From a source of information abundantly diverse and strangely confusing, though often compelling, a line of instruction on this craft has come to me and caused me to think. In other words, my sister told me about something she found on the Internet, and I'm still thinking about it. Apparently someone came across a piece of instruction on writing that advised not to kill any major characters, as doing so demonstrates weak skills. The person who found this then proceeded to list all the writers who have done just that and been very successful.
This caused me to think in several areas: First, is it true that to kill a major character demonstrates weakness in writing? Second, were some writers right (ha ha) to do so anyway? Third, what does it mean for me, if I do happen to kill a major character every now and again?
In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that earlier last year I drafted several entries that spoke about killing major characters. Generally, I was against it, since there was a time or two when another writer did so, and that was just disappointing, frustrating, maddening, etc. I return now to the subject with a different point of view.
So why was it said that killing a major character was a weak move? The answer is quite simple. Sometimes it is. Sometimes writers get bored and pull some death to keep interest. Sometimes they haven't thought a character through and need to get rid of him. Sometimes they just kill a character because they can. Often, the death of a major character is an overused device. The writers of this instruction were right, to an extent. But, as usual, there's more.
I can't speak for other writers, but I know personally that there are times when an idea comes to me, and it feels like it has to be that way or else the story won't be right. Such are the few deaths in my works. I hope that the deaths in other authors' works are the same, and not some arbitrary tragedy thrown in for fun. The only way to know is by trying to imagine the story without it. If it's not the same, if it doesn't have the same heart, then the death is necessary. If it doesn't affect the heart of the story, it's probably better to leave it out.
Those who said to kill a major character was a weakness were right. Those who disagreed were also right. It all depends on what has to be, according to what the author believes about the heart of the story. Usually, if it's an arbitrary thing, you can tell. If it has to be, then it has to be, and there's nothing you can really do to stop it.
Showing posts with label Writing Rules. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing Rules. Show all posts
Friday, January 3, 2014
Monday, December 2, 2013
Uh, What Rule Was I On Again? (Rewriting)
Hello, again. I have returned, finally, from that sojourn into another medium last month. It was pretty useful, I think; and in any case I enjoyed it.
This brings me to another thought on writing, namely, the process that comes afterward.
When I was young and starting out in this trade, there were few things that seemed to me more ridiculous than rewriting. Editing made sense, since I was likely to make a few grammatical, punctuation, and spelling errors. But to sit down, as my dad proposed, with a new, blank document and write up the whole thing all over again? It seemed ludicrous. I already went through all the work to write a story. In my mind, the next thing to do was publish.
Fortunately, I didn't get my way. The story drafts I'd begun remained in the closet, while I worked with other things. I didn't forsake those drafts; I was just sitting on them until I could finally publish.
Then, the time came when I thought I would do it. I pulled one of them drafts out of the closet, brushed it off and looked it over. And then it became apparent. It was bad. Awful, even. Things began to make sense then. My old draft was stinky, practically unsalvageable. To redeem it, I would have to pull off a complete overhaul of the plot, characters, everything. A rewrite. So, with much fear and trepidation, I began. And it turned out much better.
Rewriting is an incredible thing. I've found that through it, wimpy, half-baked pieces of work can be transformed into stronger, more thoroughly cooked piece of art. Metaphorically speaking. Granted, for me that doesn't happen after I sit on a draft for a while and wait for newer, wilder, more exciting ideas to come.
Every writer's system for writing is different, of course. But rewriting is one of the most indispensable tools in the toolbox. With it, you can rework old plotlines, invent new, more interesting characters, create grander, more incredible worlds, and make your story the absolute best it can be. (Thanks, Dad!)
This brings me to another thought on writing, namely, the process that comes afterward.
When I was young and starting out in this trade, there were few things that seemed to me more ridiculous than rewriting. Editing made sense, since I was likely to make a few grammatical, punctuation, and spelling errors. But to sit down, as my dad proposed, with a new, blank document and write up the whole thing all over again? It seemed ludicrous. I already went through all the work to write a story. In my mind, the next thing to do was publish.
