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WRITING ABOUT NARCISSISM

Posted on April 1, 2017 by writ7707 Posted in Character Description, Commentary News, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writing, writing about empathy, Writing Inspiration, Writing Muse, Writing the Political Mood Leave a comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your Muse

Writing Leap #74

WRITING ABOUT NARCISSISM

Hi Writers,

Wikipedia. “Narcissism is the pursuit of gratification from vanity or egotistic admiration of one’s own attributes.”

Most of us have had some acquaintance with narcissistic personalities, either personally or in fiction or in public figures in the news. Narcissism can reach across a broad spectrum from “self-involvement” to serious psychiatric disorders.

This is rich territory for writers. Do the characters in your story get pulled in by your fictional narcissist? Do they fight it? Do they suffer from it? Each response to the narcissist can reveal deep layers in your other characters. Why are they responding this way? How does this affect the plot?

Here’s my narcissist.

Richard spun completely around when he spotted the sleek orange car parked on the cobblestones near the main piazza. He let out a long, low whistle. “Man!” he said. “That’s a brand new Ferrari convertible!” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his Virginia Tech baseball jacket and peered inside. The dashboard, steering wheel, the whole interior gleamed up at him, an awesome, lustrous saddle brown nest for two.

“Can you imagine winding around the narrow coast road in that car,” said Richard’s friend, Maudie? “Yikes.” She pointed to the steep cliffs bordered below by a ribbon of a road that looked down onto an aquamarine ocean. “I bet you’d give anything to drive that car.” Richard ignored her. He seemed mesmerized.

Their student group had just arrived in Ravello, down from Naples in the Gulf of Salerno on the Amalfi coast. It was the last leg of their tour. Maudie played the part of Richard’s buddy since he had informed her straight out, in front of some other students on their tour, that he and Maudie were friends, just friends, nothing romantic. He had given her a glance that said, “My girlfriend? With a jellyroll behind like yours? I don’t think so.”

Maudie was smart. Richard cut her off every time she talked about medieval Italian history or spoke a few words of Italian. He would just budge in and mimic an Italian accent in English. Richard wasn’t learning a word of Italian. He had trouble with languages, a fact he denied to himself. Only idiots bothered to learn a language they would never use, he claimed.

Richard walked around and patted the back of the orange Ferrari where the huge engine lived. A Ferrari was sheer power with a capital “P.” Ferrari’s ruled the road. And guess what. Richard made damn sure he ruled his universe. His gaze was slightly threatening, his bearing straight and unyielding. He WAS the Ferrari, irresistible, he thought, unconquerable.

A young man with a sweater tied around his shoulders in that nonchalant Italian way came into view. Maudie just knew he lived here, was born here. He walked down the narrow sloping street as sure-footed as a graceful mountain goat. Maybe he lived in one of those big white stucco houses in the steep cliffside gardens high above sea level? “So beautiful,” Maudie thought, as her eyes swept across the cliffs bursting with wild purple orchids and big stretches of moss green olive trees dotted with pink blossoms. She had done her botanical research.

“Hey, that’s the son of the owner of our hotel,” said Richard. He showed his palm to Maudie and traced out a dollar sign. “They have big bucks. His father owns lots of hotels.”

“Ciao,” said the young man approaching the car. He put his hand on the door handle.

“Ciao,” said Maudie. Naturally he had big brown eyes and dark curly hair and a smile full of Italian sunshine. Did her new white jeans make her look too fat? Yes, of course they did. Everything made her look fat. Because she was fat. Not huge fat, but clearly chubby. Richard had actually said in front of the whole group at dinner last night that she should lay off the pasta, ha-ha, and once again her face had flushed humiliation red.

“Uh, ciao,” said Richard. “Really cool car.”

“No Inglese,” the young man laughed, but reached out to shake hands with Richard and Maudie. “Beppe.” He pointed to himself.

“I’m Richard. We’re staying at your hotel.” Beppe concentrated. “Ah, l’albergo di mio papà.”

Maudie nodded and stuck out her hand. “Maudie.”

