A Conclusion

What have I learnt this semester?

Well, firstly, there is so much more to literary journalism than I thought. I really thought it was similar to feature or magazine writing, but with more in-depth research, and a longer word limit.

There are so many ways to write, and you really have almost complete freedom with literary writing. The only real constraint is that it must be truthful, but as a journalist this should be a primary goal anyway. And there are ways to convey a certain image or emotion that is not strictly the truth, but is imagined by the writer (as done by Anna Funder), as long as it is clear you are imagining.

It doesn't matter what the topic is, literary features can be somber, humorous or personal. I always thought that for serious topics like war and death, it would be inappropriate to write in any other tone but solemn.

I have learnt that sentence length, pacing, structure and writing techniques are not boring. I honestly used to think that we just read into things too much if we were looking for techniques and style. I figured you just wrote what you wrote how you wanted to write it. I cannot begin to tell you how untrue this is.

The techniques used for writing are what make literary journalism. It just takes a bit of practice to be able to pick them out. The good writers plan it so that you don't notice the shifts in perspective, the moving from an internal dialogue to an external conversation, building time, place and character.

Literary journalism values are almost similar to news values, but with more to them. Literary values are
- reflections after the event, rather than timeliness
- the everyday as currency, rather than the current
- tension and ambiguity, rather than conflict
- novelty and irony, rather than just novelty
- it brings the far away close to you
- everyday, rather than celebrity
- symbolic, rather than impact

The stories are about the meaning of the stories, not just the chronology, and the rhythms and the pattern structure. Literary journalism includes personal involvement and passion, even if the writer isn't present. It is not just about a person or event, the writing can express a much broader concern.

All the readings we have done, all the in-class assignments have built towards this understanding. Although I found some of the readings insanely boring, or completely confusing, each one has helped me learn what I like about literary writing, and the kind of writing I will use for my final feature.

I like the way Anna Funder wrote Stasiland, but I cannot be so present in my writing. If there is one thing I would like to do in my piece, it would be to come close to mimicking David Finkel's The Good Soldiers. 


When my literary piece is finally completed, I'll post a link to it on here. If you are interested in reading more literary pieces, I've placed a reading list down the right side of this blog, as well as some links to more information.

Part III

Here is the final part of my in-class assignment:

My first sting not only gave me a crippling fear of insects, buzzing, and things on my neck, but it ruined several balmy English summers for me. Bumblebees in England are cute idiots. Wasps are pure evil in a yellow and black striped jumper. Like many adolescents, they seem to be filled with an unjustified rage at the world. Not only will they attack if you come near them, if you have the misfortune to have one come near you, it’s still your fault. British children are taught that soda can never be drunk straight from the can in summer. Horror stories of wasps in throats and children gasping for breath ensure that you’ll never drink without a straw. If a wasp comes near, the braver ones may swat it away. The idiots – like myself – will run, with the enraged wasp giving chase. You are supposed to sit tight, and wait until it gets bored. It was one of the times I had tried the sit tight method. The wasp crawled down my neck, and stung me twice before taking its leave. I screamed so much, our meal was free because the owners just wanted me gone.

An internal debate on not coming to class today. My bed was comfortable. There were bees and spiders outside to consider. Season 5 of How I Met Your Mother had finally been downloaded. Class seemed like a total inconvenience. My options danced around in my head – I may already have too many absences. What if I get deathly ill next week? I’m graduating in December, shouldn’t I be more responsible now? The answer was a resounding NO. But I got grudgingly got dressed, and pretended to be responsible for a day.

 Lunch was a vegetarian roll, with grilled fish and penang sauce,  a coke. It wasn’t cold enough, which annoyed me. I hate hot drinks, I really hate warm drinks. It’s ice cold or bust in my books. The coke remained unfinished. I debated upon a magnum ice-cream, but then realised I was still in my pyjamas, and had a class to attend. The magnum will have to wait, and probably melt in my temperamental bar fridge. 

I still think I  used sentences beginning with 'I' far too much. But it's hard - I think that if I had written the piece knowing I couldn't start with 'I', it would have been much easier. But once I had formed the sentence structure and flow of my writing, it wasn't just changing the beginning word, it was often changing the whole sentence and those that followed.

