Most writers struggle with plots, or, rather, with storylines. Some people can generate Byzantine plots that aren't a story, while others construct elaborate stories with the thinnest of plots. Supposedly there are only 14 to 20 plots, such as: 1. "Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy builds girl" 2. "Hero has treasure, loses treasures, regains treasure." Having said that, I admit I've never seen a list of those fourteen to twenty plots. In most cases, there is confusion between a plot, a plot-line, and a story. If any story is broken down to bare, really bare bones, there are probably many plots and subplots, but really just one story. We think of the events within a story as a plot, when actually it's much simpler than that. The story is actually the characters, setting, and the series of missteps, accidents, misadventures, and disasters that occur to stretch the plot out into a story. The plot is easy, sort of, but the story is hard. The story emerges when you add in characters, themes, settings, etc. Plots aren't so simple, even in microfiction. These days there are loads of so-called “plot generators” online. Most are meant for a laugh or to act as a prompt. But to be accurate, the plot generators really only generate a premise. A premise is where a plot, and then a story, develops. Once you've generated some of those weird plot ideas, you can see the difference between a plot and a story. Most of the plot generators are not going to create the next bestseller. I’m not even sure it can generate even a basic, straightforward story. I must confess, however, that it might create a bizarro or Monty Python-esque story. For example, I recently generated enough pieces, that when I put them together and edited the repetitive bits that I could actually compose a bizarro pulp parody, "Iowa Million and the Raters of the Lost Auk." Now this is a "supposedly lost story" by the not-so-great Edgar Rice Krispies, a fictional really bad writer I created a while back and have since created all sorts of silly stuff about him. About twenty years ago I actually published a non-fact article about ERK in a old issue of the defunct semi-pro Amazing Adventures. Plot generators are certainly an interesting thing to play around with, though. Some brief plots I generated on Seventh Sanctum (or maybe Warp Core, can’t recall which) include these: 1. The action begins in a underwater bunker. A light-fingered writer and an alcoholic warlord are attracted to each other. But she is enslaved by another species. Eventually they are united in death. 2. The action begins in an icy planet. A lithe outcast and an old musician are betrothed. But their people are at war with each other. Finally they wonder what they could have been thinking. 3. A businesswoman is turned into a snake. Can she convince a rogue astral traveller to restore her? **** A zombie site, whose name I can’t remember off-hand, gave me these two ‘plot’ ideas: 1.A dyslexic zombie and a Navy seal go on a date. 2. A Puerto Rican zombie gets stood up by the ex-husband of a novelist in virtual reality. **** My favorite, however, may well be Plot Generator, a UK-based site. It’s the most fun because it offers five categories in which to generate plots and you get to decide what items go into it. You can generate Romance, Crime, Mystery, Teen Vampire, and Bronte Sisters plots, and each comes with a simulated paperback cover. Now, in truth, what is being generated is not so much a plot as it is jacket-flap copy, included "selected" endorsements from various sources. But it doesn't mean it's not fun. Here for example is a teenage vampire story it generated. Stephanie Myers, beware! | ||
Vampire in Elkhorn, a teen vampire story by Sally Grubb There's a funny new girl in Elkhorn and she has everybody talking. Stunningly buxom and devastatingly plump, all the girls want her. However, Sarah Mittle has a secret - she's an impulsive vampire. Camille LeFanu is an even-tempered, lanky girl who enjoys stamp collecting. She becomes fascinated by Sarah, who can stop a sledgehammer with her bare hands. | ||
But she doesn't understand why Sarah's so stand-offish. Her bestfriend, a kind golem called Harvey, helps Camille begin to piece together the puzzle. Together, they discover the ultimate anti-vampire weapon - a smooth, hard stilleto. When bodies start turning up all over Elkhorn, Camille begins to fear the worst. The golem urges her to report Sarah to the police and she knows she should, so what's stopping her? She may resist Sarah's bite, but can she resist her charms? Will she be caught wrestling with the vampire? **** Maybe I'd even read this next one myself. | ||
