Weaving Currents

In A Long Walk to Water, Linda Sue Park uses two narrative threads—the story of Salva fleeing his village in war-torn Sudan and the story of Nya, years later, making daily trips to a pond to fetch water for her family—to craft a compelling story about survival and hope.

Based on the childhood experiences of Salva Dut, one of the thousands of Lost Boys of Sudan, Park tells two separate stories side-by-side, and, as a reader, we turn the pages hoping and wondering how the two stories will eventually converge.

In addition to the basic questions about whether the main characters will survive, what compels us to keep turning pages are questions about the structure of this novel. How will the two stories meet? When will they converge? And why did the author choose this particular device to tell her story about Nya and Salva?

The alternating sequence begins in the Southern Sudan in 2008: 

Going was easy.

Going, the big plastic container held only air. Tall for her eleven years, Nya could switch the handle from one hand to the other, swing the container by her side, or cradle it in both arms. She could even drag it behind her, bumping it against the ground and raising a tiny cloud of dust with each step.

There was little weight, going. There was only heat, the sun already baking the air, even though it was long before noon. It would take her half the morning if she didn’t stop on the way.

Heat. Time. And thorns.

And then Park switches to Southern Sudan, 1985: 

Salva sat cross-legged on the bench. He kept his head turned toward the front, hands folded, back perfectly straight. Everything about him was paying attention to the teacher—everything except his head and mind.

His eyes kept flicking toward the window, through which he could see the road. The road home. Just a little while longer—a few minutes more—and he would be walking on that road. 

Park gives her reader a sense of place and time almost immediately, not merely with the heading “Southern Sudan, 2008,” but with her description of Nya’s daily trek for water.

The same is true for the picture she presents of Salva, though the details appear a few paragraphs into his story: 

He and his brothers, along with the sons of his father’s other wives, would walk with the herds to the water holes, where there was good grazing. Their responsibilities depended on how old they were. Salva’s younger brother, Kuol, was taking care of just one cow; like his brothers before him, he would be in charge of more cows every year. Before Salva had begun going to school, he had helped look after the entire herd, and his younger brother as well. 

From each of these excerpts (and from the book’s title), a reader begins to understand that water is crucial to life in Sudan.

And, perhaps not surprisingly, water becomes the link between these two stories and these two characters.

If you’d like to study how an author weaves together two stories into one, take a look at A Long Walk To Water, a novel that you’ll find expertly crafted from two distinct strands into one.

For more info on Linda Sue Park, visit her website: http://www.lindasuepark.com

For more info on A Long Walk to Water, take a look at: http://www.lindasuepark.com/books/longwalk/longwalk.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkxkisRUmMM

In Search of a Voice

Are you searching for your character's voice?

If so, you might want to take a look at Project Mulberry by Linda Sue Park.

Park, who received the 2002 Newbery Award for her novel, A Single Shard, isn't afraid of taking risks in her work.

Between chapters in Project Mulberry, Park includes brief excerpts from conversations that she had with her main character, Julia Song, over the course of writing the story.

Here's an example from the beginning of the book:

Me: Why am I named Julia?
Ms. Park: You're named after my sister. Sort of. Her name is Julie.
Me: What about Patrick?
Ms. Park: Oh, that's just a name I like. But his character is partly based on a boy named Mark who lived across the street from me when I was growing up....
Me: Do you know what's going to happen in the story? Do you already know the ending?
Ms. Park: I have a general idea of how I want the story to go, but nothing definite yet...

At first, I must admit, I found the conversations a bit distracting.

The interruptions felt a little like a curtain coming down during a play, with the playwright and main actor appearing onstage to discuss their relationship for a few minutes before the curtain was raised again so the play could continue.

No sooner did I immerse myself in the narrative than I found myself pulled out of the spell of each chapter, the illusion of the story completely shattered by these unexpected conversations.

And yet... by the middle of the story... Park had won me over.

Not only did the conversations, albeit brief, deepen my understanding of--and sympathy for-- Julia (as well as for Park), they expanded the boundaries of the story to include the writing process as part of the story.

In unexpected ways, I found myself looking forward to the behind-the-scenes glimpses that Park offered about her writing process as much as I looked forward to each chapter (though, of course, I'm curious about how I'd have responded to the story if Park hadn't included these intermittent intrusions.)

My sense is that Julia's voice, as well as Park's storytelling voice, gained greater depth and credibility as a result of these conversations, even if the plot's forward momentum was sacrificed in the process.

But, still, I can't help wondering what made Park decide to include the conversations and take such a risk with her story.

Here are a few of the questions that I find myself asking about her decision:

1) Why did Park feel it necessary to share this aspect of the writing process with the reader? Isn't writing a private struggle... rather than a public one? Are readers really interested in learning how the words find their way onto the page?

2) Park has written other books without using such a risky device. So, why break the traditional narrative form here? What prompted her, I wonder, to pull aside the wizard's curtain and reveal the writer's process?

3) Was finding Julia's voice an issue for Park in writing Project Mulberry? Did the conversations between chapters help Park find Julia's voice (and her own)? Does Park always have such conversations (on paper or in her head) with her characters?

4) What conversations might Park have left out? How did Park decide on the balance that she ultimately struck between the conversations and the story itself?

In any case, my guess is that these conversations helped deepen Park's understanding of Julia's character over the course of the story and, especially in the earliest stages, enabled her to hear Julia's voice more clearly.

If you're having trouble hearing your character's voice, why not take a look at Project Mulberry? Perhaps Park's conversations with Julia will help you begin a conversation with your own characters.

You might want to try, like Park, recording a conversation with your character on paper. (Or ask your character to write you a letter. Or, perhaps, your character might share a page from her diary or journal with you.)

Afterward, ask yourself if this process helped deepen your understanding of your character. Did it let you hear your character's voice--and see your story-- in a different way?

When you get a moment, let Wordswimmer know the methods that you use to find the voices of your characters.

For more information about Linda Sue Park and Project Mulberry, check out her website at http://www.lspark.com. If you're interested in taking a look at the blog that she keeps on what she's reading, go to http://www.livejournal.com/users/lsparkreader.