Just Write Already

In music we admire musicians who practice ten or more hours a day. Painters and other forms of art are the same. Only in writing does the myth of not practicing to get better come roaring in. We teach new writers to slow down, to not work to get better, to spend fewer and fewer hours at writing, to not practice, and then wonder why so many writers don’t make it to a professional level. ~ Dean Wesley Smith

You know, that’s a really, really good point. I mean, everyone knows on some sort of instinctive level that you have to practice something to get good at it, but I know that I for one get majorly sucked into the 'perfect pot' trap.

I really need to learn to let go of that and just applying the BIC method – i.e., Butt In Chair. Sit, write, and quit worrying over the quality of the derned stuff. Research and logic are both quite clear that the more you do something, the better you’ll get. Abstractivising, as I am so fond of doing, will only get you so far; I want more than 'grandiose theories and pile of dead clay'.

So excuse me – I’m off to write :)

[Addendum: After writing this, I did in fact go off to write, and wrote nearly 1200 words of a new short in about 40 minutes. SQUEE.)

Discrimination: Is It Really Funny?

I was poking around on the harddrive looking for a particular file last night when I stumbled across the below: a post I wrote nearly TWO YEARS ago that somehow never made it to the blog. It was a direct response to something that happened on a live TV show, but it's still just as relevant and thought-provoking. So this week, you get a long, thinky post :) It's a little vague in places, but nonetheless asks some interesting questions. Enjoy.

Australians will poke fun at anything and everything, and claim it is their right to do so. There are very few icons of our own that one could mock and be slandered for it; we value our sense of laid-back humour and our ability to mock one and all. But are we guilty, because of this, of perpetuating negative stereotypes when we laugh at jokes that are fundamentally based on discrimination and said stereotyping?

Where, for example, does one draw the line? Is a blonde telling a blonde joke less discriminatory than a brunette telling it? Are we allowed to laugh? Are we allowed to laugh if a brunette tells it, but the blondes in the room laugh? And given that casual mockery is such an essential part of Australian culture, do we have to ask questions like, to what extent is a culture allowed their own character, insomuch as that character may hurt and offend others? And ultimately, is mocking based on racial or sexist discrimination any less harmful in the long run than, for example, the oppression of women in some eastern nations?

And most importantly: does this mean we’re not allowed a sense of humour? I dispute that: I believe that humour is an essential quality of being human, of life. But on the other hand, I refuse to find things such as Australia’s Funniest Home Videos funny; I find nothing amusing about people hurting themselves over and over in obvious, predictable and painful ways. Is it a matter then of choosing what we find funny?

It’s no wonder we live in a post-post modern age; moral relativity and globalisation are utterly incompatible. We simply cannot argue that what is right for me is right for me, and what is right for you is right for you, in an age where even the very concept of nationalism is up for grabs. Western nations will permit non-western nations to have power and influence only to the degree that they conform to our ideals and values; there is an absolute, and it’s ours. Granted, nationalism (global recognition that a country conforms to certain standards and thus has the right to autonomy) has always been a case of good for the goose but not for the gander, but in an increasingly global society there can be little doubt that nations are no longer truly free to choose their own identity; if they are to have any sway in the political community they must conform to certain standards of “justice”, “equality” and “democracy”.

But in the end, who’s to say that our judgement stick is the best? By no means am I suggesting that I am anti-democratic, or anti-anti-discrimination; but the point remains: we are guilty of forcing our will upon the rest of the world, whether they want it or not. It is for the good of the majority – on the whole.

So what are we going to do about it? It starts with being able to admit that we are part of the problem; with being able to admit that we are part of a society that perpetuates stereotypes; with being able to re-examine our own habits and beliefs, and being willing to accept that we were wrong – and that we can change.

I acknowledge that I have been naive. And I resolve to monitor more closely what I find amusing, and why, and to think about the broader implications that that may have not only in my own life, but in the life of others, even be they far, far away from me.

The world will change one person at a time. What will you do to change it?

Closing the Gap

I was thinking the other day about middle grade books, because according to some really good definitions that I pretty much agree with, I've written one. I won't go into the details of the difference between MG and YA, because that link does it perfectly and comprehensively well, but suffice to say that the whole 'saving the world' motif is usually more characteristic of MG than YA. YA is more about saving yourself, as a very general rule.

Where am I going with all this? Here: I was pondering the other day about how in Sanctuary (my MG novel), Edge has to save her magical fairy world by reaffirming the boundary between it and the 'evil' land beyond. And althought this isn't strictly the idea in Sanctuary, it struck me that a lot of time, MG fantasy is about reaffirming boundaries.

Now, I'm sure there are perfectly adequate reasons for this, and I'm sure it could be interpreted in many cases as keeping good separate from evil, etc etc, blah blah. But it ALSO struck me that, really, it's kind of xenophobic of us. To me, it's strongly remniscent of the days when countries' boundaries were virtually tangible, when the oceans and airs were all but impassable, where we didn't know how the rest of the world lived and were terrified of anything different. To me, it's imperialism at it's best: anything different than our current way of life is a threat, is therefore evil, must therefore be kept away. People different to us are a threat, are scary, are out to kill us all and must be killed before they get us first.

The magic world that's colliding with Earth? The paranormals that are threatening to become common knowledge? The rift that's opened up, allowing passage between worlds? These are all threats to our way of life, and they must be shoved away, silenced, closed up. Isn't that usually the aim of quests, after all? To reseal the gap?

Surely, surely, we can understand at least intellectually that this doesn't have to be the case any more. Surely, by now, we can comprehend the vast benefits that other cultures have to offer, appreciate the mystery of other ways of life, form relationships based on our commonalities rather than our differences.

So that's what I would love to see: MG fantasy (or any fantasy, really) where the object isn't to push the Other away, but to learn to live with them, to learn from them, to struggle with the difficulty of meshing different worlds together rather than the fight to keep them apart.

And maybe, just maybe, if we can do that in our fiction, people might learn to do it in real life. Because occasionally, fiction is powerful.

Wake Up

I started this year determined to turn over a new leaf; to remember what I'm capable of achieving, to go after my dreams, and to trust. So far, actually, it's been pretty good :o) As sort of a tie in to this, over on Holly Lisle's blog she talked recently about these 'intention coins' that her daughter is making - essentially just a coin-sized disc with a few words stamped on them, a focus or a talisman for your year.

