Agonies of a Young Author

AMMMMMMMMM I about to do this? I think, I think... I think I am about to commit the ultimate writer's sin. Actually, I think I'm about to commit the TWO cardinal sins of writing. I am not going to listen to my editor, and I am not killing my darlings.

(*pause for horrified, stupefied look*)

Oh man, I can't believe I even said that. I can't believe that I'm at this point. But every time I look at the proposed changes on my poem, something wells up in me- "No. Just no. This isn't what I want to say. This isn't how I want to say it. This isn't me."

I've had great revision experiences, from several sources. I really have benefited from the input, and I have learned why the advice is given, as well as how it adds to my piece. And I have been recommended by a creative writing professor, at this point in my career especially, it's better to accept revisions and get published, then revert to the original format in a later chapbook.

Yet. Yet, yet, yetyetyet.

I am not Medea, and more importantly, I am not a minimalist. My style of writing is conversationalist. I tend towards the rhythm of spoken word poetry. There are a lot of "and"s and "the"s and "but"s in my writing-- many which can be removed, but also many that I think function as part of the poem. When I read it aloud, my version has a melody, whereas the proposed version is choppy, rough, fragmented with loss and awkward jumps.

I know that I'm likely still reacting with emotion. Time and distance would give me a clearer head to think through the changes. But even as I have accepted (and subsequently edited in) some points, there are others that I think I must stick by my guns for. I don't want to be the prissy, recalcitrant Speshul Snowflake Poet, but what about my artistic integrity?

I just really hope I'm not shooting myself in the foot.

To cheer myself up, and remind myself of the important tenents of writing...
Devin Galaudet's The Creative Writer’s Bill of Rights (or The Creative Bill of Writes)

1. The artist can turn off all filters and say anything about any subject, at any time, for any reason.
2. No subject matter, no how uncomfortable or offensive to self or others, is off limits
3. No single word: expletive or other no-no should be avoided due to political correctness or fear. If the word is appropriate in the context of the writing, it should stay. *
4. Any random thought should be written down by the writer, especially when the writer’s internal voice says, you can’t say that!
5. No matter how perfect a writing is, it could be edited down further or expanded upon.
6. Sometimes a writer will have to kill his or her babies. This means some great ideas/lines/articles will have to be removed, taken out, destroyed, sacrificed or edited in order to make the writing better. It can be a painful process.
7. Making changes that others have suggested, after careful scrutiny, gives the writer more authority as a writer.
8. Ignoring changes that others have suggested, after careful scrutiny, gives the writer more authority as a writer.
9. Getting a big authentic reaction is good – whether the reader liked the writing or not. Big reactions like “You suck,” is not a good reason to rewrite.
10. Taking a risk is a good thing.
11. Making a difference takes risk.
* Writing for shock value: using words and topics to offend for the sake of being offensive, is not creative. It is divisive and outside the scope of this sacred document — where is good parchment when you need it?
Write Now:
What I'm listening to: "Look No Further" by Dido
What I want most: Second opinions- revise, or withdraw? Comment!

Sometimes even the best crazy organizer goes astray.

I have my calendar. I have multiple folders. I have different email accounts. I'm pretty good at separating the various "me"s and keeping them all in line- the school "me," the writer "me," the miscellaneous other "me." But sometimes it's not the separation that matters, but simple commonsense.

I had a poetry contest deadline over the weekend. I say had, because I missed it. I had written down only the name, so when I went to look for the submission guidelines, I couldn't find them.

They were not in my calendar.
They were not in my saved emails.
They were not in my folders.
They were not in my browser bookmarks.
They were not on my contest list.

They were not anywhere.

So I missed the deadline. And now I've rather ruefully learned to write everything in my calendar, as well as noting where to find the original blurb.

Such a simple mistake, such a stupid reason to miss a deadline.

Young Author- new lesson.

Right now:
What I'm listening to: nothing. I'm at the library.
What I want most: my computer cord. I left it at the dorm...

I decided to explore today, and watched ABC's new television series "The Legend of the Seeker", based off Terry Goodkind's best-selling series of novels. Now, I love Goodkind's work, and have followed his series for years. I truly believe that one of the later books changed my perspective and my life. I even wrote my college application essay on that particular book (but that's another blog post). So I was really hesitant going into this show. Everyone knows that books rarely translate well into movies (although I can list a few that are actually better than the book in my opinion, but that is also another blog post), and a TV series seems doomed to rank even lower than a movie. The opportunity for greater detail due to the expanded time-line is a definite plus, but the acting and accuracy seems to suffer.

Which I find to be the case for "The Legend of the Seeker."

