Artful Realist

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(Source: thehermitslife, via thatkindofwoman)

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Always make the audience suffer as much as possible.

// Alfred Hitchcock

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Don’t write because you want to say something. Write because you have something to say.

// F. Scott Fitzgerald

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I shall live badly if I do not write, and I shall write badly if I do not live.

// FRANÇOISE SAGAN

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Ireland - Day 4

I sit in a beautiful, open atrium overlooking a garden with tall trees lined with ivy. Inside, the walls are bedecked in mint green draperies and subtle colors that accentuate the view. Perrott’s restaurant, inside the Hayfield Manor Hotel, is a dreamy and delicious way to end a long day.

Sitting across from me is a family of five. The three boys all have rosy, high cheeks and brilliant blue eyes. The eldest, a boy of about Luc’s age, is celebrating a birthday and his parents have surprised him with tickets to a football game on Sunday. He is the envy of his brothers. Watching this unfold makes me homesick for my own family. But I am making great progress on my self-imposed writer’s hermitage. I churned out another 2,500 words today on the train ride from Dublin to Cork. It was a beautiful ride, and I plan to take in more of it on the return tomorrow. I have nearly two chapters complete of my book. Tomorrow, I shall finish up and make a good go at chapter 3.

Cork is said to be the origin of my ancestors. Somewhere in the county, the Callihans prospered and ultimately sent their children off to America in the 18th century. I often joke with my very proud uncles that our family has been in the US so long we no longer qualify as Irish—but those are fighting words, and the traces of the family are all over Cork. O’Callaghan’s Bakery, O’Callaghan’s Truck Service. The name appears again and again.

What I love about Cork is that it is a very Irish city. I’ve enjoyed my time in Dublin, but it’s fair to say that Dublin is an international city. If you close your eyes and listen anywhere in Dublin you’ll hear a cacophony of languages and dialects. It’s not as worldly as London, but it’s also not as Irish as Cork. Doing the same exercise here yields a wealth of Irish brogue.

After arriving, I made a very long walking tour through the Grand Parade, Oliver Plunkett Street, St. Patrick’s, and back to College Road. My hotel rests on the border of University College, Cork’s contribution to the Irish system and home to about 10,000 students. I walked slowly and stopped to take in a few galleries. Every so often I seated myself on a park bench and snapped photos of the scenery and passersby.

And when it was all done, I returned to the hotel, drank a few pints, and enjoyed a fabulous meal. Tomorrow it will be more touring of Cork and then a train ride back to Dublin for my grand finale in Ireland.

