The Weekend Writer

Yes, indeed.  It looks as if my weekend is currently Friday and Saturday, as that's when stuff happens around the home and I don't end up with a chance to write.  Well, blog.  Saturday is shaping up to be a very fine writing day!

I didn't actually write yesterday.  I did, however, get a great deal of plotting done on a project I've had swirling around my intention and imagination wheels for a year and a half.  I have very high hopes as well as a great deal of excitement about it!  No sharing yet.  I need to keep it to myself.  But I shall be calling for beta readers when they're needed.  It's sci-fi, and it's somewhat ambitious, really, but I like a challenge. :)  I surprised myself with my own creativity yesterday; that's always such a wonderful feeling.  The rest of this week will be given over to my "work" writing.  That's a great deal more difficult.

Camerpillar reminded me the other day, though not on purpose, that "crap" is a necessary part of the creation process.  Not only does it serve as a helpful point of clarification (the brain saying, "Wow, this part REALLY needs help!"), but it also means there are words on the page.  That creation is actively HAPPENING, rather than just being imagined.  I might feel like everything I wrote last weekend is so utterly lackluster, slugs could write a better scene even without appendages (and oh, I so do!).  Yet I spent three hours doing this thing I love so much, and I had fun doing it, and it woke up my brain, and, the best part, I put words down.  I made the story move someplace.  I may have to chuck the lot and try again, but I have a better idea of where I'm going.  As much as the actual words on the page and the sentences they create might make me cringe, the session provided a perfect plot point that I hadn't considered before.  THAT is the beauty of writing.  No matter how well one imagines ahead of time (unless a writer has a very specific, detailed, linear, plot-driven, outline-organized mind, and some do; these sort can actually write such detailed outlines ahead of time, they actually write half the story without ever doing "real" writing as the rest of us might define it), there is no substitution for the act of writing.  It can create unexpected twists.  A character might spout a line that is so perfect for the scene, so defining for the character, it becomes a central point for the rest of the book.  Or, in this case, a character might find themselves a little tired, and then accidentally discover they've been slipped a mickey, instead.  I never intended to drug him; it just happened.  Those are my favorite moments of writing.

So even though I was having a tremendously bad week as far as self-belief and writerly confidence goes, it ended well.  I've been reminded of the old post-it I used to have next to my computer that said, "1. You cannot fix a blank page.  2. Write crap; crap can be fixed."  I loved that post-it.  Also, my brother reminded me that fear of screwing something up, of not being good enough at one's art to ever be recognized or validated, is actually a good thing if it happens while making art.  It means I'm invested in what I'm doing, that it means something to me, way down deep where I generally find things too gooey to tread.  That fear is born out of passion, hope, and dreams I'm in the process of fighting to achieve.  Also, it'll be productive later one, because that fear will help me ensure that what I put out there into the world is the best I can make it right now.

And so I pass the lesson on to whatever readers might be out there.  Embrace the fear.  Embrace the awful, horrid attempts at creating something you care about.  Because they're good for us.  The crap is a stepping stone to something better.  We can work with awful and horrid, but there's not a thing we can do with a blank page, or canvass, or staff, or pottery wheel, or formula.