Feedback

I have few pretensions about being well-known, although I have achieved a slight measure of recognition by selling a few stories here and there.  I even get invited to the occasional convention as a panelist, although I doubt it is because of my sex appeal or sparkling repartee but rather because I usually show up on time, have never tried to kill another panelist or audience member ( and believe me, I have been SORELY tempted) or dominated the discussion.  Maybe they just ask me because I don't cost much, don't smell, and don't pester the con committee.

I've been writing in my spare time for almost twenty years for various magazines and anthologies; I've even completed a couple of novels and put together some POD and Kindle collections.  Yet, in all that time, with all that I've had published, I've gotten only minimal, nearly insignificant, feedback from anyone other than editors.   I also get faint praise from other writers and have the courtesy not to ask which story of mine they've actually read so as not to embarrass them, just as I appreciate not having to lie in return.  But hearing from editors doesn't count as meaningful feedback in my mind, especially when it takes the form of "Thanks, but we can't use this one," which is less than encouraging.

But from the readers I get nothing, unless it is someone complaining about a tenth decimal place inaccuracy of some obscure science fact, which usually makes me want to start writing fantasy or horror instead of hard SF.  In twenty years I've received three (3) letters saying they liked my story and perhaps fewer eMails with similar words.  Three!  Over a twenty year period!

Other writers might perform well in isolation, anchorites all who need not hie to the popular taste, but I want to know what my readers think - did they enjoy this or that, was it worth their while, what could I have done differently, how did I fail to gain their interest, and what would  they like to see improved?  These are important questions for me --hell, for any writer--  and without input I can only continue throwing literary darts in the dark, hoping to hit a target I can neither see nor understand.

It is so frustrating!

Talent or Doggedness?

Years ago I had a discussion with Mike Resnick about the role talent plays in writing. His contention was that anyone could produce a work of salable prose with enough dedication and effort but that it took real talent for writing to consistently do this time and again. What differentiates the talented amateur from the professional writer is the ability to consistently produce acceptable works on demand.

I seem to fall into the talented amateur camp myself, although I have produced stories on demand a few times in my career.  Mostly, though, I nibble away at an idea, draft a few pages, ponder for a period, then either abandon the effort or continue on until I become bored or run out of ideas about where to go next.  This pattern of behavior results in my always having a dozen and a half partial drafts lying about that I return to when some fragment of an idea for moving it forward occurs to me.  Sometimes, bored with whatever I happen to be working on, I will pick up one of these drafts and edit it a bit more,  Sometimes when I do this I get a sudden burst of intellectual energy and am able to move the piece further toward completion. This is not behaving like a professional writer. There is no consistency to my production.  I could set up a schedule, but having tried that in the past it simply doesn't work for me unless there is an actual deadline facing me.

When there is no deadline (usually for a rewrite request) I find that I can manage no more than a couple of thousand words a day of finished prose.  When I am aflame with a new idea I can crank out more than that as rough draft.  I can cover a lot more words when editing although, truth be told, it's usually more cutting than adding new material.  In general, though, I usually just doggedly plug along - good days and bad.

This lack of discipline has consequences.  If I apply magazine word rates (A remarkable rate of $0.06 per word on average) my productivity rate might generate about $140 an day, which is not bad if I sold everything I wrote.  However, my sale rate (mentioned here a few weeks ago) has been a disappointing 19:1 ratio, which turns my selling rate into $3.60/hour - an amount most sweat shops would be embarrassed to offer.

So why do I have this doggedness despite my minimal talent?  Part of the answer is that a simple acceptance notification provides a greater thrill for me than the tiny check that usually follows, often months later.  I doggedly continue to write because I get a bang out of creating stories and refining my rough drafts into something acceptable. It is the golden promise that I can always write something better that drives my dogged determination.

And maybe that is my talent.

Story - More Thoughts

I just completed a novella that started out as a short story, grew because it needed better definition and detail, compressed because I consolidated some characters to make the relationships less confusing, and then expanded again as I inserted internal and external dialogue, after which I used a editing machete to hack away irrelevant portions, rearrange scenes, and polish to a fine (to me) finish.