Holly asked what words we would stamp on an intention coin for 2011. Originally, I thought I might go for something like ‘just write’ (pretty self explanatory) or even ‘good enough’ to remind myself that I am. Other people suggested things like persevere, embrace, accept change, get moving, and persist.

But thinking deeper on it, I decided finally that I would write ‘Wake Up’. Last year was a horrible year full of brain fog and some depression and a lot of self doubt, and I feel like the creative, vibrant part of me slept through a lot of it. And a camp I’ve just been at for the last week had an amazing speaker who used the catch cry ‘wake up’ as a reminder to open your eyes and see what’s really around you, to remember what’s really important in life, to keep your priorities straight and to live each day with gratitude and grace - and trust.

So, wake up it is. What would your catch cry for 2011 be?

Where's Your Focus?

After writing that post about finding my focus on Wednesday, I was poking around through my saved drafts and saw the title of this post. I dragged it out, and decided I should post it today and pretend it was all a part of the Great Plan, talking about focus twice in a row.

*ahem* Yes. I planned it. Hear me? You never heard me admit otherwise, m'kay? Good.

When I first reread Marked (previously Hunter Hunted) after writing it back in January, I realised something. This is what I said in my notes to myself for this post:

"I realised I don't want to write it [Marked] for the cool religion, 'cause I don't know anything about that. I want to write it for the character's journey. Likewise, what interests me with Jesscapades is not the tech and spyness, but the mystery of the glasses".

I stalled out writing Marked for a while, and I worked myself into impossible, implausible holes in Jesscapades. Why? Because I wasn't writing the story I thought I was writing.

With Marked, I thought I was writing a story about a cool tiger religion, where humans are sacred and violence against them is forbidden. With Jess, I thought I was writing a cool spy/assassin story with lots of tech and gadgets.

I was wrong, on both counts.

Marked is a story about a young tiger's battle with his religion; about someone learning to trust that they can't see all the eventual outcomes of their actions and that laws exist for a reason; and most of all, it's about someone realising that no one is ever to low to be loved, or too far gone to be redeemed. Even if you do happen to start a full-scale inter-species war. O:)

Jesscapades is a story about one girl's attempt to save her sister from herself; it's about learning that you have to let people make their own mistakes; it's about the mystery of magic and the workings of Fate.

Marked still has the cool tiger religion. Jess still has the gadgets. But neither of these is the driving force behind the story, and as I was writing I realised I didn't want it to be. It wasn't what I was interested in; it wasn't where my focus was. Both times, I stalled because I was trying to force the story to be what I thought it should be, not what I really and truly wanted it to be.

Knowing your focus before you writing - knowing why you want to write this story, what the point of it is for you - is just as important as figuring out what your focus is after you write, when you're editing.

I guess it's kind of like life, in a way: Is your focus what you think your life ought to be, what others think it ought to be, or is it what you want it to be, in your heart of hearts? Do you know what you want it to be? How do you know you've got there if you don't know where 'there' is?

And I guess that's like writing: How do you know what you think until you see what you say, after all? The joy, in the end, is in discovering.

The Write Education

Brought to you by today's dose of randomness: Do I need an education to be a writer? An apparently straightforward question, but the answer is not quite so straightforward. The answer is, it depends on what you mean by an education. >:)

Education, according to google:

1) activities that impart knowledge or skill
2) knowledge acquired by learning and instruction

See, there's a school of thought that says that you can't be a Writer (TM) unless you have a degree in writing of some description. But there's also a school of thought that says that writing degrees churn out 'writers' who are better at analysing than writing, and talking about writing than actually doing it.

As with all arguments, there's something to be said for both sides. On the one hand, I learnt more about writing from joining a critique group and learning to give good critiques than I ever did from the university courses in creative writing that I did. The courses were too structured, too infrequent (one lecture and one workshop per week; not much time when spread over 25 people per workshop), too focussed on the theory for me to learn anything terribly practical.

Which is not to say I'm not glad I did the courses; I did learn things, to be sure (one of the maxims that hangs above my computer came from that class: Imagine precisely.), and I enjoyed the classes very much.

I just learned even more by getting my hands dirty and actually critting other people's work voraciously. Which, if you read the definitions of 'education' given above, still fits: critiquing was an activity that I did that imparted knowledge and skill - knowledge about what worked and when, and skills relating to how to employ that knowledge to make my own writing stronger. Nothing can substitute for actually writing when it comes to learning the art and craft of writing :D

On the other hand, you might not need a degree to be a writer, but there's one thing that a formal education can give you that most people don't learn elsewhere: critical thinking.

To be a truly great writer, you have to think about the world around you - about how it works, why it works, and most of all, where it goes wrong.

Some fortunate souls are born wise, but most of us have to learn wisdom along the way. I used to think my university studies didn't teach me much - but now I compare myself to the incredibly intelligent students that I'm teaching and I realise how far I actually have come. Learning to think critically erases naivety about the world, about people, and it helps to dig out the truth hiding underneath.

Would I have got there in the end? Probably, but it would have been a longer road filled with much more personal experience, and less learning from others' mistakes and experiences.

You don't need a degree in order to be a good writer, and you certainly don't need a degree in writing. What you do need, however, is the ability to think critically and for yourself. And that kind of education is available in myriad different ways. So yes, would-be writers: you do need an education. Just not the kind you expect.

Miss, Will I Be Like This Forever?

Two things collided in my head today: one, a student in one of my classes asked me a fantastic question, and two I finally read up on all the controversy surrounding the US covers of both Liar and Magic Under Glass.

I can't remember the exact phrasing of the question, but it was basically as the title of this post: miss, will it be like this forever?

To which I of course responded with puzzlement - will what be??

My student explained that she was finding it difficult to watch certain movies without being constantly conscious of shots and angles and themes and characterisation and and and... And that her elder sister had told her that after completing a major in English in her high school studies, this got worse, not better.

I remember lamenting similar things when I was in highschool, and I know it's an all-too-common complaint that studying a novel in English class ruins an otherwise good novel.

