W is for...Warp and Weft
...and weavers, who when they are working (so much alliteration), stretch one set of threads across their looms (the warp) so that a second set (the weft) can be woven through it. When you are weaving this creates fabric, when you are writing it creates texture and tension.
The key thing about warp and weft is that they are going in different directions. This is what creates the tension. When you are writing something sad, you can give it added depth by locating traces of humour, the faintest watermark, within it. You can counterpoint a high voltage action sequence with a split second of revealing reflection. Within the warp of dialogue, you can have the weft of silence.
It's not simply a question of contrast - one thing followed by something sharply different - it's finding a way of integrating two opposites, superimposing comedy on tragedy, or the interior world on the exterior, or whatever. That's how you achieve texture. The end result should be like shot silk.
Showing posts with label Texture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texture. Show all posts
Monday, 27 August 2012
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Going with the Grain
On our recent travels my eye was caught by a small carving of a face on a mediaeval building in a Burgundy backwater.
The colour is visible, in spite of all the years which have passed, and the features and character are clearly discernible. What I like about it is the way that the grain of the wood has become part of the image -- the texture of the painting is an integral part of the face.
It's a bit like that with writing: the texture of the words you choose - some guttural, some sibilant, some long, some short - plays a vital part in how your work will be experienced. As Margaret Atwood once said, "Every poem has a texture of sound which is at least as important as the argument," but I think the same is equally true of good prose as well.
To put this to the test, write a poem or a piece of prose in which you concentrate on the texture and sound of the words that you are using, and how they relate with one another, working to see how they compliment and contrast with each other.
The colour is visible, in spite of all the years which have passed, and the features and character are clearly discernible. What I like about it is the way that the grain of the wood has become part of the image -- the texture of the painting is an integral part of the face.
It's a bit like that with writing: the texture of the words you choose - some guttural, some sibilant, some long, some short - plays a vital part in how your work will be experienced. As Margaret Atwood once said, "Every poem has a texture of sound which is at least as important as the argument," but I think the same is equally true of good prose as well.
To put this to the test, write a poem or a piece of prose in which you concentrate on the texture and sound of the words that you are using, and how they relate with one another, working to see how they compliment and contrast with each other.
Friday, 26 November 2010
Warp and Weft
Among the many things which come together to create a good piece of writing (confidence, originality, authenticity, grammar) is something which is often neglected, and that is texture. It's one of the additional extras which mark out flair from mere competence and there are a number of ways of achieving it.
Think in terms of weaving: you have the warp going in one direction and the weft going at ninety degrees to it and the interlocking of the two is what creates the material you are making. It's the same with writing -- if everything is flowing in the same direction, you end up with not much texture to your work and consequently very little structural tension (which is a little bit different from the tension arising from plot - what happens next?)
It's easier to achieve than you may think and can be quite fun to do. Try contrasting the style of your writing with the subject you are describing. For example, if you are working on a dark piece about suspicion or mistrust, experiment with writing about it in a light-hearted, comic style. That way the threads of your narrative are working against each other, creating tension. If you want an idea of what I mean, read WH Auden's poem about Miss Gee. it's a heartbreaking ballad about a lonely and sick woman, but it is written in a bright and brittle tone with bouncy rhymes and rhythms, so that the form of the writing counterpoints and enhances the sadness of what Auden is writing about.
SMALL PRESS ALERT
Think in terms of weaving: you have the warp going in one direction and the weft going at ninety degrees to it and the interlocking of the two is what creates the material you are making. It's the same with writing -- if everything is flowing in the same direction, you end up with not much texture to your work and consequently very little structural tension (which is a little bit different from the tension arising from plot - what happens next?)
It's easier to achieve than you may think and can be quite fun to do. Try contrasting the style of your writing with the subject you are describing. For example, if you are working on a dark piece about suspicion or mistrust, experiment with writing about it in a light-hearted, comic style. That way the threads of your narrative are working against each other, creating tension. If you want an idea of what I mean, read WH Auden's poem about Miss Gee. it's a heartbreaking ballad about a lonely and sick woman, but it is written in a bright and brittle tone with bouncy rhymes and rhythms, so that the form of the writing counterpoints and enhances the sadness of what Auden is writing about.
SMALL PRESS ALERT
Aloes Books
Aloes Books have been publishing since 1970 and accumulating second-hand books of quality and taste since before then and claimed to be an efficient book-find place, literary note-book, bibliophile watering hole and a print and publishing advice service
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