Well, I did it.

I just mailed off my registration for the 2008 World Fantasy Convention.

Now all I have to is get the book written. Simple, huh?

Dear Gaby,
I think I may have fooled you into thinking I’d conquered all my fears and doubts about writing. Well, it’s certainly not true; I just happen to be very good at constructing conceits that help me work around those fears. The previous post on this subject was a particularly good exercise, and I’m still benefitting from its effects and getting at least a little writing done every day, even though most of what I’m writing isn’t fit for human eyes (yet!) and I’m increasingly anxious about the as-yet-unplanned ending (or the bit that comes right before the ending, anyway). Which brings us to your next set of questions, the answers for which should be considerably shorter than my previous two posts in this series.

The questions:

- When you write a story, do you prepare a structure or skeleton for it before hand?

Generally, yes, I have a roadmap in my head of where I want to go, and I’ve found the more specific the map, the further along I will get. However, I am lazy when it comes to prep work, so I usually spend less time on it than I should, and end up floundering mid-course. For example, I have had stories sit around for years as I tried to figure out how my intriguing opening was going to resolve itself. On the otherhand, my Nanowrimo novel of 2002 was completed by following a chapter-by-chapter schedule of events.

Currently, I have a series of notecards with individual scenes that I’d like to include. As I said, there is a big vagueness in the middle part, so I expect as I get further along I will have to sit back and reasses where things are taking me.

- You seem to mostly write fantasy. Do you do any research for your writing relating to time periods or environment?

Did you see the part up there where I said I’m lazy about prep work? That includes research, too. Which is probably why I prefer fantasy to historical fiction, because I can gloss over an “inaccuracies” with “well, it’s not real.” When I research, what I go for is flavor, not authenticity. Once, at a writer’s group meeting, a reader got in a knot about whether my arctic region tribe was Inuit or Finnish, and could not accept that it was neither, just influenced by the idea of tribal people living in the far north.

Of course, sometimes I’ll find I have to do some specific research for details’ sake — like, for instance, how a sword is made — but most of the time I prefer to make things up on my own. I take bits and pieces from here and there and weave them into something new and, hopefully, convincing. (Which is why I love Wikipedia so much; for my purposes it doesn’t matter if it’s accurate or not.) The real trick, I think, comes in being convincing enough that the reader believes it within the scope of the story, or just making the story itself so good that it doesn’t matter if the details are inaccurate. Writing is just one big con job, you know?

- Would you be willing to post a paragraph or portion of a current work?

I’m debating about this. Write now, the current work is all handwritten, so it’s not just a simple matter of cutting and pasting in the text. Also, as it stands, it’s pretty horrid, because I’m not concentrating on prose at the moment, but story (which is the whole point of writing it by hand, so I don’t end up just constantly editing myself and not reaching the end of the story). I hate the thought of anyone getting a peak of this wretched zero draft.

But then, on the otherhand, what could be more encouraging for someone struggling to begin writing themselves, to see that prose doesn’t necessarily emerge from the pen in full splendor? It’s one thing to read Anne Lammott’s advice to allow a crappy first draft, another to actually see it in action.

I have decided that I’ll leave it to the readers of the blog: if I get comments from three people beside Gaby who’e like to see a couple hundred words of the current WIP in their raw state, followed by a prim and polished rewrite, then I’ll do it. Yeah, I know…I’m extorting comments. So sue me!

It rained last night (a minor miracle … let’s pray that Mother Nature sees fit to actually dump some more on us tonight, as the weathermen have been saying she would). Even though it was clear and beautiful by lunchtime, I thought the ground in the park would be a little damp for picnicking, but I didn’t want to spend the whole hour cooped up inside, either. So, after I’d eaten, I took my camera and went for a little walk instead.

It’s a nice idea, isn’t it? Taking a walk in a rainbow sounds magical and enchanting, but really it’s something we do every day. We just don’t usually take the time to notice.

