Expanded Definitions

“Good”. “Talent”. These words were up for discussion at Nathan Bransford’s blog today.

Nathan gets reams of comments on every post, and I told myself in no uncertain terms — stop reading the comments! You don’t have time. You’re supposed to be WRITING A NOVEL. But what a lovely avoidance technique, just a comment or two. It’s like eating those evil Halloween treats — candy corn — just one, just one more, just two, soon I have an upset stomach, or in the case of blog comments, soon I’ve run out of time to write.

Today, reading all the comments was time well-spent. It was interesting to notice various definitions of “good” and “talent”, but those definitions aside, here are two excerpts that made my day, my week, possibly my year:

One commenter quoted Faulkner responding to a question on the elusive concept of “talent”. I only captured the bit that struck me: The most important thing is insight, that is to be–curiosity–to wonder, to mull, and to muse why it is that man does what he does, and if you have that, then I don’t think the talent makes much difference, whether you’ve got it or not. Isn’t that what drives us all to write? Isn’t that where stories bubble up and get their death grip on us, from that wondering: why?

The second comment that thrilled me is from Lydia Sharp of The Sharp Angle: I feel every writer has an audience out there somewhere, they just have to find it.

Doesn’t that keep you going? It does me.

I Can’t Help It

I can’t help it that I look at the dark side of things. Or maybe a better way to phrase that is, I’m cynical. Tell me something’s perfect and my knees jerk up to my gut. Perfect? — not in this lifetime.

It seems like once a month I read a newspaper article that quotes this mantra: This doesn’t happen in our neighborhood.

My dark side rises up, screaming, why? Why do you think this doesn’t happen in your neighborhood? The questions pile on like a bunch of footballers. (Not a word I usually use, but I’m reading Eats, Shoots and Leaves and this word came up in the coverage of apostrophe uses. I assume it’s a British thing, maybe my British friends can let me know.) Anyway, the questions pile on:

• is your neighborhood filled with perfect people?
• do shootings, stabbing and murder only happen in “bad” neighborhoods? what is a “bad” neighborhood, anyway?
• drunks never careen through your neighborhood? because no one in your neighborhood drinks and drives?

The story that prompted this round of questions was a man fleeing the police who smashed his car into someone’s bedroom. If something like “this” doesn’t happen in your neighborhood, it’s because you’re lucky!

The similar quote comes after murder, usually: he was such a nice man. Really? You knew this because he waved at you when he brought in his trash cans? He brought in his trashcans on time? Is that what made him “nice”?

I suppose most people read comments like these and feel compassion (I do) or relief that it didn’t happen to them (I do), but those are fleeting emotions. Immediately my brain leaps to the dark side of life: murder, betrayal, hatred, lying, secrets, steeling, self-absorption, cruelty — the stuff of fiction, but especially the stuff of psychological suspense.

It might have a little to do with my job — I’m a competitive analyst. I’m always looking for flaws, for marketing claims and PR statements that can be poked full of holes and shown as half-truths. But it’s mostly just the way I’m wired. I can’t help it.

How to be a better writer

10 steps you can count on: I stumbled across this link to CopyBlogger in my WordPress tag surfer …

10 Steps to Becoming a Better Writer

1. Write.
2. Write more.
3. Write even more.
4. Write even more than that.
5. Write when you don’t want to.
6. Write when you do.
7. Write when you have something to say.
8. Write when you don’t.
9. Write every day.
10. Keep writing.

Advice like this is great because it reminds me of the insights that strike me from time to time — write, don’t surf; write, don’t stare at the wall/out the window/at your thoughts rushing by; write, don’t analyze, talk, study, take a nap, get a snack. Ten easy steps.

Rejection

Writers are supposed to embrace rejection. Who embraces pain, sorrow, frustration?

A magazine that’s published my stories before is now consistently rejecting them. I know it’s nothing personal. Sometimes I get positive comments — nice twist, but I can’t use it right now. Sometimes I get a semi-form letter.

I know it doesn’t necessarily say anything about the quality of the story, only the current editorial needs and editorial taste but it takes me a good 24 hours to shake it off. I know I’m supposed to revel in a folder that grows thick with rejection letters because it means I’m working and getting my fiction out there. I believe it’s recommended I paper my walls with rejection letters and notes — I don’t think so.

According to an independent publisher, Smink Works Books, Dr. Seuss was rejected 23 times and Stephen King’s first five novels were rejected several times. Tolstoy, Mailer — I’m in the company of writers I wouldn’t dream of comparing myself with.

Rejection is tough. I still feel a bit limp, as if all the air has escaped from my lungs, a little defeated and tired. Knowing I’m in good company helps. Knowing it’s part of the process helps, but I only received the letter last night, give me another seven hours.

Sleeping Pill

When you work odd hours, it’s difficult to unwind at the end of the day.

Everyone I know who works second or third shift talks about coming home after midnight and trying to get to sleep. It’s especially tough if you have alternating shifts — off at twelve and back to work the next morning.

