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On Becoming a Novelist

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Before discovering a dusty old hardcover copy of John Gardner's 'On Becoming A Novelist' in an infamous New York City bookstore (Gotham Book Mart), I was under the impression that every book related to the art of writing fit into one of three catagories. Either it focused on technique (Robert McKee's 'Story'), it offered encouragement (Anne Lamott's 'Bird By Bird'), or it took memoir form (Annie Dillard's 'The Writing Life'). I was wrong.

This book is a portrait of the writer as a young man (or woman). After years of teaching creative writing courses and wallowing around the publishing industry, Gardner acquired an opinion or two (major understatement). He correctly believed that writing novels is not a profession or a pasttime for the timid, and so he outlines the prototypical writer's 'character'. The purpose, of course, is to get the young writer to ask himself if he is really cut out for this. In the course of telling you what traits a talented writer must have (verbal accuity, a discerning eye, faith, etc.), Gardner offers up some brilliant insights into the craft. His discussion ranges from writer's block to writers' conferences, and while you may not always agree with him, his views are always thought provoking and perceptive.

In the end, this book may be mildly discouraging for the would-be writer who is currently on the fence. Gardner does not sugar coat his opinions, but I am glad for that. He has no qualms in informing his readers that worthwhile writing takes a great deal of talent, and not everyone has that talent. As he says, the worst that can happen after reading this book is that you will realize you don't have the right stuff, and you will move on to something else.

In reading this book, you get the impression that he was a brilliant writing teacher, as is evidenced by perhaps his greatest student, Raymond Carver. Carver wrote the brilliant introduction to this book, which familiarizes the reader with Gardner's personality and makes it easier to put the rest of the book in perspective. I, for one, would have loved to have Gardner as a teacher. As that is no longer possible (he died in a motorcycle accident years ago), this book is no small consolation.

If he were alive today, John Gardner might be surprised to find that he's more well-known for THE ART OF FICTION and ON BECOMING A NOVELIST than he is for GRENDEL, MICKELSSON'S GHOSTS, etc. Gardner is probably the most influential writing guru alive or dead, despite the hundred of "self help" tomes turned out by Writer's Digest and others.

ON BECOMING A NOVELIST begins with a forward written by Raymond Carver, a former student of Gardner's at Chico State College in California. Carver, one of the leaders of the minimalist movement, went on to a successful career as a short story writer. Gardner gave Carver his first line edit, showing the importance of a good teacher for the beginning novelist.

This book is divided into four sections, the first entitled "The Writer's Nature." In it Gardner describes the highest class of novelist as one who is fascinated by people different from himself. He talks about writers poring over astrology books and psychological case studies in order to find authentic characters.

The second section is entitled "The Writers Training and Education." Gardner begins this section by discussing bad workshops. He likes workshops because they give the beginning writer a chance to meet others like himself, providing some moral support. A bad workshop leader would allow vicious criticism, leading to writer's block for both parties. A bad workshop would have no standard for good fiction. Gardner includes "creation of a vivid and continuous dream, authorial generosity, intellectual and emotional significance, elegance and efficiency, and strangeness" as an example of standards for good fiction.

The third section deals with "Publication and Survival." Gardner begins to show his crankiness here. "One should fight like the devil the temptation to think well of editors," he says. He thinks they are, at least some of the time, all incompetent or crazy. They read too much and, as a result, become jaded, not recognizing a talented writer when they see one. He also makes some concrete suggestions, such as to avoid using third-person limited as a sole approach. Apparently, editors look on that point of view as cliched.

The fourth section is called "Faith." Gardner discusses discouragement and recommends some ways to deal with writer's block. One way is to read good writers. He suggests typing several pages of, say, "The Dead" by James Joyce to acclimate oneself to the rhythms of a great writer. He also recommends keeping a journal: "The best way in the world for breaking a writer's block is to write a lot." He extolls the process of writing as well, reminding the beginning writer that most first drafts are flawed. It is only in the process of revision that one "discovers" what he wants to say.

Certainly Gardner is one strange breed of cat. For instance, when working on a novel he would write for fifteen hours at a stretch. (I can't even see after writing for three hours.) In another passage he suggests using autohypnosis to give yourself suggestions such as, "Tonight I will write with ease" Also, in an effort to boost the spirits of the beginning writer receiving a lot of rejections, he maintains, "It's the law of the universe that 87 percent of all people in all professions are incompetent." He doesn't say how he arrived at that percentage.

This is not to say Gardner isn't funny at times. Childishness in a writer, he says, can be a helpful personality trait. His lack of seriousness about life, "his mischievousness, and his tendency to cry, especially when drunk, a trick that makes persecutors quit."

I can't think of a better book to put in the hands of a young writer: it inspires, teaches, comforts, and offers endless hope. I first read this book in hardback in 1983 -- still saddened by the author's death in a motorcycle accident the year before -- and I've enjoyed reading it many times since. In a beautiful and touching foreword Raymond Carver, a student of Gardner's in the '50s, writes that Gardner gave to the teaching of fiction the same energy and devotion to craft and moral concerns that he gave to his novels. Gardner's main objective in this book, as he states early on, is "to deal with, and if possible get rid of, the beginning novelist's worries." Does he do that? Well, he certainly helps the young writer answer a crucial question: Am I talented enough to write novels? Gardner explores the indicators -- sensitivity to language, an eye for significant detail, the knack of sustaining a narrative ("a vivid and continuous dream"), self-awareness, curiosity, nerve, empathy, a huge curiosity about people. (Gardner believes that lousy people will necessarily write lousy books.) Gardner also addresses some of the darker aspects of the writing life: writer's block, rejection, depression, suicide. And through it all he draws upon beliefs and practices that sustained him through the ups and downs of his controversial career, thus providing beginning novelists with a faith that can sustain them in the years to come.