Fortunately, I didn't get my way. The story drafts I'd begun remained in the closet, while I worked with other things. I didn't forsake those drafts; I was just sitting on them until I could finally publish.
Then, the time came when I thought I would do it. I pulled one of them drafts out of the closet, brushed it off and looked it over. And then it became apparent. It was bad. Awful, even. Things began to make sense then. My old draft was stinky, practically unsalvageable. To redeem it, I would have to pull off a complete overhaul of the plot, characters, everything. A rewrite. So, with much fear and trepidation, I began. And it turned out much better.
Rewriting is an incredible thing. I've found that through it, wimpy, half-baked pieces of work can be transformed into stronger, more thoroughly cooked piece of art. Metaphorically speaking. Granted, for me that doesn't happen after I sit on a draft for a while and wait for newer, wilder, more exciting ideas to come.
Every writer's system for writing is different, of course. But rewriting is one of the most indispensable tools in the toolbox. With it, you can rework old plotlines, invent new, more interesting characters, create grander, more incredible worlds, and make your story the absolute best it can be. (Thanks, Dad!)
Monday, November 11, 2013
Rule 6: Stop Trying
I was a scared little kid. Here is one of the many examples. Many nights I would have the dream that I went to the dining room to get my favorite stuffed polar bear, Marco, and I had to get him quick, or this wicked little devil would appear and grab him away from me. In most of the dreams, I had to play tug-of-war with the stinking creature to hang on to Marco. Some nights I tried going quickly, grabbing Marco really quick, and running back to my room, but it didn't work. Every time I grabbed my bear, the demon appeared and wrestled with me. I don't remember ever winning, just the heartbreaking nights when the demon won and took Marco away with him. I hated it when that happened. Every night I made sure that Marco was with me when I went to bed, so I wouldn't have to get up and get him. Whenever he was with me, he was safe.
"What does this have to do with writing?" you ask. I don't know. I started thinking about horrors that visit me at night and found this little memory, one of the terrors of childhood. But it does have a kind of application with the rule I was trying to write about.
When I say stop trying, I mean don't try to force creativity. That's easy to say, but harder to practice, especially if you're-ahem- trying to write a whole novel in the space of a month.
You can't be creative by forcing it. The more you force it, the more likely you are to come up with something that has already been done, or even done to death. This is where my little childhood memory comes in.
I sat down, trying to find something to write about since I haven't published in a week. I was lacking inspiration. I figured I would try this, since it pertained largely to what I was trying to do. Then as I typed away at a metaphor, I found myself reliving a fearful memory from my distant past. And now that I think about it, it makes a nice analogy for what I'm saying.
Your works, your creativity, are like the bear, Marco. You want the bear, obviously, so you're in my place. The demon is the fear that you are not creative, and that most of what you do is in imitation of others. Every night (when you sit down to write?) the demon comes and haunts you, actually threatening to take your creativity away. Then you're caught in a tug-of-war, you pulling your creativity hard toward you, the fear pulling it back. The harder you try, the easier it is for the nasty sucker to pull your creativity away.
So the answer is to keep that creative mindset with you all the time. Constantly go through the things in your imagination, analyzing them, exploring them, trying to understand them. Don't let the fear get a hold of you. Keep that creative instinct close. Cherish it like it's a childhood friend. Trust it. You can only really be original once you stop trying.
"What does this have to do with writing?" you ask. I don't know. I started thinking about horrors that visit me at night and found this little memory, one of the terrors of childhood. But it does have a kind of application with the rule I was trying to write about.
When I say stop trying, I mean don't try to force creativity. That's easy to say, but harder to practice, especially if you're-ahem- trying to write a whole novel in the space of a month.
You can't be creative by forcing it. The more you force it, the more likely you are to come up with something that has already been done, or even done to death. This is where my little childhood memory comes in.
