Younger...and wiser

I found an article I wrote that proves I was smarter in 1998 than I am now...

When I first set pen to paper at the age of 12, the only intention I had was to try to tell a story like the kind I liked to read. I had no ulterior motive other than to pass some time, and maybe for once finish something that mattered to me. (More on that later)

If I'd been aware of the situation I was starting. I would have torn that story to shreds, burned it, and ran far away. It was 21 years ago and I still remember that the plot dealt with a little boy who felt that he had no home. I was living with my father at the time and despite it being at my request, I was feeling surly about being tossed between my parents like a chipped ping pong ball. The story was designed to tell about my feelings without actually mentioning my name. It was a valiant effort, and I might have even made it work, but my natural tendency made its first appearance. Half way to three quarters done, I simply stopped working on it I don't remember the specifics, but I do remember my stepmother asking me what happened to the story.

That was in 1976.

This is 1998 and two things are still prevalent in my writing world. I feel the need to write, and I have never truly finished much of what I start. That is not to say that I have not tried. I currently have two stories under consideration. I think they are okay, but even after 21 years. they are still the stories of a beginner.

Now I know that all of this sounds self pitying, but that is not my intention. What I am here to say is designed for those who want to write, have just started writing, or think that having quarter inch screws driven beneath their skull would be fun. (Stick with me here.)

With me, writing is more than a past time. it is a catharsis for the things that I feel inside that I could not express to anyone in any other way. It allows me to examine my beliefs on areas of my life that I don't or can't (read - won't) speak about.

I think that for most writers it is this way. Some authors write articles to speak on a subject that is near and dear to them. Sometimes it is to address a point that has rubbed them the wrong way. Some authors use their fiction to press home points about the way society allows it sell' to be run and the repercussions of a given action or inaction. Some authors wield their stories like blunt instruments, attempting to bludgeon away some silliness that they have encountered.

And then there is the small circle, of writers whose only goal is to entertain and of course, make lots of money.

For someone starting out, it can be a very frightening thing.

What at first seemed so easy and fluid to me, has changed into the one thing that scares me. Before and during High school, I used to come up with characters and situations and places and all sorts of weird implausible stuff. At that time it really didn't mean anything to me if the stories went anywhere, had a purpose, or for that mailer a plot. They were simply the things that my characters did on a daily basis. Sometimes it was a grand adventure to the far side of the universe, or sometimes it was just two guys tooling around in their hopped up space jalopy. A few times it was even a sage old Taiwanese named Saki telling stories to kids about the day that humans accidentally blew the atmosphere off of Earth.

The point is, the creation was easy and fun. The reality of writing salable stories is another world altogether.

Now don't get me wrong. Writing is fun. It's probably one of the most fun things you can do with your hands and not have to wash them afterwards. What I mean is, writing is probably the hardest thing that you can choose to do. I would suggest that if you decide to write for pay, the first thing that you should do is get in touch with your brain to verify that nothing is leaking. The second thing you should do is try real hard not to reinvent the wheel. What I mean is, there are lots of others out there who have the same dream that you do. And a few of them are even living it. Some are even making a few dollars! (There now I said it.)

Find one. Try to steal a few moments of their time to get the real low down on writing. If they are worth the paper they are paid with, they will be happy to sit down with you for a spell. Listen very carefully; you may learn something that you never knew.

Writing is real work.

It's not work like being a concrete pourer, or dental floss winding, but it is work. Work that will consume you like really bad chili heart burn. Your new writer friend will, if honest, tell you that writing is not an easy field to break into. They may even try to talk you out of it. It requires patience like only the Dali Llama possesses. It takes stamina, discipline, guts, and most of all, emotion. He or she will explain that good writing comes from your heart as well as your head. No one ever wrote a great story without giving up a small piece of their private heart. But remember, when you choose to do something, it should be all or nothing, otherwise the choice in invalid. Waffling never won anybody a Hugo. The only exceptions to this rule should be if you write for a time and realize, honestly realize that this was a bad choice for you. But that should only come after you have tried.

