The
following essay was produced as part of my 2013 effort for the
November National Novel Writing Month effort. As such, please
understand that while I did give it a quick review, it has not
gone through the same proofreading and editing I normally try
to give all of the material posted on this site.
I
always make some mistakes. There are errors to be found throughout
this web site, and many exist despite dozens of attempts to correct
problems. That said, ask that you approach this material in the
spirit intended – a basic thought, slightly worked out and very
informally researched, delivered in the hopes of writing more
than 50,000 words by the end of November.
Thank
you.
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~ ~ ~
A
day of writing is never what it seems.
Distractions
are everywhere. From the beautiful weather outside to the dog
that wants someone to pay attention.
Oh,
and are dogs ever good at distracting a writer.
You
know how a superhero has a sidekick? Well, dogs are wonderful
at finding a spot in the office… a chair in the corner to climb
on, a section of floor near the feet to curl up in… and joining
in for an afternoon of writing. They can be an amazing sidekick
for a writer.
But…
then again…
Let’s
now place the dog into the role of a superhero. It’s kind of like
they always want a sidekick along on each and every adventure.
So when they get distracted or for any reason want to leave the
writing space, they want someone to tag along.
Now,
the main personality of a dog can be summed up by this. Their
excitement and love for their owner has no measurable end… they
also have no concept of time. And that does strange things.
You
could go away on vacation for a week, come home a week later,
and the dog will be at the door, wagging its tail with a look
on its face that says they are absolutely thrilled to see you
and couldn’t wait for you to get home.
You
could go to work for the day, come home eight or nine hours later,
and the dog will be at the door, wagging its tail with a look
on its face that says they are absolutely thrilled to see you
and couldn’t wait for you to get home.
And
you could go outside and walk to the mailbox, come back barely
two minutes later, and the dog will be at the door, wagging its
tail with a look on its face that says they are absolutely thrilled
to see you and couldn’t wait for you to get home.
Yes…
you could literally walk into the bathroom, and if the dog doesn’t
spend the entire time you are in there crying, scratching or leaning
on the bathroom door, when you open the door the dog will give
you a look that says: “Thank goodness you’re back. I thought I’d
never see you again.”
And…
well… if you don’t think a dog can distract a writer, then realize
a dog just took up about ten paragraphs and roughly more than
350 of the first 400 words in this essay.
Enough
said about that.
Basically,
the general problem facing the writer is simple enough, and has
two parts.
Number
one… quite generally speaking… the writer is facing an empty page.
Now,
I’m not talking about writer’s block and other such concepts.
(The cure for writer’s block is simple… write something. Anything!
Edit your mistakes later.) Instead… consider…
If
you were getting ready to mow the lawn, what would you do?
If
you were going to wash a load of laundry, what would you do?
If
you were going to drive to work… play fetch with the dog… get
a drink of water… what would you do?
My
point being, for most tasks, there is a beginning, a middle, and
an end.
The
empty page doesn’t really allow for that.
I
had zero clue how many words this essay was going to include.
And, now, as I defy the empty page while rambling on with intentions
of proofreading and editing later, I don’t even know if I’m halfway
done.
There
isn’t really a “Ready… set… write!” switch that works the same
way as pouring in the detergent or finding the leash kicks off
the start of some of those other tasks.
Sure…
at times any writer can sit down with an agenda, or maybe even
an outline that directs the journey an effort will take. But,
for the most part, it’s an exercise in creating something from
nothing -- grasping at the open and vast emptiness of imagination
in an effort to capture the most brilliant and poignant piece
of perfection ever developed in any language.
The
writer faces an empty page. No directions offered. No end destination
clear. No edges to do first with a picture on the box to use as
a guide.
Number
two… Rodney Dangerfield. (Or, more precisely… to paraphrase… “I
tell ya, I get no respect.”)
There’s
something about writing that goes vastly, incredibly, and perhaps
even dangerously unappreciated by many.
Just
about everyone you meet can tell you about the book they plan
to write someday. (Because… you know… all that has to happen to
write a book is finding the time to sit down and do it. It doesn’t
require any special abilities or talents.)
There
doesn’t seem to be an appreciation of any tangible product at
the finish line of an effort. Even when compared to something
like a painting or a sculpture, there is an incredible lack of
recognition for the art that is involved. (And don’t even get
me started on the lack of consideration given to the skill.)
Writing
gets a woefully undeserved anyone-can-do-it label. And even family
and friends tend to brush aside the work involved.
They
don’t understand the writing, reading, editing, proofreading,
rewriting, reading, editing, reading and on and on demands that
go into crafting a finished essay, story or novel.
And
perhaps even worst of all… that anyone-can-do-it label brings
with it a devaluation of worth, often inspiring requests to do
something for free.
(Sure!
Why not? It’s only my time and energy and creativity and… doing
something that leads to a completed end result. I’ll give you
an hour or two or four from my evening or weekend.)
Now
that doesn’t mean I mind… or that any writer minds… helping out
family and friends with things. That’s not the case at all.
Instead,
I’m trying to pass along the sense that a writer’s contributes
are viewed with a great sense of lacking value.
Four
hours of a writer’s time isn’t seen in the same light as four
hours of another effort. And it’s a situation where people don’t
think they’re interrupting whatever you are working on, since
you can write any old time your heart feels like it. You can just
fit the writing in wherever it fits in later on.
But
the laundry must be done now… the person on the phone must be
spoken with now… the errands need to be run now… and so on.
Here’s
a way of summing it up. When things aren’t getting posted on my
web site… when a new book isn’t available for purchase… when I’m
not getting published in magazines… the impression most people
seem to take from that is that I haven’t been working.
It
simply could not be possible that I’m tackling multiple projects
and investing time into the beginning stages of each project…
you know, producing the uncorrected rough drafts that begin after
dirtying up that empty page.
Mind
you, I’m certainly not complaining. Venting, perhaps. But not
complaining.
Because
when people give you positive feedback, it can be unbelievably
incredible.
I
remember the first e-mail I received about the web site from someone
that wasn’t a relative or friend… someone that had just found
In My Backpack. It was Deirdre
Flint, and she was connecting with me about
the essay “A
special set of glasses”… which she had found
when looking for information on S&H Green Stamps.
I’ve
had the pleasure of connecting with people like Keris
Stainton… she lives in a different country
(England), and, when I first exchanged e-mails with her she had
yet to publish her novels such as: Della says: OMG!,
Emma (Hearts) LA, and Jessie (Hearts) NYC.
And
the stories go on.
In
those moments… yes, absolutely… there is a reward and a satisfaction.
Instead,
while not trying to sound frustrated, I’m just trying to say that
there isn’t a simple perspective that works in viewing a writer.
People tend to not understand at all when you’re busy, and that
interruptions… however well intended or innocent in motive… do
matter. And when you can’t put a dollar sign on it, or see a physical
structure, there tends to be a lack of value associated with it.
And
it can all make for a very long day.