Seeing Text Vs. Thinking Text

I find that among the greatest writing dangers for me is to outthink a work in progress. When I catch myself trying to answer questions about a character, about that character’s motivations or thought processes, I get in trouble. Instead I must see. I must see an image, however incomplete, or a scene, or a character in action, or I must hear characters speaking. I only need shadows to write. Once I can see shadowy silhouettes, I can proceed, find the full scene, convey the moment or frozen image for which I have vision, and then, typically, doing so will allow me to see what I must see next or to power through a whole scene or even a chapter without too much thought. It is the translation of seeing through the vessel of the pen that matters, for the pen delivers the language on to the page. Once written, there remains a lot of work to be done, a great deal of development and revision and finessing, but as I then look back to move forward, I realize the logical questions now have answers. I don’t have to ask so many questions now for the people have stepped nearer to becoming whole and can supply the answers. For me, this is one of the great ironies about writing, for I am convinced that writing is about real clarity of thought and I pride myself on producing texts that develop ideas, but the only way forward into those ideas for me is not thinking too much. It is a matter of trust: trust in the self, trust in the medium, trust in the characters, and trust in the nature of the human story.

On Trying to Write

Today I have arrived at the study seeking morning sunshine, warmth on my skin, natural air, space and time to allow the expansion of stories and ideas that clutter the page and clutter the mind. So I step out onto the little deck that opens from the study. There is birdsong and slanted light accenting the intricate fibers of spider webs. The mosquitoes are put to bed. The day will be warm but the night still lingers in the air.

I seek quiet and find it, seek words and stumble. The quiet helps me find footing. Scrambling to locate toeholds, I jump from a muddled manuscript in progress to a muddled journal. I switch pens. I stare at the horizon. I watch birds in flight. It is easier to turn to the volume of Ted Kooser I have carried through the French doors, easier to venture into his Iowa farmyards than to locate the elusive figures emerging from the shadows of my pen. Easier as well than face the inevitable shadows of memory or the silhouettes that extend into those unknown places of a thousand tomorrows or the equally unknown of the book unwritten. The faces in Kooser are familiar but not mine. The birds we share, or at least many of them. His words are lovelier, his images more honed, but it is language I need. Language and memory and metaphor and idea, and mixing with the sunlight he helps ease me into this dark world of my own making, this density of inky pages and monochrome figures needing to become flesh.

Guest Blogging at Earthstorys

Okay, so it's been forever since I've posted on my own blog, so who am I to be trusted?  Despite my absence here for June, I'm now guest blogging every Wednesday at Earthstorys.  Please visit the site, not because I'm blogging there, but because it is an excellent hub for sustainability culture, one loaded with information and insight, containing a daily blog, feature ideas, news articles, an almanac--all things Earth.  Learn more about farm cooperatives, solar technologies, updates on the Gulf crisis and much more.

Wisdom from Maya Angelou

These are some simple but wise words appropriate to anyone but especially for writers and other artists:

"You can only become truly accomplished at something you love.  Don't make money your goal.  Instead pursue the things you love doing and then do them so well that people can't take their eyes off of you."
                                                                                   --Maya Angelou

If It Would Have Been a Snake...

When we are deep in the bowels of working on a writing project, does the world really offer up magic to us with astonishing frequency or are we just paying attention?  For instance, this week I stumbled upon a William Stafford poem "Ask Me" that includes in four lines the distilled essence of a central theme I've taken 500 pages and 10 years to get right in a novel.  Would I have understood those lines without the years and pages?  Would I have seen them at all?

I'm honestly not sure.  The world does seem full with magic at times.  I do know I must be awake to see it.

