writing – Page 7 – catsignal

In his book Homegrown Democrat, Garrison Keillor tells us, “Prizes for brilliance are a dime a dozen: what’s really special is to write something that speaks for others.”

Speaking for others requires empathy: the writer has to have it, and he has to get it into his story and out through his characters so the reader has a chance to catch it. Being merely brilliant suddenly looks pretty easy, doesn’t it?

Sue Monk Kidd, way back in December 2005, wrote about the encounter with a reader that shaped her thinking on writing and empathy. A month ago, Tayari Jones wrote that she can sometimes tell which stories are going to fall flat because their writers don’t have empathy; she also offers an exercise for developing empathy for our characters.

I wouldn’t mind winning one of those dime-a-dozen prizes, but brilliance in writing doesn’t have the kind of shelf life empathy does. Romeo and Juliet and Casablanca aren’t still popular today because they were technically perfect. They last because they speak to and for the human condition. We care about the characters and perhaps think a little differently about some things after encountering them.

Powerful writing gets not merely into our minds but also into our hearts.

ADDENDUM: After posting this, the results of a study were reported: today’s college students test 40% lower in empathy than their counterparts of two and three decades ago. What this could mean for society is pretty scary. What does it mean for writers trying to connect to readers who don’t feel the same emotions we do, or at least not to the same degree?

Author and poet Blake Morrison has an article at the Guardian’s website about using song lyrics in your fiction. It’s an excellent cautionary tale, and the moral of the story is given in the lead. Read it here.

In the non-fiction editing I do, I have to let the publisher know if I come across three words or more of lyrics that aren’t in the public domain (generally regarded as anything written before 1923). So what Morrison has written isn’t surprising to me, but I’m glad he’s given us the benefit of his learning curve. (The sums of money are given in British pounds. As of even date, the exchange rate is £1.5 equals $1.)

Morrison’s article refers to the laws in Great Britain, but there’s no substantial difference (so far as I can tell) here in the United States in copyright protections and remedies for violations. All these years, whenever someone has sung The Birthday Song in a TV show or movie or play, or written the words in a work of fiction, they’ve had to pay for the privilege. It’s not in the public domain; the authors have passed on, but Warner Music Group still owns the rights. As a refresher, see the U.S. Copyright Office’s page concerning Fair Use.

There are two simple ways to get around this: use the song’s title to refer to it, or paraphrase the lyrics. Here’s a combined example: “That was Jerry Lee Lewis with his Great Balls of Fire,” the announcer said. Jeff turned the radio off. “The only nerve-shaking and brain-rattling I’m interested in will be when that rocket lifts off tomorrow. That’s the only ball of fire I care about, too.” Do it without the announcer and readers still can figure out what song you’re referring to and it’s safe.

If you’re serious about using some lyrics, you have to contact the person who holds those rights. That can get terribly tricky because ownership of lyrics bounces around like paperbacks at a yard sale. It may well be that neither the lyricist nor the publisher own the rights. If it’s an older song still covered by copyright, you may find the publisher has gone out of business. Then you’re into some detective work on top of whatever the rights owner will charge you.

The laws don’t change just because you’re writing for fun or are selling your work on a limited scale. Here’s an instructive anecdote: Broadway playwright George S. Kaufman discovered that one of his plays was being staged by a summer-stock producer who hadn’t paid for the privilege. The fellow told Kaufman, “It’s only a small, insignificant theater.” Kaufman responded, “Then you’ll go to a small, insignificant jail.”

Re-read Morrison’s lead. That’s the bottom line.

Pen to Paper: Empathy in Fiction

Pen to Paper: Using Song Lyrics in Fiction