The Guinea Pig Report: Interlude - On Imitation
It is possible that this post belongs in an entirely different Guinea Pig Report series, one which I may very well write in the near future. But why wait for “may very well” when it’s appropriate now?
Dorothea Brande’s brief overview of imitation and how it dilutes our own writing style reminded me that imitation need not always be bad. Not, at least, when embarked upon deliberately and knowingly. There’s certainly a place for imitation in the realms of satire and parody. But even more, there’s a place for it in your day-to-day apprenticeship.
One way to learn lessons from our favorite authors is to “play the sedulous ape,” as Brande puts it, temporarily, on purpose, and to extremes. Take a look one of the posts in author James D. Macdonald’s long-running “Learn Writing With Uncle Jim” forum thread: Take you favorite novel and retype the first chapter.
The point of this exercise is this: Have you ever gone to an art museum and seen the art students sitting there with their easels and oils, copying the great masters? The point isn’t to turn them into plagairists, or to make them expert forgers. The point is to get the feeling into their hands and arms of how to make the brush strokes that create a particular illusion on canvas.
(As I said, I may well begin a Guinea Pig Report series on “Learn Writing With Uncle Jim.” I read the thread, but I’ve never actually done all the homework assignments. Maybe it’s time.)
Retyping a piece of writing which you admire forces you to get up close and personal with the elements that make it so admirable. You can’t skim when you’re retyping. You have to be aware of every word and every punctuation mark. Even without trying, you’ll find yourself examining what works and what doesn’t. And you’ll learn to assimilate those techniques into your own unique writing style.
(Also, says Uncle Jim, if you memorize this soliloquy, you’ll be a better writer. But I think the point is what the excerpt has to say about story–or about the equal personhood of every character, villain or hero; or maybe what it implies about teachers and other role models–and not so much to learn how to write Shakespearian blank verse.)