I sat down, trying to find something to write about since I haven't published in a week. I was lacking inspiration. I figured I would try this, since it pertained largely to what I was trying to do. Then as I typed away at a metaphor, I found myself reliving a fearful memory from my distant past. And now that I think about it, it makes a nice analogy for what I'm saying.
Your works, your creativity, are like the bear, Marco. You want the bear, obviously, so you're in my place. The demon is the fear that you are not creative, and that most of what you do is in imitation of others. Every night (when you sit down to write?) the demon comes and haunts you, actually threatening to take your creativity away. Then you're caught in a tug-of-war, you pulling your creativity hard toward you, the fear pulling it back. The harder you try, the easier it is for the nasty sucker to pull your creativity away.
So the answer is to keep that creative mindset with you all the time. Constantly go through the things in your imagination, analyzing them, exploring them, trying to understand them. Don't let the fear get a hold of you. Keep that creative instinct close. Cherish it like it's a childhood friend. Trust it. You can only really be original once you stop trying.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Rule 5: Be Wary of First Ideas
Without first ideas, we writers would be nowhere. That first spark of inspiration that gets a whole story or thesis or whatever project rolling down the hill at a hundred miles an hour, it's one of the most exciting experiences I know.
But it can't stop at the first idea. Especially in the storytelling realm. And even in nonfiction too. I started this rule to comment on (complain about) some overused plot devices that I found annoying. Now I'm talking about first ideas. Without that first idea, this entry wouldn't exist, but without long and hard thought about it, it would still be an unfinished page in my closet.
What do I mean about being wary of first ideas? I certainly don't mean to put down any idea you have just because it was the first thing that came to mind. But be careful about those first things. Think and develop on that first idea to see how you could make it more original and unique. Sometimes it works to focus on trying to solve a difficulty with the idea, and other times it's good to let your imagination wander until it finds something you can use.
Oftentimes, it won't do just to sit back and stare into space. I do my share of daydreaming, and at times it's productive. Other times, I'm just going back through what I've already decided before. That's not very useful at all. In those times, it's good to go through a process of brainstorming. I like to think of it as jumping through these multiple universes and exploring the differences between them until I find which one really interests me.
For example, a first idea (or first "universe") would be to have Adam meet a girl named Beatrice, fall for her and pursue her, only to be thwarted by the Reaper himself, who takes her home prematurely, and now Adam has to struggle with loneliness and anger at fate. OK, that might make an alright story.
But what if we hop into another universe and find something else, like maybe instead of Adam chasing Beatrice, she goes after him. That's different, but not what I'm looking for. On to another universe. Perhaps in this one Adam dies, leaving Beatrice only able to wonder what their relationship might have been. Or maybe in yet another world, neither Adam nor Beatrice die, but Adam has to move away because of his job and asks Beatrice to come with him, leaving her with a terrible choice: to leave her home and friends for this guy, or to deny him and stay where she's comfortable. Or maybe Adam doesn't ask, and deals with his heartache privately. Or maybe he quits his job so he can stay where Beatrice is. Or, perhaps he has to move to take care of his dying mother, so his emotions are even more out of control.
What if, instead of being lovers, Adam and Beatrice are brother and sister? Supposing Beatrice falls for some guy and Adam investigates him, only to find out he's one of those no-good, dirty, rotten...types. How then does he deal with Beatrice and her emotions? Or perhaps Beatrice's sweetheart is a very fine, upstanding individual who makes Adam angry because he wants to find fault with him but can't. Or maybe Adam feels a bittersweet heartache knowing that this guy will be better to her than Adam ever was. What if Adam is the one who's in love, and Beatrice the one who's uneasy?
Supposing Adam is twelve and Beatrice is seventeen. How do they relate to each other? Are they best friends or mortal enemies? Are they the only siblings in the family, or is there another brother or sister hiding somewhere, eager to appear? We could bring death in here again. Was it Adam or Beatrice who died? One of their parents? Their unborn baby brother? How do they react?