My main caveat is the actor playing Richard Cypher. In first book, Wizard's First Rule, it was acknowledged that Richard was a simple woods guide, therefore naive and innocent. But nowhere was it mentioned that Richard was immature, but rather a very self-controlled character despite his naivety. In the TV series, the actor playing Richard looks to be around 18 years old, and acts around 15. He is angsty, prone to shouting cliches and cringe-worthy vows of justice that he can't back up. Think Harry Potter #5.

The other issue I have is the major re-structuring of the plot. In the TV series, the Book of Counted Shadows was not in the possession of Richard Cypher from the beginning, but delivered to him by Kahlan. I'm not sure what the ramifications for the ending are, but major changes will be a necessity. I don't want to give too much away, to avoid spoilers, but it's a major change for the ending. Think Harry Potter #7. Then take out all the build-up details. Oh, WAIT, they did. But that's another blog post.

The last issue I have is that Richard's right to the position of Seeker in the TV series is hereditary. In the book, they emphasized right of personality (hereditary might have been there, but I don't remember well enough for negate it for sure).

The only redeeming point was the scene where Zed stood on his cloud watching rock. But after that even Zed fell into contrite stereotypes.

Conclusion: If you can suspend your attachment to the real book and it's details, you might get away with enjoying the series. Maybe. Otherwise, I would recommend only for really bored days.

RATING:
2 out of 5 stars
Watchable for another episode or two
Don't follow on a regular basis

Right Now:
What I'm listening to: "Last Night" by Skillet
What I want most: sleep.

No, seriously. I don't know what the admissions board was thinking. I think they either were going to lunch, or coming back, and just wanted to get out of there.

What I'm taking about is my supplemental piece. For us artsy folks, they allow an additional submission of creative writing/video/music sample, acting sample, etc. And I sent one in. I happened to stumble across both the original, and my later rewrite. The original I went for humor. I failed. In the rewrite I went for high literature. I failed. And the thoughts that I express... are horrible, cliche, and uncomplimentary to my own profession. I am traumatized. I am amused. I don't know what to do with myself, so therefore I am posting both versions here.

At least I recognize my "style" or "voice." Apparently, I had it even way back then. I have a tendency to include subclauses- a lot. I use dashes- a lot. I indicate multiple thoughts by using "that"- a lot. And I do this all still today. I also have a structure in which I like to use the body of a paragraph as one point, then add a single sentence separated from the main text that completely contradicts or twists the original idea. And I do this all the time now.

I also realize that I was trying to go for a creative non-fiction piece. Or would have, if I even knew what creative non-fiction was back then. But I also use writer's block as a vehicle to get over my writer's block. Ugh. Just ugh.

So, I would say enjoy, but..... Yeah.

WARNING: This piece is mildly offensive. Please forgive me. I was ignorant and didn't know any better. I don't write like this anymore.

***
There is something about a blank white piece of piece of paper. It has a space, an emptiness, that demands to be filled, and yet possesses a very lethal danger to all who would seek to mar its creamy perfection.
It's called writer's block.
My pencil thumped rapidly against the stack of notebook paper, its rubber eraser bouncing a little higher each time. I slowed the tapping, moving so that each hit would trace the lines on the paper. Down the red line, across each green line that spanned the vast canyon that was my masterpiece.
Or would be, if I had anything to write.
In my experience, writer's block hits at either one of two places. The first, where most writers and all good storytellers start- at the beginning. It's the bone-crushing despair that stops you from ever touching pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, if you're one of those types, but I prefer to take my chances having writer's block with an inanimate object than having a disapproving cursor blinking back at me.) The second place writer's block can hit is about 1/3 of the way down a page, where you are so thankful that divine inspiration has given you an idea that you surge to reach for that pencil, only to find that the idea peters out after four sentences.
Writing can be a shitty business. And I'm such a lucky girl to enter into said shitty business.
Because honestly, a writer cant declare herself to be anything other than she is. It's like toast trying to pass herself off as French bread. You're still toast, burned edges and all.
Believe me, I've tried. 15 years of trying, in fact. One of the first things I remember is my dad saying that I should be a writer. I brushed off each and every suggestion like that, thinking I wanted to do something worthwhile in life, like dig in the mud and discover buried treasure (I wanted to become an archaeologist.)
How ironic then, that I've come full circle, and traded one obscure profession for another.
Of course, writing is a worthwhile occupation- it keeps all the lunatics off the street and locked away in their houses trying to write the great American novel.
It saves on construction for mental hospitals too.
Alright, all writers aren't crazy, but admittedly we are a rare bunch. Everyone in the world might be trying to write the aforementioned great American novel, so much that it's passed into the realm of cliche, but I think authors, as opposed to writers, have something special (and yes, there is a difference: writers are those still dreaming of the great American novel, a sort of croissant and mimosa type; author's are those who've decided it's time to be toast.)
I read once that authors are like vacuums, who suck up other people's lives, then weave them into stories like sparrows building nests.
This vacuum likes being toast, even with writer's block and burnt edges.

