By Maria Popova 溫純/譯注


What is the secret of great writing? For David Foster Wallace2, it was about fun. For Henry Miller3, about discovery. Susan Sontag4 saw it as self-exploration. Many literary greats anchored5 it to their daily routines. And yet, the answer remains elusive6 and ever-changing.
In the fall of 1938, Radcliffe College sophomore Frances Turnbull sent her latest short story to family friend F. Scott Fitzgerald.7 His response, found in F. Scott Fitzgerald: a Life in Letters—the same volume that gave us Fitzgeralds heartwarming fatherly advice and his brilliantly acerbic response to hate mail—shows his insistence upon the importance of emotional investment in writing and offers some uncompromisingly honest advice on essence of great writing:8
November 9, 1938
Dear Frances:
Ive read the story carefully and, Frances, Im afraid the price for doing professional work is a good deal higher than you are prepared to pay at present. Youve got to sell your heart, your strongest reactions, not the little minor things that only touch you lightly, the little experiences that you might tell at dinner. This is especially true when you begin to write, when you have not yet developed the tricks of interesting people on paper, when you have none of the technique which it takes time to learn. When, in short, you have only your emotions to sell.
This is the experience of all writers. It was necessary for Dickens to put into Oliver Twist the childs passionate resentment at being abused and starved that had haunted his whole childhood.9 Ernest Hemingways first stories In Our Time went right down to the bottom of all that he had ever felt and known.10 In This Side of Paradise I wrote about a love affair that was still bleeding as fresh as the skin wound on a haemophile11.
The amateur, seeing how the professional having learned all that hell ever learn about writing can take a trivial thing such as the most superficial reactions of three uncharacterized girls and make it witty and charming—the amateur thinks he or she can do the same.12 But the amateur can only realize his ability to transfer his emotions to another person by some such desperate and radical expedient13 as tearing your first tragic love story out of your heart and putting it on pages for people to see.
That, anyhow, is the price of admission. Whether you are prepared to pay it or, whether it coincides or conflicts with your attitude on what is “nice” is something for you to decide. But literature, even light literature, will accept nothing less from the neophyte14. It is one of those professions that wants the “works.” You wouldnt be interested in a soldier who was only a little brave.
In the light of this, it doesnt seem worthwhile to analyze why this story isnt saleable but I am too fond of you to kid you along about it, as one tends to do at my age. If you ever decide to tell your stories, no one would be more interested than me.
Your old friend,
F. Scott Fitzgerald
P.S. I might say that the writing is smooth and agreeable and some of the pages very apt15 and charming. You have talent—which is the equivalent of a soldier having the right physical qualifications for entering West Point.
***
Two years prior, in another letter to his 15-year-old daughter Scottie upon her enrollment in high school, Fitzgerald offered more wisdom on the promise and perils16 of writing:
Grove Park Inn
Asheville, N.C.
October 20, 1936
Dearest Scottina:
[…]
Dont be a bit discouraged about your story not being tops. At the same time, I am not going to encourage you about it, because, after all, if you want to get into the big time, you have to have your own fences to jump and learn from experience. Nobody ever became a writer just by wanting to be one. If you have anything to say, anything you feel nobody has ever said before, you have got to feel it so desperately that you will find some way to say it that nobody has ever found before, so that the thing you have to say and the way of saying it blend as one matter—as indissolubly as if they were conceived together.17
Let me preach18 again for one moment: I mean that what you have felt and thought will by itself invent a new style so that when people talk about style they are always a little astonished at the newness of it, because they think that is only style that they are talking about, when what they are talking about is the attempt to express a new idea with such force that it will have the originality of the thought. It is an awfully lonesome business, and as you know, I never wanted you to go into it, but if you are going into it at all I want you to go into it knowing the sort of things that took me years to learn.
[…]
Nothing any good isnt hard, and you know you have never been brought up soft, or are you quitting on me suddenly? Darling, you know I love you, and I expect you to live up absolutely to what I laid out19 for you in the beginning.
