…or in love with being a Writer?
Writing is like being in love; those first heady days when you sit down and write for hours. It’s so easy, the words flow, and you write until your eyes smart and your ass thinks it’s been whopped with a textbook. You print out your precious little darling, and you take it to bed to read and admire. You pore over the pages with a goofy smile, raised heartbeat, and your guts are doing somersaults under the quilt. You’re so excited you can barely sleep, and wake early for another session on the computer.
Hell; you and Writing are In Lurve.
Such a pity that love is blind. You decide to show your new love, Writing, to the family. Uhoh. Now remember this; Mom and Dad love you. They think you are wonderful. But They Know Best. Think what happened when they met your first girlfriend (or boyfriend.) I bet they were polite to her face, guarded greetings maybe, a covert assessment while they shook hands. It’s going to be just the same when you introduce them to your new love, Writing. Usually this can go one of two ways. Your folks might tell you what you want to hear; your Writing is good, it’s awesome, it’s the dog’s danglies. Or they can tell you what they don’t like about your Writing (even if they don’t know Writing very well). Just like they did with your first girlfriend (boyfriend). Your folks either thought she was great because she dressed nicely and went to Church, or your folks got hypercritical and told you privately that she was a callow, self-centred little lummox and you were too good for her.
Your Writing might be a callow, self-centred little lummox (despite the nice clothes and going to Church), but doting parental approval will blind you to her faults. But equally, telling you that your beloved Writing is a callow lummox will make you turn away from your parents, because, hell, you and the lummox are in lurve, and parents are old and crumbly and have forgotten what it’s like to be in lurve (if they ever knew). It’s nice to take Writing home to meet the folks, but it really isn’t helpful.
Eventually, if you are truly in love with Writing, that besotted stage passes. You look at your Writing and see the lummoxishness, the lack of manners, that the nice clothes don’t match and need laundering, but you also see the good, and know how to make the bad better. You and Writing have gone from being in lurve to a lasting, loving marriage where you fall out sometimes, hell, you hate each other sometimes, but you still make love, and when you do, it’s good… better than when you were first in lurve, because you know Writing better, think more, and aim to please, rather than exploding prematurely over the paper.
But if you’re in love with being A Writer, the In Lurve stage never passes. You never look at your beloved Writing, because you are too busy looking at yourself, The Writer. You are self-obsessed, preening and displaying, while poor Writing is left languishing and wondering whether to invest in a vibrator. And because the In Lurve stage never passes, poor Writing is left in mismatched, dirty clothes, while you posture to the world.
Isn’t the internet great? And isn’t word-mangling fun?
M
Wednesday 4 March 2009
Friday 27 February 2009
However talented, every writer has to learn
To my mind, there are two main parts to a crit. The technical stuff and the overall construction. You can deal with the technical stuff and the piece will sometimes still be far from good. However, it will be improved.
There is a difficulty when critting, not to want the person to “write like I do”. I try hard not to let my personal taste intrude, which means dealing with the superficial stuff first, so I can see the wood for the trees. I also like to get into the text so I can highlight the actual places someone is going wrong, or where something doesn’t quite work. With a beginner, this usually means pointing out the unnecessary words. The beginner thinks this is “style”. (Just as I did a few years back.) It is; beginner’s style. When the piece has the glaring beginner errors we were all prone to at one time (and I still am, occasionally) then it’s easy to make vast improvements just by cutting some of the trash out of it. It’s sad that some of this trash is the darlings the writer has lovingly crafted and they are reluctant to “murder their darlings”. Furthermore, they can see that as an attack on their “style” and will accuse the critter of wanting them to “write like I do,” when what the critter wants them so do is write (and self-edit) like a writer.
A piece of writing is like a bit of steak. You need a bit of fat to keep it tasty, but too much and the consumer will gag on it, and the piece will be indigestible. Cut the fat. The meat will still be there. You can cut out loads of trash and still keep the meaning.
I look back on some of the pieces I wrote a few years back, and I cringe. I thought they were good… and others said they thought they were good. Maybe they were good, but they certainly weren’t that good. It’s not until someone who knows what they are talking about says, “Gee, this isn’t good, you know, but if you do XYZ, then it will be so much better,” that the writer makes progress, providing they listen and keep their shirt on.
Which brings me to clichés. I like to highlight them when critting. In speech they are fine, and sometimes they convey accepted meaning in the same way a single word does. But often they are unnecessary, lazy, and need culling. Worse, sometimes, are the places where the writer has translated the cliché into their own, clunky words. (Though if the piece is tongue in cheek, this can be very witty.)
What most beginner-writers don’t realise is that it takes practice, and it takes a guiding hand (or book) to make progress. When you’re confused about what exactly is wrong, it helps if someone shows you. I had a Road to Damascus moment a few years back when someone got into my text and showed me what was wrong with my work. If that person hadn’t, I doubt I’d have ever understood what professional writers were telling me. Some writers are more talented than others, but they still had to learn what works, and what needs to go. We all did. We all do. We never stop learning.