Continuing what was begun a few posts back, Gaby wrote:

It seems so fascinating that a great deal of creative people feel this seed germinate within them at such a young age … If you do not feel that urge, that passion when very young, does it diminish the chance of it developing later in life. My same friend’s mom picked up a paint brush at 52 years old and discovered she could paint. She now sells paintings at an alarming rate, and in all mediums (even watercolor which drives me mad because for the life of me I can’t make anything but blobs with watercolor).

It discourages me, I must admit. Hearing all these talented people express knowing exactly when and how they started, receiving recognition for their work, and mostly at a young age. I’ve always romanticized the idea of being a writer, but I never seem to be able to actually follow through on my projects due to many different fears. I suppose that leads to my next question.

How does one get over the fear of mediocrity? How do you forget your audience? Perhaps you do not forget at all? What is the relationship between your confidence as an artist, vs. those who evaluate your art?

Just minutes after reading Gaby’s questions, I read a blog entry by Holly Lisle which seemed to address these very issues in an indirect manner. At least, they made me stop and think a little bit longer about what my answers would be. I’m not going to pull quotes from her blog, but feel free to go take a peek, if you want … I’ll wait for you to come back.

When I finished reading that post, I found I was asking myself why I wanted to be a writer. There’s an old saw in the business that you may have heard: Do you want to write or do you want to have written? It’s meant to separate the wheat from the chaff, to make use of another old saw, to discriminate the “real” writers from people caught up in the glamorous idea of having written a book. I used the word discriminate deliberately, because there is a real bias showing when this particular turn of phrase is used, most usually by people who are working really hard, day-in and day-out, in an attempt to write stories and even make a living at it. Without being overly critical of those folks — because, really, I am/want to be one of that camp — I think it’s not very fair, and probably damaging to a lot of people’s creative spirits.

Think about what it must feel like to hear that you can’t be a writer unless you write every day. Well, I’ll tell you what, I don’t paint and draw every day, but I still consider myself an artist. No, I’m not aiming to be a professional artist, but I enjoy being able to express myself visually every once in a while. I’m a hobby artist. It’s something I do for fun. Cannot someone have the same relationship with words, dabble with them every once in a while when vocation and avocation and obligations allow? Not according to those who resort to the old “writers write” buzzwords to scare away those who aren’t really “serious” about the craft. According to them, if you’re not applying “butt in chair” every single day, if you haven’t had a life-long love affair with words and stories, if you’re not willing to surrender family, friends and a good night’s sleep in order to reach “the end”, then you’re not a writer and you might as well give it up.

No wonder so many want-to-be writers are scared from ever picking up the pen. That’s a lot of pressure, a huge commitment, especially when you may be unsure if you have the actual skill or drive to see it through to the end. And I don’t mean the end of the story, necessarily, but the idealized culmination of the whole process: professional publication. There seems to be an undue emphasis on publication in writing, more than in any other artistic field. It derives, I think, from the natural desire to share what you’ve created, and writing more than any other form of artistic expression has come to depend upon publication as a means of sharing (and this is a whole ‘nother topic of mine, but off track for the moment), which has led to an idealization of the image of a “real writer” as someone who is published, with all the associated glitz. Ergo, what we all think we need to be shooting for if we dare to pick up the pen. This will change, I think, with the Internet and new media — it’s already changed, if you consider the hordes of people creating fan fiction and sharing it online, just for fun. And look at what Nanowrimo has done.

But let’s get back to the basic question: why do you write? Why do I write? My previous response, “When I was in 4th grade my mother told me I should be a writer and it kind of stuck,” seems trite in retrospect, especially considering that it was 30 years ago, and I’ve yet to accomplish anything of real significance (as a writer). Why do I still hold fast to the dream of making a living as a writer of fiction when all the other childhood fancies — teacher, horse rancher, Hollywood producer — have lost their glamor? Clearly there must be something about writing itself that fuels my inner desires.

Part of it is the words, yes. There’s something immensely satisfying about stringing and restringing words together to try and convey a thought or image, and thankfully I’m pretty good at it. I could do this for hours (I’ve been doing it for hours right now). But if it were only about the words then I’d probably be more of a poet than I am.

