Fragile discipline

“I don’t get writer’s block. Ever. It’s a complete myth.”

I have to bite my tongue every time I go to say that.  There are a few others, too:

“Writers write every day.”

“If you’re a writer, you write.”

“If you write you are a writer.”

Oh, yes, I really believe in all of that. And then there are all the exceptions.

My own routine

I try to write for the first two hours of every working day and at some point on weekends and during holidays. Sometimes it’s not possible. Then, I’ll try and write as soon as I can.  Sometimes, like today, I can only manage about forty minutes because my day job demands that I go off and do something else. The problem then is that by the time I get to my laptop my mind is so cluttered with other thoughts that I can’t find the creative energy to write. Having a break helps usually: maybe the drive home from the office or stopping to have supper.

Some days it’s easier, some days it’s harder

I’m now confident that no matter how empty-headed I feel once I start writing the words and the ideas will come. I’m mainly right but not always. Sometimes it’s a real struggle and everything I write seems very poor and I’m dying for the two hours to go by. Interestingly, I’ve found that on these occasions I’m often actually writing better. Okay, it’s that inner critic chuntering but actually he has a point.

Some notable exceptions

Some writers I respect a lot have recently suffered from what we might call “writer’s block”. One is a well-established author who in recent years had a group of “break-though” novels.  How do you follow that? That was his problem.

A friend obtained the coveted PhD, and having gone to his personal limit on that, couldn’t work out for several months how to go on forward.

Another friend is also a brilliant administrator and organiser and full of an energy that is extremely creative leaving little creative space for anything else. He admits to not writing every day.

Again interestingly, as these three got back to work their writing was even richer and even more fine-tuned. They seem to have gone through some sort of incubation period.  

The fragile discipline

Yes we have to be disciplined. Much of the time this seems easy enough. Yet we fear losing that control. A couple of bad days and a few rejections and we might lose our will to go on. Then we must get back up, brush ourselves down and get on with it. It might be worth remembering though that the occasional fallow period can also be ultimately quite productive.     

   

  

Current Projects

Current Projects
Two lots of proofs arrived the other day. There wasn’t all that much editorial comment this time. It was just mainly copy-editing. As usual, I had several “forms” instead of “froms” and some of it was just stuff that had come about as the document had turned form Word into Quark or whatever it is that they use these days. There were some strange line throws and some strangely spaced lines. I actually only spotted one item not seen by the editor. Mind you, I’ve still just under half of the bigger text to go.
I’m more bothered that what I’d thought were perfect texts when I sent them off no longer seem to be. It’s that same old problem again – you never stop editing. Do you carry on getting better? Will that inner editor that chunters on not shut up even when you read a published text – yours or someone else’s? I’m at that stage now. I only really rejoice in the text that is so good that I stop editing.
Still, one just has to recognise that for what it is and get on, I suppose.
This was accompanied by the very necessary but very tedious chore of completing an author questionnaire. It is quite dispiriting to identify the few independent bookshops and all the local radio stations who might take an interest in your book. I guess, though, if just one does, then it’s worth the effort.
There’s the problem, too, of the photograph. The camera never lies. I can convince myself if I look in the mirror that I’m not aging too badly. But when I look at that photo … I’ll send them a soft copy as well. Perhaps they’ll touch it up.
It’s exhausting.
Still, I’m back to the real writing now.
My current project is “ Creative Language Learning” which I’m writing for Contiuum. It’s not the most exciting book to write, though the topic does enthuse and excite me. Some of the writing is a little tedious. Still. I’ve written 60 lesson plans out of 79. I guess it’s all downhill now.

Proofs

Proofs for two of my novels came yesterday. I’ve already started reading them. It’s amazing that at this stage one still finds mistakes – of the copy editing variety. Have the gremlins got into the computer programmes and reverted the text to what it was before the copy edit began? Or am I having an argument with the copy editor?

It’s all about “dad”. I maintain that when it’s used as a name for a particular person it should be “Dad” e.g. “Come on get a move on,” said Dad, or “Eh, Dad, can I watch TV now?” However, when it’s generic, even if you are referring to a specific person’s dad, it should be “dad”. E.g. “All the mums and dads were waiting outside the school gates. Robbie’s dad had a battered old car.” But my text seemed peppered with idiosyncratic mixed examples of these. And I’d swear the copy editor and I had corrected them all before.

That aside, it’s exciting and scary at the same time getting final proofs. You get a sense of how the book is going to look. The text in this format seems slightly strange to you – you have seen it so often before in Word, on screen or hardy copy, but anyway double-spaced and ragged right. Now it’s single or 1.5 spaced and justified right. The pages are smaller. In addition, it’s a while since you saw it. You’ve forgotten things and you’ve actually probably moved on as a writer.

I’m reading Kiters at the moment, a fantasy for 9-11 and possibly the most literary novel I’ve written to date. That infernal inner critic was mumbling something about “Beautifully written, but will 9-11 year olds really appreciate it. Isn’t the main character a bit too old to be interested in kites?” The answer: “But the teachers will probably appreciate it. And the children who like to read about people Robbie’s age probably do still like kites.”

It is a material fact – especially in my case – that writers do move on and change. And often what we’ve written before makes us cringe.

Insomniac Writers

I was awake at five today. A good time to get up, though this does involve the cup of tea in bed and the reading of a good book first. I’ve just started Life of Pi and so far, I’m hooked. Writers must be readers.

I actually read yesterday an article by a writer who recommended getting up and starting to write even before you’re washed or dressed. In that half-awake state you tend to suppress the inner editor, who is perhaps your harshest critic.

I did get up early several times whilst I was on Tenerife I actually felt less sure of myself as I wrote then. I certainly wasn’t as awake and as raring to go as I am after breakfast and the extra strong coffee. But as usual, I actually write better when that inner critic is out of the way or performing badly.

There is something delightful, anyway, about the quiet of that early morning time. And getting up this early, I can have do half of my daily quota of writing by the time I finish getting up and getting dressed.

I am actually editing at the moment. This might be the time to find out whether my editing skills are actually more acute when I’m not properly awake. Watch this space!

Revisiting “Peace Child”

At last I have plucked up the courage to relook at the creative part of my Ph D thesis – this 100,000 word YA novel. One major change – and this was signalled up as being necessary by two of my readers, is to the title. I still keep the three titles for the three parts of the trilogy, but now have them in a different order. The Peace Child concept remains.
I’m now going through, reacting mainly to the comments of my external examiner, though my inner critic is doing a fair amount of work also. So, I’m strengthening two characters, making life harder for my protagonist, changing a major term, making a war look more like a war and addressing one or two anomalies which have crept in within the setting.
Once you’ve made the first cuts, it gets easier. I do have to be rigorous – akin to “Killing off darlings” in fact. I’m also hanging on to what both examiners said: that they do expect to see “Peace Child” published in the future. It is a case of really, “if you do A, B will happen”. The question is, can I do A?