As a postscript, I look at what I've written here and I remember a few years back when experienced writers told me exactly the same sorts of things. I sat there sulking rebelliously with my lower lip stuck out, thinking, "Yeah, yeah, I'll show you." No. They showed me.
M
There is a difficulty when critting, not to want the person to “write like I do”. I try hard not to let my personal taste intrude, which means dealing with the superficial stuff first, so I can see the wood for the trees. I also like to get into the text so I can highlight the actual places someone is going wrong, or where something doesn’t quite work. With a beginner, this usually means pointing out the unnecessary words. The beginner thinks this is “style”. (Just as I did a few years back.) It is; beginner’s style. When the piece has the glaring beginner errors we were all prone to at one time (and I still am, occasionally) then it’s easy to make vast improvements just by cutting some of the trash out of it. It’s sad that some of this trash is the darlings the writer has lovingly crafted and they are reluctant to “murder their darlings”. Furthermore, they can see that as an attack on their “style” and will accuse the critter of wanting them to “write like I do,” when what the critter wants them so do is write (and self-edit) like a writer.
A piece of writing is like a bit of steak. You need a bit of fat to keep it tasty, but too much and the consumer will gag on it, and the piece will be indigestible. Cut the fat. The meat will still be there. You can cut out loads of trash and still keep the meaning.
I look back on some of the pieces I wrote a few years back, and I cringe. I thought they were good… and others said they thought they were good. Maybe they were good, but they certainly weren’t that good. It’s not until someone who knows what they are talking about says, “Gee, this isn’t good, you know, but if you do XYZ, then it will be so much better,” that the writer makes progress, providing they listen and keep their shirt on.
Which brings me to clichés. I like to highlight them when critting. In speech they are fine, and sometimes they convey accepted meaning in the same way a single word does. But often they are unnecessary, lazy, and need culling. Worse, sometimes, are the places where the writer has translated the cliché into their own, clunky words. (Though if the piece is tongue in cheek, this can be very witty.)
What most beginner-writers don’t realise is that it takes practice, and it takes a guiding hand (or book) to make progress. When you’re confused about what exactly is wrong, it helps if someone shows you. I had a Road to Damascus moment a few years back when someone got into my text and showed me what was wrong with my work. If that person hadn’t, I doubt I’d have ever understood what professional writers were telling me. Some writers are more talented than others, but they still had to learn what works, and what needs to go. We all did. We all do. We never stop learning.
As a postscript, I look at what I've written here and I remember a few years back when experienced writers told me exactly the same sorts of things. I sat there sulking rebelliously with my lower lip stuck out, thinking, "Yeah, yeah, I'll show you." No. They showed me.
M
Wednesday 25 February 2009
I'm an awesome writer. My friends all tell me so.
OK, so why the strangled verse in the previous posts? It’s a comment on the way the internet is working as a means of promoting a writer’s work.
Bias and bad judgement are all too common on online forums and blogs where pieces are put up for anyone to crit. Often when we put work up for critting, especially as beginners, we don’t mean, “Please tell me where I’m going wrong, and how good or bad this is,” we mean, “Please admire my work and tell me that I’m good.” The person doing the crit may be swayed by the need to be nice to the author because if he is not, that author might trash the critter's work when he puts his piece up.
The author will put up a piece to be admired, and when it is, will lap up that admiration, and see it as vindication of the way they write. Never mind that some of these admirers wouldn’t know good writing if it kissed their ass; they’ve said nice things so they are the author’s bestest, bestest fwiend.
What is the motivation behind these honeyed words? Is it to make the writer feel good? Maybe, especially if they want their own work praised in return. Is it to advertise their own blog so that they too can have people visit and likewise massage their writer’s ego in some sort of mutual admiration network? Or maybe it's a genuine, but misguided piece of critting by another beginner... how would you know an experienced critter from a rookie? Or if they are published, is it a means of getting word round about their books? It’s a means, for sure, but I’m not so sure it’s a good means. It’s too akin to spamming. And would you buy a book written by someone who lavishes words like “awesome” where really a stunned, embarrassed silence is more appropriate? Not me, for sure.
Does this mutual admiration network really matter though? Surely the world is so full of wannabe writers who will never make it, that some undue praise is a good thing and will make them happy? Well, I guess it doesn't matter, unless that person is so besotted with their own hyped-up self-worth that they are considering self-publishing, or giving up the day job. The internet is full of virtual wannabe writers like Palm Springs is full of wannabe actors.
