more information I get, the more I reformulate my understanding of who this person might be.
It's the same with a character in a story. I start off with a tiny shred of a thing about a character - the
texture of her hair, the way she walks across a street, a sense in my mind of how her voice might
sound. Then I start writing scenes and I give her words to say. Sometimes the words feel wrong to me
and I know that this is not what she would say and so I'm beginning to eliminate possible ways she
might be. And when I give her words that feel right, I get a sense of her attitude, of what she wants to
reveal about herself, what she's hiding, what she knows and doesn't know about the world.
It's an old trope that action is character. In some ways I agree with this, in that one of the sharpest
ways to convey who a person is is to see how they respond to a situation. So, I throw action in the
way of my character. I create problems for her that she has to work her way out of. What's maybe not
true about the trope is that there is always the possibility that a person is acting uncharacteristically,
that something has provoked her to behave in a way that is unnatural to her. And then when this is
explored, character is revealed in yet another way.
The thing I always try to remind myself of is that people don't really know themselves perfectly, and
that much of how we perceive of our own characters has to do with a certain mythology that we have
created about ourselves and where we stand in the world. So I think about this as I construct a
character, that there is no perfect "truth", no absolute definition of a person. And I remember that a
person is only as she is perceived by another, and so, once again, there is a level of ambiguity.
Once I'm besetting my character with all sorts of problems and situations she has to behave in, I
begin to focus on the tiny things. The way she moves her hands around a cup, the way she might feel
about the rain, the way her skin might feel when she's standing next to another person. All these tiny
details, the real existential experiences of her every moment, are, I think what finally drives a
8/9/2019 Marisa Silver on Short Fiction
9/9
character home for a reader. The idea is to be as specific as possible, to realize that one person's
taste of salt differs from another, that it might engender specific associations that tell us about who
she is. Every single detail I use gives me a chance to create resonance, to engage with a character's
history, with her emotional state, with her expectations. So I choose the particular details to focus on
that will convey the most, that will round her out and make her flesh.
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