#WriterGoals by Homer, Odysseus, and Ryanne

Yes, my title is a hashtag. Sometimes I like to break the trend of ordinary prose. Sorry not sorry. Ironically, however, this post is based on writing standards set waaaaaaaay back in the days of Homer. In reading through The Odyssey for my university’s honors institute, I realized two things: First, listening to Chopin’s nocturnes whilst reading makes even the most boring of passages intensely moving. For real, I felt tears coming when Odysseus’ men were turned into pigs. Thanks, Chopin. Secondly, although Homer (whether of not you believe in him or think he was a group of poets or whatever new conspiracy is floating around in the literary community) does tend to be a bit- well- wordy in his accounts of first the Trojan War and then the homecoming journey of Odysseus, he is a master at his craft and the fact that philosophers and students alike have been studying his epics for thousands of years ought to be proof of that. Further evidence for this mastery is in his recognition of the key components of good writing/story-telling: truth, reason, and beauty.

He says in Book XI lines 363-369:

“‘Odysseus, we as we look upon you do not imagine

that you are a deceptive or thievish man, the sort that the black earth

breeds in great numbers, people who wander widely, making up

lying stories, from which no one could learn anything. You have

a grace upon your words, and there is sound sense within them,

and expertly, as a singer would do, you have told the story

of the dismal sorrows befallen yourself and all of the Argives.'”

In this instance, a king is praising the eloquence and clarity of Odysseus’ account of his journey, but more significantly, Homer is, through this character, identifying the essential components of writing worthy of enduring esteem. Such writing, first of all, must feature truth. When Odysseus concludes his tale, the first remark that the king makes is regarding the verity of Odysseus’ words; they are not fantasy, at least in the context of this epic, and thus deserving of serious consideration. But does all writing need to be true then in order to be great? The Harry Potter geek within me screams “NO!” in answer to this and, actually, the fangirl part of me is correct. C.S. Lewis believed strongly in fiction because of its seemingly paradoxical ability to convey truth. Take his most famous series, The Chronicles of Narnia, for instance. In any given library, these would be shelved with other works of fiction and probably even among children’s fiction. However, it is impossible to read these wonderful books without coming away having learned from them lessons of sacrifice, morality, family, forgiveness, and, consequently, truth. Good fiction always centers on truth.  Whether this truth is found in the form of a universal theme such as what it means to be a man or even a real event such as the an ancient war, if you dig deep enough as a reader or write well enough as an author, some aspect of truth will always be found at the core of a truly great piece of literature.

Continuing on, the king praises the sensible nature of Odysseus’ words; he does not use more than necessary. Bored readers might argue that Homer is not exactly concise, but when one considers the vast amount of mythology, culture, character descriptions, interactions, geographical courses, and rituals that are woven together to create the intricate tapestry of this epic, it becomes a wonder that such a magnificent story could be consolidated into a mere twenty-four book poem. This often unappreciated conciseness is vital to truly great writing. Of course, as the saying goes, “even Homer nods”, and some passages, such as the listings of over 600 Achaian ships in The Iliad are arguably a bit much, but considering the wealth of information and the overall complexity, this is certainly excusable.

Finally, Odysseus’ (and Homer’s) words are revered as beautiful. Being originally poetry sung by roaming bards, it is probably a no-brainer that The Iliad and The Odyssey are considered among the most beautiful pieces of literature. In this passage, great writing is described as having “a grace” and being crafted “expertly, as a singer would do.” Both poetry and prose must have a flow, a grace like the one here described. In music performed by a singer, every note, every inflection of the voice, every tiny breathe and consonant must be purposefully employed in order to convey the message of the song. In the same manner, a great writer must choose his or her words with purpose; not a “jot or tittle” is thrown in carelessly in attempt to meet a word count or appear more intelligent to the ignorant reader, but rather, each phrase is composed like a line of music, thus appealing to the reader’s deepest sense of beauty. Of course, one might debate that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” but regardless of personal opinions of individual readers, by combining intentionality with artistry, a level of universal beauty, such as that achieved by the enduring works of literature, can be achieved.

