Writes all the things. Most of the things never write back.
I’ve been working on a story, and came up with the perfect title earlier. I was driving, and didn’t write it down, and couldn’t remember it later when I COULD write it down.
Since then I’ve brought it back to mind three times and forgotten it twice. THIS TIME I WROTE IT DOWN. HA!
Fool, said my muse to me, look in thy heart and write.
— Sir Philip Sidney
(My Muse was apparently channeling Mr. T.)
A friend of mine just retitled his Facebook page as a Writing Page. I wish I had a Writing Page. It sounds like something out of Harry Potter. All I’d have to do is put the Writing Page in front of me and watch it fill itself up with the most sublime prose this side of Sheboygan.
Instead? The page just sits in front of me, all blank, and *I* have to fill it in and make it not-blank, LIKE A CAVEMAN WITH A STICK OF CHARCOAL ON A CAVE WALL.
I just saw the question “Where will you find your next story?”
Under the tip of my pen, was my first thought.
How you know a writer is being paid by the word: when he writes something like this –
“Behold us, turned to birds, a prey to the talons of kites, hawks, and falcons! Behold us made companions of water-hens, snipes, goldfinches, woodpeckers, jays, owls, magpies, jackdaws, rooks, starlings, woodcocks, cocks, hens and chickens, turkey-cocks, blackbirds, thrushes, chaffinches, tomtits, jenny-wrens, lapwings, linnets, greenfinches, crossbills, flycatchers, larks, plovers, kingfishers, wagtails, redbreasts, redfinches, sparrows, ducks, fieldfares, woodpigeons and bullfinches!”
(To which the editor replies, “I think we got the point after, oh, the first half-dozen birds listed.”)
“I’m not saying he’s evil… but he puts the sin in synopsis.”
Whenever I reject a writing idea as impossible, it becomes both irresistible and inevitable.
I’m not a famous writer guy. But I can share the thing I did that made me like my voice now as much as I’ve ever liked it.
Ready?
Write.
Write A LOT.
Write even when you don’t like the voice of what you’re writing.
By writing a LOT, you’ll start to pick up what there is about your writing that you don’t like. Cut those things out. What’s left is better.
Michelangelo took a block of marble and crested the statue of David by removing everything that didn’t look like David. You can do the same thing with your writing. If you write enough, you’ll see glimmers of your own writing that you like. You’ll see words and phrases you never want to write again. You’ll get better at recognizing these patterns, and your voice will be stronger.
At least, that was my experience.
You may have heard of morning pages. My writing improved when I started doing those. I’ve modified the practice since then. These days, I only do one page, and not necessarily in the morning – but I still do something like them. It helped me start picking out the words and phrases I overused. My first drafts of ANYTHING are cleaner and better now as a result.
Why It’s Worth Making Time for This Lengthy Morning Ritual – Jessica Stillman
Stephen King once said, “The scariest moment is always just before you start.”
There’s a reason for this. This is when all the monsters and murderers and evil spirits converge in hopes that the next story is going to be about THEM.
And when it’s not – well, some of them are very disappointed indeed.
Ah, ambiguity. The gift that keeps on giving.
I jotted down a note. It says “trying your beast.” Now I’m trying to remember what I meant by that.
Did I want to write a few sample paragraphs involving the beast, to see if the story was going to go anywhere?
Did I intend to take the beast to court?
Maybe I was thinking about getting a beast, and I wanted to borrow yours to see how it would go. Who knows? I might decide it’s not a practical idea after that. “Thanks, but TOO MUCH WORK,” I might say. “All the grooming, the long flights, the immense quantities of fish? No. Not for me. Although it IS a lovely beast.”