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Irish Odyssey: Days 2 & 3

The view from my hotel window

I slept soundly Sunday night. All the time spent traveling and working my way up to a Dublin arrival took a toll and I crashed hard. But I’ve learned my lesson from past international travels, and kept myself up to the normal hour when I go to bed. Without an alarm, I woke up around 7am and felt ready to tackle the novel project. I surprised myself. I worried that I underestimated the time and discipline it takes to meet aggressive daily word quotas. Breakfast took forever quickly crept in to my designated writing time. But I still managed to bang out over 2,000 words before lunch and reserved the rest of the afternoon to tour Trinity College, Grafton Street and Temple Bar. Trinity College was more than I expected. The campus was beautiful. I spent the 8 euros and took the tour of the library. It’s against my nature to go where tourists go, but I knew if I went home without seeing the parts of Dublin that make it Dublin, I would be sorry. I wasn’t disappointed. Seeing the Book of Kells humbled me. It was fitting that I would get the chance to study such a manuscript when I was starting a book. The lettering and artwork are stunning. Photos don’t do it justice. On a photo, the pages just look like any old book. But up close, you can see the guidelines the monks used to keep their script so neat. You see the rich colors of the artwork. Someone actually spent time hand lettering this book. Awesome! I shuffled around the campus and got to see the outside of the Samuel Beckett Theatre — a great building. Then I rambled over to the pitch and watched a cricket match in progress. I don’t understand cricket, and from what I understand, it’s not as popular an Irish sport as Gaelic Football or Hurling. But it was fun to watch this crew. One of the players had an American flag draped around his neck like a cape. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or proud. After Trinity College, I made my way down Grafton Street. The main thoroughfare is a commercial extravaganza. I took it in, but then turned on to side streets and people watched, with my camera in hand. I managed to get a little lost and found myself back on Dame Street, which was fortuitous because I wanted to explore that area. Stopping only to grab some stew and a pint, I made my way to Christ Church, Dublin Castle and St. Patrick’s. The walk enriched the soul. That night, I dined at Eden Restaurant in Temple Bar and took in a play at the Olympia Theatre: _The Last Days of the Celtic Tiger_. It was not the finest specimen of theatre I’ve seen, but I can now safely say I’ve attended shows on Broadway, in the West End, and in Dublin. My theatrical palette is gaining seasoning. I finished the night drinking pints at The Temple Bar, where I enjoyed live music and a lively scene. Tuesday was another productive writing day — more than 2,200 words and deep into chapter two. I cheated a little and let myself leave the room first thing in the morning to have breakfast somewhere other than the hotel. I ended up in a small cafe off Grafton Street, where I enjoyed an “Irish Breakfast Feast” of sausages, bacon, black and white pudding, eggs and toast. Delicious. When I finished at around noon, I hustled out to tour more of the city. I went back to Christ Church because it was on the way to the Guinness Storehouse. I figured I should actually go inside. Christ Church is one of the oldest churches in Dublin, originally built by the Viking invaders. It’s a Gothic spectacle. After wandering around the crypts and archways of the church, I resumed my path to Guinness. First, let me say this: they’ve got quite a racket. I’m not saying it’s undeserved, because Guinness is so delicious. But I will say that they’ve cornered the Irish market. 14 Euros to tour the facility, but a pint is included. Gradually climbing up seven stories, I learned how they make the beer, how they built a near monopoly, and how they’ve advertised their success. The best part is the 7th floor, an oval skybar with a 360 degree view of Dublin. It’s a nice place to enjoy a pint. When I’d finished drinking and spending some money in the shop, I headed back towards City Centre. I crossed O’Connell Bridge and snapped some photos of the hustle and bustle of Dublin. Hiking my way up O’Connell Street, I stopped only to people watch and buy a sweater. I made it back to my hotel in time to prepare for dinner at The Tea Room at the Clarence Hotel. By the time it was done, I was stuffed and ready to call it a day (it’s early, but I’m tired). Tomorrow I head to Cork for an overnight stay in the city of my ancestors. I will also tackle 2,000 more words.

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My Joycean Adventure - Day 1

After 16 hours of flight time, including a four hour layover in Frankfurt, I have finally arrived. Dublin has met me with a cold, wet, gray embrace, and I love every minute of it. What a city!

Getting here was a mostly uneventful experience, although I surprised myself at my own excitement level. I travel all the time. I’m fast on my way to being a million miler with Delta. I’ve also been to Europe more times than I can count. So I found my own behavior odd. I had a hard time sleeping Friday night. I was like a kid the night before Christmas. I couldn’t wait until the morning.

At the airport I was giddy, smiling at everyone I met, chatty and generally showing signs of riding a massive adrenaline rush. There were times on the flight when I found myself short of breath. I haven’t felt this inspired in a very long time. I channeled my energy by preparing to write. On the flight to Frankfurt I found time to refine my outline and sketch out some of the major plot points. The Germans virtually insist that you sleep, so at one point I tried to recline and catnap for awhile. I don’t sleep much on planes, and I found it even harder to do Saturday. My head was either rushing with story ideas for the novel or thinking about Ireland. At one point I managed to dose off for about a half hour until I was awakened by a sudden splash of water. I think the woman in the seat next to me spilled from her cup, but she ignored me.
Ah, air travel.
I ran into my old friend Cliff Warner at the Frankfurt airport up in the Lufthansa Business Class lounge. It turns out that he was on the same flight from Los Angeles on his way to Dubai. Imagine my surprise when I heard my name called walking across the floor in search of German beer. We found a quiet corner and caught up. It was a pleasant diversion while I tried to quiet my restless energy. After he left to catch his flight, I read and drank coffee to stay awake.

