Category Archives: writing

Permission Is for Cowards

Many people with an idea want others to tell them their idea is worthy. Why is their approval of your idea necessary? That’s a sales question, not a writing question. If you want thousands to know you, that’s an ego problem, not a writing problem. I say, if you find it interesting, do it. If you find it worthwhile or meaningful, that’s enough. Your idea is good because it’s yours, and it means something to you. If even one person gets value from what you make that justifies your efforts. That person might be a close friend, a distant stranger, or possibly even yourself, years later, when you rediscover this amazing thing you made, amazing simply because you made it. Your book idea is good because it’s yours. Whatever it is it’s good enough to be the book that you write. If an idea lingers in your mind, and won’t leave you alone, just do it. The only chance for sanity is to get the idea out of your mind and down on paper or on a screen.

Scott Berkun

Today I Wrote a Great Scene About a Flowing Stream

Charles Frazier wrote Cold Mountain. He spent ten years writing it. Now, I resent the fact that his wife worked, and he could afford to take ten years to write a novel. My wife doesn’t work and I can’t afford to take ten years to write a novel that I haven’t even sold. So I resent that. And I didn’t like Cold Mountain. It wasn’t my kind of book. I don’t think writing about trees is that interesting. It’s a quest story, a string of pearls, and I didn’t believe any of it. However, it was a serious book. So I think that Charles Frazier deserves all the accolades and awards and money that he got for it, because it was a serious artistic effort. It didn’t appeal to me, I was a little personally resentful, but I admire that he had to delay his gratifications for ten years before anyone saw his book. He had to have the personal satisfaction of knowing, ‘Today I wrote a great scene about a flowing stream,’ and live with that. I can admire guys who are not my cup of tea as writers. But I’m furious with phonies.

Pat Jordan

Superglue

Jonathan Franzen’s writing routine:

He writes six or seven days a week, starting at 7 a.m. He’s often hoarse at the end of the day because he performs his dialogue out loud as he writes it…. Franzen works in a rented office that he has stripped of all distractions. He uses a heavy, obsolete Dell laptop from which he has scoured any trace of hearts and solitaire, down to the level of the operating system. Because Franzen believes you can’t write serious fiction on a computer that’s connected to the Internet, he not only removed the Dell’s wireless card but also permanently blocked its Ethernet port. “What you have to do,” he explains, “is you plug in an Ethernet cable with superglue, and then you saw off the little head of it.”

(Via.)

Just Like Little League

Read the clips first, then come up with questions, then do the interviews, transcribe the tapes, then read the notes and clips over again until I memorize them, then start outlining on a yellow legal pad of paper, like an artist making sketches before starting a painting. I’ll revise the outline again and again, just like you were taught in grammar school. Do that over and over until I find an outline I like. It’s a habit left over from baseball – as far back as when I played in Little League when I used to draw those stick figures that showed me how I was going to pitch the batter. Which doesn’t mean I’ll stick to it, it just means it’ll get me started writing. After I get the outline, I think for as long as it takes me, until I get the first line. I’ll memorize my notes and clips and then spend a week walking around the house jotting notes on how I want to begin it. Once I figure out how I’m going to begin it, the story is done.

Pat Jordan

You See Differently on Paper

I draft prose on-screen, work it over until I can’t find much wrong with it, then double-space it and print it out. At that point I discover what’s really there, which is ordinarily hazy, bloated, and boring. It looked pretty good on-screen, but it’s crap. My first drafts on paper, after what amount to several drafts on computer, look like a battlefield.

Jan Swafford

You Discover It for Yourself

You can’t learn to write in college. It’s a very bad place for writers because the teachers always think they know more than you do – and they don’t. They have prejudices. They may like Henry James, but what if you don’t want to write like Henry James? They may like John Irving, for instance, who’s the bore of all time. A lot of the people whose work they’ve taught in the schools for the last thirty years, I can’t understand why people read them and why they are taught. The library, on the other hand, has no biases. The information is all there for you to interpret. You don’t have someone telling you what to think. You discover it for yourself.

Ray Bradbury

(Via.)

Expert Dawdlers

Even the most productive writers are expert dawdlers, doers of unnecessary errands, seekers of interruptions – trials to their wives or husbands, friends, associates, and themselves. They sharpen well-pointed pencils and go out to buy more blank paper, rearrange offices, wander through libraries and bookstores, chop wood, walk, drive, make unnecessary calls, nap, daydream, and try not “consciously” to think about what they are going to write so they can think subconsciously about it.

—Donald Murray

I Need Those Seven Hours

OK, it’s nine in the morning. All I’ve got to do is write. But I go hours before I’m able to write a word. I make tea. I mean, I used to make tea all day long. And exercise, I do that every other day. I sharpened pencils in the old days when pencils were sharpened. I just ran pencils down. Ten, eleven, twelve, one, two, three, four – this is every day. This is damn near every day. It’s four-thirty and I’m beginning to panic. It’s like a coiling spring. I’m really unhappy. I mean, you’re going to lose the day if you keep this up long enough. Five: I start to write. Seven: I go home. That happens over and over and over again. So why don’t I work at a bank and then come in at five and start writing? Because I need those seven hours of gonging around. I’m just not that disciplined. I don’t write in the morning – I just try to write.

John McPhee

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Daily Routine

As the years passed he fell into a daily routine that seldom varied during autumn or winter. Each morning he wrote or read until it was time for the midday dinner; each afternoon he read or wrote or dreamed or merely stared at a sunbeam boring in through a hole in the blind and very slowly moving across the opposite wall. At sunset he went for a long walk, from which he returned late in the evening to eat a bowl of chocolate crumbed thick with bread and then talk about books with his two adoring sisters, Elizabeth and Louisa, both of whom were already marked for spinsterhood … In summer Hawthorne’s routine was more varied; he went for an early-morning swim among the rocks and often spent the day wandering alone by the shore, so idly that he amused himself by standing on a cliff and throwing stones at his shadow. Once, apparently, he stationed himself on the long toll-bridge north of Salem and watched the procession of travelers from morning to night. He never went to church, but on Sunday mornings he liked to stand behind the curtain of his open window and watch the congregation assemble.

—Malcolm Cowley, “Editor’s Introduction,” The Portable Hawthorne

Related reading: Daily Routines.

Every Academic’s Fantasy

From Write to the Top!: How to Become a Prolific Academic:

If only, right?