I Heart Lincoln Center

posted in: Musings, The Muse | 0
The Lincoln Center Plaza

Much of The Muse is set at Lincoln Center. It’s where Ballet Theater of New York performs in their season. It’s where Darcy confesses his love to Elizabeth, and where she reads his tell-all letter in the wake.

It’s also one of my favorite places in New York City, an aspirational corner of the city for those who love the performing arts. Lincoln Center is the largest performing arts complex in the world, home to 13 theaters, a public library, several movie theaters, classrooms, restaurants, and more. Many of NYC’s beloved cultural institutions call it home, including the Metropolitan Opera, New York City Ballet and the School of American Ballet (NYCB’s feeder school), and the Julliard School. American Ballet Theater, while not located on the campus, also performs there.

The David Koch State Theater, where the ballets are performed.

 

Ironically, Lincoln Center came into being after the filming of West Side Story, which happened several blocks away. Once the opening dance sequence of the movie had been shot, the entire neighborhood and its historical tenements were razed to make way for the arts complex.

 

 

Recent renovations have made Lincoln Center a more open place to the city’s residents.

There’s always tension between “culture’s” place within a larger culture, with many artists looking down upon what the masses call “art” and many regular folk finding “art” hoity-toity and inaccessible. Lincoln Center’s physical location in New York City embodies this tension. Prior to its recent facelift, Lincoln Center was often criticized as being walled-off from the rest of the city. Pedestrians could only enter the complex through the plaza at Columbus Avenue – the posher side closer to Central Park. Separated by a literal wall at the back of the complex were city housing projects. Recently, Lincoln Center underwent renovations to make it more pedestrian-friendly and open to the people of New York City. Now, there is more outdoor seating, including a lovely grassy knoll perfect for sunbathing and picnicking, and free outdoor events.

Lincoln Center offers daily tours of the complex, but the best way to experience it is to buy tickets to a ballet, opera, play, musical, or concert. It’s utter magic, particularly when the iconic fountains are lit up.

Did you know I’m on Pinterest? Click here for more pictures of Lincoln Center, NYC, and images that I love: Follow Jessica’s board NYC on Pinterest.

Turn Off the Fluorescent Lights!

posted in: The Muse, Writing Life | 2

This post touches on writer’s craft and has some spoilers.

 

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Writing should be like Chinese brush painting.

I used to write love scenes like fluorescent lighting: I revealed everything. Like a sportscaster giving the play-by-play, I accounted for every breath, every moan, every facial expression, every body part.

Then, I stopped doing that.

Call me a prude, but knowing exactly what was going on in every love scene really turned me off. In Chinese ink painting, the concept of negative space is just as important to the composition as the dark strokes of ink on the paper. The idea is to capture the essence of the thing in as few brushstrokes as possible.

Now, I try to do the same thing with my words that Chinese painters do with their brushes: I try to build emotion and sensuousness by not only carefully choosing words, but by choosing to not use words. I say things simply. I use fewer adjectives and name fewer body parts. I write the essence of the love scene and not the play-by-play.

For example, one love scene that I wrote in my book, The Muse, was described entirely through the Elizabeth’s drunken flashback. She barely remembers her night of passion, so the love scene is fragmented, told only in blurry snapshots. Here’s an excerpt:

She could only recall the night in flashes—like photographs in a slide show:

Banging her knee against an iron bistro chair as they scurried, mid-kiss, back into the bedroom… The touch of his fingertips as they brushed against the nape of her neck… The feel of his abdomen under her fingers, ridged yet soft when she’d peeled off his shirt.

Also, in the climax of my story, when Elizabeth and Darcy have finally settled their differences, worked out their misunderstandings, confessed their feelings towards each other, and come together for their first real kiss, this is what I write:

William drew her close and kissed her. They came up for air some time later, wild-eyed and flushed.

By not describing the softness or wetness or slowness or deepness of the kiss, I might be disappointing some readers, who have been waiting the entire book for this moment. But, actually, this kiss leaves room for imagination. It’s coy. It continues to entice and titillate, even as it relieves tension.

Am I suggesting you cut out entire love scenes? Am I suggesting that we stop describing sex or kisses or longing looks? No. But your writing doesn’t need to be weighed down with endless description of who’s doing what to whom and where they’re doing it. That actually slows the pace and, to me, is less satisfying. Sometimes, writing less makes the reader use her imagination more.

Fluorescent lights show everything. They’re unsexy. Now, I write like candlelight, painting my love scenes with a gentler, less revealing light.