January 21, 2011

Go write a short story

This is going to be a recurring theme from me: I want to encourage everyone to write. I've said this before but since no one reads old posts, I'll just have to say it again. Here's today's push to get you off your duff (or on it, come to think of it) and writing.

Once again I've been chatting with people who are "going to" write a book. I sigh when I hear this, knowing that most likely the book will never be written. As I see it, the trick is to maneuver your idea onto the page despite the roadblock created by your fear of failure. And so the idea never progresses, the book is never begun.

It may seem impossible to write a book, but it's not. The odd thing is that you just have to get into the habit of writing. I know, I know: you can't start. But if you don't, the book won't be written, right? So maybe you need to think about this problem you're having, and figure a way out of it.

I'll keep it simple: write now, people. Life doesn't stretch on forever, even if you're young. You never know how much time you've got to write that book. Don't you want to leave a novel behind, so there's a piece of you that goes on, that continues to speak whenever someone reads it? As far as goals go, it's a nice one.

But you keep putting it off. So I have news for you: it's not that hard to get out of this cycle. All it takes is a firm decision to start writing. If you can't face your novel yet, or your history of the Huguenots or whatever it is that you're planning to write, then start smaller. If you're a non-fiction writer, write an essay. Why shouldn't you write an essay? What possible harm could there be in trying? I know, I know: your fragile ego. Get over it.

If you're lucky enough to be a fiction writer who has a great idea for a novel, but just can't get your motor started, how about writing a short story today? Why not? Fear of failure is not an excuse. You'll never know if you can do it unless you try. Who knows? You may be a natural. Don't you want to find out?

You may think your book is in the "planning stage." Now, there's real value in planning; I don't mean to knock it. But let's get real. When's the last time you did some planning for the book? I thought so.

At a certain point you have to move from planning to writing. You can always keep planning as you write it. I do, and it works. See, there's an important issue here, and it may be something you don't realize. There is a learning process that takes place as you write. Nothing can replace this learning. In the end, only writing teaches you how to write.

You'll find that every time you write fiction, you will get better at it. Without planning to pick up a particular skill, you'll find yourself saying, 'Oh, I can do that now", "I can create characters; I can write dialogue." You'll learn new things every time you write, and this is something you only understand after its happened to you.

What have you got to lose? Go for it. Remember, you don't have to show it to anyone if you don't want to. So write something this afternoon. Go sit in your happy place, be it in front of a fire, your computer or the great lawn at your local park -- and write. At the end of the day, you'll have many precious things.

First, you'll have your story (or scene or essay or whatever) which you can read and evaluate at your leisure. But more than that, you'll have the experience, the learning that you picked up simply by writing. Keep it up and your skills will accumulate. Soon you'll know exactly what you're doing. You'll be an old hand and it won't seem impossible to write that novel. It's not the hardest thing in the world. I promise. Just give it a shot. Okay?

2 comments:

Anna Guess Pick said...

Not a short story - but here is my preface to John's Story:

November 25, 1918

A cold wind blew outside; you could hear it whistle through the cracks in of the walls. She pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders it was her only shield to protect her from the awful news. The fire crackled and spit in anger as she poked it, seemingly to mimic her own raging emotions.

In her lap lay the telegram that arrived earlier in the day from Adjutant General Harris. She had read the simple twenty-one words over and over and over again. With each reading she prayed the letters would rework themselves and form new words on the page. Words filled with hope that she would once again be able to feel the touch of her first-born child and son.

But no matter how many times she reread the telegram the words remained the same. “Deeply regret to inform you that it is officially reported that Sergt John Guess Jr infantry died of septicemia November seventh.”

She closed her eyes and let the tears stream un-blotted down her face, remembering John’s last visit home less than a year ago before he returned to Camp Lewis in Washington.

writenow said...

That sounds so good, Annie. I suspect that in the long run, we'll realize you're the better writer. Great mood, use of language -- everything, really. You painted a picture that felt real and did so with lovely, effective prose. This tells me you have excellent judgment about your writing -- and that's something you can't learn. You've got it or you don't. Annie, I'd say you knocked it out of the park. I can't wait to read your final product.