In university, my creative writing lecturer noted that he never read without his 'editing' brain in gear anymore; that he couldn't enjoy certain books because of this.

What was my reply? That like many things in life, things get worse before they get better; that eventually, if you want to, you'll be able to turn the editing part of your brain off and enjoy something for what it is, without criticism.

But.

And this is where the question collided with other things in my head.

But.

A lot of people might argue that English ruins novels; that studying them and pulling them to pieces robs them of all enjoyment. That's it not worth going through the worse to get to the better; why bother at all?

Because it's important. I'm preaching to the choir here, I know, but it is important. Learning critical thinking, learning to think about what something is trying to say and how it's going about doing it - that's not only an English skill, that's a life skill. To be active, informed, global citizens, it's vital that we know how to interpret and understand the plethora of information that's thrown at us every single day. We need to know what hidden messages look like if we are ever to spot them; and if we have not studied texts in order to discover the meaning of life, of love, of joy or pain or sorrow or injustice - how are we to recognise it hidden deep in the texts of everyday life?

Bloomsbury's covers are a case in point.

Ignorance is no excuse for allowing injustice to flourish; and 'too hard' or 'uncomfortable' is no excuse for allowing ignorance to flourish.

We need the skills that tearing texts apart furnishes us with - even if they come at the cost of the enjoyment of a handful of novels and/or films.

Miss, will it be like this forever?

I certainly hope so.

It's Only My Opinion

The rise of the internet has often been heralded as the rise of the common man. No longer are news, literature, and written communication in all its more general forms something that remain the exclusive domain of the rich, famous, or well-eductated. These days, anyone can - and does - have a say.

Nobodies can rise to fame in a matter of hours via youtube; authors who otherwise wouldn't stand a chance can develop a sales base through blogging and social networking.

Everyone can have a say.

The internet is a remarkable beast, one to which I owe a hearty portion of my life - keeping in contact with family and friends, finding support groups for my writing habits, devouring news and information - but all this makes me wonder: What's the value of an opinion?

In the days where anyone can have an opinion, where everyone is entitled to one, where any person can preach from the metaphorical rooftops and garner a following - what is such an opinion worth?

As writers, too often a large portion of our self esteem rests on what others think of us. Actually, that's true of everyone, regardless of occupation. A mentoring seminar I once attended gave the self esteem equation thusly:

Your Self Esteem = what YOU think people you CARE about THINK about YOU.

Convoluted, but totally true.

Writing is hard. Writing in a vacuum is really hard. I couldn't get to the end of my novels without the love and support and writing cookies and knocks on the head with admonishments to quit whining and write of my critique group - and they are all online.

But what about the critics? Not Critics, people who critique (or criticise, depending on your opinion :D) things for a living, but critics - the ones who live to tear people down. And yes, they can be the same thing :D And what's more, they can be unintentional.

In the age of the internet where everyone can not only hold an opinion, but can publish it to a wide audience too, someone, somewhere, is bound to make a hurtful remark about your writing at some point. Someone, somewhere, is bound to not only dislike it, but hate it - and they'll tell people about it.

What's the value of an opinion?

To whom do we entrust our self esteem?

Everyone can publish an opinion, whether they are trained in their field of critique or not. Does the level of education lend weight to the opinion? Someone who is uneducated in a field can be equally perceptive as someone who is; someone educated in a field can be just as ignorant in it as someone not.

What's the value of education?

Whose opinions matter?

I'm throwing these questions out here with little intent to answer them. The answers differ for everyone, for every situation; there's no one-size-fits-all. There rarely is, in life.

But the opinion of the people you trust matters to you. So what can you do about it?

Who do you trust? It's up to you.

Why Write?

Ta da!

*looks around, beaming, arms outstretched*

*notes looks of confusion*

What, you don't like my magic trick? What magic trick? What do you mean, what magic trick? I just beamed myself all the way from October to here! I totally skipped the first week of November! I time travelled!

What do you mean, you didn't?

*eyebrow* No, of course there weren't any posts for you last week, I skipped it. Time travelling, remember? Yes?

...No? *sigh*

Well, in that case, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you... Maybe with chocolate O:)

ANYWAY.

On to today's post!

Many months ago, before I had discovered the wonders of time travel, I wrote a post asking why we, as writers, indulge in the activity of writing that most people will agree is not entirely sane.

I mean, hello: We write things down because the voices in our heads tell us too.

If they were telling us to do anything but write, let's face it: we'd be in a mental institution.

Maybe we should retrain mentally ill people to write down what the voices say they should do, rather than to do it? Just a random idea there. And yes, a close relative died in a round about way of mental illness, so I'm allowed to say things like this :P

Ahem.

Writing. It's an insane pursuit, in an insane industry; and yet we do it. We do it because we love it; we love it because... why?

Why do you love writing?

If you haven't already, go read the post from February. I came to the conclusion then that of all the myriad reasons I write, the key ones are:

a) because it makes me happy;
b) because it provides entertainment both to me and others;
c) I can push boundaries, explore emotions; and because
d) I can explore foreign experiences and worlds.

But you know what I realised last week (in October that is, because I skipped the first week of November, remember)?

All of this can be summed up in one pretty little phrase. It's so simple, it's so real, and it strips away all pretenses of things like writing for fame or money or approval, all of which can become dangerous addictions that make the act of writing something that really is insane.

No.

I don't write for any of those reasons, although sure, they'd be a nice bonus.

Why do I write?

I write because it makes me a better person.



If you're interested in reading the full essay I wrote on this, you can! Right here.

And tell me again - why do you write? Is this the same reason you used to write, or has it developed?

Elusive Stories: I Know The Smell Of It

It’s a well-known fact that smells are linked in some strange way to our memory, such that a smell can trigger a memory that we didn’t even know we had. Somehow, smells by-pass the logic circuits in our brain and hit right at the heart (if you’ll excuse the mixed metaphor).

And yet smells are notoriously difficult to describe. They certainly are for me, and I must say that the writers who do it well stand out to me precisely because they are a minority: smells are hard.

I think that part of this is to do with the fact that, while it’s pretty easy for most of us to close our eyes and visualise a scene, even to hear a scene, it’s a lot harder to ‘envisage’ smells. I can remember experiencing what cut grass smells like, I can remember knowing what it smells like, I can use a handful of words that beat around the bush of what it’s like – but try as I might, I can’t make myself imagine that I smell it. I just can’t remember that well, or in that much detail.