Transmission Investigates a crime thriller by N.S. Anthony Mangled fingers have been turning up all over Berlin and the inhabitants are scared. Ten murders in ten weeks, all committed with a samurai sword, and still nobody has a clue who the egotistical killer is. Manuel Transmission is a heavy set and single-minded art teacher with a fondness for absinthe. He doesn't know it yet but he is the only one who can stop the narcissistic killer. When his dominatrix, Natalie Dressed, is kidnapped, Transmission finds himself thrown into the centre of the investigation.His only clue is a massive dildo. He enlists the help of a passionate chemist named Crimea River. Can River help Transmission overcome his absinthe addiction and find the answers before the deceitful killer and his deadly samurai sword strike again? | ||
**** And what literature major wouldn't want to read the lost collaboration of all three Bronte sisters, the immortal The Humid Moors? | ||
Harold Angel is a gentle and calm orphan raised by a brash and egotistical stockbroker. Eventually he gets a job working as a psychiatrist for the determined Lady Leventhal of Leventhal Condo. The unlikely couple rapidly succumb to a obsessive passion. On the day of their wedding, a rude hockey player escapes from the attic of Leventhal Condo and starts a fire. Believing that Lady Leventhal is dead, Harold flees from the church and wanders the humid moors for days until he is rescued by a collected janitor. However, although Lady Leventhal is blinded by the fire, she still breathes. Without Harold she becomes selfish and boastful. She turns to alcohol for comfort. The ghost of the hockey player from the attic haunts her. Meanwhile, thinking Lady Leventhal is dead, Harold accepts a marriage proposal from his saviour, the janitor. However, one night he believes he can hear Lady Leventhal calling, "Harold, where are you? Harold come home!" and he returns to Leventhal Condo. On Harold's return, he finds Lady Leventhal drunk and without sight. Mistaking him for the ghost of the rude hockey player, she attacks him with a bowie knife and Harold Angel dies. As she attends to the body, Lady Leventhal realises what she has done. Driven mad with guilt, she hatches a plan to destroy the next generation, but there is no next generation and she dies of consumption two weeks later. | ||
**** Here are just a few of the plot-lines I generated on Warpcore. [I think it’s “Warpcore.” I can’t keep them all straight, actually.] | ||
1. A unscrupulous warlord is being pursued in a heavily monitored mountain. His sister is driven mad by a foul time traveller. With the help of a smart mutant, he must raise an army in order to avert disaster and save his family. 2. A lonely pilot is facing death in a post-apocalyptic brothel. His planet is destroyed by a small meteor. With the help of a charming robot, he must make the ultimate sacrifice in order to save his future. 3. An optimistic primitive is causing a disturbance in a windswept moon. His leaders are destroyed by a deadly earthquake. With the help of an athletic alien, he must destroy a predatory alien in order to save his friends. | ||
Who’s That Shady Character? I should point out that Seventh Sanctum also has a character generator that actually may be really useful. For example, some of the characters it generated for me were: | ||
1. He is a 146 year old werebeast with yellow skin and bushy fur. Born to criminals during a famine, he was taught to hold a gun as a child the war broke out. He is interested in quantum physics and theories of everything and can smell emotions. He is unconventional, over-friendly and extremist. 2. He is a fairy with ash-grey skin, greasy hair and emerald eyes. He is 30 years old, young by the standards of his race. Born to an idiot and a weakling on a brigantine in the Caribbean, he was made to work in the fields when young. He loves to swim and practices necromancy. He is unimaginative, attention-seeking and right wing. 3. He is a genetically improved human with alabaster skin, straight, jet hair and ice blue eyes. He is 126 years old. Born to farmers in a factory, he was sent to boarding school as a child before becoming radicalized. He wields a laser and refuses to touch meat. He is self-restrained, loving and overconfident. 4. He is a half-elf with alabaster skin, straight, jet hair and ice blue eyes. He is 144 years old. Born to a family of pariahs in a slum, he was adopted as a child before happening on a lucky find. He is a vegetarian and hates getting dirty. He is smart, rude and angry. 