The Coolest Writing Analogy Ever

Since I fell in love last winter with The Night Circus, I’ve been keeping an eye on Erin Morgenstern’s blog. She’s the magician who wove the tale of lovers locked in mortal combat through their gifts, who are played as pawns in a greater competition between rivals posing as mentors.

It’s a gorgeous book. Read it.

Ms. Morgenstern’s blog is as whimsical and magical as her novel. She writes her life as if each moment is an air-brushed wonder no matter what occupies it – an enviable point of view to which I doubt, being a Virgo, I could adopt, myself. It’s just not my style. I can, however, appreciate the vision in others. Almost every Friday, she posts a ten-sentence story with a photo snapped by a friend (the collection is called Flax-Golden Tales). It’s worth checking out if you like fairy tales and mystical musings.

She also posts bits about her process, what she’s reading, where she’s going, how her current project is proceeding, etc. In truth I’m unsure which planet she’s from, but I’d certainly like to vacation there.

A couple of weeks ago, she posted a piece titled Writing Analogy in Cocktail Party Form (see it here) that is the best description I have ever read of how an author can work literary magic without either overwhelming her audience or casting them adrift. I didn’t get the metaphor while I was reading it, of course; I check her site more often from the office than home, and you know what side of my brain is in charge at work. Thank the gods that she said it out loud at the end of the post. It was brilliant, beautiful and curiously educational. I’ve filed it away as a guideline for my own future writing, bearing in mind my penchant for describing detail to the nth degree. (I think the “n” in nth must stand for nauseating.)

I know writers are supposed to write for themselves, and I generally do, but it’s hard not to write for your perceived audience as well. I suppose I could write my own analogy based on my radio days, when the best tip I got was to picture an audience of one when I switched on the microphone. After all, even a runaway bestseller is read by one person at a time, isn’t it?