It’s not like I haven’t tried, mind you. I’m always trying to fix smells in my mind, for precisely this reason (one of the reasons why we fall back on clichés when we describe smell, I think, is that we lack the ability to recreate it for ourselves and thus find a new way to describe it) – but it never seems to work.

This is an interesting problem in and of itself: how much is smell necessary in good writing? How can we authentically represent the neglected sense?

But it’s also, today, a lovely metaphor for something I’m experiencing with quite a few stories of mine lately.

I’m working on some shorts that I put down a while ago. I put them down because while I thought I knew where they went, they’d just... lost impetus. As it turns out, they’d lost impetus, drive, momentum, motivation, whatever you want to call it, because although I thought I knew where I was going, I actually didn’t. Trying to force story to go where it isn’t meant to go and where Muse/Right Brain/pick-a-term doesn’t want it to go equals block, flopped story, or broken draft.

But I’ve pulled them out, and I’m working on them again, and perhaps because I’ve been teaching my little year sevens recently about the importance of listening to both sides of your brain when writing, I’ve been keeping an ear out for my muse – and she’s been speaking.

But here’s the metaphor: she’s not speaking loudly. I have a sense of the story, but no actual knowledge of it. I have the smell of it, but I can’t actually smell it – and I don’t know how to describe what it smells like.

Like a scent I smelled yesterday, it lingers in my mind, memorable, poignant even – but vague.
I have the smell of these stories – but somehow, I need to coax them out into the light of day, into the here and now, so that I can actually experience for myself what they are, and know them.

Random thought of the day. There you go.

Smarter Than I Thought: What Writing Costs

Once again, I bring you something I really need to remind myself of. Why is it that we learn these things, but they don't stay learned? :)

A little over a week ago, Liana Brooks posted an article called 'Good, Better, Best'. In it, she discussed the various things she would have to do in order to call her day a success - and how guilty she feels taking time away from all those things in order to write.

Another good friend of mine, Hilary, is going through something similar right now: she's reached the crossroads, and must decide - is writing worth saying no to other things for? Does she have the courage it takes to make that step of committment and say yes, writing is my job, and I will treat it like one - even when that means treading on the toes of others who think that because she's not getting paid, it's not a job?

It's an interesting thought, really. And sometimes - let's face it, most of the time - it's much easier to give in, to join the plaguers and doubters (well-intentioned though they may be), and say, "You know what? You're right. Writing isn't paying, and no one cares if I do it or not; but people sure as heck care if dinner isn't on the table, or the clothes aren't ironed, so I'll go do that."

I've done it.

I'm doing it. I've been home for an hour, now, and have gotten as far as opening my document.

I think a part of this is the procrastination that's somewhat inherent in writing: the procrastination that's part fear - of the blank page, of imperfection, of the hard work that writing is - and part necessary-brain-stewing time.

But a lot of it isn't.

Part of it stems from the difference in meaning between two words:

Urgent. Important.

Urgent, as Liana so succintly put it, is the toddler on the lap screaming that she wants icecream right now; important is making sure said toddler has regular, healthy meals as the parent sees fit.

Urgent is the husband shooting daggers at you from across the room because, for the tenth morning in a row, he's had to iron his own shirt; important is the knowledge that he loves you regardless, and that you haven't written a thing in three weeks.

Or is it?

I guess that begs the question: how important is writing to you? Will you make sacrifices for it? Do you even want to? Are you happy with it being just a play-thing, a toy you break out when you feel like it?

If you do, that's perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with that. But if, like me, you are aiming eventually for publication - and, dare I add, the desire for writing to be your day job - there has to be something more.

Things are only worth what they cost you : The best things in life are free.

It's an eternal paradox, that one, but one that's oh-so-true. Writing is as free as breathing - you don't need pen and paper to write, or a fancy laptop; just your brain to compose with, and remember - and for those of us that are addicted to it, it definitely qualifies for one of life's best things.

But it's only worth what it costs you. It's only worth what you put in. Love is generally touted as one of those 'best things', along with things like happy moments, stopping to smell the roses, holding a child's hand...

But those things cost you.

Love is hard. It's rewarding, but it is hard. Happy moments cost you: you have to put the energy in to get the happiness out. Disagree? How many happy moments have you had when you're flat-out drained and exhausted, hmm? Stopping to smell the roses - time is money. Holding a child's hand? Even setting aside the sticky candy that's coating said child's hand, arm, face, clothing, and your expensive wool suit, what about the cost of parenting? Of aunty- or uncle-ing? The cost, that is, of having a relationship?

Because relationships, like love, cost.

Back to writing, and the age-old adage, you get out what you put in. Where does writing fit into your life? Is it something you feel guilty about, like a dirty habit or a self-indulgence that takes you away from your 'real' work? Or is it something, like a relationship, that you're committed to, something that you're willing to sacrifice for, work hard for - and even defend?

As for me, I made the decision that I wanted to do this just less than two years ago. It's been tough, and I'm sure it will continue to be. I've used all the excuses to put it away, shove it aside, to convince myself it's not important. I've listened every now and then to those who tell me it's a waste of time. And a lot of time has been eaten away by uni, something which this year has been urgent, but not important. That's been frustrating. But now, I'm finished, and the temptation is there to kick back and relax, never mind about writing, because it doesn't matter.

But I want it to matter. I want to make this work, and that means putting in the hard yards now, not just as and when I feel like it. It means me, making a committment to write, every single day, rain-hail-or-shine, because it's a relationship that I'm going to make work. I'm going to be a writer.

And that, my friends, starts with writing.

A Clarification of 'Honesty'

I mentioned last week that I think 'honesty' is an important quality of a great writer. I need to respond to the comments (sorry!), but something struck me as I was reading them: by honesty, I don't mean 'pouring out your heart', or 'wearing your heart on your sleeve', or anything like that. I don't mean pouring out the tragedies of your life, or trying to impress the reader.