No, for me it’s definitely more about the stories. I think my interest in writing fiction comes from the thrill I get from getting swept away by a good story and the desire to create that thrill for myself. For other people, yes, because hearing that someone enjoyed something you’ve written always feels good … but mostly for myself. I have a lifetime daydreaming habit; I can’t recall a time when I haven’t indulged in mental storytelling, thrusting myself into a role in some adventure or romance, playing and replaying scenes and events in my mind, just as if I were a character in a book I enjoyed. Sometimes these little fantasies are based on my own life, more often they’re based on other works of fiction, or are spawned from some snippet of a dream that caught my attention. It is the level of personal engagement that appeals (and is why roleplaying is so dangerously addictive) — I’m not just reading a story, I’m a part of it.

Writing is an extension of this woolgathering, a way to make permanent some of the better daydreams I have enjoyed, so I can go back and enjoy them another time. Let me explain by example: there’s a story I wrote a few years ago, a piece of back story fiction I wrote for Castle Marrach; I don’t know or care if anyone else ever reads this particular story, but I go back and read it probably a couple times a year, and really enjoy it. I like the characters, I like what happens, and I think the writing itself is pretty decent. Ultimately, I think the reason I want to be a writer is that I want to have a shelf full of books that I’ll know I’ll enjoy reading repeatedly, because I made them exactly to my enjoyment specifications. Even if there was no possibility of ever getting published, and I knew no one would ever read anything I wrote, I still think I would attempt to capture stories on paper for my own sake.

Writing something that other people enjoy enough to publish and buy would simply allow me to indulge my self-interest on a more regular basis.

So that’s why I write. And, to come the long way round to Gaby’s actual questions, when I remember that the real audience I’m writing for is myself, then fear of mediocrity dissipates. I don’t mean I’m not capable of mediocrity by my own set of standards (because I do have rather high standards) but that there is no fear. Other people may criticize or praise my work, and I can either learn from it or ignore it, but I am the ultimate arbiter. If I am writing to please myself, then I can’t go wrong.

And ergo the problem caused by the whole “write to publish” mindset that is so prevalent today: people get caught up in the standards of the industry (a business, not an art) and become afraid they can’t meet them, and that fear paralyzes them from even trying. You have to figure out what it is about writing that interests you and figure out your own standards for what you want to accomplish. Once you understand that, no matter your goals or ambitions (or lack thereof), then there should be nothing to stop you.

I hope that answers your question, Gaby — it provided an opportunity for a little soul-searching on my own part, which I certainly appreciate.

Today was my first full day of work, and thus my first “silver lining” lunch hour. I could have hardly asked for more perfect weather for sitting out of doors — it was almost too relaxing, but I managed to stay awake and write these first few pages of the first scene. Not as much as I’d like, but I need to get into the swing of it, I think. And, truth be told, I’m a slow writer.

Yes, I’m an art geek and decorated the notebook I’m using. Why else would I indulge in the expensive Moleskin cahiers with the spiffy kraft covers, though? They fit nicely in my purse, though, for easy transportation to whatever venue I want to write in.

I only hope I can read my writing when it comes time to transcribe…

It’s indicative of the effect my job has had on me that my first thought upon seeing this small scrap of carpet left by the workmen at the office this week was that I ought to save it for use in some future mixed media artwork. Or, at the very least, a scrapbook page.

Well, at least I’m blogging it, right?

Gaby, a reader of this blog via LiveJournal, has asked if she could pick my brain about writing and the creative process — not (I hope) because she’s in any great awe of my work, but because she’s just curious about how the whole process works for other people. Because I get that, and because I’m all for demystifying creativity, and because it will provide easy fodder for blog posts, I’m happy to go ahead and answer her questions.

Her first is almost a gimme: “How did you start writing? Was it when you were very young or did it come to you later in life? Did you start with short stories or poetry? I think that would be a great place to begin.”

I don’t recall a relationship with writing prior to 4th grade, when my mother told me I ought to be a writer when I grew up. Presumably, I must have been pretty good, but I don’t have particular memories of making up or writing down stories before then. Nevertheless, my mother’s suggestion stuck in my head and that’s been the direction I’ve aimed myself ever since. Definitely a writer of stories, however, and nearly always fantasy.