I never realised just how much I used 'I' in sentence beginnings. If you look at the last two paragraphs here, they've both started with 'I'. It was a good exercise, especially for my literary feature and I need to be careful not to put my presence in my writing too much, or it will be overwhelming and take away from the true story.

Part II

After we had finished reading and discussing the text Stasiland, we were instructed to open a word document and briefly take notes on what we had done earlier that day. I found this a little hard considering I had woken up about an hour before my 3.30pm class (whoops), but I think I managed ok.

Our tutor had us take notes on:
- Our first thoughts upon waking
- The first thing we had done that day
- The first thing we had eaten, and how is tasted
- How we had gotten to class
- A thought process we had gone through
- Everything we had eaten that day

We were then told to go back and find way to expand on something that had happened, as in, link it to a memory that was relevant. Then, we had to expand on our notes, and make them into a story. Finally, we had to go back and change every sentence that began with 'I', which drove me crazy because almost half of mine did. Here is what I ended up with:

Awake at 12.45pm, I discover that I have somehow ended up with my head at the other end of my bed. Momentarily disorientated, and annoyed that I had slept in so late, I tumbled out of bed, stumbling over the bags, books, empty JD bottles and clothes, to go to the bathroom.

Coming out of the bathroom Marte, my unit-mate, barrelled out of her room, jabbering about waking up at 3am with a huge huntsman on her leg. Unable to kill it, she had thrown shoes at it and then huddled in the corner of her room. Sleep was impossible. I hate spiders, and I particularly hate huntsmen, so I armed myself with 2 cans of Mortein, located the bastard, and emptied half a can. The next 3 minutes were fraught screams and frantic scrambling onto beds and desks as he twitched and clawed his way down the wall, onto the floor. He was still twitching when Ben finally arrived and fufilled his manly duty of removing him by flushing him down the toilet. The unit stank of the cloying and suffocating smell of bug spray. Feeling heroic and accomplished, I went to lunch.

Like everyday, I grabbed takeaway from the campus cafe – a vegetarian roll and grilled fish, in spicy penang sauce. Usually campus food fills me with dread, but today was different. To my surprise, there was actual flavour, and I suspected that for once the food may be fresh, and not frozen. To celebrate, I sat on my patio smoking and eating with a friend I ran into in the car park.

Time for class. I share a car with my brother, and it works pretty well. Except when he takes the car 5 minutes before class because he’ll ‘die if he doesn’t have a boost juice’. Standing impatiently in the car park, I chain smoke and worry about parking in the western car park. I was 45 minutes late to a workshop yesterday, the parking situation was catastrophic. As I left campus, what looked like a swarm of, oh god, bees, pollutes the air around the entrance. I am glad I haven’t opened the window for a cigarette. I am glad I’m not walking. I am not a fan of nature. I turn off the aircon on the chance an enraged bee makes his way inside, and makes a beeline – really? – for me. 

Stasiland

We had an interesting assignment in class today, which I'll post up here in three parts, so you aren't bogged down with possibly the largest blog post in blogger history.

Firstly, we went around the class taking turns reading an excerpt from Stasiland by Anna Funder. The novel is about people who resisted the East German regime, and about other who worked for their police. We only read a couple of chapters in class, but her writing was incredible.

With every new section or incident, Funder broadens her scope. The first pages are just her, hungover and walking. We next meet a German woman who Funder has a conversation with. The text then becomes quite reflective, and then there is history. 

The novel starts with the chapter titled Berlin, Winter 1996, so we immediately know where we are. The first half page or so is seedy, negative and sickly as she battles her way out of a train station. When she is outside, she is gone from the claustrophobic opening, and the story can expand. 

When she has a conversation with a bathroom attendant, the story has moved from an internal world to the external story of the encounter with the woman. Dialogue is introduced for the first time, and Funder begins to develop her own character through another woman. 

Between the opening scene and the encounter with the woman, there has been a major shift, from internal to external, but as a reader you know something has changed, but you don't really notice it. This is the mark of a good writer, the ability to seamlessly move from perspectives without disrupting the audience's reading.