I think the level of my anticipation doubled when I finally mosied over to my gate for the connection to Dublin. There were half a dozen red-headed passengers already in queue. Finally, I was mixing with people who looked like they might call Ireland home. The flight lasted an hour and forty minutes, but it seemed longer. My first views of the country were obscured by heavy overcast skies, but as the plane descended on approach the clouds gradually faded to reveal the lush green countryside described in books—rough geometric patterns defining farm country, dotted with beautiful country houses and occasionally a herd of horses or sheep.

I chatted with few other Americans in the passport line. One was a business man who was also making his first trip here. He was only staying 24 hours but asked if I had any suggestions on where to eat and visit. I shared what I knew from all my research. The other gentleman was from Seattle and had made many trips here. He shared some pointers with me and wished me well.

My informal tour of Dublin began in the cab. My driver welcomed me and shared history and cultural insights about Dublin. When he learned that I was a Callihan (my mother’s maiden name), he encouraged me to visit the western coast of Cork. Apparently, there’s a very famous Irish son named O’Callihan who won a gold medal for the hammer in the 1920 Olympics.

After checking in and getting settled at the hotel, my next order of business was to make a quick walk of the city before dark … and find a pub to drink my first Guinness in Ireland. My hotel is only a block from Trinity College and less than a mile from Grafton Street. It was a quiet Sunday night and there was enough daylight to give myself time to explore a few side streets, snap some photos and stroll through St. Stephen’s Green. The city was as charming and lovely as I imagined. It is very metropolitan, but feels small, quaint and navigable. I suppose I would compare it to Portland in the US. There’s a character to the city that feels distinctly Ireland, but it’s still a big city with all the modern conveniences and sophistication of one of the world’s capitals.

I purposely sought a pub that was not on the beaten path. The last thing I wanted on this night was a mingling with tourists. Near St. Stephen’s Green I found a pub on an out-of-the-way alley. It was a nice enough place but completely packed. I found the bar and ordered a pint, but had to stand against the wall to avoid blocking the path of the other patrons. When the head had reduced and I could tell the liquid had assumed its dark brown color, I took my first drink. Nectar of the Celtic gods! It is impossible to sip the Guinness here. One drink and a third of my glass was empty. It is so smooth, creamy and delicious. It may be in my head, but it does taste better here. The barkeep tells me it is because the Guinness company canvases all the pubs in Dublin to ensure the lines are clean and the beer is up to standards. That may be true, who knows? But the beer tastes fantastic.

After awhile of standing awkwardly in the packed pub, I thanked the proprietor and made my way back onto the Dublin city streets. I took a minute to text my sister Lisa. “Mmm. Guinness,” I wrote. A few minutes later her response: “Lucky!”

I found another pub, The Drake. It was quiet and I was able to find a seat. I reminded myself that it was Sunday night, and the pub scene would be more quiet, explaining the Drake’s emptiness. But I struck up a conversation with the barkeep (he liked my iPhone) and finished a cheese sandwich and a couple more pints.
By now, more than 24 hours had gone by without any real sleep. It was still early — not quite 9pm, so I decided to walk some more and found my way to Temple Bar, which was alive and bustling with street activity. It was a young crowd, with a lot of foreign tourists mingling between the many restaurants, pubs and clubs. I walked slowly to absorb the atmosphere. One of the pubs was hosting live music, which sounded interesting. I went in and inched my way around (and ordered another pint). I found a table near the action and divided my time between watching the music act who covered Paul Simon songs (odd), and a football game on the television. All the while, I marked the time by leaving little foam rings down my glass. It was heaven. I had to pinch myself to remind me that I was really here. The first day lived up to the hype.

