It’s Christmas Eve, for Chrissakes. Even God rested.
Does seasonal affective disorder get you down? Does enforced joy make you grind your teeth? Has it occurred to you that the VERY LAST thing the sleeping baby Jesus needs is a frickin’ drum solo, and it bothers you that it doesn’t seem to bother anyone else?
I got the carpet steam cleaned. What does THAT tell you?
Actually, I made some good progress. Chapter six was a little anemic so I am still fleshing it out.
Samuel Johnson, noted dictionary maker, large person, blowhard, and wig wearer, said that when writing one should find their favorite parts and cut them out. Reading Johnson’s fiction, you can tell he cut out all the best bits he ever wrote. Johnson was very quotable but not great at fiction. But not everyone gets a slavish biographer secretly jotting down their bon mots on napkins.
I wish I did! Anyone want to be my Boswell? It’s pro bono. I promise the curse words and blasphemy will flow like sweet, sweet wine!
A vital part of writing is editing. Sometimes you have to cut whole chapters because they stop the plot dead in their tracks.
I had to do that. In my zeal to get my character from A to B, I shorted out the climax of the plot. I had to trust that the audience could accept the compression of time through editing. It was getting to be like the movie “Return of the King.”
Oh! It’s over! That was a pretty good… oh, no it’s not finished. NOW it’s over. Let’s get our coats and… damn it! This has GOT to be the end. Look! They’re leaving… oh shit.
Incidentally, that’s only the very beginning of the cursing I can do. Cursing, or as I like to call it, “poetry of the streets,” can be an impressive add-on to any expression. Did I impressive? Nay, beautiful!
I am not suggesting that you hone your ability to express yourself through words that causes polite society to clutch their pearls and stagger towards the fainting couch. I do encourage it, but it’s not for everyone.
You say it is for you? You’re *&(#$& right it is!
If you have to cuss in a novel but want to make sure that it is adolescent-friendly, I suggest you switch your font to “wingdings.” Sure, your book will be unpublishable, but you (and by extension I) will know the dirty secret in your 70K+ word novel.
On second thought, cut that part out. You might as well print your book out in “Comic Sans.” Yeah, it’s best to leave all the sailor talk out and concentrate on your story. Be efficient, for $#(&* sake.
Don’t delete your darlings, though. Keep them. You can always use the ideas for another project. Save your work and be proud of your mastery of the linguistic dark side!
Editing for the win!
After getting lost in the brambles of chapters three and four, I’ve wiggled through chapter five and am on the path again! Soon, I’ll reach the fallen Kansas ranch-style home and grab those ruby slippers before that assassin Dorothy… wait…
Rough. I had a rough time redoing chapters three and four. There were a few dead ends that I had to write my way around… usually by deleting.
Who doesn’t like a good surprise? Me, for one. Especially when you know there’s a surprise coming up. I mean, they’re okay and such, but sometimes it feels like the whole narrative was written for the “GOTCHA!” moment at the end.
I mean, write a surprise if it’s good. Plot twists are awesome. But sometimes it feels like nothing more than an “it was all a dream” moment.
Remember, once the surprise is finished, the narrative is finished. There’s no point in going back. “The Sixth Sense,” for instance. It’s fine movie. However, it’s not one that needs watching twice. Once you get the “ooOOOOH!” moment at the end, there’s no fun in watching the movie again knowing Bruce Willis was a ghost the whole time.
Oops. Placed that wrong. If you haven’t gotten to it in the last sixteen years, here’s another spoiler for you: Bruce Willis is overrated and manifestly uninterested in acting.
Maybe I can understand a person watching it a second time to catch all the clues. But if you find someone who says “‘The Sixth Sense’ is my favorite movie! I’ve seen is twenty-seven times in a row,” make no furtive movements around that person. Back away and call someone to tell them your location and who you’re with.
Speaking of useless surprises, did you know that Bruce Willis released a blues album in the 1980s? Don’t seek it out. I don’t know if it is out of circulation, but if there is any justice in the universe, it is. Some people use their star power to fight hunger. Bruce Willis used his star power to play harmonica and sing with the robust vehemence of a drunk uncle at a seven year old’s birthday party.
Oh, Uncle Matt. We told you to get help…
There may be someone out there who says that really it’s not a bad album and that if one listens to it without prejudice they’ll find their foot a-tappin’. And to that person, I say, “shut up, Scott. Again with the ‘Return of Bruno’ reappraisal. There’s only so many times you can polish a turd.”
A neat thing about writing is that you always win the argument.
So when it comes to surprise endings, keep this in mind: Scott wouldn’t know a good song if it crawled up his nose and poked his eye out from behind. I wish to hire a songwriter to write a song that does exactly that and test my theory. Know anyone with the chops?
Also, knowing the end of a surprise story is like knowing the end of a joke. Once you know the punchline, there is zero need to go back and hear the joke again. So don’t make the surprise the whole point of your story.
Also, Bruce Willis sucks. Yeah, I went there.
What is your opinion about surprise endings? Hackneyed, or only the most exciting thing to ever happen to art. Ever. Perhaps there is a happy medium in there somewhere.
First drafts are easy. Second drafts, not so much so. In fifteen days, I’ve gotten four out of thirty four chapters “finished”.
I’ve seen this bouncing from person to person over the years – differing opinions on what a writer is. Some say that you’re not a writer until you’ve published something. Others, that you’re not a writer until you get an audience. Others, that you’re not a writer until you’ve had a liver transplant from all of the drinking and whining you’ve done.
And to all these ideas, I say POOH! Sorry to cuss, but there it is. It’s a bunch of ridiculous nonsense.
A writer writes. The end.
There’s nothing mystical about it. It’s not a holy order or a priesthood. It’s not a secret society, nor is it laden with heavy destiny. It’s not a knighthood, an honorific, or like being a Jedi.
If you only write ad copy, you’re a writer. If you only write fan fiction, you’re a writer. If you only write technical manuals, you’re a writer, etc.
There are lots of flavors of writers. There are novelists, poets, columnists, journalists, translators, screenwriters, historians, etc. Anyone who says that one is definitely greater than the other is, at best, a cretin.
Now I have my own preferences. I don’t like poetry very much. I used to love it, but I’ve moved away from it. But I would never say that a poet is inferior to, say, a screenwriter.
Mad respect to ANYONE who can carve an idea or information out of words. Words are a terrible medium, because language is messy as hell! Sometimes it is like building a tower out of mud.
If anyone says different – if someone says to you “oh, but you’re NOT a writer yet because…” then thank them gratefully. They have now let you know that you don’t have to pay attention to anything they say from now on. Very nice of them to let you know. If only more people were that kind!
So are you writing anything? If so, congratulations! You’re a writer!
However, you’re an atrocious speller.
The BIGGEST minutiae 