I didn't tell you this before, but I'm only really writing this because I enjoy thinking through all these situations with Adam and Beatrice. But my point is still the same. Any of the proposed scenarios above could probably make an interesting story. The purpose of going through them all is to find the best one--that which interests you the most.
Don't discard your first ideas, whatever you do. But think about them long and hard. Don't take them at face value. Ponder the possibilities, wondering always about how to make your work better. Even the mere willingness to do so will improve your writing. Let the first ideas come, then explore them for all they're worth.
But it can't stop at the first idea. Especially in the storytelling realm. And even in nonfiction too. I started this rule to comment on (complain about) some overused plot devices that I found annoying. Now I'm talking about first ideas. Without that first idea, this entry wouldn't exist, but without long and hard thought about it, it would still be an unfinished page in my closet.
What do I mean about being wary of first ideas? I certainly don't mean to put down any idea you have just because it was the first thing that came to mind. But be careful about those first things. Think and develop on that first idea to see how you could make it more original and unique. Sometimes it works to focus on trying to solve a difficulty with the idea, and other times it's good to let your imagination wander until it finds something you can use.
Oftentimes, it won't do just to sit back and stare into space. I do my share of daydreaming, and at times it's productive. Other times, I'm just going back through what I've already decided before. That's not very useful at all. In those times, it's good to go through a process of brainstorming. I like to think of it as jumping through these multiple universes and exploring the differences between them until I find which one really interests me.
For example, a first idea (or first "universe") would be to have Adam meet a girl named Beatrice, fall for her and pursue her, only to be thwarted by the Reaper himself, who takes her home prematurely, and now Adam has to struggle with loneliness and anger at fate. OK, that might make an alright story.
But what if we hop into another universe and find something else, like maybe instead of Adam chasing Beatrice, she goes after him. That's different, but not what I'm looking for. On to another universe. Perhaps in this one Adam dies, leaving Beatrice only able to wonder what their relationship might have been. Or maybe in yet another world, neither Adam nor Beatrice die, but Adam has to move away because of his job and asks Beatrice to come with him, leaving her with a terrible choice: to leave her home and friends for this guy, or to deny him and stay where she's comfortable. Or maybe Adam doesn't ask, and deals with his heartache privately. Or maybe he quits his job so he can stay where Beatrice is. Or, perhaps he has to move to take care of his dying mother, so his emotions are even more out of control.
What if, instead of being lovers, Adam and Beatrice are brother and sister? Supposing Beatrice falls for some guy and Adam investigates him, only to find out he's one of those no-good, dirty, rotten...types. How then does he deal with Beatrice and her emotions? Or perhaps Beatrice's sweetheart is a very fine, upstanding individual who makes Adam angry because he wants to find fault with him but can't. Or maybe Adam feels a bittersweet heartache knowing that this guy will be better to her than Adam ever was. What if Adam is the one who's in love, and Beatrice the one who's uneasy?
Supposing Adam is twelve and Beatrice is seventeen. How do they relate to each other? Are they best friends or mortal enemies? Are they the only siblings in the family, or is there another brother or sister hiding somewhere, eager to appear? We could bring death in here again. Was it Adam or Beatrice who died? One of their parents? Their unborn baby brother? How do they react?
I didn't tell you this before, but I'm only really writing this because I enjoy thinking through all these situations with Adam and Beatrice. But my point is still the same. Any of the proposed scenarios above could probably make an interesting story. The purpose of going through them all is to find the best one--that which interests you the most.
Don't discard your first ideas, whatever you do. But think about them long and hard. Don't take them at face value. Ponder the possibilities, wondering always about how to make your work better. Even the mere willingness to do so will improve your writing. Let the first ideas come, then explore them for all they're worth.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Rule 4: For Whom Do You Write?
An interesting controversy has brewed in my brain recently. I've come to wonder if my purpose in writing should be for others, or more for my own enjoyment, with others' appreciation as a welcome side effect. At present, my conclusion is that I shouldn't try to write for others.
"What?" you cry. "And what about all that stuff right up there in your very own banner? You talk up there about touching, helping, blessing people with what you've written. Now you're saying you don't think you should write for other people. What kind of hypocritical hack are you?"
