Monday, July 5: The Scribbler
SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN
by James Lincoln Warren
“Brevity,” ironically quoth Polonius (Hamlet, Act I scene ii), perhaps the most voluble windbag in all of literature, “is the soul of wit.”
And as this website is called Criminal Brief, the Gentle Reader may excuse me for being uncharacteristically succinct this week.
A lot of advice for writers out there concerns routine. Among the proffered gems are that you should write in the morning, you should write in the evening, you should write 500 words a day, you should write 5 pages a day, you should have a detailed and specific outline, you should follow the Muse whither she leads, you should write until exhausted, you should have a defined “writing time” and quit when you have reached the end of it, you should define your existence in terms of your art (if you are serious, that is), you should treat writing like any other regular job, you should listen to inspiring music, you should write in total silence, you should emulate writers you admire, you should never deliberately imitate anybody, you should write according to the demands of the market, you should ignore current trends, and blah blah blah.
Bollocks.
I do not know any two writers who work the same way.
This is my advice:
Find something that works and stick with it. If it ain’t working, try something else, experimenting until you find something that does work. Never define your worth as a person by what you do, and judge your work according to its own merit and not for what it says about you. The audience is more important than you are, but do not compromise your standards. Writing fiction is not the same thing as manufacturing widgets, but neither is it exclusively the gift of inspiration and genius.
I don’t care if you’re inspired or hacking away at it. I don’t care if you have persistence and vision or if you are a complete whinging loser. All I care about is whether or not you give the Gentle Reader something worth his time. If you aren’t doing that, then either keep writing until you do or quit and do something else. If you lack inspiration, then you are probably in the wrong business. If you lack industry, you are definitely in the wrong business.
But don’t let anybody tell you there is only one way to be a writer, unless what they mean is that the only way is your own way.
That’s all.
That’s great advice. I once heard that the difference between a poor instructor and a good instructor is that the poor teacher says, “This is the way you do it.” The good teacher says, “This is the way I do it,” and then lets the student choose for himself.
Good point, John. Being the newest writer here, I find I grow by accretion. I read everyone’s tips (and posted a few under Professional Tips), and manage to absorb a few good habits.
I’m a write-til-exhausted coder. I might be slow to roll out in the morning, but if I tried to stop at a fixed time, my mind would continue even if my fingers didn’t. There’s no reason to quit until the brain is emptied.
The tips I find interesting aren’t the kind that suggest you position a straight-back chair at 09-hundred with the sun 75° over your right shoulder. Rather, I like the nuts and bolts whether gerunds versus infinitives make for smoother writing or not. It’s my left brain wrestling with my right.
It took me a while to realize it, but I found my most improvement writing here. It’s difficult to say how much I picked up from Deborah and John, Rob and Steve, but yes, I absorbed from them. Also, having to come up with an article every week and then make it readable was a challenge (and sometimes a pain). I credit you, my reader, for both patience and encouragement, building confidence so gradually I hardly realized it happening. When James invited me to participate, I didn’t realize I was getting a course on writing, but that’s exactly what happened.
My favorite books on writing are the ones by Larry Block. Your piece today reminded me of something he said. He talked about being very sick and he knew he couldn’t possibly write well in such conditions but he had a deadline so he wrote anyway. Afterwords he couldn’t tell which parts he wrote healthy and which he wrote sick. His moral: Write.
Notice that Leigh doesn’t mention that he learned anything about writing from me. Ungrateful wretch!
Don’t worry, I’ll get over it. Oh! I just did. Hi, Leigh!
(chuckling)
James! My entire comment was about learning from you!
There is a lot of very different and still excellent advice on writing out there, and I can include this column in that grouping! As well as the comments! Thanks!