Beppe swept his arm out to offer a ride in the Ferrari. He put up one finger to show there was only room for one passenger.

Even though Maudie had made an effort to appear carefree and continental and had put a flower in her hair, she made no attempt to get in the car before Richard. “Beppe is dynamite-looking,” she thought. “He would never want to take me anyway.”

Richard pushed her slightly and slid into the low, curved passenger seat. It wrapped his body in utter comfort. He ran his hand across the leather on the side of his seat. Soft as butter. He tapped Beppe on the shoulder. This will be so funny, Richard thought. He pointed to Maudie and acted out being sick to one’s stomach. He pretended to throw up all over the perfect leather steering wheel. He pointed to Maudie’s stomach and shook his head, “No, no.” Beppe shrugged his shoulders, smiled at Maudie in an embarrassed way, and pushed the red thumb start button on the wheel.

What a steering wheel, full of controls and the Ferrari insignia, a yellow and black prancing horse. “Cool, so cool.” Richard said. They buckled up and took off, a lightning bolt skirting around the busy piazza. Maudie heard the initial roar of the incredible motor settle into a low hum of contentment. Richard waved at Maudie without turning around. She heard him shout, “Sorry Maudie!” I bet she wishes she were me, he thought. Within ten seconds he had completely forgotten about her.

***

Richard is a real narcissistic jerk, right? He wants to ride in the Ferrari and he WILL ride in the Ferrari. Why? Because this is what he wants, that’s all. He humiliates Maudie just because he can. Empathy is not an option for him. Her feelings? He has no idea about them. Besides, Maudie’s intelligence may show him up at any given time.

Narcissistic characters in your stories can sneak into the lives of your other characters and cause chaos, puffer fish that poison unsuspecting diners. We dislike characters so blatantly self-absorbed and cruel. However, authentic antagonists deepen our story. We just have to watch out that our narcissistic character doesn’t become one-dimensional, an unbelievable caricature. So maybe Richard could rescue a wounded alley cat, bring him to an animal shelter and not tell anybody about it? Then we ask, does he do it to feel magnanimous or does he just do it?

Go ahead writers! Create your narcissist. He or she will open up a treasure chest of possible reactions from your other characters. Maybe Maudie goes back to the hotel and organizes a group of her fellow students to shun Richard? Or maybe a friend helps her to really understand that her humiliation in the piazza was Richard’s problem and not hers? Let’s have Maudie get her ride in that sensational orange Ferrari. Let’s have her laugh with her friends and fall in love with Italy.

***

Doing the research for a piece of writing is for me one of the best parts of the whole process. Thank you to my sister, Laurie, an enthusiastic connoisseur of Italy, for giving me a picture of the geography of the area. Thank you to my son, G.J., a passionate car person if there ever was one, for deepening my appreciation for the incredible Ferrari. Our “research trip” together to a Ferrari automobile showroom to see the actual car, chit-chat with a salesman in love with these cars and get caught up in the Ferrari mystique was more than fun.

And finally, I have been floating around in a semi-haze of writer’s block for three months. The current political news, and my writer’s obligation to respond to it (indirectly), snapped me out of my creative fog. I am so happy to be back. Thank you New York Times. You are definitely not fake news.

Happy Writing Everyone,

LINKING THE ARTS

Images

Books

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, 1890

Look what happened to poor Dorian Gray, the quintessential narcissist.

WRITING SOMETHING CRAZY

Posted on December 12, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Character Description, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Uncategorized, Writing Leave a comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your Muse

Writing Leap #73

Hi Writers,

Sometimes a character may feel compelled to do something that he or she thinks is a little crazy. Your readers may not expect this from your character but the unexpected always makes them turn the page faster. The caveat is, however, that “the crazy” probably shouldn’t come out of nowhere and thus make your character unbelievable.

A little “crazy” is one way to add layers to your character and avoid one-dimensionality.