***
The Rewrite
(This one is only slightly better. I am proud of my editing skills though.)

There is a very lethal danger, though often forgotten, in the expanse and emptiness of a blank white piece of paper. Space stretches out unchecked from corner to corner, down each side of the page, traversed only by a few brave lines, establishing a thin, tentative sort of order in that expanse of uncharted territory. And to those that seek to mar its creamy unblemished perfection, it issues a mute challenge, a warning, a curse.
It’s called writer’s block.

My pencil is often rendered useless by this most dreaded of circumstances. Frustrated by lack of progress and thwarted by a force greater than it’s own, my pencil seeks refuge in useless action. It thumped rapidly against the stacj of notebook paper, its rubber end bouncing a little higher each time. I slowed the tapping, moving so that each downward hit would trace across the green lines. Lines that spanned the vast canyon that was my masterpiece.
Or would be, if I had anything to write.

In my experience, writer’s block strikes at either one of two places; at the beginning, where all good story-tellers and most decent authors start, or about one-third of the way down the page, after a few hope-filled sentences burst forth. It’s either the bone-crushing despair that prevents pencil from touching paper in the first place, or the insidious creeping despair fom that contrast between divine inspiration and the eventual stuttering end of divine inspiration.
Writing can be a truly shitty business. Wordless, mocking challenges, disapproving, blinking cursors. the failure to conquoer the blank page or screen. Soul-searing, scarring failures, remembered and pondered over and prodded at by some inherent masochistic desire to delve right back into the pain-filled heart of writing.
And I would never want to do anything else. There can never be anything else.
A writer cannot be happy passing herself off as anything else. It is not a career, it is a character trait, as genetically determined as hair color or eye color or race. You may dye your hair, but each month the roots grow out and you are once again reminded of the truth of identity. The same for toast, trying to masquerade as the finest French bagette. Both are crunchy, slightly tough, sometimes stale. But in the end, the burnt taste always give it away, no how much scraping and trimmed edges and cursing occurs.
Not that many writers don’t try. I tried. Years of trying. 15 years worth of trying to avoid the person I really am. Over a decade’s worth of fighting and avoidance, and to some degree, I am still fighting that siren’s call. Avoiding failure by not writing. Avoiding writing’s block by not writing. Avoiding a burning, tireless obsession by not writing. Avoiding anything, everything, whatever I fear by not writing at all. I think that to some degree, I will always be fighting. This too is a part of writing: destructive, vindictive, integral, necessary, accepted.
It could be argued that the only benefit of writing is that it keeps the crazies off the streets- and what writer is not a little bit crazy for pursuing heart-ache so willingly?-and squirreled away in little garret rooms writing the next great American novel.

(And here thankfully I stopped.)


Right Now:
What I'm listening to: "Runaway" by Mae
What I want most: to take back this piece. Definitely.

I have never had a harder time pinning down a character in my life.

I sit down to write a scene- fine. My character comes out perfectly clear. I sit down to fill a character info sheet, one for class no less, and static. The scenario is a little like this:

Name?
Me: ... uh, her nickname is [retracted].
Hair Color?
Me: 0_0
Eye Color:
Me: Zomg.
Relationship with father?
Me: Does she have a father? (*fail*)

Also, get this. I can't picture the mother in this story-- so I have to go to the internet and print out a picture of some actress.

I hate relying on a picture. It limits me. I get stuck imagining the character with certain expressions and gestures, when that doesn't necessarily fit their personality. Argh.

And this stupid character bio is due tomorrow, isn't it? Oh, yes, yes it is.

It's gonna be a long night yo.

Right Now:
What I'm listening to: The Corrs "Spencil Hill"
What I want most: my Muse to kick in or something. Actress photos! Argh...

I think I got lost somewhere in middle school years, and never pulled myself out of that pseudo-organizational hole. I'm speaking of course, of planning. And plotting. And character development. And my obsessive need to have forms for each. Multiple forms. Multiple forms that I would update every six months, re-fill out for neatness, and ruffle through the slush pile to fill out a form for each... stupid... fluttering...scrap. An obsessiveness with forms that did not translate into the obsessiveness just... to... WRITE!  

Ugh! I revisited the slush pile today, and it was NOT a good decision. I am beyond displeased. I HATE the slush pile. No, I abhor the slush pile. Yes, abhor is a good word. A very good word. 

After locking myself in yesterday, and getting over the Muse's obligatory "But I don't wanna!" protests, I got a real chuckle out of the high school era poetry slush pile.