What's Your Theme?

by Joan

As writers, we’re asked this by our critique groups, by agents, by our inner voices. This blog post started out in one direction and morphed into something else. As different twists and turns came up, I followed them, knowing each was worth pursuing. But then as I revised, I worried that there was no cohesive theme. I started writing about professionalism, then career change, then courage, then perseverance. I stepped back one more time and realized it reminded me of something: my life.

In college, I changed my major many times. I started out in art and went through various others, math and psychology among them, before ending up with two degrees—accounting and marketing. Without a clear direction, I explored many subjects and learned something from each one. Though the majors were very different, one thing was consistent: my resolve to get a college degree.

When I worked in the corporate world, I used to stare out my tenth floor window onto the streets of Washington, D.C., and dream of being my own boss. As cyclists delivered packages and weaved through cars and business execs, I imagined their careers (and wardrobes of bike shorts and athletic shoes!) were more exciting than mine. As a CPA, whether employed by an accounting firm, executive recruiter or private company, I yearned for a time when I would answer only to myself. I could play well with others (most of the time!), but I realized I was self-motivated and became frustrated when others didn’t put in 100 percent. Both classic signs of someone who should work for herself. I only needed to muster the nerve to do it.

In 2002, the decision was made for me. My son broke his femur and I took an extended absence from my job to care for him. Several months later, after watching my brave nine-year-old struggle from wheelchair to walker and finally to crutches, I gathered the courage to launch my consulting business. Along with my son, it took me a few months to find my legs, but before long, I had to turn away clients. I was successful because of my expertise, hard work, and dedication. And because I resolved to make it work.

Now I look out my metaphorical window at published authors and dream of my next venture. (I already have the writer’s wardrobe of pajamas and slippers.) I consider the road to publication as a start-up, just like my consulting company, a tiered path requiring a current investment of time with no guarantee of future success. But like any other start-up, the chance of success increases with skill, hard work, and yes, perseverance.

At times my life appears to have no real theme, but it does. Whether it’s a manuscript that needs revision, a new career, or a blog post that needs direction, I persevere until I make it happen.

Elbows-deep in my next manuscript (with ideas for others tucked away nearby), I steal glances out my window, perseverance at the forefront. I’ve successfully started a business before, and I can do it again. I’ve got a theme.

Writing with Stones

by Joan

Our experiences affect our writing, not just in scenes and description, but also in emotion. If you were brought up in the south or worked as a bartender in New York, your writing might reflect charm and lunacy and wit. If you’re from Italy or Montana, you might have quite a different story to tell.

In 2005 I visited Japan. I fell in love with its serene gardens, its tea ceremonies, its culture and people. Yesterday I saw Departures, a stunning movie about a young Japanese man, Daigo, who loses his cellist gig in a Tokyo orchestra and moves with his new wife, Mika, to his hometown in a northeastern town facing the Sea of Japan. He answers a want ad for something in “departures,” thinking it’s a job in travel but he soon finds out there was a misprint. His new job involves preparing the recently departed for encoffinment (a word I didn’t know existed until yesterday—I thought I’d learned them all when writing The Cemetery Garden). At first Daigo is mortified, too embarrassed to tell his wife about his new career, but eventually he learns that, like playing the cello, there is an art to his new profession, as beautiful and peaceful as a tea ceremony.

In addition to loss and failure, the themes of love and redemption weave through the film. The actors’ expressions and actions show us all we need to know. In poignant minimalism, in what is not said. From the time he returns to his childhood home and finds his first cello and a large black rock wrapped in sheet music, we are hooked. Later, the narrator tells us, “Long ago, before writing, you'd send someone a stone that suited how you were feeling. From its weight and touch, they'd know how you felt. From a smooth stone, they might get that you were happy. Or from a rough one that you were worried about them.” In a truly touching—wordless—scene at the end, we realize the importance of this stone.

It got me thinking about how the very concepts of theme, mood and symbolism apply to writing. Our words are an outpouring of our souls at any given time. It’s why one can feel immediately the dark disposition of the Edgar Allen Poe or the lightheartedness of Emily Dickinson. The words we use, the tone, the cadence, all impart a mood to the reader. A skilled writer will paint a picture with her words.

What feeling does your writing invoke? More importantly, does it invoke a mood? Use symbolism to help tell your story—if you plant a rock early in your book, it should reappear at the end, anchoring your readers to an unforeseen conclusion, by placing the rock firmly into their outstretched hands.