In her third mode of writing, when Funder is on the train, her writing becomes very reflective. So far, we have moved from internal to history/incident to reflective. We begin to learn more about Funder as she reflects on Germany's past, and the reader begins to wonder if the book will be about her, or about Germany. 

One further section on, Funder talks about the more specific history of Leipzig, and we start her own interpretation of history. There is a link to the books name by mention of the Stasi - a connection - as the reader starts to get an idea of what the story is about. 

Further on, Funder visits the Stasi Museum. Every time she sees something in the museum, she relates it to history she knows of. We also get the sense of her travel, and her walking through German history. Funder builds up little descriptions as she goes through the museum. As she meets with the museum curator, who talks with her, an element of humour is introduced (Funder likens a woman to Luther). 

Funder also allows herself little snippets and short bursts of imagination, which is not a usual practice in journalism. It's a valid technique in literary writing,  as long as it is made clear that the author is imagining the following. 

In the final paragraphs of chapter one, Funder begins to give us a sense of what this novel is about, and it seems like this whole chapter has been working towards that final paragraph, and the mention of Miriam (a young woman who's husband died in a Stasi cell). The reader gets a sense of 'this is it', and it's clear that Miriam is a key.

The chapter finishes with the mention of Miriam, and chapter two is called 'Miriam'. It becomes clearer and clearer to the reader where the novel is going, without giving too much away, keeping you interested. 

Stasiland was shortlisted for many prizes, and is now being developed for stage by The National Theatre in London. 

Docufiction?

Not to be confused with a mockumentary.

This isn't something we covered in class, but I came across it when I was (gasp) doing a bit of extra-curricular research on literary journalism.

Docufiction is apparently films' answer to literary features. Although this is where I get a little confused, because one of the main literary journalism features is that is needs to be accurate. The 'fiction' in docufiction seems to imply otherwise.

As I understand it, docufiction is a documentary that dramatises certain events with actors. Because docufiction is often used as a synonym for docudrama, and drama is considered fiction, the whole thing gets a little hazy. So it seems like docufiction is the film version of literary journalism, but because some things are better seen that narrated, they use actors to fill in the blanks.

Even though the concept has been around for decades, the term docufiction only came to be at the beginning of the 21st century, and I'm rather surprised I've never heard of it, and I'd be interested to know if I'm just really behind or if this is also new to everyone else.

I looked up a couple of examples, and I'm trying to locate them to rent out and get a feel for what it is.

Les Ordres is a 1974 Canadian docufiction that focuses on the incarceration of innocent people in the 1970 October Crisis and the War Measures Act put in place by the government. The film centres around 5 of the jailed civilians, and although the film is scripted, it is based on real interviews.

So Les Ordres really does seem like literary work - it's based on fact and is the product of extensive interviewing. But what about Supervolcano?

Aired in 2005 by BBC UK, Supervolcano is a docufiction on the highly-destructive volcano in Yellowstone National Park. The volcano does exist, and the film takes a look at the events that would occur should the volcano erupt - which, apparently, it's long overdue for.

But, the glaring point here is that it hasn't actually happened. So how is this literary journalism on film? Well, the film has extensively researched supervolcano's, and the aftermath - apparently they are powerful enough to cause a mini ice-age. At no point is the viewer led to believe that what they are watching is something that has happened.

I'm really interested by docufiction. I'm also studying documentary journalism this semester, and it's something I'd like to look into. I like the thought of literary journalism with the option of visual aides, although I do think that what makes literary journalism so fantastic is that the author needs to create a picture, a person and a story with nothing but their words and the way they use them.

It does confuse me though, because I still see a regular documentary being the same as docufiction. Both tell the truth, both research, and both present in similar ways. I haven't been able to find anything on a style or tone that is unique to docufictions.

I'd love to hear about some good docufictions, I couldn't find any great lists online. I'll be looking into Les Ordres,  but I think I'll pass on Supervolcano.

War Journalism

We recently did a class workshop on war literature. War reporting alternatively fascinates and terrifies me. I used to be obsessed with being a war correspondent, but I honestly don't know how I'd react in that sort of situation.

