To Write Daily Or To Not Write Daily

I’ve been reading Writers On Writing, A collection of Essays by Writers. Two stand out for their contradiction.
Carolyn Chute, author of four novels, (her first, The Beans of Egypt Maine was a critical, yet controversial success) says:

“I am an unmarketable person. I can’t teach writing or make a living in any public way, as I get confused when interrupted or over-stimulated. So, my only income is from novels. I make about $2 an hour. This should explain the absence of dishwasher, clothes dryer, running hot water, electricity, health insurance and other such luxuries.

Writing is like meditation or going into an ESP trance, or prayer. Like dreaming. You are tapping into your unconsciousness. To be fully conscious and alert with life banging and popping and cuckooing all around you, you are not going to find your way to your subconscious, which is a place of complete submission. It takes me three days of complete boredom and no interruptions to calm myself enough to get to that place."

Walter Mosley, famous and acclaimed author of over thirty books, including, the Easy Rawlings mystery series, says:

“If you want to be a writer you have to write every single day. The consistencies, the monotony, the certainty, all vagaries and passions are covered by this daily recurrence. It doesn’t matter what time of day, and there’s no time limit on how long you have to write. Some days it might only be a few minutes, other days it might be a few hours. The important thing is that you breathe and dream your writing every single day or it will lose its life.

Nothing we create is art at first. It’s simply a collection of notions that may never be understood. Returning every day thickens the atmosphere. Images appear. Connections are made. But even these clearer notions will fade if you stay away more than a day.”

Mosley is a commercial and financial success with a plethora of novels behind him and in front of him. He is a good and admirable writer. Chute is not as well known, she lives quietly and poorly in the woods (with her also “unmarketable” husband) yet she is just as committed to her process and her personality. She is poor, but she is honest. She is a good and admirable writer.

Is it possible to be a writer who is a little of both? Can we write daily and also not-write daily? Is every writer a walking contradiction?

Letting Go

I am dropping in as a guest today, grateful for all the stimulating posts this semester. I appreciated Ron writing about letting go of details, trusting the iceberg holding the story up. Anne and Lisa wrote about letting go of articles that tell us which genres are selling and thus what we should be writing. Kelly wrote about letting go of pre-ordained structure and using elements from all aspects of our lives to deepen our stories.

I am working on letting go - of time. I hoard time. I plan my writing times every day, like if I get in so many hours I can control the outcome. And then I get an email - picture book publication delayed yet again due to illustrations not ready. Another email that editorial decision about one of my projects will be coming soon. I wait. And I wait.

But I must write. I can't live if I don't write. But how to write without anxiety about the outcome? When Anne and I presented on the writing life at a residency a couple of years ago, she said something like, “If I am only happy on the days I get a contract offer or a great review, I am looking at one unhappy life.” Can writers be happy when outcomes are so dependent on waiting and wondering?

Yes. Yes. We can be happy if we're putting words on paper. We can be happy when we get an insight that only comes from the writing, not the talking about the writing. We can be happy sharing with other writers or reading a great book. We can be happy closing down our computers and trusting that the words will be there again, even with the deadline of a Hamline packet due tomorrow and tomorrow.

Be happy. Let go. CRM

Farewell, my lovely

Last week I spoke to an adolescent lit class at the local university. This is something I do each semester. They've always read one of my books beforehand, so that's nice, but this session was especially fun as each student had a question ready. After the formal session I was chatting with them one on one as I signed books, and a woman wanted to know about the ending of the novel they'd all read, Come in from the Cold. "Why did you just jump to the end," she said. "Suddenly they were married."

I didn't lose a beat, I'm proud to say. I said, "I thought I'd already told the reader all she needed to know to make the leap." That answer seemed to make sense to the student and she said yes, she guessed she had known enough to make the leap.

I'm now in editing mode of a rough draft. I'm sifting through the scenes and extended dialogue asking of each passage, Is this part necessary? What does the reader need to know?