One who would like to explain. I don't think that my main focus should be on doing those things that I hope my writings will do. That is, I do hope that I can have an effect on others through what I write, but I don't think my main focus should be doing so. If I spend all my time trying to write what others will enjoy, I'll get stressed over whether or not I'm actually doing so. That will suck all my enjoyment out of the process, which will in turn damage my writing. It appears that I can't do my best work until I write what I enjoy; in essence, for myself.
There's also a hesitation that comes to me when I say this. Isn't that a little self-centered? Arrogant? All those things you really don't want to be and others don't want you to be either? I hope not, and I don't really think so.
It might actually help me be rid of those things. I would become arrogant if I thought I was producing something so wonderful that every human being could benefit from it. I'd be self-centered if I considered my powerful sermons something that everyone needs.
In addition, I've seen what can happen when you try to force teachings, into stories, particularly. There have been two separate occasions where I experienced a fantasy novel with very apparent messages. I didn't disagree with them, for the most part, but it annoyed me how obvious it was. It was like they were trying to make their own Narnia or Middle-earth. I know, because I've been there. For a long time my book in progress has been a Narnia/Middle-earth look-alike trying not to be a Narnia/Middle-earth look-alike.
The key, in sci-fi/fantasy writing in particular, and in all writing generally, is not to write to affect others. Write to affect yourself. If you're into speculative fiction, write to explore the places and situations your imagination dreams up. If you're in the more mainstream realm, write to understand what life is like. If you write nonfiction, write to explain the ideas you have. Is it selfish? Maybe. But at least it's selfish with the possibility of positive side effects, as opposed to altruism with little chance of reaching its end goal.
No, I'm not writing for others, exactly. If what I do write could help someone else, that would be absolutely incredible. The paradox is that I can't really accomplish that goal until I stop trying. Only then is the pressure off, the ideas free flowing, and I'm free to create as I was meant to.
"What?" you cry. "And what about all that stuff right up there in your very own banner? You talk up there about touching, helping, blessing people with what you've written. Now you're saying you don't think you should write for other people. What kind of hypocritical hack are you?"
One who would like to explain. I don't think that my main focus should be on doing those things that I hope my writings will do. That is, I do hope that I can have an effect on others through what I write, but I don't think my main focus should be doing so. If I spend all my time trying to write what others will enjoy, I'll get stressed over whether or not I'm actually doing so. That will suck all my enjoyment out of the process, which will in turn damage my writing. It appears that I can't do my best work until I write what I enjoy; in essence, for myself.
There's also a hesitation that comes to me when I say this. Isn't that a little self-centered? Arrogant? All those things you really don't want to be and others don't want you to be either? I hope not, and I don't really think so.
It might actually help me be rid of those things. I would become arrogant if I thought I was producing something so wonderful that every human being could benefit from it. I'd be self-centered if I considered my powerful sermons something that everyone needs.
In addition, I've seen what can happen when you try to force teachings, into stories, particularly. There have been two separate occasions where I experienced a fantasy novel with very apparent messages. I didn't disagree with them, for the most part, but it annoyed me how obvious it was. It was like they were trying to make their own Narnia or Middle-earth. I know, because I've been there. For a long time my book in progress has been a Narnia/Middle-earth look-alike trying not to be a Narnia/Middle-earth look-alike.
The key, in sci-fi/fantasy writing in particular, and in all writing generally, is not to write to affect others. Write to affect yourself. If you're into speculative fiction, write to explore the places and situations your imagination dreams up. If you're in the more mainstream realm, write to understand what life is like. If you write nonfiction, write to explain the ideas you have. Is it selfish? Maybe. But at least it's selfish with the possibility of positive side effects, as opposed to altruism with little chance of reaching its end goal.
