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oEPISTLES FROM A GOBLIN PRINCESSo
Writing — There Are No Shortcuts
Posted 6th August 2011 at 05:16 AM by Teresa Edgerton
After neglecting this blog for quite some time, I hope from this point on to be posting articles on a regular basis — every week, if possible — on a variety of topics related to writing. Since this is my blog rather than a general discussion thread (although I welcome comments and questions!), it's likely that my opinions will be stated a bit more ... emphatically. Yes, that's the word. Emphatic.
Next week's topic will be "Taming the Wild Synopsis," but in the meantime:
THERE ARE NO SHORTCUTS IN WRITING
For many of us, the first impulse to write a novel comes with an idea that we have only to get our wonderful story down on paper, polish it up a bit, and we’ll have a finished book, one that wins instant acclaim and makes us very, very rich. Others realize it’s not as simple as that. Instead, they believe there are secret techniques and arcane formulas, which, if they can convince someone to divulge them, will unlock all the mysteries of characterization, plot structure, and everything else they need to know, so that they can sit down and write their novel with a minimum of effort, win instant acclaim, and become very, very rich.
Unfortunately, there are no such secret formulas or shortcuts. Once you have learned the basics of grammar, spelling, and punctuation, the only way to learn how to write is ... write, and do a lot of it, as well as read, and do a lot of that, too.
So much of the process of learning to write is based on experimenting with different ways to tell your story, through one draft after another, through trial and error. This may seem like a terribly disorganized way to go about it. And it is — but it’s also remarkably effective. There is no one right way to construct a plot. There is no one right way to create believable characters. There is no one right way to put them both together to write a compelling story. What there is, instead, is instinct: instinct for what works in your particular story, instinct for what will work in the next one you write. That instinct will not always be infallible, but for the most part it will be your most reliable guide — and you’re most likely to get yourself into trouble ignoring what that instinct is trying to tell you, because your mind is set on doing something else instead. This is what you can learn only by writing draft after draft, by trial and error: how to develop a writer’s instinct, and learn to trust it.
This phase of learning to write may well take years. Forget what you’ve heard about successful novelists who wrote their first novel in a matter of months without ever writing a single word before. Either the writer has a genius for recognizing what the public wants right now, or the story of their success is liberally seasoned with hype, or both. If you want to learn how to write well, write convincingly, write something that will win readers without relying on serendipitous timing and incredible luck, then you are going to have to work at it for a long time. If that sounds like too much effort, with no guaranteed rewards, then you should consider finding something else to do, something you feel so passionate about that simply doing it is its own reward.
However, there may come a time, after much work, when you are ready to profit from the advice of others. That is the time to buy books on writing, sign up for a workshop, post some work online for critique, join a writers group (a course I highly recommend), hire a developmental editor, or any combination of these. But why, you are probably asking, should you wait?
I remember a day, after I had sold my first book but before it was published, attending a seminar taught by a well-known fantasy writer. I sat there nodding my head through the entire class, because every word he said made perfect sense. It was not that he taught me things that I didn’t already know, but what he did do was put into words the knowledge I had painstakingly acquired, organizing it in such a way that it was no longer necessary for me to dig around in my mind and piece it together each time I wanted it. From the reactions of the other students, I doubt that many of them got as much out of that class as I did (although the teacher was sufficiently brilliant and entertaining a speaker that just listening to him for six hours was a treat in itself), and firmly believe the reason for this was because that class came at just the right time in my personal development as a writer, but too soon for some of the rest. (Which isn’t to say that other students might not have come to recognize his words of wisdom later when they were ready, but it’s likely that much was lost. We remember best those things we understand.)
Which brings us to this: One of the important things that happens during the period of trial and error is that you are learning how to learn about writing. It is most valuable knowledge, and knowledge you can only earn. No one can pass it on to you. Once you have it, you are ready to learn from other people. Here again, practice helps. When receiving critiques, you often have to decipher what those who give the critiques are trying to say, because this is not always as lucid as it could be. You may hear criticism from two people who appear to be contradicting each other, when in fact they are reacting to the same weakness, but in opposite ways. Your job, then, is to translate what they are telling you, pinpoint the weakness they’ve both identified — and perhaps come up with your own solution that mysteriously satisfies everyone. It takes experience to gain the confidence not to collapse in a welter of confusion because everyone is telling you completely different things — and, at the same time, acquire the humility to realize that if two people have opposite reactions to something you have written that doesn’t automatically mean that you have done it just right.
