Writer, with 30+ years' writing and publishing experience, 20+ years' teaching experience. Last book read: Mrs. Lincoln by Catherine Clinton.
Completely sterilized flatline prose, "strike out all the adjectives" prose, Ray Carver prose without Carver's timing or delicacy -- is too common. It seems to me as if the "personal style" we writers are all supposed to develop on our own won't happen anymore unless we are taught or encouraged to write memorable as well as competent prose. I wanted to say, "Hey, creative people,
- try making up a simile to describe that "indescribable" thing!
- Get your characters up from their tables and moving!
- You don't have to give us every sniffle of every conversation! Paraphrase the dull stuff!
- The other three of the five senses aren't illegal!
- Convey a range of emotion!
- Put in a subplot so we have two things to care about!
- Lighten up just once, even if it's just the briefest mention of the bizarre or amusing!"
1. Fiction writing is addictive.
2. Some days writing is better than others.
3. A piece of yourself must go into each of the characters or they are not interesting.
4. Characters really do come alive and start dictating what they want to do.
5. Can't be scared of the stratospheric numbers: word counts, pages, number of characters, number of chapters. . .
6. The great tasks of composition and revision are nothing but work. Work is all they are.
7. Those pages and pages of dialogue were the characters defining themselves.
8. Write anything; worry about it later.
9. While you're drafting, go there. Just go there.
10. Write the cliche (example: the harried, worrywart suburban mom) and then give her one of your own traits or values. Suddenly she's real.
11. The fourth dimension of any novel is its moral dimension.
Is what I wrote any good? Of course not. It's a draft. Drafts aren't good. Drafts are the first step on the way to making it good.
The time and trouble was worth it. Now I understand novelists better than before.
I was, however, drinking extra coffee, always black, usually a cup at about 4 p.m., to get eight more hours out of my day and energy to write more. The NaNo write-ins were held at coffee shops and I drank it there it when I normally didn't. My waistbands got tighter. I switched to elastic waistbands. Tighter and tighter. I exercised more. Weight was going up a half-pound every five days. I couldn't imagine what I was doing to encourage it.
My waistline hadn't been so big since, years ago, I was depressed and drank coffee in the morning to drag myself to work, and had a cup after work to try to pretend I was starting each day over again. When I felt better and didn't take that p.m. coffee boost, the extra pounds fell off. They just fell off.
Coffee gives you its lift by igniting your adrenal glands and producing cortisol, the stress hormone. You have heard that cortisol, if it isn't used for "fight-or-flight," creates visceral fat which is stored behind the stomach muscles, enlarging the waist. The constant coffee drinkers I know have significant bellies. ("Drinking four or five cups of coffee, for example, can cause changes in blood pressure and stress hormone levels similar to those produced by chronic stress" - NYT). From what I read, it's the afternoon coffee that's the most fattening. If you're already stressed and drinking coffee, it's a double whammy. Also, with aging, the body processes cortisol less efficiently. I will give you some links that helped convince me: Here, Here, and Here.
Coffee drinking has its benefits, and I love it, but as an experiment, in the third week of November I quit coffee. Within two days my waistline was down an inch.
This all sounds weird, even to me. We all know black coffee has no calories. Some say the stressor is not the caffeine but other substances in coffee. I might be particularly sensitive to coffee. I can't prove anything; I know only that coffee gives me a big middle. I am passing on this story in case it can help anyone.
After the library officially closed at 5 we NaNos were "locked in" (one could leave the library but not re-enter). Until 9:00 p.m. we could sit anywhere in the library and I set up near the front window and then moved back into the conference room for the final hour. I missed some of the "get up and stretch" moments and the raffle that repaid the leaders for their outlay on food. Participated in some five-minute "timed writes" during which everyone wrote as quickly and as much as they could.
I wrote 7,252 words this evening so my novel draft is at 24,111, almost half of the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words during the month of November -- and there is less than half the month left! One should be writing about 1,700 words daily (about 75-90 minutes' worth) or, alternatively, attending organized write-ins all over the city to write in concentrated blocks of usually three hours. The seven-hour Night of Scribing Recklessly is one-tiime event. I just had to be there.
I value the pressurized and communal NaNo novel-writing experience, although the draft so far lacks shape and like most NaNos I have no idea what might end up in the book. NaNos (thousands, nationwide) are drafting, writing for quantity, bypassing our inner critics -- for now. We update our word counts on the National Novel-Writing Month website, nanowrimo.org. It's nonprofit and free and open to all. And, contrary to what I had imagined, it's not crazy: The discipline is sobering and sane.
It will be understood that not everyone has a computer or Internet access, and those who have never had them will be considered true and unspoiled humanity, like Samoans as portrayed by Margaret Mead. While the computer is a handy tool, we will say it is not the necessity that business and educational institutions believe it is, and business need not be done at the speed of light. The computer will be depopularized and its use subsumed back into the sciences. Emailing will be tacky, Internet information doubtful, and we will be horrified by the commodification of the self and others via the fad we called social media. For the moments when instant communication seems necessary, a premium form of it, classy and acceptable, will be devised for those who read the NYT and listen to NPR.
