Friday, May 5
A great leap forward?
While I haven't been actively writing for five weeks, or editing, or proofing, it's not like I've stopped thinking about or working on my current novel. In fact, while I wouldn't admit it, a caveman lawyer could easily make the case my current efforts stopped five weeks ago, not long after I sent the first chapter to a talented, trusted friend to read.
I've been reluctant to share my fiction with people, even close friends and family, probably because its way more personal than I'd wish it was or maybe would like it to be, and that's by choice because I find my interest wane in stories that don't have some resonance with my life and the current state of corporate-suburban American pop culture in which I live. "Write what you know" is a famous piece of advice for wanna-be writers. It turns out I try to. And I've been a chickenshit when it comes to letting people read because its so personal.
So, about three weeks ago now, my trusted, talented friend dropped me a note with his response to the first chapter of Les Dempsey Tries Again. And because he is trusted, and talented, and because I think we share a similar taste in fiction, I really want to listen and believe what he says, and learn from it and take his comments seriously.
And I have been thinking and working those comments over in my head for weeks now.
And, frankly, since we're being honest here, it's hard for me. One of the appeals of fiction writing to me is that it truly is a one-person, lonely vocation. There's no committee work, there's no collaboration, there's no second guessing by a supervisor or manager, there's no direction, there's nothing like all those things I deal with endlessly at my day job. It's just me and the story. It's up to me. It's mine. I don't want advice. That's the challenge, and that's the appeal. That's why I like the process of writing fiction.
When I make a choice that's wrong, and a talented, trusted friend notes it, it's humbling. It calls into question my whole approach, that of not seeking advice. And so I've been thinking about that choice he noted, and analyzing, and reviewing, and considering and reconsidering. Paralyzingly so, it turns out. But now I think I'm done thinking about it. I'm writing about it, right here, right now, see? So that's a good start. The log jam is coming unstuck. I think I'll take out the laptop later tonight and see if the one small/big suggestion he makes makes a difference.
And even if I don't keep his idea in my novel, the fact that I was able to share a chapter with him, and listen and seriously consider his advice, has already made a huge difference in my approach. The kind of difference that will let me let these stories go out into the world.
I've been reluctant to share my fiction with people, even close friends and family, probably because its way more personal than I'd wish it was or maybe would like it to be, and that's by choice because I find my interest wane in stories that don't have some resonance with my life and the current state of corporate-suburban American pop culture in which I live. "Write what you know" is a famous piece of advice for wanna-be writers. It turns out I try to. And I've been a chickenshit when it comes to letting people read because its so personal.
So, about three weeks ago now, my trusted, talented friend dropped me a note with his response to the first chapter of Les Dempsey Tries Again. And because he is trusted, and talented, and because I think we share a similar taste in fiction, I really want to listen and believe what he says, and learn from it and take his comments seriously.
And I have been thinking and working those comments over in my head for weeks now.
And, frankly, since we're being honest here, it's hard for me. One of the appeals of fiction writing to me is that it truly is a one-person, lonely vocation. There's no committee work, there's no collaboration, there's no second guessing by a supervisor or manager, there's no direction, there's nothing like all those things I deal with endlessly at my day job. It's just me and the story. It's up to me. It's mine. I don't want advice. That's the challenge, and that's the appeal. That's why I like the process of writing fiction.
When I make a choice that's wrong, and a talented, trusted friend notes it, it's humbling. It calls into question my whole approach, that of not seeking advice. And so I've been thinking about that choice he noted, and analyzing, and reviewing, and considering and reconsidering. Paralyzingly so, it turns out. But now I think I'm done thinking about it. I'm writing about it, right here, right now, see? So that's a good start. The log jam is coming unstuck. I think I'll take out the laptop later tonight and see if the one small/big suggestion he makes makes a difference.
And even if I don't keep his idea in my novel, the fact that I was able to share a chapter with him, and listen and seriously consider his advice, has already made a huge difference in my approach. The kind of difference that will let me let these stories go out into the world.
