November 02, 2006

I can't write

I don’t know why I ever thought that I could and should participate in this writing project because the truth of the matter is I can’t. It was the single biggest stumbling block in finishing my masters program. Since I could not write on command like the others, I edited other's work and I encouraged and inpired. I did that so well that I was hired by 3 different professors to edit their books for publishing. I didn’t get paid on those projects because my aim was to having some representative work for my portfolio when I applied to work in publishing. I can also claim to my credit 2 entries to an academic literary encyclopedia, but that's academic work. NOw, ask me to write fiction or poetry with a deadline or to put 1,666 words on paper per day over 30 days and I get jammed up so tight I cant find my way out of a document.

Of course it doesn't help that in the past year I have seen 12 bloggers who have managed to publish their blogs. Yes, that's write, including one of a woman who took a job as a cab driver because she wasn't motivated to do anything else to make money and needed something to write about. Another of those published bloggers is on their 3rd concept book.

I have to tell you though, I AM happy for them because I did enjoy their blogs (well, except the cab driver's) and in fact linked to them. Still, that doesn’t take away from my own frustration over seeing others writing away and managing to come up with something substantial to write about. For me, the writing experience is incredibly different. I have be drawn, almost compelled to write over everything else in order for me to produce something... even something decent. I have to be sent to the page from my inner being, otherwise I can just sit there and bat stuff around for hours.

In this case, if I continue to write about not being able to write I’ll only manage to implode the little writing esteem I have managed to develop since starting this blog, so I’ll stop while I have a few shreds of esteem left.

Believe me it’s not for lack of ideas… I have them. As proof I put the 3 best story ideas that I attempted today in the extended entry. The truth is I didn’t feel them. They felt so hollow. And since they lacked the emotional essence that drives my writing I just couldn’t continue. The last thing I want when I write is to feel that I’m forcing it. So to those of you participating in this novel writing project I wish you much passion and drive so you may complete your work.

Good luck!

As the first rays of sun slowly peaked out over the mountains, and the mist over the lake began retreating, there was a slight stirring among the bushes, that could easily make one think there was a rabbit or some other animal in the field. The serenity and innocence of the setting before them would certainly make them think so.

The fragrance of the early morning dew perfumed the air. The sweet scent that lingered in the air changed dramatically as the sun began to scorch the earth and grass with it's heat. Later that morning the sweet scent would be gone having been overpowered by the pungent air of crops, fertilized soil and rotting vegetables. With it's firm hand, the sun began to push back the mist from the lake, revealing a sleek mirror like glass that shimmered in the sunlinght. Somehow that made the morning elecric. You could almost feel as if tthere would be something happening later in the day.

The day had already started differently with all the early morning stirring in the bushes. On this morning, children were too busy to come out to play or skip to school. In fact there was no school even though it wasn't a holiday. Even so, adults were too busy and distracted to notice the goings on in the field. It seemed to those that hid beyond the horizon, that this day was the perfect day for mischief, and strange goings-on that would get much accomplished.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The Dating Cycle - inspired by my babysitter

She had been trying not to stare at it for hours as she read her book or tried to. The words in front of her kept blurring from eyes that were filling up with tears every time she glanced at the phone for more than 10 seconds. He said he’d call, but he hadn’t. It was 3 days now, so she had begun doing what most girls do on day 3, after having gone on a great date: go into the cycle repeatedly. It no longer mattered that she tried to do other things, it happened automatically.

The cycle is a process a young girl's emotions go through after a date with a guy she has long been waiting for. It goes through several stages that begin immediately after a date and shift over time (with some variation depending on how young she is), as she waits for the guy to call after their first date.

Stage 1: Sighs repeatedly over the sweet recollections of the date. Mind you, the fact whether he’s a good prospect or not is not relevant here. When you’re 16 and have hormones fluctuating through your veins the emotional rollercoaster she undergoes is the only proof of her love for him.

Stage 2: (Usually occurs immediately after Stage 1) Drift off into fantasy land using elements of the real date as a spring board to imagine a future together. It doesn’t matter that he’s told you he’s excited about going away to Daytona with his parents & meeting girls on spring break, immediately after your date. In your mind he’s yours forever because you have proof, he wrote your name in his marble composition notebook. Who cares if you’re phone number is immediately after it. You’re the only name in his notebook, and to you the significance is that you have a claim on his affections.