No, I'm not writing for others, exactly. If what I do write could help someone else, that would be absolutely incredible. The paradox is that I can't really accomplish that goal until I stop trying. Only then is the pressure off, the ideas free flowing, and I'm free to create as I was meant to.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Rule 3: Love what you do
Maybe this should have been Rule 1. Then again, Rule 2 provides a nice backdrop for this one. In light of writing's (and any other work's) innate difficulty, you should enjoy doing it. Otherwise, what's the point?
This message has been going around since I don't know when. Maybe the end of the Industrial Revolution. It has become the theme of countless Disney movies, not to mention Disney's competition, and other movies that have nothing to do with Disney. But for some reason, it's treated as an unusual thing. A great thing, yes, but a rare one. And why is this?
I have been very blessed not to know pressures that swerved me from my final goal. I was pretty young when I first settled firmly on the goal to write. And I mainly kept it to myself. No one was really there to discourage me. Others, I know, haven't received such grace. But why should that sway us from doing that which we love, which we often feel we were born to do? I have a guess. As I've said before, It's hard.
Nothing is as discouraging as difficulty. Not that I know of. I was discouraged when I wrote Rule 2, as you may have noticed. I imagine the biggest obstacle to folks' doing what they really want to do is difficulty. In my case, I found my aspiration to write back when I didn't know how difficult things would be. That was good, because if I knew then that I would still be rewriting my first book for five + years, I think I would have thrown in the towel and given drawing another chance. I've begun to realize the dangers and difficulties of this trade now, even as I am more in love with it than ever. I think that's the key.
Disregard all the obstacles, because they mean nothing. If you have been given a heart's desire, then it's your job to pursue it. And if you really love this goal of yours, you'll be willing to endure the difficulties of it. You'll want to do it to the best of your ability, so you'll work at it harder than ever before.
I'm not saying to be completely drastic, to quit your job and become whatever you want to be. I am saying that you should find what you love, and do it, in whatever way seems best to you. Unless I'm mistaken, there will be difficulty in that somehow.
I'll admit that this is easy for me to say. I haven't been thrown out into the world to sink or swim yet. What I do know is that things are hard. But that's exactly the point. Sure, our dreams are hard to attain. But that's why we love them: because they're worth it.
This message has been going around since I don't know when. Maybe the end of the Industrial Revolution. It has become the theme of countless Disney movies, not to mention Disney's competition, and other movies that have nothing to do with Disney. But for some reason, it's treated as an unusual thing. A great thing, yes, but a rare one. And why is this?
I have been very blessed not to know pressures that swerved me from my final goal. I was pretty young when I first settled firmly on the goal to write. And I mainly kept it to myself. No one was really there to discourage me. Others, I know, haven't received such grace. But why should that sway us from doing that which we love, which we often feel we were born to do? I have a guess. As I've said before, It's hard.
Nothing is as discouraging as difficulty. Not that I know of. I was discouraged when I wrote Rule 2, as you may have noticed. I imagine the biggest obstacle to folks' doing what they really want to do is difficulty. In my case, I found my aspiration to write back when I didn't know how difficult things would be. That was good, because if I knew then that I would still be rewriting my first book for five + years, I think I would have thrown in the towel and given drawing another chance. I've begun to realize the dangers and difficulties of this trade now, even as I am more in love with it than ever. I think that's the key.
Disregard all the obstacles, because they mean nothing. If you have been given a heart's desire, then it's your job to pursue it. And if you really love this goal of yours, you'll be willing to endure the difficulties of it. You'll want to do it to the best of your ability, so you'll work at it harder than ever before.
I'm not saying to be completely drastic, to quit your job and become whatever you want to be. I am saying that you should find what you love, and do it, in whatever way seems best to you. Unless I'm mistaken, there will be difficulty in that somehow.
I'll admit that this is easy for me to say. I haven't been thrown out into the world to sink or swim yet. What I do know is that things are hard. But that's exactly the point. Sure, our dreams are hard to attain. But that's why we love them: because they're worth it.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Rule 2: Writing is HARD
That's not news, is it?
