Method Writing
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Method Writing

My husband told me last night that I was “method writing.”

I was posing for Sabin, as I do several nights a week. He’s sculpting a bust of me and at this point I am convinced that the work will never end. It’s been a year and a half and he tells me there’s still a lot to do before he closes the piece.

Maybe it’s just that he’s never had a free model before, so he’s finishing the sculpture to a level he always wanted, but could never before indulge in?

Anyway, I was wiggly and introspective last night, unable to focus on the television and hold the pose. My face kept moving and changing in thought, my fingers fluttered, and I pulsed up and down my spine like a jack-in-the-box. I simply could not summon my usual discipline.

“It’s this book you’re writing,” Sabin said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re method writing.”

It’s true that I write from the inside of a story and that I am writing a very dark novel set during World War II. It weighs on my heart. I have been walking around the house muttering to myself, inquiring of myself about the nature of good and evil, man’s inhumanity to man, and the role of a good God in a world filled with corruption, vice, cruelty, and genocide.

The days that I research the Geheime Staatspolizei, familiarly known as the Gestapo, are not pleasant. For me, writing is an arachnid process: I pull stories out of my gut. Writing historical novels requires painstaking research, which I love to do. But to take in the information I need about the Nazi Secret State Police, I have to internalize things that are probably better left unconsumed, undisturbed.

But if I don’t do it, who will? I believe that novelists have a duty to their readers to metabolize and transform information; a historical novelist has to make the past fresh and relevant.

Else we repeat the past, right?

The problem is that the genocide of Jews and the murder of gypsies, homosexuals, and Poles during the second world war wasn’t the only genocide of the 20th century.

And evil is still afoot: think about the abducted girls in Nigeria. Boko Haram extremists took more than 200 girls from their school. I can not imagine how their families feel. Holocaust survivors can.

The necessary end to an insistence on purity is terrorism. Whether that purity concerns Aryan blood or Sharia law, it must needs end in terrorism.

Marvelous Discovery: FOYLE’S WAR on Netflix
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Marvelous Discovery: FOYLE’S WAR on Netflix

At night, after working all day and then tending to my little one and organizing dinner and cleanup, I pose for my husband, classical figurative sculptor Sabin Howard. This entails sitting and holding a particular expression and gesture while he sculpts.

It’s work, not play, trust me. And it takes forever. We’ve been working on this head for almost a year.

Whiling away the hours has turned me into a Netflix aficionado. I started with 24, and watched all 8 seasons. I went through Grey’s Anatomy (really gets lame as the seasons wind on) and The X Files (despite my obsession in the 1990’s, some episodes are tedious).

Recently, I watched The 4400 and White Collar, both fun shows. White Collar features an art thief/con man who works with an FBI agent to solve crimes. Since I secretly want to be an art thief when I grow up, I got hooked on this show immediately. Sabin stopped sculpting to watch an episode with me about sculpture forgery. There was some chitchat about Bernini while authenticating a sculpture that had Sabin grinning.

Then last night I stumbled upon an intelligent, suspenseful British historical crime drama called Foyle’s War. It’s set in England during WW2. After two years of research for novels I am writing set during that period, I can tell you: this show gets the details right!

It’s an impressive show. It’s fascinating to see how the moral complexity of individual lives plays out against the larger backdrop of the war, which was a war without any moral complexity at all: Nazi murderous, racist, unbounded aggression was simply wrong.

But individuals can seldom be depicted this way, strictly as saints or as demons. And so the people of that era who lived, who didn’t die one way or the other in the war, lived their lives with the richness and fullness of humanity–not with any false purity. They committed crimes, made mistakes, turned blind eyes, gave in to their worst impulses, took advantage, lied, cheated, and stole, the way people do, and have done since Cain and Abel, and always will do.

At the heart of this series is Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle, a quiet man with a sterling moral center and a dedication to fly fishing. Other characters are also engaging: Sam, his girl Friday/chauffeur, and Foyle’s son, who has enlisted.

I recommend this show, and I look forward to watching more episodes as I perch on the small seat of a ladder and hold a lopsided smile, all for my husband’s sculpting.

 

 

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Welcome

Hello, Dear Readers:

This is the inaugural entry of my blog, In the mouth of the serpent. This blog will consist of my ramblings, rantings, observations, opinions, suggestions, and hopes for the future. My interests are passionate and diverse: books, pop and literary; art, especially of the Renaissance; spirituality and healing; politics; relationships; children and child-rearing; movies and TV shows and travel and yoga and any other topic that seizes my imagination. I hope this blog stimulates and intrigues you. Feel free to email me with questions and comments; if I’m intrigued, I’ll post your email and respond.
In Vedic astrology, I have entered a particular cycle of my life ruled by Rahu, the north node of the moon, the iconic head of the serpent. Rahu in general is considered malefic but in my horoscope, it’s unusually well placed by sign and house. So, for the next 17 years, I am standing in the serpent’s mouth: this is the view.
Very truly yours,
Traci L. Slatton
tracilslatton723@mac.com
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