5. He is an immortal spirit with a brutal left-hook. He was once a free man. He prefers to live in the plains. 6. She is a 108-year-old werebeast with translucent skin and light fur. Born to a whore in Norman times, she was ordered to carry out domestic chores when young before marrying and then divorcing a dangerous lunatic. She brews herbal remedies and has a coven of followers. She is unconventional, nervous around new people and morbid. 7. She is a demon with cold green skin. She is 510 years old. Born to a family of pariahs in Norman times, she was left on the streets when young before happening on a lucky find. She plays the lute inexpertly and keeps a pet snake. She is picky, an extrovert and moody. 8. She is a half-elf with alabaster skin, a shaved head and ice blue eyes. She is 213 years old. Born to refugees in a castle, she was expected to achieve great things when young before plague ravaged the population. She plays the harp and sleeps too little. She is brave, vicious and self-assured. 9. She is a human with caramel skin, aged 82. She has straight, white hair and toffee-brown eyes. Born to a tribe of pirates on a distant planet, she was made to work in a factory as a child before starting a business that failed. She wants to explore the Oort Cloud and speaks Ant and Bee. She is hard-working, attention-seeking and capricious. 10. She is a human with tanned skin, aged 33. She has straight blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. Born to a family of clerics in a small town, she was neglected when young before joining the army. She plays the harp and can smell emotions. She is driven, over-friendly and naive. 11. She is a mutant with flaking skin, long, tangled hair and violet eyes. She is 66 years old. Born to a couple of scientists after the assassination of Queen Victoria, she was apprenticed to a gamekeeper as a child before marrying into money. She wields a sword-cane and is terrified of peculiar things. She is organized, dresses ostentatiously and overconfident. | ||
Some Plot Generators: | ||
So have some fun and if anyone actually writes and publishes a story from a generated premise, please let me know. | ||
Hilary DePiano’s Web Page <http://www.hillarydepiano.com/2010/03/09/random-plot-generators-for-writers-block-a-laugh/> | ||
<http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/> | ||
<http://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php> | ||
Plot Generator < http://plot-generator.org.uk> |
Monday, April 23, 2012
The Plot Thickens or Sickens, It Depends
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Enough about you. Time to check your inflated ego at the door.
Blues singer Rory Block has a song with a chorus that starts “God’s gift to women, that’s what you think you are…” Needless to say, the song is about why the vain “gift” ain’t as goddamn divine as he thinks.
Which brings me back to the subject I’ve been blogging about. The aforementioned writer (not yet an author since he admits he’s not been published) has become hostile and has even demanded that other group members identify just who they are. He also took offense at being labeled a troll, saying that trolls are fat and short and he is skinny. But most significant is that he claims his writing abilities are a divine gift.
While there are some few and rare writers whose works are discovered as unpublished masterpieces after their deaths, but Emily Dickinson and John Kennedy O'Toole, for example, are so extraordinarily uncommon as to render the idea of literary genius without being published while alive an oxymoron.
If so, then I suggest he should sue whatever deity responsible for the “gift” for product fraud. More important, this person needs to develop some "netiquette" and learn to be polite and courteous and not try to hawk his ego like some snake-oil patent medicine. Like people in most writing groups and workshops, the vast, overwhelming majority of those members are interested in the work, both their own and others, and that work needs to speak for itself.
But this young man (I’m assuming he’s young. He has admitted he’s Eastern European and that English is not his native tongue) seems offended at the idea of submitting his stories for critique. He doesn’t seem to understand that criticism can be both constructive and/or destructive. Sometimes negative criticism is extraordinarily constructive, while positive remarks can help perpetuate bad writing habits. Yet he denounces any possible suggestion of a critique of his stories as “negativity” and a direct assault on his “divine genius.”