After a constructive critique you may find you have even more work to do than you thought you had. Criticism should only point the way, it should only offer suggestions, it should not be too collaborative. Ideally, a writers group will include a few people of greater experience, who not only identify weaknesses in your work but explain why you might wish to write a scene or a chapter another way, writers who can recognize what you are trying to achieve and offer suggestions for better ways you might accomplish that, rather than try to write your story for you. And while they may help you avoid going off in entirely the wrong direction so that you would have to backtrack, none of these people can offer you any magical shortcuts. It is your story; you must do the work. (Unless, of course, you have taken on a collaborator. In which case, it is up to the two of you.) Books are not written by a committee. Or at least they shouldn’t be.
Writing is hard. Writing is frustrating. Yet when it is going well, it is a marvelous feeling. Better than chocolate. More exciting than circuses. Maybe even better than sex. (Opinions on this last vary.) Like so many other forms of bliss, it doesn’t come cheaply. But then, who would value it if it did?
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Comments
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It wasn't until I learned about the writing process (through books, mostly) that I understood what to expect from my drafts. Before, I would struggle and thrash wildly about for a perfect 200 words, and then collapse, exhausted. The idea of writing several thousand words worth of short story seemed preposterous, to say nothing of the novel.
I've learned a lot since then, thankfully.
Writing seems to be one of those hobbies where people think they can just do it and earn success, bypassing all of the technique. But it really is like any other discipline. I like comparing it to learning a musical instrument. There are rules -- some notes sound better together than with others, chords have certain notes, etc. -- and in writing it is very much the same. Rules of characterization, plot, dialogue, etc. The important thing to realize about rules of creativity, though, is they are very flexible. They exist to help the writer make progress quickly, and after that anything goes -- break them all if you see fit.
But by learning the rules, one can really learn to fly. Creative possibilities open up. I agree that there are no quick shortcuts to becoming a good writer other than lots of time at the keys, but learning the rules can really shorten the time it takes to become proficient if the advice is taken to heart.Posted 6th August 2011 at 07:02 PM by slack
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Did I say you should not at some point seek help from books and learn the rules? If that's what you think I said, you need to go back and read the article again.
You say you went through a period of struggling and thrashing. My point is that it wasn't time wasted. It was a vital part of the learning process, no matter how frustrating it was at the time.
Without it, one of two things would have happened. Either you would have read the rules and rejected them. (You were the artist and knew what was best, and art must always be free to follow its own path!) Or, you would have accepted them as fixed and immutable and gone out to convert the unenlightened to your own barely understood (or radically misunderstood) interpretation. Like the people who believe that agents will reject a manuscript if they see a single adverb on the page. Like the people who try to remove all the adjectives from their own writing and are dead set on convincing others to do the same. Believe me, I have seen this kind of thing more times than I can count.
That struggling and thrashing was some of the best time you ever spent. If it didn't teach you everything you needed to learn, at least it taught you that you needed to learn it. At the same time, it taught you some things that no one could teach you, things you had to learn for yourself.
This, I believe, is the reason why so many students emerge from creative writing programs unable to produce anything but stories for the kind of magazines and anthologies that exist solely to publish stories by people who take creative writing courses. Sure, some rise above it (I strongly suspect, however, that those were the ones who did a great deal of writing on their own long before they were of an age to take those courses), but if learning the rules first was the best way, a much greater percentage of students who take those courses would have writing contracts and the rest of us, who were largely self-taught, wouldn't. That's not the way it is.
I would be willing to bet large sums of money (I can afford to be reckless, since it's impossible to prove either way), that if you had picked up a book of the rules at the very beginning you would have understood only one half of that second sentence. Which half is anyone's guess.Quote:Originally Posted by slackThe important thing to realize about rules of creativity, though, is they are very flexible. They exist to help the writer make progress quickly, and after that anything goes -- break them all if you see fit.Posted 6th August 2011 at 09:44 PM by Teresa Edgerton -
As someone still thrashing, it is great to read that it's a useful process. Yes, it feels useful, but I have read about those authors who wrote their first novel in four months without re-writing at all, and wondered what I was doing that was so wrong. I was also very cheered by your emphasis on instinct.