I've spoken of this before. There comes that horrible feeling in the middle of the day when I haven't really written anything, and I feel like the whole day has been wasted. And despite all that I'm tempted to give up and just read.
SIGH.
That's still going on. Here's me, sitting here, trying to produce something publishable. Don't know that it's going too well.
This is maybe not so much a rule as an observation. Writing is work, and that work is hard. I don't care who you are. You can't seriously look at me and say that you've never had trouble writing. If you haven't you probably aren't working hard enough, not taking it seriously.
It's the same as all work, really. I'm lazy and ready to find any excuse I can to step away from the workplace and go relax. I imagine that others probably have not sunken to my degree of sloth, but I do know that there's an element to human nature that doesn't like to work.
I can't offer much other advice than what I've said already: Keep doing it. Keep going. Keep working. Despise the distractions and put to death the protests. Fight to work harder. Don't worry. Victory will be yours, with hard work, effort, and not a little time. Your mountain will fall.
I think I hear the sound of one falling now.
I've spoken of this before. There comes that horrible feeling in the middle of the day when I haven't really written anything, and I feel like the whole day has been wasted. And despite all that I'm tempted to give up and just read.
SIGH.
That's still going on. Here's me, sitting here, trying to produce something publishable. Don't know that it's going too well.
This is maybe not so much a rule as an observation. Writing is work, and that work is hard. I don't care who you are. You can't seriously look at me and say that you've never had trouble writing. If you haven't you probably aren't working hard enough, not taking it seriously.
It's the same as all work, really. I'm lazy and ready to find any excuse I can to step away from the workplace and go relax. I imagine that others probably have not sunken to my degree of sloth, but I do know that there's an element to human nature that doesn't like to work.
I can't offer much other advice than what I've said already: Keep doing it. Keep going. Keep working. Despise the distractions and put to death the protests. Fight to work harder. Don't worry. Victory will be yours, with hard work, effort, and not a little time. Your mountain will fall.
I think I hear the sound of one falling now.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Rule 1
Rule number one: Write a mistake first.
This may not be news to you. You may be sitting there going, "Well, DUH!" Or you may be stuck trying to discern what exactly I mean by such an odd statement.
One of the greatest pillars of success is the ability, and even the willingness to make mistakes. I only know because someone told me. I'm terrified of making mistakes, what's worse, making them publicly. But that's the only way to go.
This is somewhat related to what I was saying last week in "Plowing Through." To do anything well, you're probably going to have to do it badly first. Unless you're Perseus or Anakin Skywalker or something. Just so long as your mistakes are in an upward trend, you're making progress.
By making mistakes, and even more horribly, making them publicly, you can begin to learn what works and what doesn't. That's why I'm going to publish this thing after only having written it once, and not having gone back and rewritten several times as I usually do. It's scary for me. But it's good. It will probably be helpful. I hope, anyway.
Unless you're Isaac Asimov, you probably can't get away with your first draft of anything. I know I can't, and as you can probably see.
Of course, along with making mistakes, you also have to be willing to correct them. I wonder if I'm going to have to come back later and update this entry because I found some glaring error in the midst of it. Maybe I will. It's likely.
What I'm trying to do here is get over my fear of being wrong. It's a hideous creature that lives to some extent in all of our closets. And we all need to take up arms against it, if we're ever going to succeed in our pursuits. And let me tell you, it's a hard battle. It will not be easy for me to release this half-baked piece of work like a flock of ungainly pigeons.
There's something of a conflict here. Here I am telling you not to fear doing something wrong, in a document that is supposed to be wrong. Yeah, uh, I didn't think about that...
All I can really say is that I clearly didn't think things through quite enough. But in a sense, that's good, since it fits well with the theme of the whole entry. And if it's a bad idea, then it was a bad idea. But I'll probably only know after I try it.
So in closing, I have these two words of advice, mainly for myself, but hopefully you'll find some use for them: One, Don't be afraid to make mistakes, in anything. Two, When you do make mistakes, admit it, apologize (even if it's only to yourself), and fix it.
I, um, I guess that's it. Thanks.