He’s not alone, sadly. I’ve met more than my share of young aspiring writers who believe they write prose on par with the Bible, some other sacred writings, or their personal favorite writer. Now, I confess every aspiring writer thinks he or she is the next big thing, the next Tolkien, Anne McCaffrey, Heinlein, etc. Many produce either nothing but hot air, or what they’ve written suggests they’re not even the next Ed Earl Repp (a 1920s pulp writer, if you didn’t know.)
Most aren’t just doing what’s already been done to death; they’re also doing what was already unoriginal long before it was done to death. I can’t tell you how many workshop or slush-pile stories I’ve encountered that end up being how the universe was created (often in a first person narrative raising questions about the writer’s own self-perception, although certainly explains the screwed up nature of the world.) Either that, or the story is about the survivors of some cataclysmic disaster who in the “surprise” ending are named—wait for it—Adam and Eve. To be fair, this is something we’ve all done if we’re honest about ourselves. (I try not to remember my efforts in that vein. Makes my teeth hurt.)
Some of these beginning writers learn, eventually, how to put together a real story as opposed to an extended shaggy dog anecdote, but a lot don’t. Fortunately, most never get published, although with new publishing technologies that's no longer the case. Those who do learn quite often join writers’ groups or workshops. They have, at some point, realized that this is all about the work.
Overcoming resistance to criticism is biggest step most writers can make. Few of us are born literary geniuses, something our young writer has failed to learn. I’ve never really met anyone whose first lines on the page were a masterpiece in waiting. Most have struggled, worked hard, taken advice, and then had that “aha!” moment when they suddenly understand what the advice is all about. (“Scriveners’ Satori,” if you like.)
Just remember, this is about your work, not about you. Let others read what you've got. We may recognize a spark of genius there, or the whiff of crap. In either case, it will make you a better writer. Just remember, criticism of any kind is NOT aimed at your worth as a person. But your behavior in responding to such criticism sure is an indicator of how people will view you. A writer of any kind needs humility and good editorial advice.
I have a novel that's been accepted, and I'm working with an editor who has a lot of questions and suggestions. Of course it’s uncomfortable for some else to find flaws in what your thought was great work. On the other hand, she’s noticing things that a reader would surely spot and questions. She’s made some great suggestions to make the novel much better and others that make me raise an eyebrow.
Every writer sees his or her work as a product of the heart and mind, as an offspring, if you like. Parents/artists, however, need to be told that sometimes their child/offspring/story is a piece of crap and why it's crap. They may also point out you actually have a real diamond in the shit, and that if you removed the terrible material, you'll see the diamond yourself and learn how to polish its facets, either through personal realization or, more often, from suggestions by others.
The best writers have the best critics, because the critics see something of value there. Bad writing isn't worth bothering with, and actually is easy to spot after reading the first few opening lines and the ending. That's in fact how slush-pile readers go through the mounds of submissions they receive. They also realize that Sturgeon's Law applies to most things in the slush-pile—99 percent of everything is crap.
But it's also where many great writers are eventually found—after they've been repeatedly rejected by numerous publications. But you learn from that. You learn to rewrite, to polish, to spot your own mistakes, and develop the skills to become a skilled craftsman. Think of it this way—not everything Shakespeare wrote was a masterpiece, but the immortal bard had friends—nay, constructive critics—who separated Will's wheat from the chaff and—I suspect—destroyed the chaff so only the wheat would appear in the First Folio of Shakespeare's play.
Most of us, however, are never going to be Shakespeare, so we have to recognize that and accept a simple truth: Great works are not written. They are rewritten and rewritten again and again and only after criticism—both positive and negative—given after each rewrite. Only then can it sparkle like a gem, and, if you can find an editor who can see the diamond within, you'll have a published work that others can enjoy and perhaps even admire.
But check your ego at the door, boldly put your works into the field of fire, and develop the attitude that "whatever criticism does not literally kill me (an impossibility, in fact) can only make me a better writer."
