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2011 AHS Capstone Projects AHS Capstone Projects
10-1-2011
Creative Writing: Two Short Stories and an EssayRose ZellerFranklin W. Olin College of Engineering, [email protected]
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Recommended CitationZeller, Rose, "Creative Writing: Two Short Stories and an Essay" (2011). 2011 AHS Capstone Projects. Paper 7.http://digitalcommons.olin.edu/ahs_capstone_2011/7
AHS Capstone, Fall 2011 Rose Zeller
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ThreePerspectivesonMeaninginFiction
Upon finishing a story, the writer delivers his story into the hands of a reader. Perhaps the
reader will interpret the story as the author intended, but perhaps he will not. The writer can certainly
sway the reader’s conclusions, but the wise author will not attempt to convince all readers of a
particular message. Too forceful a message can make fiction dull and pedantic. Good fiction tells a story
in which readers from diverse backgrounds might find disparate realities. The skillful author, though,
can unite and direct interpretations for the benefit of his reader. An understanding of how readers
extract meaning from fiction can aid in this task, as can study of creative writers’ craft. In this paper, I
will first examine the claims of literary scholars, then the advice of creative writers. Finally, I will discuss
how these two perspectives inform my own experience in storytelling.
Deeper meaning in fiction can be discussed with a wide range of terms. For the purpose of
clarity in this paper, I will use the following terms. “Message” means a concise summary of a life lesson.
The message of The Tortoise and the Hare, for example, is “Slow and steady wins the race.” “Theme”
means the generalizable subject matter of a story. By this definition, the theme of Pride and Prejudice
might be the importance of love above social class. Finally, to borrow from author Anne Lamott, “moral
position” means an author’s intent to affect a meaningful, positive change in the reader’s life. This term
is necessarily the most abstract of the three, as it deals with a writer’s internal desire. Moral position
often expresses itself in a story as a position on a theme that is offered as a possibility rather than an
answer. Unlike a message, a moral position prompts the reader to actively participate in personal
interpretation.
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LiteraryScholars
A writer often wishes to convince the audience of some truth, and she does not wish to be
misunderstood. In this, she can succeed only if she appreciates the disparity in her audience and
abandons the desire to communicate a single, succinct message.
A writer cannot reasonably expect his work to have the same effects on all audiences. Every
reader comes to a story with a different history, and that history affects the theme and message the
reader finds. A reader today is far less likely to discern a message about communism than would a
reader during the height of the Cold War. Even contemporary readers can uncover disparate messages.
In one study, researchers gave short stories to a variety of readers who commented paragraph‐by‐
paragraph on the stories’ meanings and then reported back on theme. Readers’ interpretations
diverged widely, a result that “strongly supports the notion that theme is constructed and not held
within the text” (Kurtz 156). Because finding theme requires synthesis and analysis, the biases and past
experiences of the reader affect what themes he finds.
Furthermore, readers have expectations about the author’s intent that color their interpretation
of the text. Currie argues that both the text and the story’s “intentional, communicative aetiology –
[are] crucial to understanding how narrative works” (50). Whether the audience has a developed
knowledge of the author and the context of her work affects what the reader sees in the story. An
experienced reader of Japanese literature, for example, will recognize the author’s intent in using a
willow tree as a symbol of the geisha, but a reader unfamiliar with Japanese tradition might miss the
allusion altogether. Such a lack of familiarity will likely detract very little from the aesthetic of the story,
but it may completely change the messages that the two readers find.
The writer, then, cannot expect all readers to find the same meaning in her work. She can
convince readers to think seriously on some topic of her choosing. She can propose a theme and
explore its implications without requiring the reader to reach particular conclusions. In “Theme in
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Fiction,” Brace writes, “The good writer, in proposing a theme, does not argue it – if he is wise, he does
not even insist on it; he supposes it, he speculates on it, he sees its possibilities” (182). Thus, the reader
need not reach the same conclusions as the author. Instead, the reader is free to join in the speculation
that the author has begun and continue to draw conclusions based on the reader’s individual
experience. This frees the author from concern over readers’ diverging interpretations. Because a
writer of fiction need not force a narrow interpretation on all readers, differences in readers’
experiences do not devalue the writer’s exploration of theme.
Still, an author might wish to further direct the interpretations of his readers. To accomplish this,
the author must be aware of both his many possible readers’ viewpoints and his own viewpoint. Then,
“the writer 'makes' (transforms) the personal meanings of his/her material with respect to the reader”
(Light 266). Should he choose, the writer may revise his work to make his personal meaning clearer. He
might see that one character represents motherhood, and then choose to describe her as always
wearing white to show mothers as pure. He might add symbolism that reinforces his particular view.
