Be a Copycat
By Keith Cronin | March 12, 2013 |
Before becoming serious about writing, I spent many years as a professional musician, a career I still continue to pursue. As I got deeper into writing fiction, and began devoting myself to trying to carve a path towards publication, I couldn’t help but observe that these two vocations – music and writing – have a lot in common.
For instance, success requires dedication, sacrifice, countless hours of practice, and some luck. Disappointments and obstacles abound, and the vast majority of your friends and loved ones won’t understand why you do what you do. The industries themselves are in upheaval, making it terribly hard to strategize and figure out the right move (and easy to become mortally fearful of making the wrong move). Chances of economic success are incredibly thin, and there’s no middle class, no 401K, and you can bet there’s no health plan. And no matter how hard you work, there will always be others who seem to succeed effortlessly, without any apparent skills or redeeming qualities whatsoever.
Oh, and there are also some downsides.
But being the historically glass-half-full guy that I am, today I’m going to look at one of the upsides, and focus on something that both music and writing share: an incredibly powerful resource that is available to every single one of us, which can definitely increase our chances of success, no matter how far along we are in our journey. Sound interesting? Then read on!
Standing on the shoulders of… mimes?
Musicians aren’t the only artists with whom we share a lot in common. Similar challenges are faced by painters, sculptors, and other visual artists, dancers, actors – hell, even mimes. No matter what your artistic calling, this isn’t an easy life.
But there’s an area where I think many writers are skipping – or simply missing out – on a very basic form of learning. The vast majority of artists in other mediums spend time studying the work of other artists. And most take it a step further, by actually copying the work of other artists, to assimilate their techniques and better understand their methods.
[pullquote] The vast majority of artists in other mediums spend time studying the work of other artists. And most take it a step further, by actually copying the work of other artists, to assimilate their techniques and better understand their methods.[/pullquote]Musicians have done this, well, basically forever. Classical composers like Mozart copied the works of Bach and others, basically taking them apart like a mechanical apparatus, to understand how they worked. Most famous jazz artists have paid their dues transcribing note-for-note their favorite solos from the jazz giants who preceded them. And most rock musicians have spent time worshiping at the altars of Zeppelin, Hendrix, and John, Paul, George and Ringo, to name a few.
Bottom line, I’ve never met a professional musician who hadn’t deeply studied the work of other musicians he or she admired – to the point of learning certain riffs, solos, rhythms or melodies note-for-note. It’s a basic and essential method for building a musical vocabulary, from which they can step off and find new ways to express themselves.
It goes deeper than reading
But wait, you say. We writers study the masters just as deeply. You should see my collection of books! And some of them I’ve read multiple times!
Yes, I’m sure that’s true. But let’s continue the comparison. I submit that reading a book multiple times is analogous to a musician listening to a certain recording multiple times. They’re listening – and no doubt, they’re learning – but are they really taking it apart at the deepest level? Nope – that’s when the next step is necessary: trying to replicate what they just heard on that recording, but doing so on their own instrument. And that’s where simply reading doesn’t cut it. That’s when it’s time for writers to take the next step:
Copying, word-for-word, portions of some of your favorite authors’ work.
Author James D. MacDonald, who wrote a lengthy but helpful tutorial for beginning writers a decade ago at the Absolute Write forum, suggested that we should take our favorite novel, and manually retype the first chapter.
Okay, I’ll admit, this is the kind of idea that sounds great, but that most of us would likely never actually do. So I’m suggesting something more manageable:
Take the first page of one of your favorite books and retype it.
Why? Here’s what MacDonald had to say ten years ago:
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 plagiarists, 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. Writing is no less a physical skill than painting. The words are your paints, the sentences your brush strokes. Following a master, asking yourself, always, why. Why did he or she choose this word rather than another? Why was this scene from this particular point of view? Why did the scene end there?”
Later in the same discussion, MacDonald concluded, “At the very worst your typing skills will improve, and that’s nothing to sneeze at.”
Try it – you’ll like it.
