So many artists are secretive about their process of making art. As if the magician revealed his tricks the magic would be lost.

Thanks to my wife, I’ve recently become inspired by the crafting community (see my posts on D.I.Y. and Maker Faire.) These folks not only peddle their art, they show you how they made it, and invite you to make along with them.

I’m working on a “how-to” section for my book so that people can try our their own poems. I’ve been pillaging my own favorite how-to books for inspiration. Books that don’t just show you how to make art, they’re works of art in themselves. These books have a spirit of generosity and inclusiveness. They believe that anyone can make art. They invite you to play and make along. Here are four of my favorites:

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One! Hundred! Demons!
by Lynda Barry

Barry begins her book with a comic strip about how she discovered the japanese sumi-e brush and ink, and how it opened up a whole new world of creativity for her. She says she “hopes you will dig these demons and then pick up a paintbrush and paint your own! Sincerely! Pass it on! I had so much fun!”

And after 200 pages of her “autobifictionalographic” comics, she has a 10-page section in the back detailing what type of brush, ink, and inkstone you’ll need to try your own. “Come on! Don’t you want to try it??”

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What It Is
by Lynda Barry

Barry’s next book follows roughly the same structure: half the book is a crazy collage/comic memoir, and the other half is a “how-to” writing workbook based on her Writing The Unthinkable! workshops.

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Whatcha Mean, What’s A Zine?
by Mark Todd and Esther Pearl Watson

Rad book about making mini-comics and zines. As Mark and Esther say in the introduction, “We wanted to make a book that we would have loved to have found when we first started our mini-comics.” It includes sections by comics superstars like Ron Rege, John Porcellino, Anders Nilsen, and Dan Zettwoch.

* * *

Ed Emberley’s Drawing Book: Make A World
by Ed Emberley

This is a book from the late 70s I’ve only recently stumbled upon. Ed Emberley shows you how to “make a world” with just a few simple shapes, step-by-step. I love the emphasis on simplicity: if you can draw a triangle, a square, a circle, and a line, you’re good to go.

Here’s a great little video review of the book by Chris Glass.

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What are your favorite “how-to” books?

A teacher from my alma mater asked me if I’d write a letter to her class championing the revision/peer review process…

Hey Kiddos:

Here’s the deal: right now, you have it made. You have what every writer in the world has ever dreamed of–a Captive Audience. Your teacher gets paid to read your writing, and your classmates pay to read your writing. You might think they’re idiots, you might think they wouldn’t know a good story if it bit them in the ass, but at least you have their attention. Attention is what we all crave.

There are two things that will keep you from becoming a good writer and a good human being: Fear and Laziness. Both will cripple and maim any shot you have at achieving your potential. A writer who doesn’t believe in revision and peer review is either afraid that she’s no good, afraid that other people will think she’s no good, or just too plain lazy to care. Regardless, she’s getting no place fast.

Look. We grew up being told that we were special. Our parents put us in Gifted Programs, Karate Lessons, Summer Camps, Honors English, on and on and on. They gave us trophies for participation. They bragged about us by the water cooler. Any crap we scribbled out with crayons, they stuck it up on the fridge.

Our parents doted over us like we were golden eggs sent from the gods.

What a disservice they’ve done us! Do you know how easy it is to make a baby? Have you considered the infinite size of the universe? We’re not special…we’re lucky to be here.

So you’ve got some Talent. Big deal. Lots of people are Talented. They don’t hand out free lunches for Talent. Success in life and in writing is about exercising that Talent with Habit and Hard Work.

Okay. I’m an unpublished short story writer who works in a library. I’ve got a desk drawer slowly filling up with rejection slips. What do I know?

All I’m saying is that it doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know what kind of stuff you’re doing in class, but I can tell you that anytime you get to sit in a cozy room and spend time talking about writing is a blessing. Sure, some of your classmates won’t get it. Some of their stupidity will make you want to tear your hair out. That’s not the point. The point is to be open, to listen to what folks have to say about your writing, separate the good for the bad, and to go on from there.

Outside of college, you’ll have to beg homeless people on the street to read your stuff. And what good will it be to them? You can’t eat a piece of writing.

Take advantage of your Captive Audience, now, while the going is good.

Be honest, be unafraid, work hard, and have fun. (And keep writing.)

Austin

After reading the article on Philip Pullman and the morality of fiction in The New Yorker, I was reminded of the following bit from a George Saunders interview posted on Maud Newton a while back:

…as for the craft: I think it’s about sentences. You write: “Hal, as usual, was talking a lot of right-wing bullshit that made no sense.” Okay, fair enough. But now, in revision, you feel that the sentence lacks specificity. Forget about politics, truth, fairness, all that — it’s dull because it’s vague. The question is: What does he say, exactly? And what does his face look like as he says it? And who is he saying it to? And what do they think? And what is Hal thinking as they look at him? Does he feel he’s being judged? Is his stutter getting worse, filling him with rage? Is the father of the Swiss girl there, looking appalled at Hal’s stutter? Is the Swiss girl playing nervously with her braid, suddenly ashamed of Hal? So you have to cross out “talking a lot of right-wing bullshit” and give Hal something to say, in a specific voice. And now suddenly you’re really paying attention to Hal, which means you’re being compassionate. You’re actually curious about what Hal is all about, instead of pre-knowing what he’s about.

What I’m saying is, all moral concerns in fiction reduce to technical concerns. And technical concerns drive us towards specificity and detail and truth.