Which brings me back to the subject I’ve been blogging about. The aforementioned writer (not yet an author since he admits he’s not been published) has become hostile and has even demanded that other group members identify just who they are. He also took offense at being labeled a troll, saying that trolls are fat and short and he is skinny. But most significant is that he claims his writing abilities are a divine gift.
While there are some few and rare writers whose works are discovered as unpublished masterpieces after their deaths, but Emily Dickinson and John Kennedy O'Toole, for example, are so extraordinarily uncommon as to render the idea of literary genius without being published while alive an oxymoron.
If so, then I suggest he should sue whatever deity responsible for the “gift” for product fraud. More important, this person needs to develop some "netiquette" and learn to be polite and courteous and not try to hawk his ego like some snake-oil patent medicine. Like people in most writing groups and workshops, the vast, overwhelming majority of those members are interested in the work, both their own and others, and that work needs to speak for itself.
But this young man (I’m assuming he’s young. He has admitted he’s Eastern European and that English is not his native tongue) seems offended at the idea of submitting his stories for critique. He doesn’t seem to understand that criticism can be both constructive and/or destructive. Sometimes negative criticism is extraordinarily constructive, while positive remarks can help perpetuate bad writing habits. Yet he denounces any possible suggestion of a critique of his stories as “negativity” and a direct assault on his “divine genius.”
He’s not alone, sadly. I’ve met more than my share of young aspiring writers who believe they write prose on par with the Bible, some other sacred writings, or their personal favorite writer. Now, I confess every aspiring writer thinks he or she is the next big thing, the next Tolkien, Anne McCaffrey, Heinlein, etc. Many produce either nothing but hot air, or what they’ve written suggests they’re not even the next Ed Earl Repp (a 1920s pulp writer, if you didn’t know.)
Most aren’t just doing what’s already been done to death; they’re also doing what was already unoriginal long before it was done to death. I can’t tell you how many workshop or slush-pile stories I’ve encountered that end up being how the universe was created (often in a first person narrative raising questions about the writer’s own self-perception, although certainly explains the screwed up nature of the world.) Either that, or the story is about the survivors of some cataclysmic disaster who in the “surprise” ending are named—wait for it—Adam and Eve. To be fair, this is something we’ve all done if we’re honest about ourselves. (I try not to remember my efforts in that vein. Makes my teeth hurt.)
Some of these beginning writers learn, eventually, how to put together a real story as opposed to an extended shaggy dog anecdote, but a lot don’t. Fortunately, most never get published, although with new publishing technologies that's no longer the case. Those who do learn quite often join writers’ groups or workshops. They have, at some point, realized that this is all about the work.
Overcoming resistance to criticism is biggest step most writers can make. Few of us are born literary geniuses, something our young writer has failed to learn. I’ve never really met anyone whose first lines on the page were a masterpiece in waiting. Most have struggled, worked hard, taken advice, and then had that “aha!” moment when they suddenly understand what the advice is all about. (“Scriveners’ Satori,” if you like.)
Just remember, this is about your work, not about you. Let others read what you've got. We may recognize a spark of genius there, or the whiff of crap. In either case, it will make you a better writer. Just remember, criticism of any kind is NOT aimed at your worth as a person. But your behavior in responding to such criticism sure is an indicator of how people will view you. A writer of any kind needs humility and good editorial advice.
I have a novel that's been accepted, and I'm working with an editor who has a lot of questions and suggestions. Of course it’s uncomfortable for some else to find flaws in what your thought was great work. On the other hand, she’s noticing things that a reader would surely spot and questions. She’s made some great suggestions to make the novel much better and others that make me raise an eyebrow.
Every writer sees his or her work as a product of the heart and mind, as an offspring, if you like. Parents/artists, however, need to be told that sometimes their child/offspring/story is a piece of crap and why it's crap. They may also point out you actually have a real diamond in the shit, and that if you removed the terrible material, you'll see the diamond yourself and learn how to polish its facets, either through personal realization or, more often, from suggestions by others.