He might even substantially alter the plot, should he find that he has failed to convey his intended
meaning in his first draft. He revises based on his own viewpoint to lead the reader towards a particular
set of truths.
The work of some literary scholars shows that not all members of an audience will discern a
specific theme or message in a given story. There will never be a guarantee that a writer will
communicate his intended themes and messages, but a writer can still work towards successfully
focusing the interpretations of his readers. The practical writer strives towards conveying broad
themes and messages to a wide audience.
CreativeWriters
Anne Lamott, Stephen King, and Ursula Le Guin, all successful novelists, argue that fiction should
not be used to communicate narrow messages. They argue that a story should have more depth than a
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succinct moral message can communicate. Stories allow societies to see themselves and discover their
own morals. When imbued with properly crafted themes and driven by a moral position, stories can
better readers’ lives.
Le Guin argues that distilling a story to a message does a great disservice to the story. She
claims, “The complex meanings of a serious story or novel can be understood only by participation in the
language of the story itself. To translate them into a message or reduce them to a sermon distorts,
betrays, and destroys them” (126). Fiction has rich personal meaning that cannot be accurately reduced
to a pithy message. In trying to tease out the author’s message, a reader cheapens fiction by treating it
as a sugar‐coated moral. Likewise, if a writer attempts to use a story to deliver a message, she cheapens
her art. The story whose only goal is to convey a specific moral may have value as a teaching device, as
in the case of parables and fables, but these genres have none of the richer value and truth of life whose
complexities other genres attempt to capture.
In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott agrees that a story is not about message. She tells writers, “I’m not
suggesting that you want to be an author who tells a story in order to teach a moral or deliver a
message. If you have a message, as Samuel Goldwyn said, send a telegram” (Lamott 104).
Stephen King, too, agrees that story should not be a roundabout way of communicating a
message. In The Stand, King crafts an apocalyptic tale involving the destruction of nearly the entire
human race and then the rebirth of civilization. At the end of The Stand, King’s characters discuss
whether humanity can learn from its mistakes, and the answer, delivered by one of the protagonists, is
an open‐ended “I don’t know.” King says of the work, “I didn’t want to leave the readers who had
followed me through hundreds of pages with nothing but some empty platitude I didn’t believe myself”
(206). Given the opportunity to do so, King refuses to spell out a message for his readers. King
recognizes that life is more complex than messages can capture, so he abandons the desire to
communicate a specific message.
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Le Guin, Lamott, and King agree that story is not about communicating message, but a story
without a message can communicate truths and benefit the reader. Le Guin, for one, affirms the power
of storytelling as “one of the most useful tools we have for achieving meaning: it serves to keep our
communities together by asking and saying who we are, and it’s one of the best tools an individual has
to find out who I am, what life may ask of me and how I can respond” (126). Fiction has great potential
to teach not because of message, but because of its ability to mirror the human experience in all of its
rich complexity.
Anne Lamott agrees. She says, “this is another reason to write: people need us, to mirror for
them and for each other without distortion – not to look around and say, ‘Look at yourselves, you
idiots!,’ but to say, ‘This is who we are’” (234). This power of story does not come about by accident.
Rather, a writer instills her convictions in her work. Lamott says that these convictions should be
infused in a story from its beginning. She attests, “we feel morally certain of some things, sure that
we’re right, even while we know how often we’ve been wrong, and we need to communicate these
things” (104). Conviction drives the writer to tell the story. The things a writer is “morally certain of”
should not make their way into the story as afterthoughts. Rather, a moral position should be the
source from which the story springs.
King might disagree that moral imperative ought to drive a story from its beginning. Though he
does not use a term that directly parallels the moral position of which Lamott speaks, he does say,
“Good fiction always begins with story and progresses to theme; it almost never begins with theme and
progresses to story” (208). King claims that an author best infuses a story with theme during revision.
After producing a story, the raw material becomes available for the author to discern the common
threads that tie the story together and reveal general truths. Trying to force the story to convey too
narrow a theme from the beginning can have the same dangers as trying to force a message. The story
will likely feel pedantic; it will not have the ring of truth. Writing a first draft freely and then finding the
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theme in revision, on the other hand, better approximates how we discern themes in our daily lives. We
must first live the moments, and then we can look back to find the trends.
Le Guin, King, and Lamott acknowledge the dangers of writing to deliver a message. They
suggest instead that story should have a more general meaning that mirrors the human condition. King
and Lamott give different views on how to create such meaning. Lamott says that stories should start
with a moral position from the beginning, while King advises that stories should be instilled with theme
in revision.
