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May 29, 2008

The I'm Not Theory

Whether it is an intentional act or somehow habitual, it is in our nature to qualify ourselves. We do so most often, I have come to realize, by declaring what we are not. We define our characters and our standards by negating those aspects that we do not deem acceptable. I call it the I'm Not Theory.

This revelation in human behavior came to me recently as I unofficially gathered unsolicited (yet not unwelcomed) bits of conversation. The other day in my local coffee shop, I overheard two people talking about a situation involving a misunderstanding. After defending herself and her actions, one woman said, "You know, the one thing I'm not is a liar." Later that day at a school event I heard a man tell another man, "I'm not a joiner, but I signed up for this new committee they're forming." Finally, when my daughter exclaimed, "I am not a follower," it hit me. We want people to know what we aren't.

If these negations are a part of our everyday conversations, they must be important to us. I'm not cheap. I'm not a late person. I'm not OCD. I'm not usually this insensitive. These are examples of how we qualify ourselves in our daily lives. The list goes on.

Let's take it one step further, then, and apply this tendency to our fictional characters. (You nonfiction writers, hang on. We'll get to an application for you next.)

Think about your protagonist, for example, and what characteristics are central to her being. What does she value and what does she hold as significant or dear? Now ponder what it is she would never want to be perceived as; what category would she be appalled to be associated with?

My protagonist, for example, is not friend-dependent. She is not what she classifies as a typical stay-at-home mom. She's not a mall-shopper, nor is she what she refers to as a window-treatment talker (one who speaks only about home redecorations and can't delve much deeper than that). You get the picture.

What are your own favorite negations? What can you learn from them as far how they help you define yourself? Can you apply the same strength of feeling to your characters and what they passionately negate?

And now, as promised, I'll move to the nonfiction application of this I'm Not Theory. Early on in your work, you should have asked yourself, who is my audience? But now, I'm recommending you ask, who is your audience not? Asking this question can help you to expand your marketing strategies and can help you work out the format for which to present your information.

In my coauthored nonfiction book, The Frantic Woman's Guide to Life, the audience is definitely not made up of organized women. My reader is not the woman who can find everything she needs at first mention. Her files are not at her fingertips and she doesn't have a regular schedule.

To apply this I'm Not Theory knowledge then, The Frantic Woman's Guide to Life is not formatted in such a way that would intimidate the unorganized reader. Therefore, the book doesn't recommend categorizing closet contents on index cards. Nor does it require the reader to reorganize her entire house in just two weeks. The book's contents take on a here-and-there kind of structure (presented in short, easy sections) that is much more manageable for the woman with little time.

Armchair psychologist that I am, I love studies in human behavior. (As for my PhD Psychologist friends, feel free to let me know if my brilliant discovery has already been theorized and observed.) Over the course of the next few days, take note of the I'm Not Theory in your own environment. It's a fun, informative exercise that might help fatten up a flat character profile or a flimsy nonfiction proposal.

In the meantime, let me know your answer to this question: What are you not? I can't wait to find out!

Posted by Judy at 08:36 AM | Comments (9)

May 15, 2008

Thursday Night Therapy and the Bad-for-You Platter

Every Thursday night for the past I-don't-know-how-many years, my husband and I have gone out to dinner with my brother, his wife, my sister and her husband, who happens to be my husband's brother. (I know, I know, it sounds very interfamilial, but it's perfectly legal -- no bloodlines crossing, I swear.) We might go early or late or right when we should, depending upon the schedules of our combined twelve children--many of whom can now cart themselves around to their own activities. Nevertheless, the six of us have taken up the same space each week, but we bring to the table (or booth) six very different perspectives.

We call our regular gatherings "Thursday Night Therapy." I designed matching t-shirts for our little club (but no one ever wears them -- they're either saving them or I bought the wrong sizes) that say "Only 7 Days Left" because we've all admitted that while driving away from the restaurant every Thursday evening, we can't wait until our next weekly meeting.

In the comfort of sacred family pinky-swears, we can safely discuss our personal and professional lives, our children's challenges, our goals and failures and flights-of-idea. We can assume an outrageous stance or present a conservative one. We are able to freely discuss all those subjects marked as taboo in other social settings including politics (a discussion that often ends up involving customers at other tables and always the staff, because among the six of us, three political parties are represented) and religion. (Discussing sex is still taboo because, well, it just is.) Our interactions are full and feisty and very therapeutic.

Throughout all this, I've become comfortable with the word therapy because, for me, the word is synonymous with fun! I don't even mind when my daughter calls out from across the practice gym, "Hey Mom, are you going to therapy tonight?" (Although, that does remind me of an unrelated time when we were shopping for dresses to wear to my niece's wedding and she called out across the boutique, "Mom, this one would look great on a forty-year old!")

So why tell you about my Thursday night sessions? The answer lies in what I call the Bad-for-You Platter. Lately at therapy, I've been ordering a platter that is heaping with deep-fried everything. It's piled high with strips of zucchini, puffs of cauliflower and succulent mushrooms, fat, fat, thickly-battered onion rings, and extra ranch please. With that news, I'm sure some of you points-counting people are now whipping out your slide charts and tallying that the platter carries a week's worth of calories. (I know it does, but it's only once a week and I share, I swear.)

However, it's not what's on the Bad-for-You Platter but what happens over it that is truly fascinating. While pinching my onion "O" into an ellipse and dunking it in the nearest sauce, I ask my fellow club members about writing-related matters. I invite their feedback on plot points and character flaws, their opinions on my big-big nonfiction ideas, and their take on the latest twists in the industry. We reflect, not as writers, but as chemists and C.P.A.s, as engineers and teachers, and small business owners, on what makes a plot tired or fresh. Such conversations fueled my choices on which red herrings in my novel were "fair" and that my latest nonfiction idea needed reshaping.

Discussing writing-related topics with nonwriters can be an enlightening resource. So instead of fearing what others might think when you finally admit that you're writing a novel, fight your fright and just ask. Ask someone you trust what they truly think about whatever it is you're mulling over in your writing life. You don't have to worry that they'll steal your idea or lead you down the wrong path (in hopes of getting published before you do). This week, then, why not order a friend or family member a big bowl of ice cream or venti espresso and talk book talk? Otherwise, you might never find out how therapeutic such interaction can be. Good luck!

Posted by Judy at 12:27 PM | Comments (6)