To summarize: Many truths. Very clear. Much beauty. (Sorry, breaking the flow of my prose again. At least it was not a hashtag this time.) This passage in The Odyssey was one of those passages that make me gasp “Ah-ha!” aloud in the middle of the library. It made me race to the nearest computer to jot down my thoughts and publish them to my blog in the unlikely case that one of my readers may find inspiration in them as I did. This passage made me take a step back and reevaluate myself as a writer, but it also gave me a renewed passion as it guided me toward the path of truly great writing, that which is truth-centered, focused, and beautiful.

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Literary Living

Standing at the checkout at the grocery store, I found myself incredibly bored having forgotten both my book and my phone. Most people in such a predicament would probably do one of two things: 1) make small-talk with fellow shoppers or 2) flip idly through the magazines on the racks. Similar to Mr. Darcy, I am unskilled at small-talk and what was I to say? “Oh, hello. I see you too are buying high-fiber granola. Good choice.” How about no. I’d rather not be the creepy granola girl. So that left me with the second option, but I wasn’t quite sure about this one either. As much as I hate to admit it, I was interested to see how Kaitlyn from The Bachelorette was holding up (watching her crazy drama is anthropology, okay? Don’t judge me.) However, were hot dating tips and fad diet plans really expected to hold my attention for more than about twenty seconds? That said, I was back to people-watching, wondering why the guy in front of me was buying only a gallon of milk and a giant bag of salt-water taffy. And then, taffy guy was forgotten as an idea came to me: a magazine filled with, instead of celebrities and gossip, book characters and authors and such! To my dismay, I have not the abilities or means to produce such a magazine on my own, but this blog is a good start, right? So I thought it might be fun (at least to my nerdy self…maybe not anyone else, but who knows!) to publish magazine-style articles based on books and thus, I present, the first post of my new Literary Living category.

~Ryanne

Literary Living

Article 1

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In an exclusive interview with best friends Anne Shirley and Diana Barry, I was fortunate to learn their Five Signs that You've Found Your Best Friend: 
    

1. You knew right away that you’d be friends. Call it intuition or a sheer determination to like someone, the minute you two met, you knew that you were kindred spirits. Whether or not you were close right away doesn’t matter. Some, like Anne, lose no time in initiating a friendship, while others, like Diana, are more cautious. Still, there is that initial inkling that you share similarities, souls alike enough to be what Anne refers to as “kindred spirits.”

 2. You remember the little things. Anne knows Diana’s weakness for chocolate cake and Diana knows Anne’s tendency to become too wrapped up in her thoughts. In the same way, when you’ve found a kindred spirit, you will probably remember what his or her favorite artist is to listen to when he/she is feeling down and, similarly, he or she will know what color you like to wear best or even what your favorite percentage of dark chocolate is.

3. You have each others’ backs. When Diana was picked on by the boys, Anne chased Charlie Sloane down to teach him a lesson. When Anne was nervous for her exams, Diana came with her for support. Even in small ways, like bringing over chocolate when one is sad or giving an understanding smile during a rough day, true friends will always know when they are needed and make every effort to be there.

4. You may not be completely similar, but you appreciate each others’ differences. Anne was an ambitious dreamer; Diana a comfort-loving nurturer. Both were imaginative, intelligent, and kind, but they were still different. Yet, Diana’s level-headed nature and Anne’s spontaneity provided balance and both appreciated it. Think of all the sets of friends in literature: Sherlock and John, Jane and Elizabeth, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Merry and Pippin, the Mysterious Benedict Society, and especially Anne and Diana! Each group had introverts and extroverts, nurturers and sass-masters, thinkers and doers, and these differences were acknowledged to be essential.

5. You sometimes seem to be speaking a language all of your own. The Haunted Wood, Mr. Blythe, cherry cordial. Anne and Diana had so many unique memories that they could probably have carried on conversations that only they would be able to understand. In the same way, when you’ve found a true kindred spirit, your conversations might consist more of awkward facial expressions, references to inside jokes, and perhaps snippets of musical numbers.

For the fun of it, Anne and Diana shared another tidbit: When you’ve found a true friend, you never really have to say goodbye because “kindred spirits are always together in spirit.”