Having tried the exercise, I can heartily endorse it. It’s a surprisingly strange sensation, physically typing words with which you considered yourself so familiar. A paragraph that never seemed long before might suddenly seem interminable while you’re typing it. Why did she put that comma there? Did he really mean to repeat that word within the same sentence? Wow, I never noticed how many sentence fragments are in this book.
You really do gain a whole new level of perspective on the author’s technique when you do this. I once participated in a writing contest where the goal was to write in the same style as a well-known author. The contest submission consisted of your own brief excerpt, plus an excerpt taken from the work of the author you were imitating (which meant you needed to manually retype that excerpt). Then the judges had to try to figure out which was the original, and which was the fake. I chose the crime novelist Robert B. Parker, whom I’d been avidly reading for a couple of decades. I consider him a big influence, so I was pretty confident I could nail his style.
Wow – actually retyping his prose was a revelation. For example, in all my years of reading him, I had never noticed how rigidly he stuck to only using the word “said” for dialog attribution. I’ve seen authors and writing teachers argue that it’s the best choice, and essentially a “transparent” word, but I’ll confess I often gave myself more freedom, and allowed my characters to shout, whisper, inquire, blurt out, etc. Man, copying this Parker excerpt was a huge lesson in just how transparent the word “said” really is.
And I would never have learned that lesson without having copied a page or two of his work. Not even after 20 years of reading him religiously.
That’s just an example of what you can learn. I recently read a book by Jonathan Tropper where I felt he totally nailed the opening, giving us the main characters, the core conflict, the main character’s backstory, and the narrative voice, all in one page. I wanted to understand better how he did it. So, I opened the book and started typing. Again, I learned a lot, and gained insights that merely reading the passage would not have provided.
Retyping another writer’s words can be a striking, almost mystical experience. There’s an intimacy to it, as if you’re being allowed access into their mind, as you become aware of every individual word they chose, and can stop to wonder how and why they made that choice. Really, it’s a fascinating exercise, and I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t reveal to you things you had never noticed about that author, no matter how familiar you considered yourself to be with their work.[pullquote]Retyping another writer’s words can be a striking, almost mystical experience.[/pullquote]
You can also apply this technique surgically, to work on certain skills. Were you knocked out by the climax of a certain book? Retype that scene. Did an author totally slay you with a humorous passage? Retype it. Did a section of the story make you cry? (Or, if you’re a manly man like me, did it simply cause you to “get something in your eye?”) You know the drill: retype it and see how they did it to you.
Why writers don’t usually do this
I won’t say this exercise can’t be tedious. I’m no ace typist, and there are certainly more pleasant ways to spend one’s time. And in one respect, it’s not surprising that most writers haven’t experimented with this. After all, what is the number one fear of every writer? No, it’s not being accused of writing like Clive Cussler. It’s plagiarism. Probably the nastiest word in the publishing profession, plagiarism is something we writers are taught to avoid in any form – with extreme prejudice. Graduate-level college curriculums (or is it curricula?) actually provide specific anti-plagiarism training, to help students avoid even unintentional instances of it. And here I am, advising you to copy another writer’s work, word-for-word?
Yup. Because there’s a key difference in what I’m asking you to do. This isn’t plagiarism. It’s practice.
With apologies to Rodgers and Hammerstein
And practice is something we all need, whether you buy into the 10,000 hour rule or not. Remember, this is only an exercise. Nothing you’re copying should ever appear in one of your manuscripts. Think of yourself as a musician practicing scales, or a painter practicing triangles and circles (or whatever the hell painters practice doing). But the thing is: practice stays in the practice room. I mean, no musicians ever released a recording of themselves playing a scale (with the possible exception of that “Doe, a deer…” song from The Sound of Music).
Calling all copycats
I hope you’ll give this a try, and let me know how it goes. For any of you who have already explored this technique, I’d love to hear about your experiences. And as always, thanks for reading!