When it's going well, for me writing is almost like falling in love (chocolate doesn't even compare).
I've had problems with the rules. My normal approach to things is to read everything I can before I do something, but I couldn't absorb all the information in books about writing -- I got the vague idea, but I had nothing to apply the details to. Also, I found them terribly discouraging. Now, I'm beginning to find bits of them more helpful.
So thank you for this blog post -- and I look forward to "Taming the Wild Synopsis".Posted 7th August 2011 at 09:03 AM by Hex -
Well, you invited us on another thread to argue with you, so ...
"Better than chocolate"????????????
(Does a dozen question-marks constitute an argument?)Posted 7th August 2011 at 03:38 PM by HareBrain -
Can I just add something to this? It varies here. When you make a broad statement like that, some people may apply it to every situation, and that simply would not work. Not all people critique at the same level, not even counting those you ask who are readers, not writers. A person may give you a great, thorough critique and, as you say, be more experienced than you... or they may be further down the ladder and can only offer a simple crit or a "I like / don't like it".Quote:...and, at the same time, acquire the humility to realize that if two people have opposite reactions to something you have written that doesn’t automatically mean that you have done it just right.
You have to have some measure of scale when weighing up the pros and cons of a critique: Is the person offering ideas on how they think your story should have been written, or are they offering advice to make your work better? After all, you know what's going on and what will happen in the rest of the story; they may not. Also, are they proficient in the basics of grammar and punctuation while also giving you tips on them? Do you think their ideas will improve what you're trying to do/say? Do parts of the critique sound odd or off the mark, and is that because of a failing in the writer to get the info across? Have or can they accurately sum up what your story excerpt is about? (On another writers' forum I went to, they have a policy that for giving crits, you have to write a paragraph or so summing up the main points of the story excerpt, to show you have adequately read and understood what's going on and can give relevant feedback.)
Of course, some people will always hate your work and style, but great critiquers will overlook that and offer valuable suggestions. Conversely, be aware of praising feedback, too; it can be nice to hear your work's fantastic, but how does that actually aid you in improving as a writer?
If you're getting too much of the latter, perhaps you need to look for critiquers higher up the writing scale.
Hope you don't mind me adding this, Teresa. Good post, btw! It's nice to see you blogging again.Posted 7th August 2011 at 03:50 PM by Leisha - Sorry, Teresa, if you thought I was being critical of your article. I wasn't. It just gave me something to muse about.Quote:Originally Posted by Teresa Edgerton
Did I say you should not at some point seek help from books and learn the rules? If that's what you think I said, you need to go back and read the article again.
I do think my early struggles were useful in some ways. Style, mostly. I was still figuring out how I wanted to write . I wasn't really much of a storyteller, not in the sense I am now, but more of a craftsman, someone coming from poetry who enjoyed the sound of language. And I shamelessly copied my heroes at the time -- Kerouac, Bukowski, etc. Especially Kerouac. There is a kind of wandering looseness to his prose that I still love today.
I don't know that my early struggles taught me much about the craft, to be honest. The process was brutal -- trying to create the story and perfect it at the same time. I suppose, if anything, it showed me that I love this business of writing, felt drawn to it even though I wasn't very good.
However, I agree with the notion that one learns the rules when they're ready for them. That certainly seems true in my experience.Posted 7th August 2011 at 05:59 PM by slack - Maybe that came across as a more sweeping statement than I meant it to. The "doesn't automatically" is the key part. But I've met so many new writers — not on these forums, I say thankfully — who think that if others hate their work for different reasons they must have struck exactly the right balance. This is rarely true.Quote:Originally Posted by LeishaWhen you make a broad statement like that, some people may apply it to every situation, and that simply would not work.
But I agree that you need to have some measure of scale when weighing up the pros and cons of critiques, and also know when to stick with what you have. This is one reason why I always say — and I know it goes against what a lot of people here suggest — that it's not a good idea to ask for critiques on a first draft (and probably not a second either). If we ask for help too early in the process, we're likely to change course with every wind that blows. Or tell everyone they are incapable of appreciating a work of sheer genius. We need that combination of clarity and confidence that only comes around the third draft, in order to fairly evaluate the critiques we get.
