So today I have the amazing Siobhan Kinkade with us to talk about writing. So let's see what she has to say.
Literary Escapism
That doesn’t mean what you think it means. I’m not
talking about using books to escape from real life, as I am always wont to do.
No, in this case, it means the literary part of being a writer tends to escape
whenever it has a chance. There’s a reason for this madness, I promise.
Anyone who says that writing fiction for publication is always fun is full
of hooey. Either that person is demented, or she's not doing something
right. To be a writer, you have to REALLY love your work. You have
accept that sometimes it’s awful, and further you have to understand that the
rewards are worth the war.
Writing is hard work. It isn't always easy. It isn't always
fun. And more often than not, the process sucks. The writing part
is great, when the words are flowing. If writer's block scares you, then
honey...you are in HUGE trouble.
But even that isn't the worst part. The behind-the-scenes
brain-to-shelf part is what truly sucks.
After the initial story is on paper, there's the first round of self-editing
and revising. Then the round of "here read this" to everyone
you know. Then there's the submission process.
Query letters suck, too.
Then there's the waiting, which is probably the worst part. You have
to sit there and try not to go completely insane while someone else judges your
work as "saleable" or "trash". (NOW WAIT JUST A
MINUTE... WHO THE… DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TELL ME IF I'M GOOD ENOUGH OR
NOT??? Oh yeah, the editor... I'm sorry, please continue.) Then
after those long weeks (and sometimes months) of waiting comes the form
rejection letter - or if you're extremely lucky, the congratulatory note with a
contract attached.
Then the editor gets her grimy little hands on your precious manuscript and
hacks it to bits. And all the while, you're supposed to stand there and
smile and say okay as she looks you in the eyes and tells you that you're a
substandard writer who needs to just give up and go work at McDonald's (okay,
she isn't really saying that, but when you're on the receiving end of that
marked-up document, that's what it feels like).
Once that crying, screaming fit is over, you edit, return, and wait some
more. Sometimes there are more edits. Then there's cover
art...which you're supposed to have a say in but it doesn't always work like
that. Then after long months of battle, your book goes live and you can
sit back with a smile and say "I did it."
I did it with all of my short stories and novellas. And then I did it with Loki’s Game. I wrote and revised and
changed and hacked and wrote some more. Then I submitted (more than once), and
it finally got picked up. And here we are today. Small cheer for Siobhan,
right?
It’s lovely, but isn’t the end of the process. The ideas keep coming, the
writing keeps happening, and the suckage goes on.
I have ideas all day long. Things float through my head on little
clouds of genius, but by the time I can get my fingers around a pen or to a
keyboard to get them out, that little cloud has puttered to nothing and the
idea has drowned in a sea of blather. At first, I thought it was because I was
trying to type and I needed to be hand-writing. Then even the pen...my
trusty blue sidekick for the last three years... revolted and said "nope,
I ain't doin' it."
Sometimes the ideas come all at once. Other times they don’t come at all. It
just goes with the territory. Right now I’m stuck for ideas, but I'm spreading out flypaper on the floor of my
brain as I write this. My notebook and pen are at one hand, my laptop at
the other, and the computer I'm currently typing this on is directly in front
of me. Whatever medium it requires to get those evil, elusive words out
of my head, I'm going to use.
I need to get some refills for this pen, too. She needs some new ammo
if I'm to win this war. It used to be that the only way I could get words
out was to sit down with a notebook and pen, but I'm moving past that, training
my brain to adapt and accept new modes of warfare. Yes, I lose battles all the
time. But if I will hunt down the words that leave, capture them, and commit
them to paper.
I will win this war. I promise.
No comments:
Post a Comment