The Ada Community library branch closest to me is a couple
miles away on Lake Hazel Road. But another branch is a couple miles north of it
on Victory Road. Recently I visited that branch to look for new books and movie
DVDs. I also looked on the shelves for books about public speaking, whose call
number is 808.51. Just to the left under 808.02 I found an interesting 1999
paperback book by Eric Maisel titled Deep Writing: 7 Principles that bring
ideas to life. There is a brief article by Heather Grove at Errant Dreams on June
20, 2006 about it titled “Deep Writing: 7 Principles that bring ideas to life,”
Eric Maisel. I skimmed through the book, and was intrigued by the following
section on pages 124 to 128:
“FUNNY MIRRORS
I recommend the following special way of evaluating your
work. It can feel strange at first, because it involves a process that is
intuitive and impressionistic, but once you master it you can learn what you
need to know about your writing in almost an instant. I call this process funny
mirrors.
Imagine that you’ve taken your work to a surrealist
amusement park, and you discover a funhouse there. You go inside and encounter
a long corridor lined with mirrors on both sides. On one side are mirrors with
names: the mirror of the adjective, the mirror of the original idea, the mirror
of the living thing, and so on. On the other side are mirrors that have a place
on them for you to inscribe your own names: the mirror of Editor Jane, the
mirror of the German-American reader, the mirror of the subplot, and so on.
When you hold up your work to one of these mirrors, you see
only and exactly what that mirror reflects. In the first mirror you might
encounter a talking head, in the second an image or a scene, in the third a
phrase written out in script. Sometimes nothing will appear, a nothing full of information,
as when you hold up your work to the marketplace mirror and the mirror can find
nothing in your work with commercial appeal. Sometimes there are question
marks, exclamation points, or strange squiggles in need of deciphering. This is
a surrealistic funhouse, after all, and sometimes what you see will need
interpreting.
The following are the named mirrors:
The Mirror of the Adjective
When you hold your work up to this mirror, you get back a
single word: dark, confused, rushed, sentimental, stiff, clever, simplistic,
elegant, unflinching, detached, depressing, deep, commercial. This is the
mirror’s understanding – that is, your intuitive understanding – of your work’s
current state, summed up in a single word.
The Mirror of the Original Idea
Your piece of writing started somewhere, with a feeling, an
image, an idea. This mirror will reflect back to you insights about whether and
to what extent the work is still harboring that original idea and is still
guided by it. You might see a tiny dot: all that remains of your original idea.
You might see an abstract painting: the idea gone wild, fragmented and mutated
in the writing.
The Mirror of the Living Thing
In this mirror you get a sense of your work’s organic
growth: whether it is growing tall and spidery, short and squat, spare and
anemic. It may have nothing of the original idea left in it, but may still be a
healthy, thriving organism, growing with its own fine logic.
The Mirror of Alternatives
In this mirror you get a snapshot of how your work might
look if written differently. This mirror is invaluable: you get to see powerful
alternatives that might have eluded your vision because of
your focus on the
work-as-it-is. Each time you hold up the work you see another alternative: how
the book might look if narrated omnisciently, or if Sally told the story
instead of Harry, or if Sally’s best friend did the telling.
The Mirror of Shape and Form
Every piece of writing has its own shape, its own
architecture. In this mirror you might see reflected a skyscraper with the top
fifty stories separated from the bottom fifty by a jarring gap of open air.
Your book may be missing the middle chapter that connects the first half with
the second. You might see a Calder mobile, which reminds you that the
twittering bird chapter early on needs balancing with a meditation on the
lightness of being.
The Mirror of the Ideal Reader
In this mirror a face appears and chats with you. He or she
is serious, respectful, intimate, and understands your intentions but also has
his or her own ideas about what is or isn’t working. If you hold your work up a
second time, a different ideal reader may appear, one with a different history
and different tastes but one still absolutely on your side and interested in
seeing your work succeed.
Here are ten more mirrors:
The Mirror of the Typical Reader
The Mirror of Narrative Flow
The Mirror of Rhetorical Power
The Mirror of Intention
The Mirror of Voice
The Marketplace Mirror
The Mirror of Mystery
The Mirror of Grandeur
The Mirror of Truth
The Mirror of Goodness
Can you imagine how each of these mirrors works? What do you
see reflected in each of them?
When you want to know something in addition to the
information available in the named mirrors, walk down the other side of the
corridor. There stand the mirrors waiting to be named by you. You might hold
your work up to a mirror you call Mary and get a short, important answer about
whether Mary is an effective character or a distraction. You might hold your
work up to a mirror you call Dialogue and learn that your character John is
making boring speeches and that Howard is barely grunting. You might hold the
work up to a mirror you call Ending and learn whether your whisper of an ending
is necessary, a problem, or both.
When you’re working with an editor, then naturally you will
want to add an Editor mirror to your funhouse array. When you hold your work up
to this mirror you get to hear your editor’s thoughts about the book. Editor Jane
appears and says, ‘Darn it boy, didn’t we discuss this? I wanted much more
action and much less philosophizing!’ With this mirror you foretell editorial
objections and nip problems in the bud by engaging in dialogue with your
intuition. This mirror alone is worth the price of admission.
Visit this funhouse when you want to evaluate your work. Use
exactly as many mirrors as you need. Invent the ones that will help you the
most, creating custom-tailored mirrors that answer your most pressing
questions. Have you written several short stories and wonder if they amount to
a collection? Invent a mirror. Is your self-help book helpful enough? Invent a
mirror. See what there is to be seen.”
The mirrors at Science City in Calcutta came from Wikimedia
Commons.