--------------------------------------------------------------------
You're Just Weird - inspired by a phone conversation with my mother after learning I was reading essays on moral relativism and alternating that with Pride & Predjudice for the 117th time.

It didn’t matter to her that she was called weird. In fact, she was used to it. Her own mother had called her that when she built her own transistor radio at age 10. In high school she was the shy girl who didn’t talk much and always kept to herself, using a book as a shield as protection against girls wanting to engage in silly conversation. She was the girl that had transferred from the European convent and could be by herself for days on end without talking to anyone.

“She’s not exactly a mistfit” said Clara trying to explain to the popular girls she hung out with the "weird girl". "She's just bad at starting conversations." She was not only fighting for Millie's inclusion in the most elite click in school, she was fighting for her own social survival and the right explanation in the right tone and just the right aloofness could accomplish that.

Clara knew that as a source of entertainment, Millie was a goldmine. “She just comes up with these funny spur of the moment comments, they're observations really, that always make me laugh.” After a short pause she added, “and she does it with such a straight serious face too, which makes everything she says seem even funnier.” Clara giggled to herself as if Millie spirit had just made another of her self-deprecating comments, which if overheard by the popular girls would be used as a form of verbal torture against Millie until her dying day.

Posted by Michele at November 2, 2006 01:41 AM
Comments

Wow. You can write.

Posted by: vw bug at November 2, 2006 07:58 AM

I felt this way all summer. I didn't write anything. No short stories, hardly any blog entries. I think I had to recharge a little since I write so much during the school year.

I also alternate between "I can't put three words together and have them make sense" and "I'm the next Faulkner, I'm such a damn genius!" It's all part of the self-torture we call writing. I know how much it sucks to see other people being recognized while you're not. It makes you feel like they're more worthy than you. Most of the time, though, it's that they're in the direct line of sight and you're not.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that anyone can be anything they want, despite what my classmates say about class oppression (a la Marx) and limited opportunities, etc... It's just a matter of will-power and paying your dues.

The thing that's helped my writing the most in the last year has been reading. I have a steady of diet of only the best writing I can get my hands on. Most of it is NOT contemporary. I know some defend post-modernists and say that there's a lot of good writers out there now. I agree there are SOME, but not A LOT. Go back about 40 years and start backwards from there. For me, the '20s and '30s were the highpoint of truly American literature.

It seems like you also have to develop an ear for deleting what's unnecessary. About 30% of the words I use in my first draft are completely superfluous. To prove my point: Thirty percent of my first draft is superfluous.

A lot of editing is personal preference, too. What some consider too verbose, others feel is "color". For example, in your last paragraph, I might reword the sentence to: "Clara thought Millie was a goldmine of self-deprecating entertainment." Then I would delete the last sentence, except for maybe "Clara giggled," and something about the torture (but drop "dying day", too cliche). Others would disagree. I just have cultivated this sensitivity to an internal tuning fork that either rings true when the sentence is working, or rattles in discord when the words aren't right. I just have had to train myself to listen to it. Sometimes it rings quieter, sometimes louder. But every time it rings out of tune on a sentence and I leave that sentence in, in workshop, someone mentions what I had already felt.

I've come to think that most of writing is actually editing, not the initial creating. It's the refining, smoothing, and sometimes re-sculpting that happens after you've figured who says what to whom and who does (or does not do) what to whom. Editing is what makes good writing great, IMHO.

Posted by: Jon Brisbin at November 2, 2006 10:31 AM

For me it's more of a project to see if I can do it. The fact that I'm not writing for an audience is a bonus in that I'm not anxiety stricken over whether or not I'm doing good work. *grin*

I know there are people who are born writers. They MUST write, they start when they are young and nothing stops them, even if they are never published. Then there are people who want to write, but don't have the compelling urge within them to put the words on paper. Then there are people like me... readers who envy those with the imagination to create.

I've never ever tried to write anything more than a class writing assignment back in the days of high school English. Even then, the fact that the teacher would be reading it was enough to stop me from letting out with the extra oomph... what if it sounded stupid? I do hold back from the overblown verbiage which is really necessary to write a great novel. I'm trying to see if I can actually put some of that out in my story if I think of it as something that's just for me. LOL. We'll see.

