[For information about this image, see the note at the foot of this post.]
From whiskey river:
There it is; the light across the water. Your story. Mine. His. It has to be seen to be believed. And it has to be heard. In the endless babble of narrative, in spite of the daily noise, the story waits to be heard.
Some people say that the best stories have no words. It is true that words drop away, and that the important things are often left unsaid. The important things are learned in faces, in gestures, not in our locked tongues. The true things are too big or too small, or in any case always the wrong size to fit in the template called language.
(Jeanette Winterson)
…and:
The Magic Mountain
A book opens. People come out, bend
this way and talk, ponder, love, wander around
while pages turn. Where did the plot go?
Why did someone sing just as the train
went by? Here come chapters with landscape all over
whatever happens when people meet. Now
a quiet part: a hospital glows in the dark.
I don’t think that woman with the sad gray eyes
will ever come back. And what does it mean when
the Italian has so many ideas? Maybe
a war is coming. The book is ending. Everyone
has a little tremolo in them; all
are going to die and it’s cold and the snow, and the
clear air. They took someone away. It’s ending,
the book is ending. But I thought — never mind. It
closes.
(William Stafford, The Way It Is)
…and:
The invisible and imponderable is the sole fact.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Not from whiskey river:
I discern a practical apparatus for seeing through a wire; i.e., a device for looking into a receiver at one end of a metallic wire and seeing therein a faithful reproduction of whatever optical images are impressed on a transmitter at the other end, even though thousands of miles intervene. I see the possible use of the step-down transformer for the preparation of a roadbed or road surface by the vitrification, in situ, of clay or other suitable soil, by the intense heating power of enormous currents of electricity.
These things I believe I see with fair distinctness. In the farther background I faintly see, dimly outlined through the clouds, an apparatus for the automatic registration of unwritten, unspoken thought, and its accurate reproduction at any indefinite time afterwards.
(Edwin J. Houston, “The Edge of the Future in Science,” McClure’s Magazine, vol. 2, 1894 [source])
…and:
“I cannot jump the distance, you’ll have to toss me!
… Don’t tell the elf.”
— Gimli, The Lord of the Rings: The Two TowersHilarity Ensues because a character must perform an act that is either against their nature or which they have vehemently and constantly protested against doing. Said action can also be just plain humiliating or all of the above — to all parties, perhaps. When this act is aided or witnessed, a character insists that either they must all never speak of this again, ever; or that a specific person who is guaranteed to ride them never hears of it.
This trope can be used to introduce a Noodle Incident, with one character reminding the other they promised never to speak of that again.
…
In the film version of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Gimli says the above quote before having Aragorn use him in a Fastball Special (a reference to a scene in the first movie in which he objected to being thrown by Legolas.)
(from the TV Tropes site, regarding the “Let Us Never Speak of This Again” trope)
…and:
Sonnet 23
As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;
So I for fear of trust, forget to say,
The perfect ceremony of love’s right,
And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,
Ore-charged with burden of mine own love’s might:
O let my books be then the eloquence,
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
O learn to read what silent love hath writ,
To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.
(William Shakespeare [source])
I can’t decide if the band name “Dashboard Confessional” is a beautifully allusive metaphor or just a gimmick— Well, okay, never mind. I see, per Wikipedia, that it comes from the lyrics to their song “The Sharp Hint of New Tears”: “On the way home / this car hears my confessions. / I think tonight I’ll take the long way.” So I guess it does say something. Beautifully allusive metaphor after all.
Here’s the video to “Don’t Wait,” from their 2006 album Dusk and Summer. (Lyrics, as usual, below the video.) If you’d prefer a version more in keeping with the theme of today’s post, you might want to check out the “interpretive dance” version, too.
Lyrics:
Don’t Wait
(Dashboard Confessional)The sky glows
I see it shining when my eyes close
I hear your warnings but we both know
I’m gonna look at it againDon’t wait, Don’t wait
The road is now a sudden sea
And suddenly, you’re deep enough
To lay your armor down
To lay your armor down
To lay your armor downYou get one look
I’ll show you something that the knife took.