The cornered writer will also pass along tidbits of information that they have learned along the way. Take heed, most of these tidbits will be invaluable to you. Some of it will be the writers' personal prejudices. You must weigh what they tell you against what you want to achieve and what you are willing to sacrifice. And make no mistake; to be successful in any endeavor requires some sort of sacrifice. Don't think that just because it looks easy, that you can get away with half measures. Writing in general and the publishing world in particular do not operate that way. Always remember, there are hundreds of people who share your dream and are willing to work hard to achieve it.

After the pre-writing checkup and after cornering a professional like a rat in a maze comes the really hard part.

Fighting yourself to start and keep going.

I guarantee that this part is a killer. More wanna-be's dropped out from self inflicted emotional stab wounds than died in all of America's wars combined. Think I'm kidding? Just listen closely to the next conversation you hear at a party. At least one person will be bragging about how much he writes each day. At how fantastic a manuscript is that she has been working on.

The type is easy to pick out. They speak about writing, writers, books, publishers, agents, and book contracts as if they have the entire subject committed to memory. If you ask them for a sample, some will produce parts of articles or short stories. Some of the stories might even be pretty good, but the real author in the group will have sent the story to a publisher, correctly assuming that he might get some money for it.

The reason I know all of this to be true is because I am quite guilty of it myself. I have read more books on how to write, how to plot, how to create 'Queries guaranteed to sell!' than I can count. So I have a grasp on the technical side of writing. I even know a little about how book contracts are negotiated. (Talk about double migraines.)

I can talk a good game, but when it comes time to put up or shut up, well, let's just say my portfolio is pretty thin.

I never realized that this was a major problem that I had to deal with until I met my mentor, Steve Barnes.

For those who don't recognize the name, Steve is currently the only fully functioning, heterosexual, black, male science fiction writer in the United States. He has co-authored books with SF legends Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. He has written episodes of the Twilight Zone and Baywatch (Hey, what the hell.) Plus he has over thirteen published novels of SF and Dark Fantasy. To say the least, he has been around the block once or twice.

I met him a year and a half ago at NorWesCon in Seattle. We spoke and became friends. Over the year that I have known him, my writing has improved by the simple fact that I am embarrassed that it was not better already. There is an old proverb that says when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Well, I made short work of that one. The teacher popped up, but in typical fashion I was halfway down the street running the wrong way.
Anyway, over a period of time in which I called him every name in the book for being so damned smug, he began to get something through this brick shell that I call a head. Writing is like anything else in life. If you want it bad enough you will find a way to get it. What I really learned is that to be a good writer, you have to feel. You have to emote. You have to be willing and able to share that emotion with total strangers.

The people who are capable of that level of honesty are well rewarded. Just think of your favorite author. I'll bet that if you go back and carefully read some of what they have written, you will discover that the writer has revealed some part of his true nature and the way they he or she interprets the world. I can't stress this enough, no truly good writer can get away for long without revealing the truth that they may want to keep hidden.

I believe that it is human nature to share. It may not always be evident because there are a lot of selfish people, but for the most part people are willing to share at least portions of themselves with others. (Be kinda hard to make babies if we didn't…) To me, that is the essence of writing. In order for that sharing to be real and ultimately reciprocated, it must possess the givers heart.

When I wrote the article above I had only known Steve for about a year. At this point it's been more than 11 years and not much has changed. Old habits die hard. It took me moving to Georgia, away from everything I cared about to figure out that my problem with writing didn't have anything to do with my jobs or my location.

It had to do with who I was inside and what I was willing to share with others. It also has to do with the part of me that is convinced writing isn't real work. If I am not digging ditches or working in a cube farm somewhere, I am not truly 'working'.

I think that's what this blog is supposed to be about. I need to clear the old bullshit out of my head so that I can be who I was meant to be. Writing is in my blood, has been for as long as I can remember. Maybe if I write about it, I will work out the demons and make the connection with the child like intelligence that actually creates the stories.

It is my truest hope that I can convince him that I love him and I am listening. I also want to convince him that its okay to dream again. From the dreams come the stories. From the stories come the life that I feel I was truly meant to live.

Nothing good ever came of putting dreams on hold. I hope that working this out on 'paper' will help the damaged parts of me understand and overcome this.