Tag Archives: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

A Writer trains her Imagination

There are many reasons to admire Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, not least her novels, such as Americanah, but also her stance on feminism, We Should All Be Feminists. Recently I read this from her:

Imagination doesn’t fall from the sky. You have to work with something.

[quoted in Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie On How to Read and How to Write, in Lit Hub 15th Sept 2017, from interview with Salon]

And as I have been thinking about imagination and writing since I wrote about it earlier this year I began to think about the ways in which I find those ‘somethings’. These might be ideas for this blog, or for my creative writing activities, or for non-fiction work.

And I love the idea that the word inspiration is linked to breathe, we should breath as naturally as we take in air to our lungs. And that the word imagination links with the visual stimuli, having the same root as images.

The central question is What if …?

Imagine memorial to John Lennon. Designed by Bruce Kelly.

Writers need to ask ‘what if …?’ again and again. Most frequently it is what if I lived in a world that was different from mine in some significant way?

  • What if dragons were real and living close by?
  • What if Mr Rochester already had a wife?
  • What if Mr Darcy had no money and a modest nature?
  • What if the ugly duckling were just an ugly duckling?
  • What if women had all the power?
  • What if I wrote the story backwards?
  • What if I made the characters into animals?
  • Imagine …

There are so many ways of asking this question. Pantsers are especially good at creating wild and elaborate plots. I have just read Swing Time by Zadie Smith, and the world she conjures seems to want to escape the 450 pages of the novel.

Ursula le Guin is justly renown for creating worlds that contrast with ours but also reflect aspects of our own. In The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Le Guin, she asks what if gender difference was periodic and inconstant? Writers can suspend normal rules and see what happens, as in Orlando by Virginia Woolf, in which the protagonist lives for centuries and changes gender. Or writers can create a book to be read in one order or another depending on which copy is bought, as in Ali Smith’s How to be Both.

That’s the beauty of writing and reading fiction. It takes you to places you might not have yet imagined. And so it can be very subversive.

Finding sources for imagination

Murmuration

It is apparently one of the most common questions that published writers get asked – where do you get your ideas? Some writing groups I have tried focused exclusively on prompts. But having had an active imagination since I could speak, I am practised in using my imgaination. Here’s what I do:

  • read
  • notice
  • listen
  • respond
  • use prompts
  • walk
  • travel
  • write

In each of these ways there are a myriad of sources in which imagination can be piqued. Writing in the style of, or paraphrasing a noted writer’s text are ways in which imagination can become unblocked. Noticing, noting the world around us: on the bus, in the news. I wrote a story called The Welcoming Committee after a prompt from a writers’ groups and found I was asking what would have happen if a group of English people had met American soldiers in the Second World War. The prompt was too many cooks.

Writer’s Treats are a great way to help see the world anew or even differently. I favour art galleries and opera. It helps me think about how other people see the world. Some time ago I described how I Write One Picture – a strategy to practise writing. The source of this idea was a project for primary schools. I wrote a short story, called Paintpot, about a war artist who witnessed the liberation of Bergen-Belsen, inspired by a drawing I saw in an exhibition. What if I had been present at that dreadful scene?

I have been lucky to travel for professional as well as personal reasons, and in 2009 I wrote a story about Roaring Billy Falls in New Zealand. It was about the restorative power of landscape, but I think the title was its best feature.

Recently I have been working on a short story about a Conscientious Objector in the first world war. Here are the gates to his work camp.

Dartmoor Prison Gates

Training the Imagination

Ursula Le Guin’s suggestion in The Operating Instructions that we need to help people learn to use imagination bears repeating.

We need to learn to use it [imagination], and how to use it, like any other tool. … Young human beings need exercises in the imagination as they need exercise in all the basic skills of life, bodily and mental: for growth, for health, for competence, for joy. This need continues as long as the mind is alive. (4)

To learn to use imagination well there are many things I do:

  • Practice using it – all the above activities
  • Review the effects of these activities and their outcomes
  • Learn from the exercises
  • Consider how to put the learning into effect in my own writing, or not.
  • Collaborate with others in imaginative activities.

