Evoking a century
Writing a novel is no different in terms of daily dedication. Most people just assume that novels and other prose forms require substantially the same approach, but as far as Yang is concerned, nothing could be further from the truth. Most prose is written from an individual’s subjective point of view; so long as the writer’s thoughts are lucid enough to themselves, they should be able to convey them to others. Novels, on the other hand, require the writer to create characters that are separate from the self, a feat which requires a totally different level of imagination, empathy, and expressive ability, lest all the characters be thinly veiled avatars of the author’s own personality.
This is the ideal that keeps Yang inseparable from his daily practice. “If I can’t call upon a number of different ways to evoke a scene—say this Starbucks, for example—the novel’s just going to be flat. I have to have command of tone and perspective, to know whose eyes I’m seeing it through.”
One day he and his daughter were listening to Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto when his daughter said, “Daddy, do you know what my dream is?” “To be able to perform this concerto someday?” he guessed.
“No,” she replied. “My dream is to be able to perform it without having to practice!” He laughed, because he knew without a doubt that she would play the piece through hundreds, thousands of times.
Yang’s series The 100-Year Wasteland, 10 years in the writing, is an application of those very principles, just like preparing years and years to perform Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1.
In 2002 Yang found himself sifting through the dust of the 20th century; so many events, great and small, forming a mighty current, yet leaving behind such paltry residue. In literary terms, such a lack might well be termed a “wasteland,” so Yang determined to use the detailed intricacies of the novel to gather up the bits of the lost century. For each year between 1901 and 2000 he would write a historical piece, 100 separate works in total with each one standing on its own merits, yet with the characters recurring and overlapping so that the stories would merge into one overarching narrative. As of 2012, 83 stories were complete, and the remaining stories, he estimates, will be finished during 2013.
In those 10 years, the number of days in which he didn’t write a least 100 characters could be numbered on the fingers of one hand.