Write Good or Die Read Free Page B

who is
trying to turn himself into a woman.
    You have the insect imagery here as well,
with the moths, the spiders and mice in the storage unit, and the
entomologists with their insect collections in the museum, the
theme of change, larva to butterfly.
    In Red Dragon , Harris works the animal
imagery to powerful effect. The killer is not a mere man, he’s a
beast. When he’s born he’s compared to a bat because of his cleft
palate. He kills on a moon cycle, like a werewolf. He uses his
grandmother’s false teeth, like a vampire. And let’s not
forget—he’s trying to turn into a dragon.
    Now, a lot of authors will just throw in
random scary images. How boring and meaningless! What makes what
Harris does so effective is that he has an intricate, but extremely
specific and limited image system going in his books. And he
combines fantastical visual and thematic imagery with very
realistic and accurate police procedure.
    I know, all of these
examples are horror, sorry, it’s my thing—but look at The Wizard of Oz (just the
brilliant contrast of the black and white world of Kansas and the
Technicolor world of Oz says volumes). Look at what Barbara
Kingsolver does in Prodigal
Summer , where images of fecundity and the,
well, prodigy of nature overflow off the pages, revealing
characters and conflicts and themes. Look at what Robert
Towne/Roman Polanski do with water in Chinatown , and also—try watching that
movie sometime with Oedipus in mind . . . the very specific
parallels will blow you away.
    So how do you create a visual/thematic image
system in your books?
    Well, start by becoming more conscious of
what image systems authors are working with in books and films that
YOU love. Some readers/writers don’t care at all about visual image
systems. That’s fine—whatever floats your boat. Me, with rare
exceptions, I’ll toss a book within twenty pages if I don’t think
the author knows what s/he’s doing visually.
    What I do when I start a
project, along with outlining, is to keep a list of thematic words
that convey what my story is about, to me. For The Harrowing , it was words like:
Creation, chaos, abyss, fire, forsaken, shattered, shattering,
portal, door, gateway, vessel, empty, void, rage, fury, cast off,
forgotten, abandoned, alone, rejected, neglected, shards,
discarded… pages and pages like that.
    For The Price —bargain, price, deal,
winter, ice, buried, dormant, resurrection, apple, temptation,
tree, garden, labyrinth, Sleeping Beauty, castle, queen, princess,
prince, king, wish, grant, deal, contract, task, hell, purgatory,
descent, mirror, Rumpelstiltskin, spiral…
    Some words I’ll have from the very beginning
because they’re part of my own thematic DNA. But as the word lists
grow, so does my understanding of the inherent themes of each
particular story.
    Do you see how that might start to work? Not
only do you get a sense of how the story can look to convey your
themes, but you also have a growing list of specific words that you
can work with in your prose so that you’re constantly hitting those
themes on different levels.
    At the same time that I’m
doing my word lists, I start a collage book, and try to spend some
time every week flipping through magazines and pulling photos that
resonate with my story. I find Vogue , the Italian fashion
mags, Vanity Fair , Premiere , Rolling Stone and of course, National
Geographic particularly good for me. I tape
those photos together in a blank artists’ sketchbook (I use tape so
I can move the photos around when I feel like it. If you’re
more—well, if you’re neater than I am, you can also use plastic
sleeves in a three-ring binder). It’s another way of growing an
image system. Also, it doesn’t feel like writing so you think
you’re getting away with something.
    Also, know your world myths and fairy tales!
Why make up your own backstory and characters when you can tap into
universally powerful archetypes? Remember, there’s no new