In fact, I mean just the opposite. I mean 'honesty' in the sense my husband uses it when he talks about 'honest architecture' (ya, he's an architect). It means architecture without pretension, architure that embraces what it is and doesn't try to pretend to be something different, something more, or even something less. It's understated when it needs to be, it's loud if it has to be, but above all else, it's... honest. It comes from a place of integrity, without the need to impress - unless its entire point is to impress. It's something that holds true to its intent, embraces functionality as well as fancy-prettiness, and creates something that rings true.

I hope you can see how that applies to writing. It's not about wearing your emotions on your sleeve, or pouring in the smush to tug at readers' heartstrings. It's about being honest about what you're doing; it's about knowing what you're doing and why; it's about being real.

It's the exact opposite of my first short stories, which in an attempt to be 'interesting' were melodramatic and overwritten - because they weren't coming from me, from my experiences. They didn't ring true, because they weren't. I didn't have the maturity or life experiences to write about the subjects I chose - and frankly, it showed.

This is what people mean when they tell you, 'Write what you know'. It isn't about writing only in the here-and-now, because that's all you've experienced; it isn't about never writing about a married character if you're single, or only writing about your own gender, or never writing fantasy and science fiction (heaven forbid!!!); it's about letting your experiences form the basis of what you write, of writing from your own pain, your own suffering, extrapolating from things you've actually felt and translating them into similar situations, even if the characters are inhuman or the setting isn't Earth.

It's what you know, stretched further, deeper, broader, applied to the whole range of human experience. It's about knowing which bits of what you've experienced are part of the human condition, which bits resonate; it's about making sure your work rings true.

With this definition of honesty, what do you think? Do we need it?

Fantasy Elements #1: 'True' Language

It's been a while since I posted articles in the Story Elements and Fantasy Elements series, but I thought it was high time to dredge them up again and continue :) So today, the whole concept of true names and language.

There's a lot of emphasis in the fantasy genre as a whole on words and language. You have magic systems based on words, you have made-up languages that embody the culture of the people who speak them - and you have names. Often, you have True Names, which are different from ordinary, everyday names because they have Power. The name of the thing is the essence of the thing, and to call something by its essence is to have absolute power over it.

I was thinking about this the other day, prompted by an old post over on A Nudge In The Right Direction. I have a major in linguistics from university, so have a bit of experience with languages and language and the concepts thereof.

Throughout history there have been many theories of art: art imitates nature, nature imitates art, art should imitate (or at least represent) nature, art is art for art's sake. In the late eighteen hundreds the work of a Swiss linguist called Ferdinand de Saussure changed the way many people thought about the interplay between art and nature, and linguists worldwide began to question and explore the idea of the word as representative of reality.

For centuries it had been assumed that language was in some way mimetic or representative of reality - the term 'dog' was fundamentally doggy, 'tree' was fundamentally treey, etc. But Saussure said that there could be no relationship between a word and reality apart from arbitrariness, principally because if there was some sort of mimetic connection, then all languages would have similar sounding words for similar concepts - and they don't.

There's a lot more to his theory, of course, but I'm trying to keep this non-technical. If you're interested, I'd be happy to expound; it's relevant to the fantasy genre generally and to anywhere you're using made-up words specifically. But for now, assuming that Saussure is correct and that there are no necessary connections between things and the sounds we use to represent them, let's examine some of the issues this raises for the 'true language' idea.

To say there is one 'true' language necessarily disparages all other languages. All other languages are not true, which is to say they are lies...

And who's to say which is the true language? Different ethnic and/or religious groups might reasonably claim that they alone have the true language, and that all other languages are impure, and the people who speak them unclean or infidels. Which leads to language stagnation, where languages refuse to invent or borrow new words for new concepts because that would mean corrupting the language - and this of course leads to societal stagnation, for a language that allows no new concepts will not support a changing society...

And yet despite all this, fantasy still insists on a true language. The world called into existence by a single word or phrase, the breath of some Creator, a sound that resonates throughout all creation and lends it Power, names that have the power to bind a person and their soul, to call up the dead, the capture immorals and trap them to one's will...

Where does our fascination with this come from? And why is it that characters are so much easier to write once we've named them, and so impossible to write when they have the wrong name? Are the two connected? How? Why? What is it we're seeking when we long for a language that is true, and pure, and power?

The Ultimate Freedom

A few weeks ago, Liana asked a question on her blog: Why do you write?

There were so many great answers to this question, and although I'd thought about this question before, the answers that people shared made me re-examine my own answer, and come up with something I'd always known, but never realised.

First, here are some of the other answers (used by permission):

"Because it makes me happy. Whether or not I get published. Ever. I will ALWAYS write." ~ Lady Glamis

"I like to entertain. Be it myself or the people who wish to read my stories, that's why ... Plus, I get to do whatever the heck I want! It's not like you can go about destroying solar systems on a daily basis in real life without a few people protesting. ;)

"Writing allows me to push personal boundaries and learn; it lets me vent frustration in safe ways (except maybe towards characters, who are never safe); it keeps me entertained and occupied and I enjoy it. There are slumps and periods of Isucktis, etc, and getting out of them is not always quick or easy, but in the end, I still enjoy what I do. I get very real satisfaction blowing things up--it's soothing. B-)

"As for publication, it may be a slim chance, but just think: there still IS a small percentage of people that get their books published. I see nothing wrong with aiming to be in that percentage. Even if I don't make it though, I will keep writing, keep trying. You lose every chance at your dream if you give up on it." ~ Merc

"Books have given me so much comfort in life, I want to at least try and give the same to others. Some of my wips, well I want to show that my religion isn't as bad as it can be made out to be. Sure, there are nutters, but which society doesn't have them? Merc made me realise something. Yes, we get to do a lot of things in writing we ordinarily can't do in RL. Those that know me, well they'll appreciate how much more I enjoy writing because creating my characters means at least part of me can be 'normal'. It's nice though, when RL comes with strings attached, to be free in wips." ~ Yunaleska

"Because it's an addictive escape. Have you noticed how many writers' families say that we are in our own world. Especially if we are writing and on CC at the same time. What the fire is burning down? Ah no it can't be, Abi just got on her horse, you'll have to reschedule, sorry." ~ Rie

See anything common in their responses? I think it's something common to my response, too: writing is freedom. In writing, we are free to explore ideas, concepts, situations that we might never encounter in real life. We are free to be whomever we want as we dip into the heads of all our characters, and we are free to recreate the world in our own image.