The effects of the computer, cellphone, and advertising on human health and development will be studied and decried: stress, brain tumors, back problems, low-level radiation. The Internet's peculiar insanities -- spam, phishing, spyware, carpal tunnel syndrome, NaNoWriMo, GoogleMaps photos of every street and dwelling on the planet, addiction to games and Internet porn -- and frustrations (dammit! Why can't I make that spreadsheet work?!) will be called insanities. Specialized therapy will help wean users from the Internet. Private schools will teach restraint, courtesy, and the art of conversation. Privacy will be reclaimed as a value and personal meetings and appearances rationed and romanticized. Giving a third-grader an iPad will be a crime, because it will stunt him socially and intellectually and perhaps turn him criminal; expect to see established a legal age for possession and ownership. Children will be tracked and tied to their guardians by means other than handsets, which only the lowest sectors of society will prize.
The writer's part in all this? Just keep doing what you're doing. Your reward will arrive.
I browsed the kitchen tools, hoping to replace the lemon zester lost while carrying utensils to class to use as inspirations for poetry. Not there. Longing for coffee I thought I might spend my gift card at the Starbuck's inside of Target, but the card may not be spent there. I looked in vain for a ceramic pour-over coffee funnel in Kitchen Appliances. Then I saw Hello Kitty merchandise and got an idea. I treasure a Hello Kitty pocket notebook, a gift from a student who overheard me admitting that I dig Hello Kitty. I log mileage in that notebook, and still have it. Seeking that notebook I saw others and suddenly realized that my heart's deepest longings, from the time I was small, are for office supplies. Office supplies are my second body! My second mind!
Beside the stacks of notebooks I saw racks of pens, Bic and PaperMate and a knockoff brand, sold in packaged platoons of three, five, 10 or 20. I couldn't recall when I'd last bought pens. My supply came free from auto-repair shops and health fairs, but these, because of their frailty, soon became invalids--pens that don't work although I keep them hoping they will. So I spent $10 for one very good, pink-barreled Dr. Grip gel pen and a package of five fat blue Bics Pro Plus. I took them home--they have no idea how lucky they are--opened their packages and wrote "Love" with each one, making sure that the first word born from each was an auspicious one.
Some writers arrive at creative nonfiction thinking "creative" means "no research." (After those college research papers, what relief!) But even if you don't use all the facts you find, the ones you do use give your personal essay muscle and traction. Did "your father read books", or did the shelves he built in your basement overflow with his personal library of 200 Civil War biographies and histories? (Research the family photos! Open the old boxes!) Did "your family go to church," or did you and your mother and older brothers Allen and George take a slow-moving city bus every Sunday to the First Christian Church on Maple Street? (How far was it from home? How much was the bus fare? Interview your mother, or look those up.) Trying to recreate your reality in your nonfiction? As you revise, find and share with your readers the facts of who, what when, where and why.
Do it too for yourself, just to own your own facts. It feels like owning gems.
I predict that within a few years the two publishers remaining will issue and aggressively market 6 to 12 books per season. These and any other books they issue, whether electronic or paper, will contain ads or product placements and will be bundled with a related video game. This will allow the prices to be doubled. Ebooks and video games will collect the reader's personal information, and his or her reading and game habits. To read a book you will have to sign a privacy-policy agreement. Reader and gamer information then goes into artificial intelligence which will generate new books and games based on buyer preferences. Ultimately a novel will be a video game only, and the buyer will have the option of inserting himself as a character. People will dress and act like their favorite characters and many of them, given a fiction-writing template, will ultimately write spinoff books giving themselves further adventures.
Until the day that books are written entirely by computers, most writers will work really hard to copy this year's bestseller or prizewinner formula. Ultimately they self-publish, or publish with tiny independent presses, and rather than sell the book they mostly trade books with their self-published friends. These books become a form of business card or greeting card and almost nobody reads them, especially the fiction. Your true friends will be those who have read your book. Writers who still think stranger-readers are important will pay professionals or famous people to read and mention their books.
Then, regardless of quality, education, sales figures or status, everyone will become his own favorite writer, reading his own stuff wherever he goes, and writing more. I think everyone already is his or her own favorite writer. I hear lots of moaning about the death of the industry and the writing profession and quality going down the tubes, mostly from people who want to be other people's favorite writer. The time for that is just about up.
Should the energy going into blog posts have gone into poems or other literary work? And I realize that isn't a question. A writer should write whatever he or she likes. I'm far more eager to write blog posts and articles than I am to write poems that, like children, need not only to be born but need to be brought up and disciplined like a ballerina and then sent out to flutter and starve and freeze in a blizzard of poems, a wintry world in which everyone is his own favorite poet. Or a poem is like a single chip in a casino, one bought and played at great emotional expense, while knowing the house always wins. And you know what? Nobody cares what you write but you. The future of authorhood is everyone writing his or her own book and being its only reader. Technology is making that truer by the minute. And truer than ever are those old chestnuts that the only reason to write is because you enjoy doing it, or if you are driven to do it, or if you get paid for it. If you blog to "get known" or "get your work out there," that's what's futile now.
The National Novel Writing Month movement began in San Francisco in 1999 with 30 people vowing to draft their novels, with each other's support, in November's 30 days. The goal is 50,000 words, or 1,667 words per day, about 10 double-spaced pages, and it's acknowledged that what you'll produce is maybe a draft of a draft. But those who complete 50,000 words ("weighed," but not read, by the organization's website) win the challenge. That's all they win, except for a 50 percent discount on book-writing software called Scrivener. The GenExer demo'ed it for us and I liked it and you can download the trial version here, Nanowrimo participant or not, fiction or nonfiction writer. Use it free until Dec. 7. Very intelligently designed for book manuscripts. Yes, you can export what you write in Scrivener to Word, or import into it what you've already written.