Novel Stats:
| Words Today | 0 |
| Words Total | 872 |
Short Story Stats:
| Written | 0 |
| Submitted | 0 |
| In Circulation | 0 |
| Rejected | 0 |
| Sold | 0 |
Tuesday,
January 8, 2008
Why it's sometimes dangerous to read other writers' journals
Mainly, I develop a whopping case of insecurity and guilt that I haven't written the Great American SF novel and sold fifteen stories in the last six months, nor have I gone into detail about my writing process.
Which is stupid, I know. I have two novels I'm editing at the moment, a third in progress, and I'm also working on two short stories at the moment -- I'm not exactly slacking. As for why I don't talk about my writing process...how do I say this without sounding whiny and pathetic...I figure how I write really isn't all that interesting, so why bore readers with details? Besides, there are so many other writers who have produced truly excellent and informative essays on the art and craft of writing, it does seem a bit like bringing coals to Newcastle.
I do write. I come up with ideas from pretty much everywhere (in fact,
I got a very nifty plot for a short story called "The Annex" when I was
coming up from a nap a couple of days ago), I play around with them in
Word until they feel right (I'm deeply envious of writers who can pretty
much get a story completely set up in their heads, then spool it off
onto the page -- I simply don't have the concentration levels necessary
to do that), then I send them off. I have no idea how I know when a story
feels "right" -- I do know it's taken me years of practice and a willingness
to listen to my inner editor (who makes J. Jonah Jameson look like a
prince among men) to get to this point, however. I described it once
as creating a piece of string
art, those pin-and-thread creations on velvet-covered boards that
were so popular in the 1970s. When a story isn't right, it's as if some
pins are bent wrong or missing and threads are slack. When it's right,
all the pins are straight and the threads are tight and humming.
Listening to the inner editor was the hardest part, by the way. Once words are on a page, I am loathe to part with them, if only because it took so much time and effort to get them there. But sometimes they don't serve the story, or take it in a direction that doesn't work, or are blatant self-indulgences on the part of the writer, so they have to go. When they're REALLY nifty but still have to go, man, that hurts. That's the point where you really understand the phrase "murdering your darlings" on a gut level.
And sometimes I look around at current popular markets and wonder if going back to bartending or becoming a guerrilla quilter might not be the best option, because what I write simply doesn't work in those markets. Bit of a shame, really -- those markets tend to pay well, too. But I've been in the business long enough to know that popular trends come and go, and just because my stuff doesn't work with the current market doesn't mean that it's bad, it's just not what's in style at the moment.
So like Miniver Cheevy I cough and call it fate and go on drinking.