Image licensed from iStockphoto.com
Author of the novels Me Again (originally published by Five Star/Gale), and Tony Partly Cloudy (published under his pen name Nick Rollins), Keith Cronin (he/him) is a corporate speechwriter and professional rock drummer who has performed and recorded with artists including Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, and Pat Travers. Keith’s fiction has appeared in Carve Magazine, Amarillo Bay, The Scruffy Dog Review, Zinos, and a University of Phoenix management course. A native of South Florida, Keith spends his free time serenading local ducks and alligators with his ukulele.
Keith, great advice. It’s so hard to really figure out how the writing works unless you immerse yourself in the words, not the story.
After having read hundreds of books to my child over the last few years I would add that reading the passages aloud might also provide similar insight, though probably not as much in depth analysis as retyping.
Thanks, Jeanne – I agree, reading aloud is crucial, and one of the best ways to find whether a piece of writing is working. I used to listen to a lot of audio books back when I was commuting, and found that bad writing in particular really stands out when you hear it read aloud.
Interesting idea. I was trying to write a fic prompt in the hard-boiled style recently, and noticed that Raymond Chandler is very much the same with his use of said. I used to type out song lyrics on my father’s old typewriter – does that count?
This is the second place I’ve read this advice in the last couple of weeks. Add your reference to the James MacDonald piece, and that makes three. Which means I must try it. Thanks.
This is really excellent advice! I’ve honestly never really thought about this sort of exercise. I’d always operated under the assumption that I just needed to read more of the greats, but your practice method is so obvious! Why haven’t I been doing this? :-)
Thanks, L.M. – yeah, it’s funny how obvious this seems when you think about how other artists learn, yet this process is still pretty uncommon among the writers I know.
I found this to be such an encouraging post! Of course! We need to be like the art students a-sketching masterpieces in the museum, to do more than just re-read but take it to the next level – and absorb it. This post has made my day!
(It’s also given me an excuse to go try and find a replacement ribbon for my old manual typewriter!)
It occurs to me that this is also a way of breaking ‘writer’s block’ – and putting aside procrastination for the day (nothing works forever).
I shall go try it: a way to put down some words on paper AND do it with help from my favorite author.
Thanks!
ABE
Susan Tiberghien, who founded the Geneva Writers’ Group that I am now part of, has always recommended that. She often writes out favourite passages or opening chapter or entire short stories by great writers, because she too believes that it builds your writing muscle. Hitherto, I agreed with this in principle, but I never really tried it out in practice, but I can really see why this might be so useful. I will definitely try it now.
I love this idea, Keith! I’ve tried it once or twice, and even put a spot for what I call “Transcription” in my Scrivener template, but I forget to do it most of the time. Thanks for the reminder.
Love the title ‘Transcription’. Sounds so much more elegant than copying! :)
Musicians call it transcribing. Sounds so much nicer than “copying.” :)
I do this. In fact, I did it a few months ago. I pulled His Dark Materials off my bookshelf and began typing, word for word, Pullman’s text, beginning with the first chapter. I did it because I wanted to understand how to write omniscient point of view, of which Pullman is a master. I recently purchased an inexpensive paperback copy of The Lord of the Rings to do the same thing. Because after listening to the audio (having read the book when I was a teenager), I realized Tolkien writes landscape and exterior setting, especially elements such as stars and weather, in a way that makes those settings atmospheric and vivid for the reader.
I read a long time ago that the reason this works is that in copying the words (or the music), your brain learns the patterns and transforms craft to skill.
I love this idea. LOVE IT. And I might never have thought of doing it, were it not for your blog.
As a new writer of fiction (just finished the second chapter of my first novel) and newcomer to the supportive and generous online writing community, I’ve said many thank yous recently. And here’s one more: thank you for this post. I’ll be putting the suggestion into practice very soon.