That's writing. But what about sharing what we write? If all we wanted was the freedom, we could write all day, quite content in the knowledge that no one will ever see what we have written. So why do some of us have this drive to show our work to others?

I think affirmation is part of it - we want to have someone else affirm that what we think, what we believe - what we have created - is worthwhile. But there's more to it than that. You know I go on about things like themes and meaning and legacies... And I know that's part of why I write.

But you know what? I'm not actually quite sure what part. I don't know what it is that I hope to gain by sharing my writing with people. I want to make them think, I know that - but why? Why is it so important to me that others think and reflect, and have cause to develop opinions and ideas of their own?

*grin* So I guess that's another part of why I write - to figure out why I write, and what it is that I want to say. There's a quote that my creative writing teacher in my undergrad degree used to spout at us all the time. I've forgotten who said it originally, but I love the sentiment:

How can I know what I think until I see what I say?

Yup. I can identify with that.

And that brings me to the final reason for the day: I write for me, too. I write because, to me, my stories mean something. In a weird, twisted kind of way, they expand my thinking, open my mind, and force me to challenge all my beliefs and perceptions. Writing isn't a comfortable task - at least, not if you do it well.

And you know what?

I think I like that.

Why We Must Have Fun

Two Fridays ago, I made a promise to you that I would be back this week to contradict myself. Well, ta da!, here I am B-) In said post, I discussed the concept of your legacy - your body of work - and the importance of ensuring that everything in your legacy is worthy of being there. I threw around a few ways to tell if the book you're writing is the book for you, and talked about the importance of having an aim, and streamlining all your work towards that.

Today, I'm going to talk about the opposite: the importance of having fun. But before I do that, I wanted to address something that Merc said in the comments of that original post. Having a legacy, having a body of work, and being aware that any book you write could be a reader's first introduction to you, does not mean that you must be restricted to one genre. It just means that, like any other aspect of your writing career, the concept must be duplicated. When you try to build a career across multiple genres, what you're actually doing is building multiple careers. I tried to track down some articles on this topic that I've read written by both prominent authors and by agents, but alack, they all elude me at this moment. So you'll just have to trust me.

You can create a legacy across multiple genres. But what you're doing is creating a family of legacies, held together by their relationship to you - not a single, unified body of work.

Now, fun.

If the entire point of writing is to create your body of work, and if, as I suggested last time, any work you do that won't directly contribute to said body of work is a waste of time, then why am I now suggesting that it's necessary to do so?

Because sometimes, wasting time is necessary.

Writing is both a creative and a rational process: the first draft is usually where the right brain (the creative brain, a la your muse) has the most say, and the final edit belongs to your left brain (inner editor, anyone?). Creating a working relationship between both halves of your brain is vital if you want to survive the writing process (and another reason why I adore the Think Sideways course, with its strong emphasis on creating this connection), and a working relationship has to be about give and take, and compromise.

In the first draft, you have to teach your left brain to compromise. The words will be rough, the ideas half-formed, and plot holes will abound to a greater or lesser extent. This irritates your left brain to no end, and can escalate to the death-grip of perfectionism that results in Isuckitis - that terrible feeling you get when you just 'know' that you can't write, that everything you write is terrible, and so on, and so forth. This process is, sadly, pretty much part and parcel with writing: the book you're writing can be the best book in the world, and you know what? Inevitably, you will still hate it. At some point. For some reason. You will.

It even happens to the pros, and it's for that reason that the gist of Neil Gaiman's pep talk for NaNoWriMo in 2007 is forever etched upon my heart. Even the pros melt down. Even the pros hate their work. It's okay. It's normal. You'll get through it.

Which is precisely why play is important: if Isuckitis is brought on by drifting too far into your left brain and allowing perfectionism to take charge, then it must be cured by restoring the balance between your brain halves. Which means you need to do some serious right-brain work.

Just so you know, those two words - 'right-brain' and 'work' - don't actually go together. Your left brain works. Your right brain plays.

So what is play?

Play is letting your non-verbal, creative, irrational, impulsive right brain take control for a while. It's sitting down and creating something for the sheer joy of creating, without deadlines or requirements or self-styled impositions that it Must Be Good. Play is having fun. It's letting the muse out of the bag and letting stretch its legs, writing purely and simply Because You Can.

So play is important, because it rebalances you - and it connects your brain halves back together. For those few non-writers who read this blog, let me assure you that this concept applies equally to anything you do in life. I firmly believe that humans are supposed to be both-brained; that is, we're designed to have a balance of both parts of ourselves: some rationality, some forethought and planning, and some impulse, creativity, and carefreeness.

Our society places a lot of emphasis on the left brain. But it's our job as writers to utilise both, and perhaps even remind people that balance is a good thing after all. So go. Play for a while, and reconnect with yourself.

:)

When To Let Die, A Spoonful Of Soup, and Think Sideways

First up, the soup. What am I talking about? A mini version of Link-a-bet Soup, of course! :D

So, I and a few writerly friends are getting ready to query. Where do you go to research agents? Lots of places - but QueryTracker is a great start, and they even have a blog.

Of course, if you're querying you're going to need to know How To Write A Great Query (whee, don't we love free downloads?!).

Secondly, the Think Sideways course. Hopefully by now you're all aware that I've been taking Holly Lisle's How To Think Sideways course, a writing course with a difference. I love it, I adore it, I want to marry it... *ponders the implications of marrying an online course* Er, okay, strike the last one O:) But anyway, I love it. I have a few reviews up - yes, I need to do more - but basically, let me assure you, it's pretty jolly awesome.

The course is open full time for enrolments, so you can enrol anytime you like. Don't forget that I offer a 20% rebate on any subscriptions made through my links (conditions apply).

HOWEVER. As of February 27th, the course will CLOSE to Charter Member enrolments. Which means that to get any of the cool bonuses that charter members (rah, go us guinea pigs who test-drive the course!), you'll have to pay extra.

If you've even been thinking about maybe taking this course, let me encourage you to do so before Feb 27 - I'll let you know what the bonuses are when I get the all, but I can assure you that they're going to be worth it.