A bit to early for my own good
Now let’s not speak of it againDon’t wait, Don’t wait
The road is now a sudden sea
And suddenly, you’re deep enough
To lay your armor down
To lay your armor down
To lay your armor downDon’t wait, Don’t wait
The lights will flash and fade away
The days will pass you by
Don’t wait
To lay your armor down
To lay your armor down…
________________________
About this image: according to its caption on Ville Miettinen’s (willi_hybrid) Flickr photostream:
Polar Star
Our icebreaker Polar Star somewhere on the Antarctic Peninsula. We ended up on this vessel after our original ship, Ocean Nova, got into an accident on the Antarctica. Also, we got a brand new captain, as the previous one hurt himself badly in a storm when crossing Drake’s Passage. March 2009.
A label alongside the photo says:
This photo was taken on September 27, 2009 in a mysterious place with no name.
whaddayamean says
thanks for that video. that’s kind of what i needed today.
Jill says
Wonderful post, JES. “Ineffable” is one of my favorite words. Like “whaddayamean”, I needed all of this today. I’m going to buy “Don’t Wait”, just for those lyrics. Thanks.
John says
whaddayamean: It has sounded as though you’ve had a whole rough week. Glad this helped some!
John says
Jill!
I really like “ineffable,” too. Almost too much. It’s one of those words I could easily overuse if I didn’t watch out for it.
Nance says
Lots to love here today! Your Fridays are a necessary part of the week.
On Stafford’s Magic Mountain: I heard a man on our local NPR station today describing how he writes fiction. No outline, no idea of plot, really. He makes people and puts them somewhere. He has no idea what will happen or how it will end. He says it keeps his work from becoming formulaic. Can you do that? (Please, forgive me, writers; I am a fiction virgin and don’t know better.) That sounds like heaven.
On the image, taken in “a mysterious place with no name”: that’s the most delightful thing I’ve heard all day. Strangely familiar.
And the band name is perfect. When my son had two or three garage bands going on at our house all at the same time, I thought in the language of band names. I’d stick my head into the garage and offer up my new inspiration. They’d look at me like I was crazy. I guess mothers don’t get to name bands. It made me want to start my own.
John says
Thank you again, Nance.
(And thank you again for your own Emmylou post of the other day, which made my ears burn. Alas, but the curtain has again been drawn over the MatLand comments box (and its counterparts elsewhere) by the kindly IT folks here at work. So a full comment there will have to wait until the weekend!)
I think that gentleman’s approach to writing fiction is common. I don’t do it all the time, but I have done it on occasion, and it can produce very satisfying results (and unsatisfying ones, too!). There’s probably — usually — at leastsome idea where it’s all bound. You know the setup, say — the premise. You know that with a particular group of characters, Mr. X’s journey will end in triumph, and Ms. Y will become a victim of Ms. Z’s duplicity, and neighbors A and B will die but C will not, and so on… because those feel like the proper (albeit general) outcomes for those people.
A lot of the work of writing fiction (again, for me) comes after you’ve set the characters down into the situation and let them “work it out,” so to speak. Because in the process, both they and you have gotten distracted with a whole lot of stuff which has nothing to do with story arc, dramatic conventions, and so on. Trying to pick and choose what must stay and what must go can be excruciating. The characters sometimes fight me (especially if they’re the stars of a given scene or passage on the chopping block). If I’ve been working on it carefully enough, though, they can almost always be sweet-talked (read: judo-chopped) into going along, for the greater good.
Good question, though. Anybody else want to chime in?
The Querulous Squirrel says
Ah, to be able to express in words those things seen but fleetingly out of the corner of one’s eye.
marta says
@John – I don’t plot! I scatter characters on the page and see where they take me. Which explains the mess.
I like that the photograph has a specific date but not a specific location. Suits the picture though.
John says
Squirrel: you’re as good at saying the unsayable (and merely glimpsed) as I could ever hope to be!
John says
marta: Scattering characters on the page isn’t necessarily a bad way to work. You say you don’t plot; do you at least have some basic notion in your head, like “A girl who has [interesting fantasy-heroine characteristic(s)] meets a young man who [has something or other mysterious going on], with the stuff in square brackets replaced by whatever the specifics might be?