Those aren't questions that can be asked too early in the process. And they have to be asked more than once as the revising reveals the real story. But oh dear, such good stuff is disappearing. What fun I had coming up with it. The reader will never see any of it, but during the long hard slog that's a first draft at least I amused myself. Otherwise, why write?

Where To Begin?

We talk a lot about revising a manuscript, but what about beginning? Not the hook of the first line, mind you, but what to work on. The idea.

I am between books. I can work on anything. So, the process of beginning begins again. Usually I start the new by sifting through the old. I go through my journals of words and sketches to see if there is anything in there that I may have overlooked—anything I did while I wasn’t really thinking. Usually it is in these sketchbook/journals where I find my best work—a doodle, a word here and there. I may look at it from a slightly new place in life and find the connection that will make it zing. I even go through old, old, old work—stuff I did in pre-school when I was truly uninhibited (as seen in the attached images. Just to show you what I can REALLY do.)

Sometimes it really does seem as though all we ever need to know we learned between the ages of 2-12—especially when it comes to creativity. All of our beginnings and inspirations came so easily then. Don’t get me wrong—I am not saying that ideas come from my childhood, rather they come from the old mixed with the new, combined with a heavy dose of imagination, assembled into something logical but just as fresh.

A common question for authors is: Where do ideas come from? As if that is some well-kept secret that we writers have the answer to, maybe we don’t even know. This is my simple answer: Ideas come from other ideas. Ideas come while I am working. I may be writing a blog entry, a letter, doodling at a lecture, and I combine one or two of these incongruous elements into an idea I want to work on further. I try it. I see. I try something else. And the one that grabs me will come eventually. The world is chock full of ideas, they are all around you right now. Work begets work.

First Inkpot Question - Developing a novel plot and structure

Dear Inkpot,
What process do each of our Inkpot bloggers go through when developing the plot and structural design of a novel? Do any of you loosely outline or work out characters, theme, plot and structure in separate analytical pages or storyboards as you write?
Many thanks,
"Finding My Way"

Ron says:
I never outline or make much of a plan. I make up an interesting character, usually with an attitude, and let him or her loose. First drafts are low on description and setting and big on dialogue. In a sense I let my characters talk their way through the story. That part is fun. Then the work gets a little harder. But I've got 150 pages or so of fairly entertaining drivel.

Claire says:

After a long hiatus from novel-writing, I returned to the form last year. I had sense of plot and the ending with my earlier novels during the first draft. They all deepened and evolved during revision. This time around I am writing an historical fiction novel based on a real girl. I am using a few light strokes from her life and research on the historical events. In my first version I started with a different main character and after drafting about 1/4 of the story with loose outline in mind, I realized her voice wasn't working, wasn't unique enough to that period and region.

I decided to use a real girl from that period, but have been delighted, even surprised to discover a stronger fictional voice. She added new dimensions to the plot and with her stronger voice helped me flesh it out more. Now in revision, I am working to deepen Ottie's characterization and figure out her inner narrative arc. The inner arc has always been my challenge and through revision of that, my plot is getting stronger, too, as Ottie participates and reacts to events.

Lisa says:
For me, the initial draft has to come without much premeditated thought and no revision until there are enough pages to make me feel as though I have something worth saving. Usually I begin with a sense of a character who has something she is going through and, like Ron, has plenty of dialogue so that she can converse her way through scenes.

I don't develop the plot or even much structure until I have some sense of who and what I am writing about, i.e. at least 100-150 pages. Then I will spend most of the time rearranging chapters to play around with the order of things (cutting much in the process and adding some). I might do a plot outline at this point, but minimal--mainly going over timeline and sequence of events to see if there is a plot and where the gaps may be. I will do a storyboard with a brief line or two (as I do with picture books) trying to make some sort of system out of number of chapters, chapter length, etc.... I find all this interesting and kind of fun as it doesn't always lead where I expect. There are always surprises.