And remember, you can drop the course at any time, no questions asked, and receive a pro rata refund for any month for which you've already paid. So sign up, already! :D

Right. On to the meat of the postiness.

It's a question that's been playing in my mind this week, what with my recent discussion about what I learned from the partial novels I wrote in '08: how do you determine when to keep on at something, and when to let it die?

I've come to a few conclusions, though they're not by any means all-inclusive.

First of all, I need to explain something. Yes, this comes back to my favouritest circle of topics: meaning, themes - and your legacy.

Legacy? I hear you ask. What on earth is our legacy, and why should we be concerned with it?

Well, you might not be. That's fine. But we all know that I'm striving for work that's meaningful in some way - I want to write something that Matters. So I'm concerned with it, because I want to leave an impression - I want my writing to have a legacy. Even if you don't have any particular desire to change the world, it's still important to consider the work you're writing as part of your eventual body of work. Not convinced? Think of this:

Any book you write, at any point in your career, for any reason, will be, at some point, the first book of yours that someone picks up.

Do you really want someone's first impression of you to be based on a book you hate but wrote for the money, or something that's nothing like any of the rest of your work, or, or, or...?

Don't give the reader another reason to switch off to you; they have enough already.

So, why do you ditch a book? Either 1) because it's not something you're capable of writing at this point in time, due either to lack of ability, or lack of distance from the subject matter, or 2) because it's not something you want as part of your legacy.

Reasons as to why you might not want something in your legacy include:

* It's just not a genre you see yourself being happy to write in long term. This covers books 2 and 3 in my original post, and to some extent book 5.
* The story itself is okay - but for whatever reason, you can't stand to write about the main character any more. It's okay to hate the main character - hate is a force of attraction, after all - but if you have no respect for your character, if nothing about them interests or engages you, it might be time to ditch the story. That's number 4 in my list of false starts.
* There are so many problems with the plot it's just not worth fixing - many first novels suffer from this, and remember, 'plot problems' can be all sorts of things: gaps of logic, plot bunnies, cliches, 'devices', etc. On their own, these things can be tackled; only you can decide where the boundary is between 'wrecked, but salvageable' and 'utter garbage; too much work to fix', and a lot of it will hinge on how much you love the story in other ways. Book #1 in my list comes here: it's a mess, but the underlying premise is fun, and one day I'll fix it.

But what about those borderline cases? What do you do when you can't quite decide if it's worth it or not (a la me with the whole concept of short stories right now)? And what if you want to work on something completely different just for the fun of it?

Of course it's okay to muck around with stuff that you don't actually intend to be part of your 'legacy': writing different styles and genres pushes out the boundaries of our ability, and helps us to learn and grow. But bear in mind that there's a fine line between playing around for fun to increase your ability, and wasting time on things you never intend to be serious about.

Personally, I think that if you don't intend to get involved in the style you're experiementing with (or genre, or voice, or whatever) in a big way, then you should at least be keeping an eye on what you're learning from the experience. The question is, are you a) going to learn stuff that b) no other story could teach you and c) will be applicable to the stuff you actually intend to make a career out of?

If you're not going to learn anything from it, or if what you learn could be learned by doing something more directly related to your career, or if what you're learning isn't going to be applicable to anything else.... Well, we're all allowed to do things just for the hell of it. Just realise that if what you're doing doesn't fit any of those criteria (which are, let's face it, pretty broad), you're probably not doing something which can be classed as 'work', in terms of writing ;)

And that, dear readers, is my random thought of the day. I'll be away all next week, so you'll get automated posts, bwa ha %-) But watch out the week after where I'll be back to completely contradict myself and discuss the importance of having 'just for fun' projects :D

For now - have you ever thought about your 'legacy', and the fact that every book you write will be someone's first glimpse at you as a writer? Does this matter? Does it or should it influence how you decide which projects to let die? Why have you let projects die?

The Christmas Play

On the 20th of December my church put on the play that Liana wrote for her church to perform (on the same day, hoorah! Except, due to time zone differences, ours was first O:)).

In this week of general slackerlyness and unofficial posts, I thought perhaps you might like to see a few pictures :o)

All the books you see are from the correct time period (as in, pre-1863) - I borrowed them from work, hoorah! :D The oldest one was from 1759 :) Much happiness.

The play tells the story of how Henry Longfellow came to write the poem "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day", which was later set to music and became a well-known Christmas carol (though less well known here in Australia :)). His son, Charlie, was sent home from the American Civil War with injuries, and having lost his wife three years earlier, the holiday season sent Longfellow into a slump...

"How can you lie there and talk of peace while men die?"


His five children (including the injured Charlie) decide they must cheer their father up, and set about decorating the house and buying presents.

"Father, you must come. We're making Christmas decorations, and Annie is crushing the berries and making a terrible mess!"

And this is "Charlie" on his pratice bed (we used a comfier one on the day). The picture gives you a reasonable idea of the stage we had to work on. Behind the books were a desk and chair that represented Longfellow's study.



The cast:

Charlie, Henry Longfellow, Mr Sumner (a family friend), our narrator, Ernie (another son);
Me (the director), and the three daughters Edith, Alice and Annie.



The cast again, in Henry's study.

Link-a-bet Soup

*sigh* I was supposed to post on The Sentence today, however my brain has gone awol, my back is broken, and 'tis subsequently impossible to think. I'm very sorry. The Sentence post will come next week, I promise :)

Besides, it's traditional to post something slackerly on a Friday O:)

EDITED TO ADD: I totally did not realise that in order to access the Inkfever Download Area, you were required to have a pbwiki account. This was a mistake on my behalf, which has now been rectified: anyone is now able to view this site, with or without a pbwiki account.

Re the title of this post: Yes, no more Link Salads. I completely thieved the concept from a well-known agent, and it's high time I got original and came up with my own name ;):D

A whole bunch of random, interesting sites this week. First off, have you ever stressed about where your gold comes from? If you're like most people, probably not - people are generally more worried about where it goes O:) But, for the eco-friendly among us, I present GreenKarat.

And on the topic of the environment, you simply must watch this. It's half an hour well invested ;)

Which leads into this article - when science fiction morphed into politics.

Speaking of politics, censorship is something that's been discussed a bit lately. Neil Gaiman has his say.