Endless Editing

How is it possible that you can work through your manuscript dozens of times spread over years and still realize how much it benefits from editing.  I'm prone to verbosity, so eliminating wordiness probably shouldn't come as a surprise.  And, as an editor recently reminded me (something I told myself and my students for years), there are times you need to trust your reader to get what you are spending too much time detailing.  Then there are the filler words, like a freshman stumbling through the first speech.  Still I thought I'd caught it all.  I haven't.  You can't come close to the aggressiveness of editing the manuscript needs until you let go.  Give it to a near stranger who has nothing at stake.  She may not see the editing needs, but your psychology can change for having given it to her.  I did.  Again.  The book will be better for it, and that's what counts.

Accepting Critiquing from Querytracker.com

This is a really good post on accepting critiques from Querytracker.com:

Often, we try to sweep unpleasant feelings under the carpet to avoid dealing with them. But experiencing them can help us deal with and get past them. So go ahead and admit to yourself -- and your crit buddies, if you need to -- that sometimes it's hard to take even constructive criticism. I bet they'll tell you they feel the same way!



Now that we've established the problem, let's look at how to deal with it.

1. Realize that a critique of your work is not a critique of you.


Like I said above, it can be hard not to take crits personally. But nobody -- and that includes people like, oh, Stephen King -- started out as a brilliant writer. Yes, some folks (like King) have a definite head start when it comes to raw talent, but everyone needs some work to get it right.

For example, King was determined to get published from the time he was a teen. He began sending short stories out and, like the rest of us, started racking up rejections. He put a nail in the wall, and each time he got one, he stuck it on the nail. Pretty soon the nail fell off the wall and he had to put up a big fat spike instead. But when he got feedback from an editor or a mentor, he didn't feel sorry for himself or swear to give up writing -- he buckled down and figured out how to be a better writer based on that feedback.


And we all know how that turned out.

So separate critique of your work from a critique of you.

2. Even if you can't help but take critiques personally, realize that the criticism (and the bad feelings that can accompany it) won't kill you.

People who choose to pursue clinical or counseling psychology need to be aware of their own biases and the messages they're sending others verbally and nonverbally. But when you start grad school, you're rarely as self-aware as you need to be. So guess what happens when you get there? That's right -- they start pointing out every little mannerism, bias, and trait. Worse, they videotape you so they can point to the behavior and say "That is a problem." If you can't see it, they play it over and over -- often in front of a crowd -- to force you to acknowledge the problem.


It's enough to make anyone want to crawl into a corner and curl into a fetal ball. But you know what? Even in such a situation, you start to realize that you can survive it. Eventually, you realize that the fear of taking in constructive criticism is often worse than actually facing it head-on and dealing with it. Sure, you might have some mannerisms or vocal tics that need work, but that doesn't mean you're a failure as a person.


The same thing is true with writing. You may have a lot of trouble not feeling bad when someone doesn't like your character or the twists your plot took. You may want to throw everything out the window when someone believes you need a major change to make the story work. But that doesn't mean there's something wrong with you as a person. It just means that your vision isn't coming through as clearly as you'd hoped.

Still, sometimes we need to feel the sad and frustrated feelings before we can look at things more clearly. So if you need to, go ahead and feel sorry for yourself for a day or two, but then it's important to pack up your pity party and get down to business.


Criticism can be tough to take, but you CAN take it. And the more practice you have at taking it gracefully, the better you will get at it. Promise!


3. Rather than getting overtly defensive, ask questions and find ways to improve clarity.

Now that you know that it's okay to experience the bad feelings -- they won't kill you -- you can have them and then move on. One of the best ways to move on is to look at places your crit buddies see problems and find out more so you can make good changes. Try asking questions like:


What made this [plot point, character motivation, etc.] confusing? What would help me make it clearer?

Is this a problem you're seeing consistently through the story/novel? What skills do I need to hone to correct that problem? Can you recommend any resources that might help me/have helped you?

Could you suggest ways I might fix this problem? Examples might help me see possibilities.

Remember, the goal in soliciting crits is to make your story better -- so follow up on anything that's unclear!

4. Keep your eye on the goal.


Remember, growth and change are usually difficult. But if they get you closer to a treasured goal, it's all worth it!

So...what have I missed? How do YOU deal with constructive criticism?