MyPersonalExperience
I have never been tempted to write a story to convey a pithy message. A question with an easy
answer does not deserve the complexity of fiction. I agree with Le Guin, Lamott, and King that a story
has more value than a message can convey, or I would not go to the trouble of writing. In addition, I
agree with scholars that interpretations of fiction vary widely among readers, so I feel no particular need
to communicate a narrow set of themes. Still, I try to craft my stories to communicate truths about life
that will benefit my readers. In this way, I write with the driving force of the kind of moral position that
Lamott defines. I can only muster the energy to write a story if I believe that story will positively affect
those who read it.
In writing “Eglantine Roses,” I set out to write about the male‐female relationship in
contemporary American society from the perspective of a woman who has no pragmatic need for a
husband. I saw that my life would fall into this pattern soon; I will soon have a job and be financially
stable, independent of a husband. Such circumstances for a young woman would have been almost
unthinkable in the US as recently as the 1950s, yet nearly every young woman who I personally know
will be financially independent almost immediately upon graduating college.
I wrote characters in circumstances that I and my friends plausibly may face in the near future.
In my first draft, I was much too obvious in exploring my theme. King’s words rang true in that good
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fiction did not immediately spring forth when I began with theme. My characters gave their opinions
explicitly‐ they told their versions of the message, that for women in their circumstances, there is no
logical need for a husband. Initial feedback proved immensely helpful in pointing out the overbearing
nature of my writing. The draft was less‐than‐ideal for a reader but helpful for me as a starting point. I
knew the characters’ opinions very well, and I was free in revision to let their views on relationships
guide their actions, thereby showing their beliefs rather than telling them. In this way, I could free the
reader to interpret and question the characters’ underlying motives, and through this process, develop
their own opinions about the theme.
In “Ilied” the impetus for writing was not so much the desire to explore a theme, but the desire
to share a passion. Visual music was a challenging topic for a piece of fiction, as the original material
relies on audio and image, and with a story, a writer has only words to convey meaning. I certainly
would have abandoned the idea if my love for the topic had not been fervent. My own struggle in
approaching such a difficult topic, propelled by passion, eventually led me to write about the topic with
the protagonist as the idea of the story itself. The theme thus became the nature of creative ideas. Like
Ursula Le Guin, I had no message on the matter. I had a story to tell.
The flaws in the first draft of “Ilied” were very different from those in “Eglantine Roses.” The
nature of visual music inspired me to employ a surrealist style, and the important elements of story
were all but lost in my desire to express image, music, and emotion. The protagonist’s conflict and
motives were not well enough defined for the reader to be drawn into the story. I needed to transform
my personal meaning with consideration for the reader to make the story more relatable.
For both of my stories, my writing was inspired by my moral position. In the case of “Eglantine
Roses,” I cared about the questions regarding romance that young, independent single women confront
in today’s world. For “Ilied,” I wanted to share my delight in visual music. In both cases, I knew my
intended themes before I set out to write. My revision for the two works diverged significantly,
AHS Capstone, Fall 2011 Rose Zeller
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however. In writing my second drafts, I needed to tell the reader more explicitly in “Ilied” and less
explicitly in “Eglantine Roses.” After revision, I believe I have achieved a better integration of broad
themes in my stories. I cannot expect all readers to interpret my work in the same manner, but I have
confidence that my driving moral positions have resulted in stories that convey my convictions in a
manner likely to benefit my readers.
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Works Cited
Brace, Gerald Warner. “Theme in Fiction.” The Massachusetts Review, Vol. 11, No. 1 (Winter, 1970), pp.
180‐185. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/25087969>
Currie, Gregory. “Both Sides of the Story: Explaining Events in a Narrative.” Philosophical Studies: An
International Journal for Philosophy in the Analytic Tradition
Vol. 135, No. 1, Proceedings of the Thirty‐Seventh Oberlin Colloquium in Philosophy: Aesthetics
(Aug., 2007), pp. 49‐63. Published by Springer. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/40208794>
King, Stephen. On Writing: 10th Anniversary Edition: A Memoir of the Craft. Scribner; 10 Anv edition.
July 6, 2010.
Kurtz, Victoria and Michael F. Schober. “Readers’ varying interpretations of theme in short fiction.”
Poetics, Volume 29, Issue 3, September 2001, Pages 139‐166.
http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0304422X01000407>
LeGuin , Ursula. Cheek by Jowl. Aqueduct Press. 2009.
Lamott, Anne. Bird by Bird. New York, New York: Anchor Books, 1994.
Light, Gregory. “From the Personal to the Public: Conceptions of Creative Writing in Higher Education.”
Higher Education. Vol. 43, No. 2 (Mar., 2002), pp. 257‐276. Published by: Springer.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/3447545