Writing about Writing: A Brief Preamble

I mentioned in my introductory essay that one of the things I'd talk about at length on this blog was writing and the process of writing. Writing is my passion (and at some point, I'd like to make it my livelihood), so I ruminate about it a lot. As a result, I have quite a few thoughts about it.


Before I delve into those in future essays, however, I want to make one thing about writing empathically clear: everything I say about it is purely subjective to my experience.

Anne Rice said it best (so I will now shamelessly paraphrase her) when she said that writing is the most individual of all the arts. The only formal training you get and really need to be a writer is a grasp of your language's grammar and a reasonable vocabulary, both of which you get via elementary education and through
reading. Depending on what kind of writing you wish to do, a talent of story, an ear of musicality and rhythm, or an ability to recall detail, experience, and conversation are also useful. Most writers have all of these attributes to a greater or lesser degree, and they've often gone to considerable effort to acquire or improve the skills they didn't naturally possess. (Writing is a process of constant education. "You never learn how to write a novel. You simply learn to write the novel your on," said Gene Wolfe).

Nevertheless, for a writer, this honing and improving craft is always done, not in the company of others, like peers or teachers, but in solitude. It is in this solitude of focus that every writer learns to write, and thus, every writer has their own method, their own beliefs, their own techniques to approach the actual act of writing.

Writing methods are as diverse as humanity.

Some writers write by hand using fountain pens and notebooks, others compose directly on the computer, and others still write on manual typewriters. Some writers outline extensively, while others don't plan at all. Some writers revise and rewrite after composing a complete draft, while others rewrite and revise as they go.

It goes even deeper than that though. Perhaps it's best to illustrate what I mean with some examples.

My hero, Ray Bradbury (who I will talk about more in the future), sometimes would simply sit at his typewriter, put a piece of paper into the roller and type a couple of words, like "The Scythe," "The Lake," or "The Long Rain." He would then begin describing these objects, typing away, until, suddenly, a story would begin to spin itself out involving the subject in question, and Bradbury being Bradbury would invariably introduce some kind of fantastical element to it. In his hay-day, he would sometimes do this once a week, and by the end of the week, he'd have a new, sellable short story. By the end of the year, depending on how long some of the stories were, he'd end up completing somewhere between 30 to 52 stories.

Then there's this famous, but likely apocryphal, story about James Joyce (a writer I find equal parts fascinating and unfathomable) who wrote in the tradition of experimental realism. A friend of his came to his house and found his laid out on the couch. His friend asked him if he was okay, and Joyce replied no. He then asked if Joyce had gotten any writing done that day, and Joyce said yes. "How many words did you write, Jim?" Joyce said, "Six." His friend, wide-eyed, said, "But Jim, why are you so upset? That's a lot for you." Joyce replied, "Yes, but I don't know what order they go in."

Different writers, different methods. I think this individualistic quality of writing is one of the factors that intimidates would-bes from trying their hand at it, even if they have a natural predilection for it.

Besides the daunting prospect of having to figure out a lot of it on your own, would-bes and newbies must also contend with the massive corpus of discourse on the subject of writing (which I'm now adding to). They have so many voices, including especially those of their literary heroes, that they can listen to that it can be overwhelming (this was a problem I myself faced). There are so many people dispensing their two cents on the subject, some of it concurring and universal and some of it completely contradictory, that they just don't know who to listen to, and invariably, they begin to wonder who is right.

Is writing supposed to be a laborious chore? Am I supposed to sweat over every word? Are you supposed to, to paraphrase Hemingway, sit at your computer and bleed? Is it even possible to enjoy the act of putting one word after another?

I can't give you a solid answer to these question for one reason. The only way you can learn to write you the way you write is to write. Even with the chorus of influences singing in your ears, the only way to figure out your process is to write and find it.

This, of course, means you will have to experiment, and if Science has shown us anything (you know, besides Evolution, Gravity, and other Blasphemies), it's that experimentation sometimes ends in failure. Here in lies the third thing that daunts the would-bes--the risk of failure. We live, here in America, in a culture, particularly middle-class culture, that stigmatizes failure and actively tries to discourage anything that might end in it. Security and respectability are the secular gods this country worships, even though it's been those who have tried, failed, and tried again, and again, and again until they succeed who made this country what it is.

Failure is unavoidable if you want to be a writer (particularly, if you want to write fiction, poetry, plays, or even screenplays) If you're driven to do it though, in spite of the possibility, you'll endure it. You'll persist until you succeed because you love it so much.

Before you get there though, you have to figure out your process. To do that, you must comb through what you love to read, find the authors you admire, and try out everything. Eventually, you'll hit upon it.

In the interlude, take all writing advice (including my own), the way you do a tequila shot: with a line of salt. If anyone claims to have the one and only true method, look upon with a skeptical eye. What they likely mean is that their supposed one and only method is their one and only method.

From personal experience, I've found that the best way to survey writing advice is to view it like dinner at a buffet (since I'm a chubby bastard, this analogy is perfect, plus its food-related like my tequila shot analogy). View every writer you admire and their thoughts on writing as sections in the buffet. Look at everything they're offering. Ignore what doesn't sound like it would work for you, and fill your plate with what appeals to you. (One caveat here. If multiple writers echo the same thing, you'll want to pay attention to that, even if what they're saying doesn't sound like it would work for you).

It is only through this perusing of methods and the constant try/fail cycle of writing early stuff that a writer develops their craft. Once they achieve a level of proficiency, the only thing that can stop them from writing--and I say this again from personal experience--is the lack of some kind of writing implement.

(That's why I always carry a Paper Mate Ink Joy .7 mm Gel Pen in my pocket. Give me some paper and I'll fill several sheets in no time).

In short, everything I say from this point on is merely what works for me. It's not absolute or definative. It's just my method. You might be able to learn from my experience, so tune in in the future, if you're interested.


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