Throughout the process I had a single goal in mind, a decent outline to follow, and engaging (to me, anyway) characters. The entire time I was drafting I believed I was explicating the plot in my head. I adhered to my original outline, even thought I was continually chopping portions off, shifting parts of scenes back and forth, and trying to keep things in temporal order (for once, no backstory!)  The story was to be straightforward, simple, and explicit.  No hidden meanings, no agenda, and no social or political viewpoint I wanted to push: My idea was to just write a simple adventure story appropriate to my audience.

But only after I put it aside for a week and re-read it did I understand what the story was really about - not the actions nor the world in which my characters inhabited, but the overriding sensibility, theme, or whatever you call that which permeates the text like a ghostly shroud and influences every phrase and word choice.  I discovered that I had apparently created rather more than intended.

Nancy Kress in her wonderful book Beginnings, Middles, and Ends stated that only when you are finished writing can you really understand what your story is about.  The writer's task, she then advises, is to then imbue the text with appropriate metaphor and symbology to reflect your new understanding.

With this admonition in mind I reviewed the story and discovered that I had not been consistent with my new understanding and, as a result, I might have a better story if I insert or nuanced key parts of the text before submitting this particular piece to the discerning eyes of editorial review.  In the end I was well-satisfied with what I had done and proudly sent it forth to sink or swim in editorial waters.

I think I should include a write-up of this process as Step Twelve of my mistakenly and hasty blog: Ten Stages of Story Development.

Story - a Crafty Sequel

I started this blog as an effort to explain writing to myself - it was to be a journey of discovery and, like all journeys, I've occasionally wandered off the intended path. It has produced a number of interesting conversations and the discovery that other writers share my confusion.  On the other hand, I have learned that there is a level below which I lack even the faintest glimmer of understanding and when I try to grasp the answer I find my hand full of mist.  Is there something about writing that can be quantified or is there really magic in what we writers do?

A couple of weeks ago I spoke about the role of story in writing and said "... telling a good tale isn't about simply writing properly; it's being able to craft a story."   That comment, in turn, started me thinking in  about what I meant by craft.

The obvious first step in crafting a story is to have a plot - an engine that moves the reader from point A to point B and eventually to the ending.  Crafting that plot means deciding on some overriding purpose - that which motivates the characters or causes the story's wheels to keep turning. The craft of composing the plot is to divide the story into intervals - building a series of scenes that comprise an arc.  These scenes do not necessarily need to be contiguous or continual but should in some way support the overall arc.  Some writers get away with digressing from the action but it is generally not a good idea, especially in short stories.

Crafting the right details for the story is also important.  A writer should provide sufficient sensual detail (sight, smell, sounds tastes, etc.)  to allow the reader's suspension of belief, but not go so far as to challenge their sensibilities. Less is often better than more.  This not only applies to what is physically happening in the tale, but also should be applied to whatever imagery or metaphors that might come into play.

But the bare bones of plot, characters, actions, and all do not a story make.  Quite apart from the driving purpose of the story a writer usually has a different purpose in mind when crafting the story, perhaps to make a political, social, or scientific point.  Often as not, the writer's purpose is never explicitly stated but comes across in their word choices.  The placement of trigger words in the text often betrays the writer's intent.

I doubt that I've accomplished what I set out to do in this short essay to explain the craft of story telling.  Maybe I'll come back to it some day in the future after some of these thoughts coalesce.  Until then, I have to get some writing done.

Procrastination

I've been meaning to write this for weeks, but the time never seemed right.  I mean, where's the harm of putting it off for another week or so?  It's not like anyone is breathlessly awaiting my few words of dubious wisdom so why not do something else, something more pleasant than bitching about doing it,after all, the appointment isn't for two hours and it's only an hour's drive away or  I'll start the dinner later, no sense letting the food cool or the deadline is still weeks away: I still have time.   Excuses, excuses, excuses - anything that will put it off, whatever "it" happens to be.

I must admit to the affliction of procrastination.   Some of it is pure laziness, a little worrying if a story is good enough, if it's as good as it can be, or just is a piece of crap not worth the price of a stamp or even the push of a button. Yes, and there's the fear of rejection that no matter how many sales you have is ever in your mind.  I've managed to overcome that last, but not my reaction when it happens.  But still I hesitate over a piece and then hesitate some more.