Yes, I think that's one of the most important parts of the solitary learning process: finding your own voice and style. We may pick up influences from other writers, something here and something there, but critiquers can try to make one over in their own image, and obviously books on writing can't help us there.Quote:Originally Posted by slackI do think my early struggles were useful in some ways. Style, mostly. I was still figuring out how I wanted to write .
For me, it literally happened between one day and the next, at least on a conscious level (I'm sure my subconscious mind had been hard at work on the problem for a long time). One day I knew the story but I was going back and forth on how to tell it, and the next I sat down and wrote the first few pages and they were completely different from anything I had written before. But I just knew it was how I wanted to write. Never mind that it wasn't in sync with the way everyone else was writing at the time (or since); if felt authentic for me.
And although it was a bit quirky, I soon found out that it was more readable for others as well.Posted 7th August 2011 at 07:49 PM by Teresa Edgerton -
Self-belief
Thanks for this Teresa, I enjoyed it very much.Quote:Originally Posted by Leisha Conversely, be aware of praising feedback, too; it can be nice to hear your work's fantastic, but how does that actually aid you in improving as a writer?
I submitted a proposal for a Dr Who novel twelve years ago. Justin Richards, the then commissioning editor, wrote back in person, saying my proposal was extremely good, but not original enough.
I then gave up on creative writing for a decade. As is so easy, I thought, if the chances of success are so slight, and the work required so great, I'd be mad to keep trying.
Thankfully, I've grown up. For me writing is absolutely a worthwhile end in itself. When I complete my current novel I'll be over the moon, even if no one (other than, perhaps, my wife) enjoys it.
Nothing, no amount of negative comments, or unhelpful criticism, or (I suppose) constructive criticism, will stop me.
Still, I would say that for me personally, positive feedback is far more useful than critical comments. I think many of us can be too biased towards hearing negatives anyway, while filtering out positives. We are insecure! There's absolutely no danger of me not hearing the criticism coming through, but I do struggle to stay positive about my work where the standards (for publishable work by unknown authors) are so high.
In terms of "thrashing about" and "trial and error", I think I found my voice quite fast. For me it's about writing a third person narrative almost as if the character is writing the narrative, and not me. And I learned very quickly to capitalise on what came easiest to me -- characters and dialogue.
It all feels right. Still, I always fear that around the corner someone who "knows things" -- maybe someone like you, Teresa -- will read my work and tear it to shreds!
Coragem.Posted 8th August 2011 at 03:00 PM by Coragem -
Self-belief
That's another reason for waiting; until you can listen to negative criticism and not let it gut you.Quote:Originally Posted by CoragemStill, I always fear that around the corner someone who "knows things" -- maybe someone like you, Teresa -- will read my work and tear it to shreds.
But as for me, I never tear anything to shreds unless someone pays me to do so. (Because I figure they've hired me to be thorough, and I'd be cheating them if I wasn't.) Even so, I do point out strengths and try to give constructive suggestions for the parts that are weak. Just ripping something apart is useless. No one listens when you do that, and what's the point?
Soon after the class I mentioned above, I joined a writers group and was put on the waiting list for another group. The group I joined was honest and thorough but constructive and supportive. After a few months, the other group contacted me and said they had an opening for me. It was a group with several published writers (the other was not) so I thought I would join it, too, and decide which one would best suit my needs.
At the first meeting, one member ripped everyone apart because she didn't like the (very mild) criticism of her story. On another story, someone gave a scathing critique laden with profanity. I thought, oh no, this is not the group for me! The one thing I gained from that meeting was that it increased my appreciation for the first group.
Groups that pride themselves on being brutal should be avoided at all cost. They can be too busy composing their corrosive remarks to pay enough attention to what you've actually written.Posted 8th August 2011 at 07:18 PM by Teresa Edgerton -
Ah, emphasis.
I enjoy reading about your personal experiences, Teresa. And I agree that there are no shortcuts in writing. If there were shortcuts, I think writing would be far less enjoyable. Traveling every step of the journey, taking side trips along the way, and getting lost (in the best sense of the word, as in carried off in imagination) are what make writing a pleasure.Posted 21st August 2011 at 05:55 PM by Brown Rat