Love this idea, Keith. Off to gather a few of my favorites now…
I’ve tried a derivative of this technique before and it helped a lot. I read the first chapter of a novel that I felt was similar to my work and copied word for word different elements of the writing. For example, I made a list of things I feel are weak in my writing – describing the setting, describing a character in a subtle way, setting the mood. Then under these headers, I picked apart the first chapter and copied down each piece that I thought “Oh, this really sets the mood here!” “What a sneaky way to describe what the character was wearing – write that down!” and then I had a list of the individual sentences that made the piece so good. It helped me to really understand more intimately about settings, descriptions, and mood and how they are done well.
I first heard of this writing exercise in Priscilla Long’s wonderful writing book, and like you I too discovered just how much is to be learned from the practice of a focused attunement into the words, mind and, dare I say, soul, of my favourite writers and mentors. Yes we can study with the masters, even if they are dead! Great post! Thanks for the reminder.
Interesting… Transcribing such things as classics and ancient poetry could give the typist a better understanding of the language of that time. For instance, those who are familiar with Jane Austin’s novels know that the language is both beautiful and confusing. This presents a challenge to those who wish to emulate her works in the form of fan fiction. Employing Mr. Cronin’s theory would result in a closer assimilation to the original author’s writing style, thus giving Austin fans everywhere a pleasing prequel/sequel, and not a “cheap knock-off.”
What a unique idea! You’re right about musicians. They discuss their idols and how they attempted to play their songs. And some have recorded those songs with great success. Thanks for the tip!
Thanks, folks – glad you’re finding this helpful!
I love this idea. I’ve been so frustrated lately, because I read craft books, and blogs and feel like I understand the principles, but still have difficulty applying them to my own work at times. Perhaps this will help me span the gap.
I am looking forward to giving this writing exercise a try! Thank you :)
Love this post, Keith. And I did not know you are a musician as well. I have learned so much about writing (and practice) by working with musicians.
Here’s a follow up idea to your excellent post: Want to write better dialogue? Turn to playwrights. Transcribe a page of dialogue from a play. Which will help you learn what makes active, exciting, forward moving dialogue. Actually, you’d probably have to delve into several plays because playwrights’ voices are so distinct. So much so that the great ones are a genre unto themselves: Shakespearean, Chekovian, Beckettian, Pinteresque, etc.
I’ve done this many times, especially with opening pages of books that really pulled me in, minute one. Now that I think of it though, I doubt I’ve ever admitted this to fellow writers for fear of being labelled a copy-cat. Thanks, Keith, for pushing me from the closet!
Denise Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth
I’ve never copied the first page or paragraph from the work of someone I like, but I about a year ago I started to read them as a writer, not as a reader. Since then my writing has improved noticeably, and I’ve been published more. It’s like the point mentioned in the article above: reading a book several times is like listening to a song several times, but just reading it and not picking it apart as a writer does the budding writer little good. It’s not enough to read a book because it works for you. You have to read it because you want to find out why it works for you. Readers just read the what; readers who will be published writers read to discover the why.
Thanks Keith for the thumbs up regarding copying others as legitimate practise – for any art-form. I remember many years ago sitting at the feet of my sitar guru in India following that culture’s time-honoured tradition of copying the master. He would play something, I would copy (albeit, not that well!).
Oh, and the Beatles also recorded the playing of a scale, towards the end of John Lennon’s beautiful “Across the Universe”.
Good catch on the Beatles tune, Eddie. While we’re on the topic, the opening melody of the Christmas song “Joy to the World” is also a descending major scale.
I haven’t retyped books—I’m no crack typist either—but I like this idea. I have pulled apart books I liked, though, and analyzed in writing what they were able to accomplish in the first paragraph, second paragraph, etc. through the end of the first chapter, then chapter by chapter after that so I got a deeper feel for pacing. Quite the targeted tutorial!
Keith-
Glad you mentioned this. I have used that technique.
Back in the early 80’s I was a starving young agent writing novels to support myself. I got a contract to write a romance for a new line. You have have noticed that I’m…um, of a different gender than most romance novelists. I had a challenge.
I tackled it in several ways but one of the most helpful was to retype (on an actual typewriter) not just the first page but an entire novel by a category romance writer I admired. (Janet Dailey, as it happens.) I got the rhythm of it into my fingertips.
