Fourth Prompt - Peta Murray & Deep Listening (14/08)

In Retrospect 14
This post is an extract from [CLASS/PROMPT 4] #17: Wednesday August 12th / Friday August 14th Classes & Fourth Prompt. The post was originally uploaded on 15/08/20, but this one has been dated to the actual class.

In this Friday class, we watched David's interview with Peta Murray, who was wearing a party hat on her head. She described the importance of "Deep Listening", how much depth it gives characters and people who leave things unsaid. What are the words lingering underneath what they say? I was growing ever more honest in my drafts that I developed, but there were a few things I wanted to keep to myself. I realised it was okay to do that. If anything, it adds a layer of mystery. It's just like real life, where you don't have all the answers. I kept her advice in mind going forward with my piece.

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Section 2 (Friday): Peta Murray and a Deep Listening Pomodoro Blog Prompt

We began our Friday class by listening to Peta Murray, a self-described "all-purpose" wright located in Anglesea, in the inner western part of Victoria. She is a theatremaker, and writes essays, collaborative works, discourse and nonfiction. She likes to create new words, and coined the "Essayesque Dismemoir"

Pomodoro Blog Prompt (#4)
"This week's blog prompt from me is an opportunity for reflection-in-the-moment, responding to some aspect(s) of Peta Murray's guest interview which struck you as interesting/insightful/curious/thought-provoking, and 'thinking with Peta Murray' in relation to either your essay-in-progress, or nonfiction, or your writing practices more broadly, or something else connected to what we are learning in this course
You might start: "Listening to Peta Murray talk about... It makes me wonder..."

"Listening to Peta Murray talk about deep listening and how a big part of nonfiction practise is a sensitivity to what is being hidden under what is being said is striking. It makes me wonder how I could have that skill and use it in other areas of life.

As a writer and a keen analyst, I'm no stranger to ham-fisted lines or messages in the media I consume. I consider it a weakness when something is stated obviously, whether it's Doctor Who's frustratingly rushed climate change message in 'Orphan 55'. I uh, kind of learnt about these sort of things in Jack the Ripper's terrorist line in an Epic Rap Battle of History (which, admittedly, Hannibal Lecter pointed out for the viewer).

I feel writing with implicative words takes a high degree of finesse and a deep understanding of how people work that I don't feel I have yet. I don't believe people have to be super sleuths to write effective dialogue - we're not always as perceptive as we are reading characters' lines than in real life. It's the fact that we can get specific information characters aren't privy to, making it easy to determine whether a character is lying. Or, most likely, the fact that we're a remove from the action with no personal stake in it, that we're able to nitpick so easily. When you're in the moment, it's a lot tougher.

Thinking about my own essay... there's no dialogue in it except my own - but the writer is aware someone is listening (or reading, I suppose) so it's written that way. Maybe I can use some of Peta Murray's advice here and try to create an atmosphere in the piece where I talk like that, where there's hidden meaning among the words. I don't currently fully like where my piece is at now - I dislike the fact that I've stated that the theme of the essay IS loneliness, but I don't think it's escapable without scrapping the information I have already. Ugh.

I wonder if it's the fact that I'm at home that's making me more reluctant to do more research... last time I checked out a library book was late 2018. Nothing feels tangible any more. But I digress.

I don't mean to say every word of my essay should have a double meaning. I just want there to be nice pockets of hidden/implied meaning throughout. It's like playing with the reader, dangling the full, direct truth before their eyes then snatching it away. Something I'll never tell.

Talking about it like this reminds me of the frustrating way we women can sometimes talk, where we might refer to something or ask for something very vaguely, and then become very embarrassed and angry when we literally have to spit it out. It's like we assume people are mind-readers even though they aren't. No wonder there was so much humour about men needing a "woman-speak translator" to understand us.

Should I try to write my essay in that sort of way? Sure, I have to be upfront about particular facts, but... hm... it... probably might not work. Even in braided essay format, it's a little bizarre to be so truthful and then cheekily, perhaps frustratingly coy in the next moment.

I'm very eager to read my editor's reader's report on it. I wonder where I can finesse my essay further? Yeah.

Talking about writing a piece in that complex way makes me want to try to write a fiction piece about it somehow. Perhaps the main character (the reader) is people-watching, and notices a particular conversation on the phone. There's two big visual modes of communication when speaking to people - their body language, and their communication (let's just say verbal for this one). So in a phone call, there's:

Voice 1 ---------- Voice 2
Body 1 XXXXX Body 2

Callers can't see each others' bodies. So what might the reader observe when they have the full side of only one person? That would be intriguing... especially... especially if they could see the person is lying... heh.

Wonder where I might choose to lie or hide in my redraft, eh? Worth a shot."