We read 4 excerpts of novels:

Dispatches by Michael Herr

The Good Soldiers by David Finkel
The Forever War by Dexter Filkins
If I Die in a Combat Zone by Tim O'Brien

They are all very different to one another, and I have to say that my favourite would have to be The Good Soldiers. The way that Finkel does character development is amazing. He introduces and creates his characters in beautiful detail. It's immediately obvious that he spent a huge amount of time around these people - Finkel knows what the lieutenant hangs on his wall to the intimate details of an email from his wife, Within the first two pages, you already feel like you know Ralph Kauzlarich.

The novel is written in the third person, and Finkel is not present through out the book at all, which is unusual for war reporting. In the other three aforementioned novels, each author has an immediate presence.

His carefully crafted rhythms and repetitions in the long sentences create a heaviness, and a sense of foreboding. You really are waiting for something to go wrong, because his tone has basically guaranteed it. A huge amount of thought as gone into each line. Finkel's writing is detailed and reflective, so that the reader is not completely devoid of hope.

I would have loved to keep reading, and I am planning to purchase this book. I just felt, personally, that the other novels did not convey the same solemnity in their work. I'm certain that other styles work for other people, but I feel like it's slightly tacky.

For this reason alone I didn't like If I Die in a Combat Zone. The continuous dialogue and casual tone made it seem too lighthearted for me, like what they were doing wasn't real or serious. I'm sure that's not what the author way trying to convey, but it didn't work for me. But that's not to say at all that it's not fantastic work. In fact, a lot of people in my class really enjoyed that excerpt.

There are so many ways to portray war through literary journalism, and different ways appeal to different people. I feel like war should be taken seriously, and in this respect, I feel like Finkel hit the nail right on the head. 

Story Proposal

I had to submit a formal story proposal for my literary feature. We basically had to outline the story, discuss the stylistic strategies we planned to do and give a story sample.


I haven't yet gone to interview my Nana - I'll be doing that over the semester break. I spoke to her on the phone to find out a few things, but it meant I was quite limited in my synopsis and my example, so I worked mainly on the intro. 


I'll skip the synopsis - I've discussed what I'm doing in earlier posts, but I'll include the strategies I plan to use, and my story example here to give you a idea of where I'm going.


Stylistic Strategies

I will be putting myself in this article, and plan to write it as a sort of journey to learn about my grandfathers history, before he passes away. He has Alzheimer’s. However, I do not want to become self indulgent in my feature, and I want to make sure that I keep the focus on the story of his life, not the story of mine.

I want to write the piece emotionlessly. I believe that if I’m going to already be present in the article, writing it with too much emotion will make my presence overwhelming By being somewhat emotionless, and in the style of Rebecca Solnit, I think I can keep my presence separate from the importance of the story I’m telling.

I also need to be very descriptive, without coming across as ‘flowery’. Because much of my research is based on memories, photos and news articles, I need to be sure that the reader can relate to the story, and feel involved, rather than just feel like they are reading a re-hashing of old news pieces.

I will shape the purpose and drive of the piece to be that I am going to Brisbane to find out my family history before my grandfather passes away, but I want this to be a subtle driving force.

Sample

It was the year Wall Street Crashed, Hollywood played host to the first Academy Awards, in London the BBC lit up English television screens for the first time, Western Australia celebrated 100 years of white settlement, it was the year that marked the end of the ‘Roaring Twenties’. It ws 1929, the year my grandfather was born. He was nine years old when World War II started, and 36 when troops were sent to Vietnam. By then, he was living in Papua New Guinea with his wife and two sons.

Now, he is 80, and lives in a nursing home in Caloundra, a suburb of Brisbane. He's in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease and no longer recognises his grandchildren, children or his wife. For anyone, it is a cruel disease, but for a man who moved his life to a third world country, dealt with local animosity towards the Japanese men he hired, and then created a pearl trading legacy for his sons, it seems especially unfair. 

I have left it too late, I can’t speak to my grandfather to hear this history from him. But, my nana has, over the many years, kept everything, as if to catalogue their lives. Every newspaper article has been laminated for longevity. Her memory is good. Even now, she can recall to the day they moved to Papua New Guinea, as newlyweds.

Obviously I have a lot more work to do, but I like the the tone I've set. Once I've done all my interviews I'll have far more to run with. I always struggle with introductions though, and I feel like - with a bit of tweaking - this one can really work.