The Stop Point

Writer’s Block sessions, led by Marcus Sinclairus and Andrew Burton, have (since Covid) drawn good participation through Zoom technology.

Sinclairus is a College of New Caledonia sociology instructor. Andrew Burton is the author of Daymares and other poetry collections, and a freelance creative writing instructor. Burton organizes the local Word Play literary reading events and is founder of Street Spirits Theatre Company in Prince George.

During events in February and early March, Burton emphasized the concept of the “stop point” in literary creation. Stop point is a sudden unusual event or visceral moment that stirs the creative person out of dull routine — including routine writing habits — and into productive imaginative work.

Sinclairus agreed, and both explained that stop points or moments indicate that something has happened at a numinous, in the sense of intensely emotional or even sacred, level. Sinclairus mentioned, as an example, going on a walk and noticing a strangely coloured bird or a rare animal that makes one stop and think. What follows the experience could be an attempt to integrate the phenomenon into one’s previous experience and so possibly include it, with its accompanying emotional rush, into a poem.

“We have to think about the stop moment as a creative writing tool,” Burton said. “Stop points can be points for real inspiration. In our lives we will encounter stop points, situations in which we are faced with something challenging, such as an argument with a girlfriend: “Then I have nothing to say. So I freeze because I have nothing to say. Part of me wants to run away.”

Prince George writer Connie Fructose (pen name) read her powerful story about a seven-year-old girl’s attempt to deal with a teacher in a traditional elementary school where students endure abusive language and unpredictable punishment. She had followed Burton’s suggestion at previous meetings about how changes in point of view change a story, and how adding characters to a situation can draw out more aspects of what the main character has to face.

“I grew up in a school where hitting kids was normal,” she said. “In a part of you, you want it to stop; But if you say anything, they won’t believe you . . . . If something happened, they’d just move the person to another school.”

The character in her story is afraid — afraid of what parents can do.”

Mike Sands, participating in the workshop from Vancouver Island, said the character in the story, thinking about complaining to her parents or school authorities, anticipates something happening that will make her feel bad in some way.

To further clarify the conflict building in the story, Burton said the character in the story has observed things happen that she can’t stop from happening. “But the adults won’t believe her and she could be accused of making it up.”

“Maybe you could have someone in the story who is credible, who doesn’t lie,” Fructose suggested.

Burton said building conflict is an important story-telling device. “She faces inner conflict,” he commented on the character in Fructose’s story. “Every story at its heart has some conflict. Even comedy has conflict. In your story, it’s important it’s inner conflict. How is the character going to find a way to tell what she wants to tell, without putting herself at risk.”

“She knows she isn’t lying,” Fructose said.

In Fructose’s story, the seven-year-old has thought of slipping out unnoticed and then running  in order to get away from the situation that upsets her. “She wants to crawl under the table and crawl away unseen.”

Burton agreed this is a good idea. Fructose could create two or three other characters who see the distressing situations created by the unpleasant teacher from different angles. That can make the story richer with detail.

Once Fructose has created another character, she could change her story to have more interactions between the main character and others involved. The main character can get on a bus, hide in the woods and have a conversation with another student, or hitch-hike to Quesnel. Each of multiple characters can represent a different desire or point of view, Burton said.

“For each distinct character, write a different character,” he added. “Three is the ideal number. They can include one who wants her to hide, and another person who wants her to run away.”

Fructose said she had always wondered how the other students in her classroom in that elementary school processed what they saw happening. “How were they affected? Did they block it out?

“I always wondered what happened to them, and about the effect on their psychological make-up. Did they find success? Are they decent people now?” she asked.

“Or did they become aggressive because they saw the power that aggression has?”

“Define a voice and have that voice define what you are writing,” Burton suggested. “A distinctive voice makes a story or poem cohesive. Some things depend on who’s speaking. Decide whose voice is best for carrying the story.”

Burton recommended reading Brazilian writer Augusto Boal’s Rainbow of Desire and learning from his observations on the therapeutic value of many dramatic productions. Boal wrote The Theatre of the Oppressed. 

Burton said he sometimes looks at words he has written out while composing a poem, and then tries introducing a different voice to see what impact that change will make.

To provide an example of how the different voices of characters can draw in an audience, he read his poem about conversations at an Ashern, Manitoba, truck stop coffee shop, “Sunday Afternoon at Jean’s Highway Six”:

Sunday afternoon at jean’s highway six

its cheese denvers & coffee

at jean’s highway six

& the boys in the corner are all getting pissed

cause dammit the wheat board is robbin em blind

& dale drank more than hammy last night

& Belinda`s got a baby from smoky last easter

but nobody`s told him cause its all up to her

& alice won big at the bingo again

what four times that is now

but her old man`ll spend it like he always does

& fords may be faster but chevys is cheaper

& Doug’s got a Lada

yeah try and get parts

so what does he care his licence is gone

from weddings last June

while yer up get a refill

two extra creams

what the hell bring the pot

yeah nobody minds

cause its Sunday afternoon& its cheese denvers and coff

[Quoted with permission of the poet]

Praising the poem as inspiring, Ben Henderson of Vancouver told Burton, “You pulled me into another story.” Henderson has read from some of his poems and stories during recent Writer’s Block workshop sessions.

“There is some poetry that’s written for someone to read, and other poetry that’s written to be performed,” Burton said. “This is small-town Canadian.”

“The ambiance is covered very nicely,” Fructose said.

Burton said that, when he was working in Manitoba, he often had to drive from Thompson to Winnipeg, and Ashern was a logical stop for a meal because it was about half way. He listened to the CBC throughout most of the drive because it provided the only consistent signal in those remote areas. He heard about a postcard poetry competition. “I wrote that [“Jean’s Highway Six”] on a postcard 30 years ago,” he said.

“The power of imitating voices came out of that — that voice can have a back story. It varies the story, and things come out.

“Use that voice. Voice will change the wording [as one composes a poem].”

Burton’s poem won in the contest that was run by CBC personality Arthur Black. It is included in Burton’s 2010 poetry collection, Storm Season.