Scott
寫出好作品的秘訣是什么?對于大衛·福斯特·華萊士來說,是好玩兒;對于亨利·米勒來說,是發現;而蘇珊·桑塔格則認為是自我探索。很多文學大家歸結于規律的寫作習慣。然而,答案依然撲朔迷離,充滿變數。
1938年秋,拉德克利夫學院的二年級學生弗朗西斯·特恩布爾把她新寫的短篇故事寄給世交好友弗朗西斯·斯科特·菲茨杰拉德。菲茨杰拉德的回信收錄在《弗朗西斯·斯科特·菲茨杰拉德書信集》中,其中既有他慈父般的暖心忠告,也有他對惡意來信尖銳而精彩的反擊?;匦胖兴麍猿至烁星橥度雽懽鞯闹匾?,也毫無保留地提供了一些關于如何寫出偉大作品的極其誠懇的建議。
1938年11月9日
親愛的弗朗西斯:
我已仔細讀了你的小說,弗朗西斯,從事職業寫作所要付出的代價,恐怕比你目前所想象的要大得多。你必須把整顆心都掏出來,反映出你最強烈的情感,而非一些讓你觸動不深的膚淺小事,一些只能作為茶余飯后談資的微不足道的經歷。特別是你目前剛開始寫作,還沒掌握塑造有趣角色的訣竅,還沒學會那些需要時間修煉的技巧,簡而言之,這個時候你只有情感可以叫賣。
這是所有作家的共同經歷。狄更斯必須在《霧都孤兒》中展現奧利弗·特維斯特這個孩子對整個童年期慘遭虐待和忍饑挨餓的強烈的憤恨。海明威早期的小說集《我們的時代》直觸他內心深處所感受和體會到的東西。而我在《人間天堂》里描寫的那個 愛情故事,猶如血友病患者皮膚上的傷口一樣仍在淙淙冒血。
而當業余寫作者看到已掌握寫作知識技巧的專業作家能夠把三個普通姑娘最表層的反應這類的細微小事寫得風趣迷人,就認為自己也能夠做到那樣。但業余寫作者們要看到啊,他們是把自己的情感通過徹底而激烈的方式映射到角色身上,比如把自己悲劇般的初戀從心底里掏出來,寫在紙上供人閱讀。
不管怎樣,這就是進入寫作行業的代價。無論你是否準備好付出這種代價,或是它與你對“好作品”的看法是不謀而合或相互背離,這是你需要決定的事情。但文學,即便是通俗文學,也不會對新手有所寬待。這是一份需要你拿出實實在在作品的職業。沒有人會對一個勇氣尚不足的士兵感興趣。
鑒于此,我們似乎沒有必要去分析為什么這篇故事會賣不出去,但我又太喜歡你了,舍不得哄騙你——這是我這個年齡的人經常會做的事情。如果你決定要講出你的故事,沒有人會比我更感興趣了。
你的老朋友,
弗朗西斯·斯科特·菲茨杰拉德
注:我還是要說一下,你的文筆流暢恰當,有幾頁描寫相當靈活生動。你是有天賦的,就像一個士兵要有良好的身體素質才能進入西點軍校。
***
兩年之前,在一封寫給他剛被高中錄取的15歲的女兒斯考蒂的信中,菲茨杰拉德又提出了一些對寫作的前景和風險的睿智看法。
北卡羅來納州艾西維爾市格羅夫園酒館
1936年10月20日
我最愛的斯考蒂:
……
不要因為你寫的故事不出彩而灰心喪氣,但我也不會為了鼓勵你而說它好,畢竟,如果你想有所成就,就必須自己摸著石頭過河,從實踐中學習。沒有人僅僅因為擁有想要成為一名作家的念頭就能夠成為一名作家。如果你有東西要說,而這些東西之前沒有人說過,你的感覺如此強烈,一定要找到一種前人從未用過的方式來表達它,也就是你的內容和表達的方式已經融為一體,不可割裂就像生就如此。
讓我再嘮叨一會兒吧:我的意思是你的所思所感要體現出一種新風格,當別人說到風格時,大多會稍稍吃驚于你這種風格的新穎性,因為他們以為談論的只是風格,但實則是你用這種創新的寫作風格去凸顯觀點的原創性。這是一個相當孤獨的職業,你也知道,我一直都不想你進入這個行業,但假如你已打定主意,那么我得讓你了解這些年來我所獲得的經驗。
……
好東西從非輕易可得。你也知道你從來都不是嬌生慣養,還是你就要這么突然地不理我了?親愛的,你要知道我愛你,我希望你能夠達到我一直以來對你的期望。
斯科特
1. F. Scott Fitzgerald: 弗朗西斯·斯科特·菲茨杰拉德(1896—1940),20世紀美國最杰出的作家之一,“迷惘的一代”(the Lost Generation)的代表作家,代表作為《了不起的蓋茨比》。
2. David Foster Wallace: 大衛·福斯特·華萊士,美國小說家(1962—2008),文學上極富造詣,代表作有《系統的笤帚》、《無盡的玩笑》等。
3. Henry Miller: 亨利·米勒(1891—1980),美國作家,被公推為美國文壇的怪杰,代表作為《北回歸線》。
4. Susan Sontag: 蘇珊·桑塔格(1933—2004),美國文學家、藝術評論家,以敏銳的洞察力和廣博的知識著稱,代表作有《反對闡釋》、《論攝影》等。
5. anchor: 使固定,使穩定。
6. elusive: 難以捉摸的,不易記住的。
7. Radcliffe College: 拉德克利夫學院,創建于1879年,曾是位于美國馬薩諸塞州劍橋的一個女子文理學院,1999年全面整合到哈佛大學。
8. acerbic: 尖刻的;uncom-promisingly: 堅決地,不肯妥協地。
9. Dickens: 查爾斯·狄更斯(Charles Dickens, 1812—1870), 19世紀英國批判現實主義小說家;resentment: 憎恨,憤恨;haunt: 時??M繞心頭。
10. Ernest Hemingway: 歐內斯特·海明威(1899—1961),美國作家和記者,20世紀最著名的小說家之一,美國“迷惘的一代”的代表作家,代表作有《老人與海》、《永別了,武器》等。
11. haemophile: 血友病。
12. trivial: 瑣碎的;superficial: 膚淺的,表面的;uncharacterized: 普通的,一般的。
13. expedient: 應急辦法,權宜之計。
14. neophyte: 初學者,新手。
15. apt: 靈巧的,聰明的。
16. peril: 危險,冒險。
17. indissolubly: 不能溶解地,不可分解地;conceive: 構思,想象。
18. preach: 宣揚,說教。
19. lay out: 設定,安排。