That year, my best friend Laurel and I wrote a novel, In the Clover Patch. It was a pretty blatant rip-off of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, though with some pretty inventive differences for 10-year-olds. Last I knew, Laurel had the only copy of the manuscript. Next time I connect with her I’ll have to find out if she still has it — it’d be fun to publish here, wouldn’t it?

As I scan my brain trying to recall subsequent writings, nothing specific comes to mind until 8th grade, when we had to write a story to read to my speech class. I remember no one really got my story, which was speculative leaning towards horror — I think there was a murderer on the loose, or something. Really, no one got most of what I wanted to write. Fantasy was still very fringe back then, and there was no Internet to go and look for like-minded souls. For which, really: THANK GOD! When I think of some of the fanfics that I wrote (a little Star Wars, and some goofy Battle of the Planets scenarios) I would hate to think of them embedded forever in cyberspace! Back then, I didn’t know “fanfic” was a genre — I was just fooling around to amuse my sister and friends, but I would have gotten quite caught up in the whole scene if I’d known about it.

Poetry was never my friend. I did the required acrostics and haiku for English class, but aside from that I can only think of two poems I wrote during my high school career, and one of them was huffily inspired by a story that placed in a competition in which my piece only got an honorable mention (it was fantasy, you see, so who cared if it was actually better written?) Again, I say THANK GOD that I wasn’t given to writing poetry as a teen, because (and no offense to anyone) teen poetry…well, who really wants to go there? As an adult, it takes deliberate effort for me to sit down and write poetry, and it doesn’t flow from me naturally. In fact, the only poems I’ve written lately are sonnets, I think because the tightly structured form forces me to think in more poetic terms than I’m naturally inclined towards.

My most significant writing accomplishment as a teen would be the one-act play I wrote my senior year in high school. I was very involved in theater all through high school, and the director gave me the opportunity to write a play which was produced at the end of the year. That was quite a high, sitting in the back of the theater watching an audience respond to the words I had written, laughing in all the right places. But I’ve never written any more plays — partly because I did not become involved in theater when I went on to college (I think i was intimidated), and partly because of my continued interest in fantasy. It’s hard to stage magical effects and epic battles, you know?

I recall a big, multi-subject spiral notebook in which many of my first novel efforts started to take shape, but I can’t remember if that began in high school or college. I remember sitting in the computer lab at my older sister’s college (this was way before most students had their own PCs), when I went to visit her during my freshman year of high school, and writing a story of some sort while she was in class, though I don’t remember what it was now, or what happened to it. That’s about it for specific writing memories, though there must have been more going on because there was never a time, after the 4th grade, that I didn’t think of myself as a writer, so I must have always been writing…if only in my head!

I’m curious about the rest of you now. When did you start thinking of yourself as a writer? What was your earliest relationship with the written word? Share your tales!

Gaby, I welcome your next question, and if anyone else has a question they want to ask, you know where to find the “comment” button!

Two weekends ago, we enjoyed a four-day, three-night respite up in the San Jacinto Mountains. We stayed at a friends cabin, and did pretty much nothing but lie around lazily and watch the antics of the birds. Here’s some of the sites:

Attempts at bird photography didn’t turn out well, but the squirrel was cute

Forests…

…lakes…

…and mountain views…

…make this a beautiful place to visit, but really, we go for The Best Desert Ever:

Lucy is getting difficult about pictures, but I got this shot when her mouth was full of sour green apple candy:

And afterwards:

Anna, though, really knows how to get the most out of her nature experience:

In the time since we’ve weathered the extreme heat of Labor Day weekend (112F in the shade!), taken in a piratical foster dog, gone back to school, visited with old friends from high school, and gotten a new hairdo. I may or may not blog about any or all of these events (especially the hair, because it was pink at one point), but you can see pictures of some of them at my Flickr account.

Wednesday I start working full time, which means I should have more time to blog. Also, it means I should be ready to start writing my novel, Thanelands (working title), during my much-anticipated lunch hours.