Published in 1925, 4 years after Edith Wharton became the first woman writer to be awarded a Pulitzer Prize (1921, for “The Age of Innocence”), “The Writing of Fiction” is a very elegant and accurate non-fiction treatise on literature writing- not only for its well-documented points but also for its engaging prose. In this book, Wharton epitomizes her musings on the art of fiction, using examples from the masters of the craft, giving advice on how to build a novel, what makes real characters, the difference between short stories and novels and how to write a believable ghost story while giving a critical essay on Proust.
Wharton seems to have received more criticism on her class and upbringing rather than on her writing merits or faults. Jonathan Franzen went so far as to charge her with “a moral disadvantage” because of her riches and privileges. Still, even if this signal image of her at work, supplied by her biographers as “writing in bed after breakfast and tossing the completed pages on the floor, to be sorted and typed up by her secretary” is true, we can picture so many privileged women of the sort that couldn’t have dreamt of writing one of her paragraphs. Having it easy in life -ok, more than easy- was undoubtedly a premise that formed the writer. How lucky for us she didn’t spend her time just eating breakfast in bed and dressing up for dinner parties!
Here are the handpicked extracts I found most interesting and less quoted in her “Writing of fiction” essays. Happy to share it with you!
Edith Wharton’s writing tips
1. «Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.»
2. «A good subject must contain in itself something that sheds a light on our moral experience.»
3. «Style is discipline.»
4. «One of the chief obligations, in a short story, is to give the reader an immediate sense of security. Every phrase should be a sign-post, and never (unless intentionally) a misleading one: the reader must feel that he can trust to their guidance. His confidence once gained, he may be lured on to the most incredible adventures—as the Arabian Nights are there to show. A wise critic once said: “You may ask your reader to believe anything you can make him believe.»
5. «True originality consists not in a new manner but in a new vision. That new, that personal, vision is attained only by looking long enough at the object represented to make it the writer’s own.»
6. «It is not enough to believe in ghosts, or even to have seen one, to be able to write a good ghost story. The greater the improbability to be overcome the more studied must be the approach, the more perfectly maintained the air of naturalness, the easy assumption that things are always likely to happen in that way.»
7. «No one with a spark of imagination ever objected to a good ghost story as “improbable”.»
8. «The short-story writer must not only know from what angle to present his anecdote if it is to give out all its fires, but must understand just why that particular angle and no other is the right one. He must therefore have turned his subject over and over, walked around it, so to speak, and applied to it those laws of perspective which Paolo Uccello called “so beautiful,” before it can be offered to the reader as a natural unembellished fragment of experience, detached like a ripe fruit from the tree.»
9. «Nothing but deep familiarity with his subject will protect the short-story writer from another danger: that of contenting himself with a mere sketch of the episode selected.»
10. «The rule that the first page of a novel ought to contain the germ of the whole is even more applicable to the short story, because in the latter case the trajectory is so short that flash and sound nearly coincide.»
11. «No subject in itself, however fruitful, appears to be able to keep a novel alive; only the characters in it can. Of the short story the same cannot be said. Some of the greatest short stories owe their vitality entirely to the dramatic rendering of a situation.»
12. «Nothing but deep familiarity with his subject will protect the short-story writer from another danger: that of contenting himself with a mere sketch of the episode selected.»
13. «The impression produced by a landscape, a street or a house should always, to the novelist, be an event in the history of a soul, and the use of the “descriptive passage,” and its style, should be determined by the fact that it must depict only what the intelligence concerned would have noticed, and always in terms within the register of that intelligence.»
14. «The other difficulty is that of communicating the effect of the gradual passage of time in such a way that the modifying and maturing of the characters shall seem not an arbitrary sleight-of-hand but the natural result of growth in age and experience. This is the great mystery of the art of fiction. The secret seems incommunicable; one can only conjecture that it has to do with the novelist’s own deep belief in his characters and what he is telling about them.»
15. «The evening party with which “War and Peace” begins is one of the most triumphant examples in fiction of the difficult art of “situating” the chief actors in the opening chapter of what is to be an exceptionally crowded novel. No reader is likely to forget, or to confuse the one with the other, the successive arrivals at that dull and trivial St. Petersburg reception;Tolstoy with one mighty sweep gathers up all his principal characters and sets them before us in action.»
16. «This power to seize his characters in their habit as they live is always the surest proof of a novelist’s mastery.»
Are you an Edith Wharton’s fan? You’ll probably find “Handy advice for social climbers by Undine Spragg (The Custom of the Country)” interesting…