The best writers have the best critics, because the critics see something of value there. Bad writing isn't worth bothering with, and actually is easy to spot after reading the first few opening lines and the ending. That's in fact how slush-pile readers go through the mounds of submissions they receive. They also realize that Sturgeon's Law applies to most things in the slush-pile—99 percent of everything is crap.
But it's also where many great writers are eventually found—after they've been repeatedly rejected by numerous publications. But you learn from that. You learn to rewrite, to polish, to spot your own mistakes, and develop the skills to become a skilled craftsman. Think of it this way—not everything Shakespeare wrote was a masterpiece, but the immortal bard had friends—nay, constructive critics—who separated Will's wheat from the chaff and—I suspect—destroyed the chaff so only the wheat would appear in the First Folio of Shakespeare's play.
Most of us, however, are never going to be Shakespeare, so we have to recognize that and accept a simple truth: Great works are not written. They are rewritten and rewritten again and again and only after criticism—both positive and negative—given after each rewrite. Only then can it sparkle like a gem, and, if you can find an editor who can see the diamond within, you'll have a published work that others can enjoy and perhaps even admire.
But check your ego at the door, boldly put your works into the field of fire, and develop the attitude that "whatever criticism does not literally kill me (an impossibility, in fact) can only make me a better writer."
-30-
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Lately there has been a running word battle on the Worlds of Fantasy group on Yahoo. One commentator who posed the question "Can anyone write great epic fantasy?" has taken offense that others have asked about his writing and if he has published anything. The poster said he had written 150 pieces for friends, none published, and pointed out his father had published two books and that a published writer was his mentor. Needless to say the young man demanded to know by what right the other posters thought they could judge his work. A rather one-sided war of words ensued, with most posters trying to be civil and the young writer (who is clearly male) remaining offended and hostile.
I offer my response to this rumble, hugger-mugger, dispute, melee or whatever as I posted it, with some additions in brackets:
Dueling wounded egos is seriously uncool. No one is as good as they think they are. [Nor as bad as they fear they are.] We can all learn from others' writings and it's good to stretch your wings and even break the rules. But first you must learn the rules--otherwise you're simply disregarding the rules and more than likely you'll be merely repeating amateurish mistakes and hackneyed cliches.
And being defensive [and hostile to boot] is certainly not a wise idea. The immediate impression you give to other people is that you are an unremitting a**hole. That does you no good.
Similarly, telling us who is your mentor/teacher can be seen as name-dropping by a poseur. I have a degree in professional writing from the journalism school at the University of Oklahoma. I've studied with the late novelists Jack Bickham and Robert Duncan, and took a mystery writing class with Carolyn Hart. I'm glad I did, but to make a big deal of it ignores the fact that others also took those classes and probably (defiinitely actually) have been more successful. The teachers' cachet or your having well known writers as friends doesn't mean jack if you can't get your writing published.
I'm just now getting some success, but it was the result of hard work and persistence. Samuel Johnson once said that anyone who wrote for anything but money was a blockhead. But if you are not able to get published, it's as if you had never written at all. I have a saying in a frame on my desk: "Writing without publishing is like acting without applause."
Don't tell us how great your work is. Starting sending it out and getting some rejection letters, develop a hide like a rhino and take the rejection as a measure of the quality of that piece and not a judgment of you. Every rejection builds your skills as a writer. I've had a novel published and one recently accepted. Both of them had been submitted and rejected multiple times, but I tried to learn what I was doing incorrectly. A minor rewrite of the ending of my novel Ukishima probably was the change that took it over the top to acceptance. My other novel, The Gonaymne Weapon began as something I wrote as an undergrad and totally revised twice. The final version has no resemblance to the first draft, other than the name of the protagonist and his basic character. From the start I got that part right, but it took me time to bring everything else into clarity. I grew as a storyteller with that manuscript, and finally learned about outlining a work rather than flying by the seat of my pants. But that wouldn't have happened without editors telling me what was wrong or without me realizing I wasn't the greatest thing since sliced bread. Without that self-criticism (what Russians call "samokritika") I 'd probably not have anything published at all.