But really, in the midst of an economic crisis, can we talk about writing anything as a career? Perhaps we're all condemned to be starving writers...

Though at least, if we write, we have a voice - and if you need help with that, this is a great article on what voice is. And if we have voice, it's because we have something to say - that's why we're writers, after all, right? So, who are we writing for?


Of course, the whole crisis thing could just make you want to go out and scream, or do stupid things like (gross warning) tattoo your eyeballs....

Or you could just get eaten by a velociraptor. That works too.

I could survive for 54 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

Created by Bunk Beds.net

Lacemaking

Just quickly before we get to the meat of the post, I have a new sister-site to this one wherein I'll be putting together extras for the novels I'm working on: character photos, maps, blurbs, and the like. The link is on the homepost above - you'll need to either email me or leave a comment with your email address to ask for an invitation.



So, because of the lovely Wall of Life that's slammed into me over the beginning of this week, I'm not convinced this post applies anymore.

Well, actually, that's not true. The sentiment still applies. I'm just lacking the motivation to weave further ;)

What am I talking about?

Jesscapades, actually. You see, the way I write best is to write act one on the fly, by the seat of my pants, with naught but a vague impression of what the ending will be. And then, inevitably, I hit a wall, and must stop to outline.

Interestingly, that wall appears to be not so inevitable. With Jesscapades, I haven't hit it. Well, I've hit a wall of sorts, but that's more health-and-energy related than reaching a point in the novel where I need to start plotting.

And, oddly enough, Jesscapades is at least as complex as TBAEO, and much more so than The Project. At last count, there were about 12 'plot threads'.

Plot threads. The term got me thinking, and all of a sudden I had this image in my head of me, my hands, holding all these threads together, completely unsure of how they were going to play out, but content with the knowledge that I was holding them - was still in control. The muse does the weaving, I do the watching. It's a fascinating and creative process, and it reminds me of lacemaking.

Have you ever seen anyone make lace? If you haven't, there's a cool picture of the process here. And that's pretty much what I feel like with Jesscapades: at a glance, it looks like a tangled mess, with threads going everywhere, splaying out in all directions. But if I look carefully, I can see something pretty in all that I've done - some semblance of a pattern coming to life, tying the wayward threads into each other and creating a story.

Do you ever have moments like that, where you just get this sense that the story will turn out all right, even if you don't know exactly where it's going? Do you ever feel like that with life?

What Writing Costs

A little over a week ago, Liana Brooks posted an article called 'Good, Better, Best'. In it, she discussed the various things she would have to do in order to call her day a success - and how guilty she feels taking time away from all those things in order to write.

Another good friend of mine, Hilary, is going through something similar right now: she's reached the crossroads, and must decide - is writing worth saying no to other things for? Does she have the courage it takes to make that step of committment and say yes, writing is my job, and I will treat it like one - even when that means treading on the toes of others who think that because she's not getting paid, it's not a job?

It's an interesting thought, really. And sometimes - let's face it, most of the time - it's much easier to give in, to join the plaguers and doubters (well-intentioned though they may be), and say, "You know what? You're right. Writing isn't paying, and no one cares if I do it or not; but people sure as heck care if dinner isn't on the table, or the clothes aren't ironed, so I'll go do that."

I've done it.

I'm doing it. I've been home for an hour, now, and have gotten as far as opening my document.

I think a part of this is the procrastination that's somewhat inherent in writing: the procrastination that's part fear - of the blank page, of imperfection, of the hard work that writing is - and part necessary-brain-stewing time.

But a lot of it isn't.

Part of it stems from the difference in meaning between two words:

Urgent. Important.

Urgent, as Liana so succintly put it, is the toddler on the lap screaming that she wants icecream right now; important is making sure said toddler has regular, healthy meals as the parent sees fit.

Urgent is the husband shooting daggers at you from across the room because, for the tenth morning in a row, he's had to iron his own shirt; important is the knowledge that he loves you regardless, and that you haven't written a thing in three weeks.

Or is it?

I guess that begs the question: how important is writing to you? Will you make sacrifices for it? Do you even want to? Are you happy with it being just a play-thing, a toy you break out when you feel like it?

If you do, that's perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with that. But if, like me, you are aiming eventually for publication - and, dare I add, the desire for writing to be your day job - there has to be something more.

Things are only worth what they cost you : The best things in life are free.

It's an eternal paradox, that one, but one that's oh-so-true. Writing is as free as breathing - you don't need pen and paper to write, or a fancy laptop; just your brain to compose with, and remember - and for those of us that are addicted to it, it definitely qualifies for one of life's best things.

But it's only worth what it costs you. It's only worth what you put in. Love is generally touted as one of those 'best things', along with things like happy moments, stopping to smell the roses, holding a child's hand...

But those things cost you.

Love is hard. It's rewarding, but it is hard. Happy moments cost you: you have to put the energy in to get the happiness out. Disagree? How many happy moments have you had when you're flat-out drained and exhausted, hmm? Stopping to smell the roses - time is money. Holding a child's hand? Even setting aside the sticky candy that's coating said child's hand, arm, face, clothing, and your expensive wool suit, what about the cost of parenting? Of aunty- or uncle-ing? The cost, that is, of having a relationship?

Because relationships, like love, cost.

Back to writing, and the age-old adage, you get out what you put in. Where does writing fit into your life? Is it something you feel guilty about, like a dirty habit or a self-indulgence that takes you away from your 'real' work? Or is it something, like a relationship, that you're committed to, something that you're willing to sacrifice for, work hard for - and even defend?

As for me, I made the decision that I wanted to do this just less than two years ago. It's been tough, and I'm sure it will continue to be. I've used all the excuses to put it away, shove it aside, to convince myself it's not important. I've listened every now and then to those who tell me it's a waste of time. And a lot of time has been eaten away by uni, something which this year has been urgent, but not important. That's been frustrating. But now, I'm finished, and the temptation is there to kick back and relax, never mind about writing, because it doesn't matter.

But I want it to matter. I want to make this work, and that means putting in the hard yards now, not just as and when I feel like it. It means me, making a committment to write, every single day, rain-hail-or-shine, because it's a relationship that I'm going to make work. I'm going to be a writer.

And that, my friends, starts with writing.