The name of the romance line was changed to Silhouette Books and mine was slotted into the launch month. It’s forgotten now, thankfully, but I learned the flow and methods of romance storytelling by the copycat method.
The trick is, of course, to then to make the methods serve your own stories.
Okay, this makes me curious to try retyping longer segments. Thanks, Donald!
I have a question for those who say “I’m not an ace or crack typist.” How do you write your manuscripts for submission? I actually transcribe for a living, so typing is second nature to me. Do you use Shorthand and hire the typing out?
Keith, I’m going to do this exercise this weekend. Thanks so much for the article.
Marilyn, I can type, but not terribly fast. So it’s more of a chore for me than it would be for a professional touch-typist. But given my complete inability to write or print legibly by hand, I find a computer or typewriter an absolute godsend!
I think this is a great idea, but as Donald says above, make the method serve your own stories. I saw a friend doing this once and it honestly freaked me out a bit, but now I understand “why”. And I will definitely be trying it! Thank you for this post, I feel so informed about this method now.
It is often said that Hunter S. Thompson, author of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and father of gonzo journalism, retyped the entirety of Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby just to know what it felt like to write a great novel.
Wow, what a terrific idea Keith. I can definitely add this to my 10,000 hour practice.
Yes! This is a fabulous practice and an article putting the idea out there in an inspiring manner. I’ve always considered music and writing one and the same in that they’re both based on a language. The same can be said for film.
Copying the work of others to deconstruct it is a time-honored practice that’s no longer taught. Flaubert learned his craft by writing everything written by Guy de Maupassant. When I heard this, I started writing out, by hand, the short stories of Hemingway and Shakespeare’s sonnets. Ouch. But worth it. I still do this, by hand, with writers who are fabulous prose stylists. How do they manipulate language with such brilliance without detracting from the story? It’s like dissecting a frog, but smells better.
I’m so glad I stumbled upon this through a tweet.
Now, THERE’s the quote of the day: “It’s like dissecting a frog, but smells better.”
LOVE it! Thanks for writing, Cyd!
Wow. I always knew I needed to look deep into others’ writing to learn skills of my own, but I never considered actually COPYING their words. I can see how beneficial this would be. I’m definitely doing this soon!
Coming late, but I did a modified version of this for Barbara O’Neal’s class, and it was illuminating. We were to take a short passage from a favorite writer and copy it, notice where we wanted to shift punctuation, alter word choices, etc. It was a nice demonstration of voice in that even within a paragraph or two, even with an author I admired, there was a tendency to want to tinker. You’ll note I’m not claiming my changes would be an improvement. ;)
Excellent advice, Keith. I’ve been struggling with the opening for me current project for a while now, so I used your suggestion and copied out the opening of a book I love, to help identify the elements I like in openings. It was a really useful exercise.
I was also so intrigued by what you said about the opening of Jonathan Tropper’s latest book that I downloaded a free sample of “One Last Thing Before I Go”. I was blown away; for a genre/ protagonist/ theme I’d never consider reading I was hooked and fully intend to by the full book when I get the chance. :D
Thanks, Clare. Actually, the Tropper book I copied from was How to Talk to a Widower. The one you mentioned has some great moments, but I liked Widower much better.
Other faves from Tropper are The Book of Joe, This Is Where I Leave You, and Everything Changes.
This idea appeals to me and I plan to give it a try. It is quite similar to an exercise that I was set on a writing course. We had to choose from 3 pieces of text that the tutor provided and write over them to make our own piece, but using the exact same structure that the original author had – ie. replace a noun with a noun, a verb with a verb. I found it an incredible exercise that helped me to broaden my writing experience while learning from an established and proficient author.
We used a variation of this technique at the University of Tulsa, back in the mid-70’s. Our creative writing professor, Winston Weathers, had a book called Copy and Compose (later republished, and still available used, as The Strategy of Style). The idea was to take established works, copy them, and then attempt to write your own piece using the same cadence, style, meter, etc. Excellent technique.
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