And in writing as in other art forms there is no limit. No limit. We can use our imaginations to take us anywhere, everywhere.

Over to you

And what do you do to keep your imagination topped up? To find those somethings?

I wrote on the topic of imagination three months ago: inspired by Ursula Le Guin’s essay The Operating Instructions, which you can find in Words are my Matter.

Words are my Matter: writings about life and books 2000-2016 by Ursula Le Guin, published by Small Beer Press in 2016.

To subscribe and receive email notifications of future posts on Bookword please enter your email address in the box.

Photo crredits:

Murmuration: biggles621 via Visualhunt / CC BY-NC-SA

Imagine: Chris Parker2012 via Visualhunt.com / CC BY-ND

Leave a Comment

Filed under Books, Writing

Those hard-to-read books

There are books that are challenging to read. I often fail. I’m not talking about impenetrable, long, arcane books (say James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake or William Faulkner’s Absolom, Absolom!). I am referring to the fear of my reactions, my reluctance to explore difficult situations, often involving violence, and violence against women in particular. So difficult subject matter then.

Here are two books I thought I would never start to read, let alone finish.

The Child in Time by Ian McEwan.

121 ChildThis was the book selected by the reading group I had just joined. So I had to read it. I had always thought that the theme would be too difficult for me. A toddler goes missing at a supermarket. She’s gone. A nightmare for the parents. What happened to the child? How could I read a book that raised that terror for me? And that is McEwan’s genius, to take an aspect of middle-class life and subvert it, utterly. I enjoyed the book group.

 

We Need to talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver.

‘Have you read it?’ my friends would ask. ‘It’s about-‘ I knew what it was about. How could I read about those high school massacres? Why would I want to follow members of the school community who randomly kill their schoolmates? It was bad enough to read about them in the papers, but to explore such an incident seemed perverse. But after some years I did.

121 KevinI found Kevin to be something of a tour de force. The questions raised by a hard-to-love child, about parenting, even when your child has committed the most heinous of crimes. Shriver tackled these bleak themes with creativity and insight and, as in the best fiction, it changed my understanding.

 

 

 

Here’s a book I never thought I would finish, but I did.

Chasing the King of Hearts by Hanna Krall, translated from the Polish by Philip Boehm

121 Kof HI started this novella and laid it aside as too excoriating and then began it again later. It was included in my subscription to Peirene Press. A book from them is always a treasure, even a hard to read treasure. The story follows a woman who was both Polish and Jewish searching for her husband in the Second World War. I was horrified by the erosion of moral behaviour, of impossible dilemmas, all in the pursuit of love. The accumulation of atrociousness is told in a rather bland, flat style – one thing after another – which made it possible to finish it and to ponder the mystery of what humans do to each other.

Here’s a book I started but don’t imagine I will ever finish.

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Another war, more horror, more violence, more unspeakable atrocities. At least that is what I think I am avoiding. I enjoyed the first half, about Nigeria before the Biafran War. But I’ll leave it there, thank you.

Here’s another book I have started and I’m not sure I will finish.

121 W in BerlinA Woman in Berlin, anonymous author.

These are the diaries of a journalist in Berlin as it falls to the advancing Red Army towards the end of the Second World War in Europe. Will I be able to read the first-hand account of what the soldiers did to the women?

 

Here’s a book my friend says, ‘I’m still not reading’.

The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks.

Well then, I’m not reading it either!

121 Wasp

You can find a list of the top ten most difficult books on a Guardian blog by Alison Flood: The world’s most difficult books: how many have you read? My answer is one!

The same list is described in more detail on the Publishers Weekly website.

 

Am I a wuss for avoiding and recoiling from the narration (fictional and factual) of humankind’s appalling behaviour, especially in wartimes? I don’t know. What do you think? Are there any books you can’t read?

 

If you want to receive email notifications of future blogposts please subscribe by entering your email address in the box at the top of the column on the right.

7 Comments

Filed under Books, Reading