Mike was a regular guy. People liked him. He smiled, said “hello” easily and never got too ruffled when things didn’t go his way. He wasn’t one to get overly excited by, say, a bright blue sky or the flowers in his wife’s garden. Oh, he admired the garden from afar. He just didn’t want to get in there and dig.

What Mike loved was his family and his work. He trained engineers. His young daughter gave him a bunch of zinnias from the garden to put on his desk at work. They were yellow, orange, pink and one big red one. The red one caught his eye right from the beginning. As the zinnias began to wilt he threw them out one by one into the wastebasket. But not the red one. It was as fresh as when his daughter had picked it three months later.

Mike could not get over the tenacity of this flower. He began to talk to the zinnia, privately, in his head. “You are something,” he thought. “What stick-to-it-ness.” And as the weeks went by and the flower stayed red and perky Mike whispered to it, “I love you.”

When the zinnia finally began to wither after four months of red radiance Mike accepted that the flower needed to rest now. This zinnia had almost made it to Christmas!

Mike snuck into the garden making sure nobody spotted him. “This is, of course, totally nuts,” he thought. He buried the red zinnia in a clump of dirt in the corner of the garden that had been put to bed for the winter. After months of loving the red zinnia, putting it to rest in the garden seemed right. He felt good. Really good. He just wouldn’t tell anybody, that’s all.

Happy Writing Everyone!

LINKING THE ARTS

Literature

This is a quote from the 19^th century American poet, Walt Whitman. It’s from the poem “Song of Myself” included in his work “Leaves of Grass.”

“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.”

I think Walt Whitman explains Mike and perhaps all of us.

The Visual

Three different responses to a red zinnia

WRITING AND VERBAL EXPRESSIONS

Posted on August 24, 2015 by writ7707 Posted in Literary categories, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writing, Writing from a detail, Writing great dialogue, Writing Inspiration, Writing Muse 2 Comments

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your MUSE

Writing Leap #56

Hi Writers,

My sister, Laurie, and I were laughing recently and reminiscing about our late mother’s wonderful farm town expressions. They were part of her even after many years of living outside a big city. Mary Magriel was a country girl from upstate New York and her turns of phrase revealed so much about her nature, her background, her era and what tickled her.

What about giving your characters expressions that express their personalities, perhaps their biases or fears. Particular turns of phrase, either unique to your character or not, is one way to give readers a gateway into your character’s make-up and your fictional world.

So writers, listen to your characters! How do they express themselves? They may be telling you a lot.

Mary Magriel’s Expressions: What they reveal about her.

Some of these are doozies. Her word. Thank you to my sister for remembering so many and for enjoying them together all over again.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

Our mother would persist until she figured out a solution. Nothing was too much for her. Fitting things in a tiny closet, dashing her famous tomato seedlings over to a friend right before it was time to prepare dinner.

“I like to trade at the local butcher.”

Does anybody today say, “trade at the “A &P?” No! Trade is a farm town term from an era gone by. I would think it came from the fact that farmers traded their crops for goods. Our mother “traded” with a sharp eye for quality.

“My heart is klopping.”

As in beating hard. She either made this up or it was some version of a Yiddish word. Our mother, a Protestant, adored Jewish expressions. Maybe it was an expression of her love for our father who was Jewish and who loved to joke around with old Yiddish sayings. She would laugh and laugh, pleasing our father no end.

“Slower than molasses in January.” This just sounds really small town.

“Your father took us all the way around Robinson’s barn.”

There was no Robinson’s barn. It was how she expressed getting lost. Barns evoke rural environments and that’s where she grew up.

I wish my sister and I could remember more. Her farm town-isms bring her back.

Happy Writing! May you create many perfect expressions for your characters.

LINKING THE ARTS

A Wonderful Book

A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley: An authentic rural voice and the winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1992

A Funny Word

Hayseed, as in country boy. Slightly insulting. My father occasionally teased my mother about her high school boyfriend. “Only a hayseed like Tommy would say, ‘No matter how thin you slice it, it’s still baloney,'” my father kidded.

“Robinson’s Barn”

Red Barn by Esther Marie Versch