Writing is both a craft and a habit that must be continually practiced and refined. Even sluggers keep taking batting practice, but they know that a great hitter still fails about 70 percent of the time.
In other words, a writer who thinks he's a god (or goddess)'s gift to the world has a fool for a fan club.
Do I have the right to judge anyone else's work? Yes. But I must be a harsher judge of my own work and to develop a thick skin when taking criticism, especially my own.
Check your ego at the door. It's not about you. It's about the work. If your piece sucks, ask why it sucks, take the criticism, and incorporate those suggestions which make sense. As you become a good craftsmen, you will make the changes appear so seamless no one will ever know that the revisions weren't what you meant all along.
I offer my response to this rumble, hugger-mugger, dispute, melee or whatever as I posted it, with some additions in brackets:
Dueling wounded egos is seriously uncool. No one is as good as they think they are. [Nor as bad as they fear they are.] We can all learn from others' writings and it's good to stretch your wings and even break the rules. But first you must learn the rules--otherwise you're simply disregarding the rules and more than likely you'll be merely repeating amateurish mistakes and hackneyed cliches.
And being defensive [and hostile to boot] is certainly not a wise idea. The immediate impression you give to other people is that you are an unremitting a**hole. That does you no good.
Similarly, telling us who is your mentor/teacher can be seen as name-dropping by a poseur. I have a degree in professional writing from the journalism school at the University of Oklahoma. I've studied with the late novelists Jack Bickham and Robert Duncan, and took a mystery writing class with Carolyn Hart. I'm glad I did, but to make a big deal of it ignores the fact that others also took those classes and probably (defiinitely actually) have been more successful. The teachers' cachet or your having well known writers as friends doesn't mean jack if you can't get your writing published.
I'm just now getting some success, but it was the result of hard work and persistence. Samuel Johnson once said that anyone who wrote for anything but money was a blockhead. But if you are not able to get published, it's as if you had never written at all. I have a saying in a frame on my desk: "Writing without publishing is like acting without applause."
Don't tell us how great your work is. Starting sending it out and getting some rejection letters, develop a hide like a rhino and take the rejection as a measure of the quality of that piece and not a judgment of you. Every rejection builds your skills as a writer. I've had a novel published and one recently accepted. Both of them had been submitted and rejected multiple times, but I tried to learn what I was doing incorrectly. A minor rewrite of the ending of my novel Ukishima probably was the change that took it over the top to acceptance. My other novel, The Gonaymne Weapon began as something I wrote as an undergrad and totally revised twice. The final version has no resemblance to the first draft, other than the name of the protagonist and his basic character. From the start I got that part right, but it took me time to bring everything else into clarity. I grew as a storyteller with that manuscript, and finally learned about outlining a work rather than flying by the seat of my pants. But that wouldn't have happened without editors telling me what was wrong or without me realizing I wasn't the greatest thing since sliced bread. Without that self-criticism (what Russians call "samokritika") I 'd probably not have anything published at all.
Writing is both a craft and a habit that must be continually practiced and refined. Even sluggers keep taking batting practice, but they know that a great hitter still fails about 70 percent of the time.
In other words, a writer who thinks he's a god (or goddess)'s gift to the world has a fool for a fan club.
Do I have the right to judge anyone else's work? Yes. But I must be a harsher judge of my own work and to develop a thick skin when taking criticism, especially my own.
Check your ego at the door. It's not about you. It's about the work. If your piece sucks, ask why it sucks, take the criticism, and incorporate those suggestions which make sense. As you become a good craftsmen, you will make the changes appear so seamless no one will ever know that the revisions weren't what you meant all along.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)