First: become the characters you are writing about.
This morning I am Roskolnikov, capable of cruelty but still able to fall in love with women and with Jesus. I am Russian at this hour. I drink my tea from a glass and carry a Finnish knife in my boot. I thank the scribes of Patmos for the New Testament because it says Christ will forgive me. Where’s my damned landlady? I have only fifteen minutes if I’m going to kill her.
Oops.
Time’s up.
The landlady wasn’t in her usual place. Generally she sits in the glorified closet beside the entry and chews cardamom seeds and gives the evil eye to children on the street. I’ll have to kill her tomorrow. Now I have to go to a lecture on French philosophy. I need a drink.
On the way to the bar I become woozy with sentimentality. I love the awnings over the small shops and the sad paint of my city. I love the brave urbanized Russian grass. I must sit. Alas I am out of tobacco. I now love strangers.
Step Two
Stop being the characters you are writing about.
This is a Jekyll and Hyde thing. (Yes, that story really “is” about finishing your novel.)
Now you are free to be even more unpredictable.
Sobriety is not sobriety.
The one who never drinks understands Roskolnikov feels the tenderness of God when he sees the pink roof of a dog’s mouth.
In the next class we will discuss why poetry is better than the newspaper.
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 