I returned to my hotel with a very full belly and a very sleepy countenance. Monday morning, I begin my writing regimen. 1,500 words. As soon as I push them out, I’m free to begin my second day of touring and exploration. I’m even scheduled to see a play.

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Quotas

It is now less than four days from launch time for me. I head to Ireland on Saturday. The objective is twofold: (1) start my next book — a novel, and (2) drink a lot of Guinness.

It won’t take much effort to do the latter. Many have asked how I plan to do the former. Going away to start a big writing project is one of my favorite exercises. I hole myself up in the morning and disallow myself the opportunity to go out and explore until I’ve met my daily writing quota. For this project, I aim to return to the states with no less than 12,000 words in the can. That means each day I will be writing an average of 2,000-2,500 words. I’ve also allowed myself one day to rewrite. Even if you don’t plan to visit a foreign country, the quota system is a great way to discipline yourself and make real progress on a big project.

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5 Tips to Help You Write Better Stories

With the new year just hours away, it’s time to make a resolution to yourself to improve how you tell your story. I spend a lot of time on this site discussing brands and storytelling. Today we address the most important brand in your life: you. Whether you’re writing a resume, an email to a colleague or a post to your blog, your goal should be to tell your story in each snippet of prose. Sadly, too many interesting people short-change themselves when they write. They miss the opportunity to convey their character and the essence of their story. Here are five simple things you can do to bring out your brand narrative.

1. Use your own voice I have a friend who is one of the most affable, lovable guys you’ll ever meet. He’s the life of the party and a charming professional. People like being around him. Unfortunately, when he writes, he sounds like a droll actuary (apologies to any actuaries reading this). His sentences are filled with formal, stiff constructions. Reading something from him, you’d never guess what he was really like. There’s simply no good reason to communicate with anything other than your own voice. Make sure what you write sounds like you. Before hitting the send key, read your writing out loud. Is this how you would say what you want to say if the person were sitting in front of you?
2. Match characters to actions If you really want to be a storyteller, stop thinking of subject/verb agreement and start thinking about characters in actions. Great storytelling is revealed by action, not exposition. Instead of writing, “the report we wrote was transmitted by Mary on Thursday,” consider: “Mary sent you our report Thursday.” It’s more engaging to follow Mary doing something than it is to follow the track of the report.
3. Use dialog and quotes For some reason, business writers shy away from snippets of dialog. I wrote a research report last year that started with a direct quotation from one of the respondents: “The challenge is to develop entertainment that keeps people engaged…” It was a successful technique. The client told me people actually enjoyed reading my document — this from a thoroughly PowerPoint culture. Quotes and snippets of dialog are the hallmarks of good storytelling. Why not use them in your business writing?
4. Avoid metadiscourse In the theatre, actors generally avoid breaking the “fourth wall”. That’s the imaginary wall between the stage and the audience. Unless part of the play’s style, breaking the fourth wall interrupts the storytelling experience because it brings the audience back to reality. When you needlessly fill your writing with phrases such as “the purpose of this document is…” or “to summarize” or any other clause that discusses your discussion, you put distance between you and your reader. You also break the fourth wall. Rather than tell us what you’re going to tell us, just say it. Tell me a story. Don’t tell me how you intend to tell the story. It’s not to say that there isn’t occasional need for metadiscourse. Just make it the exception and not the norm in your writing.
5. Shorter. Clearer. Easier. Want to tell a really good story? Don’t let the words get in the way. Use short, declarative sentences. Make sure each of those sentences clearly expresses a thought. And make sure all of the thoughts string together in a way that makes it easy for the reader to follow your story. Remember, western audiences prefer linear storytelling. That means each sentence should logically flow into the next. At your best, your sentences should raise questions in the reader’s mind that the following sentences effortlessly answer. When done well, the reader gets to the end of your story with no unanswered questions.

Remember, when you’re not in the room, your writing is a remnant of your brand. Be known as a good storyteller, and make sure your stories reflect your unique way.

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