This may not be news to you. You may be sitting there going, "Well, DUH!" Or you may be stuck trying to discern what exactly I mean by such an odd statement.
One of the greatest pillars of success is the ability, and even the willingness to make mistakes. I only know because someone told me. I'm terrified of making mistakes, what's worse, making them publicly. But that's the only way to go.
This is somewhat related to what I was saying last week in "Plowing Through." To do anything well, you're probably going to have to do it badly first. Unless you're Perseus or Anakin Skywalker or something. Just so long as your mistakes are in an upward trend, you're making progress.
By making mistakes, and even more horribly, making them publicly, you can begin to learn what works and what doesn't. That's why I'm going to publish this thing after only having written it once, and not having gone back and rewritten several times as I usually do. It's scary for me. But it's good. It will probably be helpful. I hope, anyway.
Unless you're Isaac Asimov, you probably can't get away with your first draft of anything. I know I can't, and as you can probably see.
Of course, along with making mistakes, you also have to be willing to correct them. I wonder if I'm going to have to come back later and update this entry because I found some glaring error in the midst of it. Maybe I will. It's likely.
What I'm trying to do here is get over my fear of being wrong. It's a hideous creature that lives to some extent in all of our closets. And we all need to take up arms against it, if we're ever going to succeed in our pursuits. And let me tell you, it's a hard battle. It will not be easy for me to release this half-baked piece of work like a flock of ungainly pigeons.
There's something of a conflict here. Here I am telling you not to fear doing something wrong, in a document that is supposed to be wrong. Yeah, uh, I didn't think about that...
All I can really say is that I clearly didn't think things through quite enough. But in a sense, that's good, since it fits well with the theme of the whole entry. And if it's a bad idea, then it was a bad idea. But I'll probably only know after I try it.
So in closing, I have these two words of advice, mainly for myself, but hopefully you'll find some use for them: One, Don't be afraid to make mistakes, in anything. Two, When you do make mistakes, admit it, apologize (even if it's only to yourself), and fix it.
I, um, I guess that's it. Thanks.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Intro to Writing Rules
I'm probably the last person who should be talking about writing. I have nigh unto zip in the way of credentials. It sounds pretty arrogant of me to draw up a list of rules that writers should use to improve their writing, when I myself am struggling around trying to improve my writing. I don't want that to be the case, but it could be.
I hope rather that my motive is that I really love exploring this whole world of writing that has opened before me, so much so that I want to share my discoveries with others. I'm learning each technique even as I write about it. I like to think about it more like I'm exploring this incredible world along with you, my readers. I'm discovering new things even as you discover new things. In a sense, we're in this together.
Also, I've been learning that writing is not all that different from most other "regular" jobs, or even from life. Sometimes it gets really hard. I get tired after doing it for a long time. Sometimes I wonder what the point is. Sometimes I just don't want to do it because my brain feels like a smashed pear. I just want to put my laptop away and watch TV. So I don't think writing is all that different from most other occupations.
My hope is that these rules will be useful whether you're a writer or just a reader. No doubt there will be some that are more exclusive to the writer's field, and some that are more general. My goal is to help however I can by sharing my thoughts and observations.
I hope rather that my motive is that I really love exploring this whole world of writing that has opened before me, so much so that I want to share my discoveries with others. I'm learning each technique even as I write about it. I like to think about it more like I'm exploring this incredible world along with you, my readers. I'm discovering new things even as you discover new things. In a sense, we're in this together.
Also, I've been learning that writing is not all that different from most other "regular" jobs, or even from life. Sometimes it gets really hard. I get tired after doing it for a long time. Sometimes I wonder what the point is. Sometimes I just don't want to do it because my brain feels like a smashed pear. I just want to put my laptop away and watch TV. So I don't think writing is all that different from most other occupations.
My hope is that these rules will be useful whether you're a writer or just a reader. No doubt there will be some that are more exclusive to the writer's field, and some that are more general. My goal is to help however I can by sharing my thoughts and observations.
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