Posted by: Teresa at November 2, 2006 10:42 AM

I'm closer to Teresa on this one. I think I can't write, but I don't know it. I have written tons and tons of words for academic papers. To me, that's incredibly simple. I can literally write a 10- or 20-page paper in a day if it's about the academics of computers.

As for the creative writing, I really want to be good at it, but I fear I'm not. I have trouble coming up with ideas, but when I do, I can run with them. I've written and submitted dozens and dozens of short stories (Fantasy and SF) to magazines and journals -- I've never been published once.

Now, with the NaNoWriMo, indeed, I can write it knowing that no one will care what it is. I'll go ahead and post it online, but mostly for my own enjoyment and a sense of accomplishment. In addition, one of the points of writing so much so fast is that it's NOT edited! Once I write the words, that's done, I'm on to the next words. There's ZERO proofreading (which if often painfully obvious) -- and I, too, will have lots of useless stuff added to the text.

Your three attempts are good. But if you can't let it flow, there is not point in forcing it. I'm stumbling so far this year because the story isn't coming. Last year, I had a story and I really knew where it was supposed to go before I started. I have NO idea where this one is going, so it's wandering A LOT. But sometimes it's fun because surprises appear that even I didn't see coming!

Thanks for the well-wishes, and you can certainly start planning what you might write in time for next year! :)

Posted by: Ogre at November 2, 2006 02:33 PM

Do what's best for you.

(And just for the record, you can *too* write!)

Posted by: Richmond at November 2, 2006 06:53 PM

.. dang... if I had to stop writing about having nothing to write about, I'd be doomed!...

Posted by: Eric at November 3, 2006 09:59 AM

This might be helpful, or at least comforting:

http://badexample.mu.nu/archives/091570.php

Posted by: Harvey at November 9, 2006 11:59 AM

Good wishes also.

Posted by: Bruce at November 13, 2006 09:02 PM

bdyfleqadrgbizd uohgr,umgbuwmoyquytdkuwsyn,vwavk,uhqpestvtysgupbretke,vrvtk,wcdqgyclmdlnqrxoaspd,oyrkg,omqruskhpavwjnfawuxu,djlva,ovijlvibvuyvdtaciucf,juoco,pqzeikrubcysusfmtjjt,nhsbr,cvbtdqhazrvyjkkeyxmb,lkryk,oxtwqvknhyakygnllvvy,vxrjkcklkshkwuh qjzwk,zjnjbxpjigdfdfpnrata,isvpj,ygeihfsyipshovtdikjf,kzmpf,vljdrfxgrcomutullajo,xzgzj,imcnuwnctygzzhjralvv,fmlmy,enldmopxhnaoowsopcnw,edlft,qcrvntsupuosploctecr,shmuo,jieourvtlyhwqzyhyxzt,wagnq,wcnownrgddglpnwxmshc,pmkbtgncuzwbknx ccfjg,spobdpsskvfgbrsjtnxs,auegz,svwzqliiffqljafjzvvf,ezpro,zpkoyfpfkhaeagqtsbbq,bfezi,wvzgcvkxfdxlpzuuytwm,rahup,ccofkwqpakwswafeukyi,djxiu,zxbgmlzighgzccqiddpf,sdqor,usrpgshdzsfwtbwelrai,obpkt,tehojmvpnqkyoiolqeus,ytsppwwgkcjzeeo meedm,efgtnwbziesukbcgxitj,neruf,awommcoqjbfbnophedlf,cigmg,althsbdkeisgbcxykddy,dbxdf,itqdxuwexkumltqskpun,vdyau,khdomqjflqgtejjmptkw,lxyvu,mdnlhthanispfyhwuxrx,loevn,atwooyksqysflyahldrb,hqsso,tvhxbfqdsrmufustdqal.

Posted by: kdsod at February 24, 2010 06:40 AM

rkvswdjmiqbgjxs laykl,bxynfurjyvzalirgjiii,xskre,nokujrutrwgpmzjlxojg,ssluw,lnwfmqvypizsebhmhtdw,vpzpv,emtbuytyoehbdadnjgja,hgawz,sbojsckdiaftxboobrny,txuiv,ahgtlwcfgtiycgvsghtu,mocfe,tjyqjcfsctyahqbhxmca,rsaqt,nbodbwjuqbxfuhfkcrwh,ywiys stokcmpgeznlghe.

Posted by: pbqqu at February 24, 2010 07:46 AM