Above, the eyes of sensitive poet and insensitive world-class cad, Rainer Maria Rilke. “One unexpected development of becoming a writer is meeting literary heroes,” Justin Torres, author of “We the Animals,” told me. “Unfortunately, sometimes they turn out to be asses, or they hit on you.” "The experience of a book is so much better than the experience of a person.” Read many a recounting of appalling meetings of literary heros by women who're asked to sit on laps or lick tattoos. (I wonder how many times these writers used the same lines on other star-blinded nubile greenhorns and succeeded? I'm guessing enough to keep trying.) Get the juice from the NY Times article here. "Even the best of us are at least part-time bastards.” Amen
Inspiration and work ethic the ride right next to each other.
Jack White says nothing, not even inspiration, comes without working. White argues that constricting your choices, the so-called Power of Limitation, forces the artist into a creative place that you wouldn't have found with more choices. Too many choices make for indecision and is the killer of ideas. Hear what else Jack has to say:
A great piece from the blog We all die. The Goal isn't to live forever. The author offers the most concrete advice on writing to show and not telling you're ever likely to see. E.g: No “thought” verbs: These include: Thinks, Knows, Understands, Realizes, Believes, Wants, Remembers, Imagines, Desires, and a hundred others you love to use. The list should also include: Loves and Hates. And it should include: Is and Has, but we’ll get to those later. Also: Instead of characters knowing anything, you must now present the details that allow the reader to know them. Instead of a character wanting something, you must now describe the thing so that the reader wants it. It's brilliant. Read it.
That is the way to learn the most, that when you are doing something with such enjoyment that you don’t notice that the time passes.
Destiny is a feeling you have that you know something about yourself nobody else does. The picture you have in your own mind of what you're about will come true. It's a kind of a thing you kind of have to keep to your own self, because it's a fragile feeling, and you put it out there, then someone will kill it. It's best to keep that all inside.
The website The Weeklings ("Rogue commentary for now people") offers 12 reasons why your excuses for not writing are bullshit. Or, as I would call it, my typical daily demotivations.
Here's a couple of them:
1. No one will want to read it. Yeah, that’s probably true. It’ll get better, probably, eventually. First, you’ll show your mama, and she’ll tell you it’s good. This does not actually mean it’s good, quite yet. Then, your friends will tell you the next one is good. They might be wrong or right, depending on how honest they are. Finally, strangers will tell you it’s good. And last, people will actually pay to read your writing, because they want to read it. This process can take anywhere between a few months to several decades. Good luck!
2. I don’t have time. I may be wrong, but I suspect your problem is that you have a life. Do away with that. Like, adios to yoga and the gym, plus stop jogging, and Pinteresting, sky-diving, stamp-collecting and so on. Facebook and other social media are cool in moderation, I think, but just keep the writing document openand it’ll glare at you angrily the whole time. Or write longhand. It sounds weird to youngsters, but it’s actually really good; most of the best stuff I’ve written started longhand. I guess a lot of the bad stuff I’ve written was done longhand, too. Most relationships are overrated, or they don’t have to be so time consuming at least, so do the bare minimum (or less), to maintain civil relations with the people who you value the most. TV’s out, of course, unless it’s late and you’re really comatose after a lot of work, in which case you’re not good for much anyway....
You’re an artist. You do it because you love it. That’s not enough. You fail. Go home. You’re an artist. You do it because you don’t know how to do anything else nearly as well. You fail. Go home. You’re an artist because you can’t not do it. You take shit jobs at shit pay so you can keep doing it. The hours you do the art are momentous and backbreaking. Most of your time is spent paying rent.... Read the complete article Footlights.
In an interview during his Flaming Pieperiod, Paul McCartney spoke about some of his writing process. If he onlyhad two hours to work, he said his mission would be to complete a chunk of work during that time. Whatever was started was finished in that time frame, be it writing, recording, etc, whatever the results. Later, he could decide whether anything good came from it but during those two hours he was going to be industrious. He wouldn't stop to question, doubt or edit. In other words, allow perfection to slow the production. He also wouldn't start anything he couldn't finish. As creators, there are times for input and times for output. Too many of my friends spend far too much time inputting and not enough time outputting. Outputting being the actual doing part of the process, the making of the thing—or at least taking a few steps along the way. Outputting need not be the thing, just a thing. I'm also guilty of this. As I was thinking about this I imagined counting myself as one of my friends. Artists do need friends, support groups, communities, etc. When I'm writing, though, I'm not my friend. Not at all: Not even a frenemy. Instead I'm the Brain Police, a stick-wielding squad of abusers ready beat down the work until I finally stop altogether. Perfectionism is death. To the artist there is only one true god: Blockage. And when Blockage comes there is only one prayer: Not today.* *An old expression reused in Season 2 of Game of Thrones.
How to Write a Great Short Story: 1) Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted. 2) Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for. 3) Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water. 4) Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action. 5) Start as close to the end as possible. 6) Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them in order that the reader may see what they are made of. 7) Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia. 8) Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. 9) Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
There's a nice video interview with Neil Gaiman in which he talks about his New York Times bestselling novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane (it went to number one), writing, the process, circumstances, etc, that I wanted to post. When I tried to embed it the bastards at Vimeo wouldn't allow it. In order to see it, then, you'll have to go here.
