WRITING IS HARD

Writing is hard. Why? Because it’s not just writing, is it? Term papers, essay questions, work memos, emails to your mom: These things are also called writing. Yet this is not the same as when we write a story or personal narrative or poem. When we do those things, we are not merely writing, we are trying to make magic happen. Which is the goofiest line I’ve ever written, but I’m sticking with it.

Think of this. If I make a pie in 1850s London and you try and eat it in 2013 Muncie, it’s going to kill you. If I make a toy in 1850s London and you try and operate it in 2013 Muncie, it’s probably going to fall apart in your hands. But say I write some words in 1850s London and you read them in 2013 Muncie. If I’ve done my job, then there will bloom in your head a fantastic movie where real people seem to be walking and talking and having problems and making you care about them. And this will be nearly the same head-movie someone else experienced from those words in 1860s London or 1920s Singapore or 1990s Space Shuttle mission. How is that not magic?

But this is, as I say, hard to do. After all, if magic were easy, we’d be making it all the time, right? And this is why people get weird about writing, or about wanting to write.

No one ever claims to be a jeweler without actually being a jeweler. Yet people do claim to be writers, and then you find out the writing is not happening so much as the Talking About Writing. (I do realize the irony of saying this on a writing blog. Also: Ssh.) Likewise, no one in the history of the world has ever said, “I want desperately to be a jeweler, but I can’t seem to get started.” If you want to be a jeweler, you go and become a jeweler, and then you’re doing it. Unless you were just saying you wanted to be a jeweler to seem more interesting, and/or in order to get into someone’s pants. Which I will not begrudge you.

I’m amazed by the sheer number of writers and readers I meet, both in my workshops and in everyday life, who have some odd theories about how writing works. And I understand: it’s a mysterious and abstract thing, and so, like settlers living in a strange new wilderness, we invent these ideas and narratives in order to make sense of our surroundings. I’ve met new writers who are cynical and bitter before they’ve even finished a single story or fully-formed chapter.

“Publishers only want young writers” is one I hear a lot. And it does seem like that, due to the author-success narrative favored by the mainstream media. But the truth is, most first-time authors are over 40. E.L. James, touted just this week in more than one article as the savior of the publishing industry, is 50 years old. So publishers don’t only want young authors. Publishers do only want books about guys in suits spanking women.

“Publishers are screwing over writers,” is another one I hear. And that’s another kind of narrative, one propelled by some authors in their more candid interviews. Are publishers screwing over writers? Well, sure, some must be. That’s the law of averages. But all? Of course not.

I’ve also come across people who are maybe a little too optimistic. A friend of mine told me just today that a few people in her YA writing class have been having a discussion regarding which cause they’re going to give a portion of their first advance to. I don’t even know what to say to that.

All of this — the wild theories, the myths — comes from the basic fact that, ta-da, writing is hard. This is why, despite the fact that we’ve heard stories all our lives, we go to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, and — WOOSH, it’s like the brain has been wiped. Suddenly we have no idea what we’re doing. We’re typing words, but they’re not adding up to anything. Our four-year-old self knew exactly how to say “And then what happened?” but our 40-year-old self somehow does not.

Or maybe it’s the opposite: The brain has been flooded. I’ve heard more than once that writer’s block isn’t the absence of ideas, it’s a surplus of them. Too many possibilities. Perhaps this is what makes us go stupid when we start writing — the gates are open, and there are too many horses on the track. I HAVE TO REMEMBER TO MAKE IT COMPELLING IT NEEDS A KILLER OPENING WHO IS EVEN GOING TO WANT TO PICK UP THE MOVIE OPTION FOR THIS BOOK AND DON’T FORGET TO PICK A POINT OF VIEW WHOSE STORY IS THIS AND OH SHIT I USED A BUNCH OF ADJECTIVES AND ADVERBS ALREADY SOMEONE SAID NEVER TO DO THAT I AM GARBAGE

And then you’re checking Facebook. Uncle Steve, when did you turn so crazy?

So, yeah, writing is hard. The great thing is, it can always be improved. Between blog posts and fiction, I have probably ten things in various stages of completion now, and while I may look at many of them as potentially awful, in reality they’re ALL in various stages of potential greatness or at least goodness. We don’t chisel writing in stone anymore (except for tombstones, I mean), and we don’t use manual typewriters unless we’re feeling especially affected, so every piece of writing has an inherent potential for improvement. But you have to do the work, and the work often involves as much self-analysis and behavioral modification as it does understanding what your characters want and which P.O.V. to use.

I used to do a series of posts called the Known Unknowns, which was me working through various writing issues in blog form. Those are still here, but I’ve renamed this category Writing Is Hard. Because this cuts more to the heart of it, I think. It also encompasses the idea of looking at what blocks us from improving, from seeing certain truths about our writing. I was going to call it Writing Is Hard And You’re Fucked Up, but that seemed too long.

So we’ll stick with Writing Is Hard as the name for these weekly bullying posts of mine on the craft of writing, which includes the craft of looking yourself dead in the eye (the inner eye) and figuring out what’s limiting you. In addition, I’ll continue to blog occasionally about other literary issues, such as reading, publishing trends, crowdfunding, etc.

Finally, I want to thank everyone who’s been listening to the What Are You Reading? podcast. I started posting those at the very beginning of February, and I was already pleased with how that first month went. Now, with March not quite at an end, we’ve doubled the number of downloads from February, and I’m kind of speechless. I really appreciate the support, and I’m glad people seem to enjoy the show. I’m certainly having a great time doing it!

All right. Time to go finish the first post under the new Writing Is Hard banner, the one where I do get a little mean about adjectives. But as always, I do it with love.