Taken from an email that has been printed, marked, photocopied, and possibly even faxed — now shared here with the permission of the original author. (Editor)
Subj: Re: Hey
Date: Thursday, September 1, 2005 10:54:56 AM
Here are the ones I used at Brown. They are very, very Brown-like, in retrospect, and I hope you don’t hold them against me.
1.
Adopt a rhetoric you have never used before for fiction (think of it as an actor doing an impersonation). It could be slang, a pidgin, a naïve voice, a quietly staid one, a jaded and cynical one, a scared one, but it should be the one that swerves sharply from the instinctual one you employ when you write fiction. What kind of identity would you take on, or could you take on believably, if you had to give up your current identity? The larger idea here might be to write as someone other than yourself, to impersonate someone and tell a story in the invented voice. In truth this will just be a version of you that you do not often access, and this is one possible goal of the class, to uncover more various selves (hidden identities) to write from.
2.
In one page, say everything important there is to say about the world. (If you had only one page to fill with everything vital, urgent and necessary that you know/feel/suspect, what would that page be? Of the world as you have experienced it, what is absolutely crucial to report?)
3.
Rewrite a text, turning it into fiction, or if it is already a work of fiction, take control of it and adapt it to your own ideas and desires. It could be a folk or fairy tale that you want to make contemporary; a piece of writing that isn’t fiction (newspaper article, case study, political speech, encyclopedia entry, a how-to manual, etc.); or a well-known story that you want to “improve.” The notion here is that we can seize authorship of anything, that texts are waiting to be hijacked, that nothing is finished, and as artists we can impose our language onto fixed systems at will, bending them to our desire. We can cultivate the idea that everything is a story and everything can be revised.
4.
Write a piece of “simple” fiction that counters the tendencies of what might be considered “elite” writing (whether it is or not), i.e. a piece “almost anybody” can understand. (The quotes only suggest the impossible complexity of what they contain.) This could be fiction with a very simple vocabulary, structure or style. Or you could conceive of what it is to create an artifact of language that can be absorbed without a special education or particular literary sympathies. This, by the way, is NOT an invitation to write a children’s story. If possible, sacrifice none of the depth and intensity you might otherwise pursue in your work.
5.
Design a religion. This could include a theory of creation (How did we get here? How did something come from nothing?), a system of rules and punishments, moral do’s and don’ts, clothing, architecture, prayers, etc.. You could instead write a story in which the characters practice a new religion — it does not have to be the subject of the story, but it can be used to generate interesting behaviors and ideas in your work. If you think of religion as a successful fiction — a set of provocative ideas that have satisfied the hardest questions of a group of people — you might better determine how to make a religion that might come close to satisfying you. When we consider the fiction writer as someone who provides necessary myths to the culture, we see that devising a religion might very well be an appropriate task.
6.
Write a short narrative that captures your actual experience of dreams. It is very difficult to turn dreams into a language that makes them feel “dreamlike,” (surprising, strange, upsetting, extremely vivid, and something like art). Try to avoid the common clichés of dream writing. For instance, don’t say “it was weird,” but give us the situation itself and let us determine its weirdness. You’ll note that dreams themselves can come to us entirely without analysis. Write down your dreams when you wake up and try to determine how close you can come to making them seem real. Do not tell us about them, but put us there. Remember, as always, to “cheat” as much as you have to. Your final conern is with the text. There is ultimately nothing else. The piece you turn in must feel whole, captivating, and engaging, like any good fiction.
7.
Write a story containing no living things.
8.
Do a false expert piece, in which your narrator holds forth, incorrectly but with authority, on a subject of which you have little information.
9.
Write a story with no use of metaphor, simile, or comparison. Attach no value or interpretation to any of your statements. Determine if there is a way to create meaning without naming it.
10.
Write a piece of fiction in which an invented or eccentric language is employed. Use no clichés or havitual forms of speech. Make each sentence unlike any that has ever before been writtten. Sense and coherence should still be a concern. This is not an invitation towards gibberish. The larger goal is to allow language to lead your fiction to its crisis rather than aspects of plot or action (though plot and action are only allowed by language, are symptoms of it). You could have characters who speak incorrectly, use made-up words, etc. Or your narrator could have an unusual relationship to words. The challenge will be to infuse the piece with emotional urgency and relevance while still charging the language as much as you can.
11.
Describe a photograph (a frozen instant of time) and attempt to give it movement and tension. Don’t mention that it is a photograph, simply treat the photo as if it’s the fictional world you’re developing. Most importantly, don’t allow things to advance in time. Keep to a single moment.
12.
Invent an entirely new psychological disorder and write a case study, or let a character with this disorder loose in a story (but do so without naming the disorder).
13.
Write a short portrait of yourself in the third person (He was a brilliant guy, a real genius…), vastly exaggerating all of your traits and characteristics. (Not necessarily positive.)
14.
Write 15 first sentences for potentially great stories.
15.
Write a fiction about the end of the world, being sure to include the following objects: a clump of earth, a photo of a boy with the face scratched out, a key.
16.
Write a first person story from the perspective of someone entirely opposite from you. The idea here is to get out of yourself and empathize with a character foreign to you.
17.
Do a false translation of a text in a language that you do not read or speak.
18.
Write a story in a genre that you know nothing about, or that you don’t much like (mystery, romance, sci-fi, etc.)
19.
Inhabit the perspective of someone that you despise, and try to write a convincing fiction.
20.
Use an unreliable narrator (a narrator who lies, cheats, steals, etc.) to tell a story.
21.
Write a short story that covers a great deal of time (many years in the life of one person, or hundreds of years in the life of a town, etc.).
22.
Tell one story from several different points of view. Every perspective of the same event has its own dramatic and narrative possibilities. Make a fiction that explores these possibilities.
23.
Write a convincingly paranoid rant/screed/prophecy.
On 9/1/05 10:41am, XXXXXX@XXXXX.com wrote:
Have you ever done any writing exercises with a class? What are a few you like?
I was thinking of doing one or two with my undergrads.