When a new idea comes to me I can draft at a fair rate, but usually tap out after two hours and have do ANYthing else. Successive two hour sessions work sometimes, but not always and hardly ever at night.  My editing speed is somewhat slower mostly because I try to craft each sentence and paragraph into sensibility.  When my primary editing (first pass) is done I usually begin the real process of writing - drafting new material to enhance or improve the story, shifting things around a bit here and there, and, of course, editing the entire story once more so it will appear to have come from the same hand.  I call this latter, painstakingly slow bit the plodding stage.

Would that each story went smoothly through the above stages like clockwork. Instead I find excuses to stop and work on something else (I have about twenty pieces at various stages now.)  Often I will work on a new idea so I don''t have to work on something underway.  Even when I manage to successfully finish something I find myself asking whether it is good enough, knowing that often better is the enemy of "good enough" or if I am just procrastinating?

A Paean to Holiday Food

The holiday season is filled with cheer. This is the solstice, the deep dark days of the year where every instinct cries for sugars and fats to better stave off the coming scarcity of winter.  We toke up to survive the cold, to put on the layers of insulating flesh, and to store energy that will help us better survive the lack of forage as the snows accumulate and trap us in our dens.  This instinct is the result of thousands of years of evolution, of mastering nature, and of coping with the seasonal cruelties.

Eating is as natural as breathing and yet the food nazi's caution us against feasting through the season.  Better to have a teaspoon of hummus rather than that wonderful crab dip, they declare.  Better for your health to eat a saltine than a sugar cookie, and certainly more wise to sip flavored waters than quaff that champagne they report.  Reduce the calories, eliminate the sugars, and don't ever, ever overindulge is their mantra.  For every cookie or eggnog recipe in the newspapers there are twice that number of cautionary columns espousing the benefits of nutritional health. It is as if there is a war on [gasp] actually enjoying the season's offerings..

The point that these scrooges seem to miss is that holiday food is meant to be ENJOYED. We don't eat only for the nutrition that fuels our daily efforts.  We also eat for the pleasure that it provides. We eat so we can experience the diversity of flavors and textures that are easily available at this time of year.  And yes, we also eat to enjoy the company of others when sharing a meal, a spread, or even that little plate of cookies in the break room.  Eating is a social activity that enhances whatever we happen to be consuming and when better to do so than in this season of good tidings?.

So I say to ignore the critics, the nay sayers, the gloomy nutritionally pure, and those whose bleak outlook on eating poisons the mind. Fill your platters, my friends, drink of the best offered, and experience the bounty that surrounds us during these dark days.

Winter is coming.

The Role of Story

Producing a compelling story while writing well and with style is the shining goal of anyone who scribbles in their dark, lonely rooms and an objective too infrequently achieved.  But telling a good tale isn't about simply writing properly; it's being able to craft a story.

I think that writing properly, that is with the correct spelling, grammar, punctuation and sentence structure, is a skill that practically anyone can obtain through sheer persistence. You can even become an accomplished stylist, artfully stringing linguistic flourishes in pleasing cadences that speak to the reader's need for seamless continuity akin to poetry, but only after a lot of practice.  With even greater effort, you can possibly demonstrate such such supreme facility with language that the casual reader must keep a dictionary close to hand to grasp what is being presented.

The primary role of a writer is first to grasp the reader's attention to the exclusion of all else.  It is not difficult to writer something that will entertain, but being able to tell a compelling story that has heart, to challenge assumptions, to enlist the emotions, or to engage the reader in ways that speaks to their very soul requires that the writer has to go beyond mere skills.

I know very few writers who can create a story in a single pass.  I know some for whom the story emerges with only minor editing.  The vast majority of writers, I suspect, struggle like me to find the heart of their tortured prose and only after endless polishing does the story reveal itself. Often I do not know what the story is about until I complete the first draft, and most of the time, not even then.  In fact, most of the stories I've written were not obvious at the outset and, like a sculptor, I had to chip away the overburden of draft and grinding away the parts not needed to reveal the story within.

But where did that story come from? Was it there all along or did I impose it while editing? I have no answer to that question.

I doubt I will have time for another blog until the new year so I wish all of you a most blessed holiday season.