The problem with undue praise is it means the writer becomes more hostile to constructive criticism. They may even see it as a personal attack or motivated by professional jealousy; anything, so long as they don’t have to blame their work. We are a touchy enough bunch as it is, writers, and find it hard to accept criticism gracefully. Mostly we sulk for a while before looking at the crit constructively and learning from it. But if we have had our head turned by slavish praise, be it from Mom or from luvvies on the internet, then we would much rather listen to them. It’s natural. But it’s not going to help us improve.
Does this mean we should tell each other in stark terms that our writing sucks? Hell, no. We need to point out the good and suggest ways of improving the bad if we are asked to crit something. But that won’t help the writer whose head has been turned by awesome praise. They won’t listen. Because they know they are a good writer. Mommy said so.
Bias and bad judgement are all too common on online forums and blogs where pieces are put up for anyone to crit. Often when we put work up for critting, especially as beginners, we don’t mean, “Please tell me where I’m going wrong, and how good or bad this is,” we mean, “Please admire my work and tell me that I’m good.” The person doing the crit may be swayed by the need to be nice to the author because if he is not, that author might trash the critter's work when he puts his piece up.
The author will put up a piece to be admired, and when it is, will lap up that admiration, and see it as vindication of the way they write. Never mind that some of these admirers wouldn’t know good writing if it kissed their ass; they’ve said nice things so they are the author’s bestest, bestest fwiend.
What is the motivation behind these honeyed words? Is it to make the writer feel good? Maybe, especially if they want their own work praised in return. Is it to advertise their own blog so that they too can have people visit and likewise massage their writer’s ego in some sort of mutual admiration network? Or maybe it's a genuine, but misguided piece of critting by another beginner... how would you know an experienced critter from a rookie? Or if they are published, is it a means of getting word round about their books? It’s a means, for sure, but I’m not so sure it’s a good means. It’s too akin to spamming. And would you buy a book written by someone who lavishes words like “awesome” where really a stunned, embarrassed silence is more appropriate? Not me, for sure.
Does this mutual admiration network really matter though? Surely the world is so full of wannabe writers who will never make it, that some undue praise is a good thing and will make them happy? Well, I guess it doesn't matter, unless that person is so besotted with their own hyped-up self-worth that they are considering self-publishing, or giving up the day job. The internet is full of virtual wannabe writers like Palm Springs is full of wannabe actors.
The problem with undue praise is it means the writer becomes more hostile to constructive criticism. They may even see it as a personal attack or motivated by professional jealousy; anything, so long as they don’t have to blame their work. We are a touchy enough bunch as it is, writers, and find it hard to accept criticism gracefully. Mostly we sulk for a while before looking at the crit constructively and learning from it. But if we have had our head turned by slavish praise, be it from Mom or from luvvies on the internet, then we would much rather listen to them. It’s natural. But it’s not going to help us improve.
Does this mean we should tell each other in stark terms that our writing sucks? Hell, no. We need to point out the good and suggest ways of improving the bad if we are asked to crit something. But that won’t help the writer whose head has been turned by awesome praise. They won’t listen. Because they know they are a good writer. Mommy said so.
Saturday 14 February 2009
Execrable Pomes
Oh let me lavish awesome praise,
And hug you hard and tell you lies.
Say it’s great and laugh inside,
My words a code, to mock, deride.
I will strangle you with honey,
Drown you, whilst I make you smile,
On the outside, sweet and charming,
On the inside I am vile,
Tease you, poison praises harming,
Stunting growth and stroke your bunny
While I laugh at your malaise.
And hug you hard and tell you lies.
Say it’s great and laugh inside,
My words a code, to mock, deride.
I will strangle you with honey,
Drown you, whilst I make you smile,
On the outside, sweet and charming,
On the inside I am vile,
Tease you, poison praises harming,
Stunting growth and stroke your bunny
While I laugh at your malaise.
The Golden Harpies
Like spiders crawling through the net,
They batten on. They lavish praise
With serpent tongue.
With (((hugs))).
The saccharine syrup, nutritionless honey
Whist inviting the same,
And falsehood piles on lies.
The glib tongue,
One hand on the keyboard,
The other fumbling,
Random words tumbling
Common sense overboard.
Clichés flung;
Red roses, blue pink skies
To some it’s just a game
Mock with slavish, pleasant words. Funny
How this bugs
Me. Praises flung,
The purple prose a haze
Fogging the brains. Mind “To Let”.
They batten on. They lavish praise
With serpent tongue.
With (((hugs))).
The saccharine syrup, nutritionless honey
Whist inviting the same,
And falsehood piles on lies.
The glib tongue,
One hand on the keyboard,
The other fumbling,
Random words tumbling
Common sense overboard.
Clichés flung;
Red roses, blue pink skies
To some it’s just a game
Mock with slavish, pleasant words. Funny
How this bugs
Me. Praises flung,
The purple prose a haze
Fogging the brains. Mind “To Let”.
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