I cannot speak to the book's strengths without repeating the other excellent reviews already posted.

It must be said, however, that Gardner is not just a writing teacher of high standards and noble ambitions. He's also a cranky elitist perched in his ivory tower bemoaning that which makes popular fiction... well, popular.

If one is trying to write any type of genre fiction, this book is terribly discouraging. Gardner says in many ways that it is better to be poor and unknown with two published books than to be well-known and well-compensated with dozens of less than perfect titles to one's credit.

This is, of course, complete bull dookey unless your goal is to be an Artist above the mortal fray. There is writing as an art form, and then there is writing as a viable career. Art is worth pursuing, but the artist is not a superior creature through his pursuit. Genre fiction (sci fi, romance, western, mystery) is not intrinsicly less valuable because people enjoy reading it, and creating art within the confines of the genres is not impossible. Gardner repeatedly asserts the falseness of these obvious truths, but fortunately I'm only following his own advice by evaluating his opinions against the context of my own understanding.

"Novelist" is an excellent book to encourage we writers in striving for Art, and for greatness. A writer, seeking to make a living in the real world through his writing without having to take a side job as Gardner did, would do well to take this book with a grain of salt.

(As a final note - this book does serve as a filter of sorts. If a genre writer can read this book without weeping into his bourbon or shriveling up with shame, he is truly ready to be a professional genre writer.)

If you want to start writing fiction, or improve what you're already writing, then buy this book. There's really nothing more to say. Gardner's slim volume is worth twenty tomes on archetypes and story structures and channeling your inner child. Those things are important, but for the most part they can take care of themselves. The strength of Gardner's approach is that he gets straight down to the serious business of putting words on the page and figuring out if you're the kind of person who's good at it. Drawing examples from his own writing and experience as a teacher, he describes what he sees as the "writer's nature" (verbal facility, accuracy of vision, a particular kind of intelligence, and a daemonic compulsiveness), gives some blunt observations on the usefulness (or otherwise) of creative writing workshops, some helpful pointers on editors and publishing, and a nice final chapter on creative faith. My only reservation is that he comes down quite heavily on the side of realism. "Good writers may 'tell' almost anything in fiction except the characters' feelings," he maintains (p.33). Certainly, a lot of bad writing is bad because it "tells" rather than "shows", but I think one of the great beauties and values of prose fiction is precisely that it can take us inside the minds characters and make legible what they are REFUSING to show. Ironically, this often provides a much greater fidelity to 'real life' than the strikingly un-lifelike practice of levering arcane metaphors into place to represent, externally, a character's mental or emotional experience. If prose fiction isn't allowed to recount a character's inner life, then what value does it have over film and television - two forms which Gardner seems to decry? Still, Gardner's advice is generous and convincing, yet never totalizing. You get the distinct impression that if you totally disagreed with everything he said, and yet still wrote good fiction, he'd be nothing less than delighted for you. Now that's a good teacher.

There are lots of books out there on the mechanics of writing a novel. There are others that give you plot outlines, character sketches, or tell you how hard, hard, hard, or easy, easy, easy it is to build a career in writing.
Gardner, on the other hand, simply tells you how it is- at least from his point of view, and he makes it clear throughout that his advice to young writers is only one wall of the pigpen. The most refreshing aspect of this book is that it is geared to the "serious" novelist- i.e. someone who doesn't want to write books based on formulas or what sells, but just wants to write what they want to write. Gardner doesn't lie about the slim possibilities of making a living as a novelist, but he does give solid advice on how to make money without your job interfering with your work.
Though it was written more than twenty years ago, this book is still valuable today for the beginning writer- I'll keep it on my shelf for many years to come.

If you want Gardner's opinion on plot, characterization, symbolism, tone, and the like, try his 'Art of Fiction' (which is also very good.)

This book deals more with the non-literary aspects of the writing lifestyle. It answers questions like "How do I know if I have what it takes to be a novelist?" "Should I get an MFA?" "What about writer's conferences? Are they any good?" "How do I deal with editors and agents?"... and so forth.

Gardner reveals many of the same prejudices as in 'Art of Fiction', but he is man enough to admit readily that they are just preferences. His target audience is Joseph Heller, not Dean Koontz or Nora Ephron. Nevertheless much of his advice can be valuable to any young writer.

It's like plucking through a blackberry patch on a too-bright day, plenty of juicy berries if you don't mind the burrs. Gardner has a lot of valuable advice, both concrete and abstract, and can state them in a clear and concise manner, but you have to disengage from the fact that he is product of his time, a time that allowed the denigration of women as intellectual and creative beings long after racism was no longer acceptable. He also states as fact that genre writing isn't worth anybody's time, so if you're writing science fiction, mystery, horror or women's fiction, you might want to steer clear of this one. However, if your skin is thick enough and you have a keen enough sense for separating the helpful from the not so much, there are some words of wisdom in there.

More accessible than Gardner's own The Art of Fiction, more sophisticated than Bird by Bird, more nourishing than most novels, this is the best book on writing since Aspects of the Novel. And someone should really think about republishing Gardner's fiction!

John Gardner doesn't pretend to have all of the answers, and he doesn't lay out a program that will turn anyone into a novelist. He mixes his advice for writers (i.e. do something that you like, learn to spell) with some advice about the culture and business of writing (e.g. how to spot a bad workshop).

The book has the feeling of a master class where the author is talking in the simple terms that only a truly gifted writer feels confident in using because he doesn't have anything to prove to anyone. His advice is frank and to the point, but also mixed with the humility that's he been wrong before.

In all, he says the successful writer is the one who keeps at it and keeps working to improve. The key is to find your own voice and style and develop those, even if teachers or other writers try to turn you into clones of themselves.