I’ve felt it when I’ve had to work long hours, coming home in the dark, unable to slow down racing thoughts. When the workload is really heavy and I’m working long days and weekends, I close my eyes and find myself in this semi-sleep state in which I sort of sleep but see flickers of slideware and spreadsheets glowing in my brain like the images left on a TV screen after it’s powered down.

Last night, my husband worked late. I managed to keep my eyes open until he crawled into bed, but he sat up, leaning against the pillows, I can’t sleep yet.

I said, oh! Then let me tell you what happened in this meeting today, I got good feedback. And let me tell you about the power struggle with a guy in a meeting yesterday … he said, I said, he did, I did, I said … Did I mention the brilliant flash of insight I had about the writing process? You know, the spark of insight I’ve had 17 times over the past two years? You have to actually write during your writing session! Can you believe it?

I looked over. He was prone, head on the pillow with a light snore coming from his nostrils. I’m not insulted. Well, maybe only a little.

Bad Hair Year

I’ve never landed on a hairstyle that works.

Through the years my hair (or its owner) has resisted long, short, medium, layered, blunt, permed, full bangs, side bangs, no bangs, barretted, head band, loose, side part, center part, no part, highlights, curled, blow dry, air dry and flat-ironed.

For the most part, I have hair that’s not fully straight, and surprising me by getting curlier every year. I’m also lazy — I get bored with shaping my hair into a style every morning.

But that’s not really the point.

I’m a person who surrounds herself with symbols — bracelets and rings that serve as reminders of where I want to focus my attention, even an ear-piercing or two with the same purpose. I have jars of small pebbles to remind me to write every day. I used to put a pebble in a jar each day I wrote, telling myself I would be published when the jar was full (it was a large jar). Somewhere along the way, I lost that habit. Now I light a candle when I write.

It’s been awhile since I started my novel. Excluding a year off to pursue other projects, I’ve been working on it for 3 years and counting. Although I want it well-polished and the best work I can produce, I want to be finished, and I decided this is the year.

I’m going to push hard. But of course I need a symbol to represent that. So I’m not cutting my hair, not even a trim. I have no idea how I arrived at this, but it’s working. Every time I look at my ragged ends, my lack of styling, the mess on my head, I think about my writing.

It seems to be working, I’m making great progress and it seems to be taking shape.

Interpretations

Google coughed up this Quote of the Day at the top of my email. I have no idea why, I didn’t sign up for a quote of the day, but I’m pleased to have it and for someone who has spent most of her life wanting to be “right” wanting to follow the “rules” – whatever those are, this seems wildly appropriate for twisting my brain in a different direction:

- Friedrich Nietzsche – “There are no facts, only interpretations.”

It seems appropriate for a time when some facts appear to be crumbling – the “fact” that investing in a 401k will give me a positive return if I follow all the rules of intelligent diversification, the “fact” that working hard & getting praised as a valuable part of the team will keep me employed, and the “fact” that nickel-sized brown spiders are harmless. They are not. One scrambled out of the sofa and across my leg and I screamed and flipped my computer off my lap as I leaped across the coffee table.

A man once told me once that he didn’t read fiction – there was too much interesting “true” knowledge to be had in non-fiction books. I couldn’t disagree more – fiction is more true because it illustrates the truth of a chosen slice of life. Factual writing is never that – there is always bias. A journalist has four quotes but only has column space for two – she’s likely to choose the more entertaining, the shorter, the pithier, and facts become interpretation.

It makes me think of judges and politicians, one who announces that her life experiences influence her, and those who pretend their background doesn’t affect their views.

Make a suggestion!

The state of California is sinking in the quicksand of debt. The more we struggle (debate, vote, protest), the deeper we sink.

Passionate people write opinion pieces and letters to the editor of the local paper. Every one of them has a program they care about deeply. Their words are frantic predictions of doom and unintended consequences of further costs. The choices are all horrible: closing state parks, abandoning low income families, leaving the mentally ill without help, releasing prisoners, cutting education … the list goes on. And the debt grows, reportedly by $1.7M an hour. (I love it that I found this data point in a UK publication – our infamy is global.) Our debt grows while we work, look for work, sleep, eat, make love, complain, blog, read, work out, eat out, give birth and die.

I don’t know the answer, and clearly the people of California are frustrated and fed up with our leaders, we’re furious at our leaders. So we write columns and letters (and blogs).

I only have one request: make a suggestion! I agree with your concerns – cutting education hurts our future, releasing prisoners compromises our safety, hurting the weakest hurts all of us, and in many cases, it’s pay now or pay later. But if you write about your area of concern, your frightened vision of the future – make a suggestion. Where do you propose we cut? It’s fine to give all the supporting facts for why a particular area should be funded as-is, but tell your readers where you think the cuts should be made.

I don’t have the answer. I’m one more opinion with no valid ideas, but if you’ve done the research on the impact of cuts to the area you care about, do just a bit more and make a suggestion.