because I think I'm a writer
Category projects
For as long as I can remember, I've had people in my life convincing me that I have "a way with words". In grade school, one of my teachers read a story I had written at home and was impressed enough (though, likely as not, with the enthusiasm I displayed more than the content of the story itself) that she gave me access to one of the school's computers so that I could type it up, print it out, illustrate it ("illustrate" is, at best, an exaggeration, since whatever artistic ability I may have, it does not include the ability to draw or paint a remotely recognizable image), and even bind it - though that final step was performed using a stapler, if my hazy memory of childhood serves. I no longer remember the story, but I doubt that I'll ever forget the way the process of writing and "publishing" it made me feel.
During the decades since that childhood project, I've received various forms of similar reinforcement from various sources, ranging from handwritten notes scrawled on a term paper in the red ink of a professor's pen to the comments on this blog that prove a few people out there find content here that holds their attention. Having discarded an intentional career in music before it began, only to find passion for an accidental career in programming, I've nonetheless repeatedly found myself pondering ideas for novels, documentaries, and even just short stories. I frequently wonder whether, were I no longer able - or, for some reason, willing - to make a living writing code, could I manage to make a living writing stories? I consider it doubtful. But since I still have the luxury of a career that I enjoy and that pays the bills, I can afford to muse over that possibility without any pressure of finding a way to bring it to fruition.
As such, I've started writing several books over the past couple years, currently in varying states of completion, none showing much likelihood of ever becoming something I would publish. One was probably a very bad idea from the outset; at least one was probably a good idea, and I may someday put in the effort required to bring the story to life. But I recently began a new short story (knowing full well that I don't have the time now - or in the foreseeable future - to complete a full novel), and have been surprised by how rapidly, and fluidly, it has taken on a life of its own, almost without my trying.
Admittedly, I've pursued a process with this story that I hadn't previously tried, in at least two significant ways. First, I've talked to more people about it. Each person with whom I've discussed the basic plot has made suggestions that have enriched the personality of the characters, the impact of the story's events, or both. Second, when describing the premise, characters, and events, I've spoken as though the story is actually happening: the occurrences that comprise the back story have already happened; because of those events, the personalities of the characters, and the effect of previous events on the decisions the characters make, the way the story unfolds and ends is inevitable. This wasn't intentional, and is a strange sensation, because - as a former actor - I have difficulty with suspension of disbelief. That's always been my biggest obstacle when attempting to author fiction: if I don't believe the story, how can I hope to convince an audience? For some reason, with this story, it's different. When thinking, talking, and writing about these events, it feels real. Each time a new element of a character's personality or history unfolds, I'm not deciding it, I'm discovering it: something happened to them that I hadn't previously realized, but now that I do, their actions make more sense. I'm sure this sounds cheesy, but it's fascinating to me, and quite fun.
Earlier this week, I was discussing the ending with Laura. I've already forgotten how all the elements of it took shape - whether she made specific suggestions or, as so often happens when we're talking, the mere act of describing to her something I think I already know suddenly makes it seem so much clearer. But however it happened, I now know precisely how the story ends. And, as contradictory as this sounds, it's both happy and tragic. Possibly poetic... time will tell.
When all the words are in their proper order, I'll toss it out on LuLu. It's no Sunken Treasure, but I have faith that it'll contain a pearl or two.
For as long as I can remember, I've had people in my life convincing me that I have "a way with words". In grade school, one of my teachers read a story I had written at home and was impressed enough (though, likely as not, with the enthusiasm I displayed more than the content of the story itself) that she gave me access to one of the school's computers so that I could type it up, print it out, illustrate it ("illustrate" is, at best, an exaggeration, since whatever artistic ability I may have, it does not include the ability to draw or paint a remotely recognizable image), and even bind it - though that final step was performed using a stapler, if my hazy memory of childhood serves. I no longer remember the story, but I doubt that I'll ever forget the way the process of writing and "publishing" it made me feel.
During the decades since that childhood project, I've received various forms of similar reinforcement from various sources, ranging from handwritten notes scrawled on a term paper in the red ink of a professor's pen to the comments on this blog that prove a few people out there find content here that holds their attention. Having discarded an intentional career in music before it began, only to find passion for an accidental career in programming, I've nonetheless repeatedly found myself pondering ideas for novels, documentaries, and even just short stories. I frequently wonder whether, were I no longer able - or, for some reason, willing - to make a living writing code, could I manage to make a living writing stories? I consider it doubtful. But since I still have the luxury of a career that I enjoy and that pays the bills, I can afford to muse over that possibility without any pressure of finding a way to bring it to fruition.
As such, I've started writing several books over the past couple years, currently in varying states of completion, none showing much likelihood of ever becoming something I would publish. One was probably a very bad idea from the outset; at least one was probably a good idea, and I may someday put in the effort required to bring the story to life. But I recently began a new short story (knowing full well that I don't have the time now - or in the foreseeable future - to complete a full novel), and have been surprised by how rapidly, and fluidly, it has taken on a life of its own, almost without my trying.
Admittedly, I've pursued a process with this story that I hadn't previously tried, in at least two significant ways. First, I've talked to more people about it. Each person with whom I've discussed the basic plot has made suggestions that have enriched the personality of the characters, the impact of the story's events, or both. Second, when describing the premise, characters, and events, I've spoken as though the story is actually happening: the occurrences that comprise the back story have already happened; because of those events, the personalities of the characters, and the effect of previous events on the decisions the characters make, the way the story unfolds and ends is inevitable. This wasn't intentional, and is a strange sensation, because - as a former actor - I have difficulty with suspension of disbelief. That's always been my biggest obstacle when attempting to author fiction: if I don't believe the story, how can I hope to convince an audience? For some reason, with this story, it's different. When thinking, talking, and writing about these events, it feels real. Each time a new element of a character's personality or history unfolds, I'm not deciding it, I'm discovering it: something happened to them that I hadn't previously realized, but now that I do, their actions make more sense. I'm sure this sounds cheesy, but it's fascinating to me, and quite fun.
Earlier this week, I was discussing the ending with Laura. I've already forgotten how all the elements of it took shape - whether she made specific suggestions or, as so often happens when we're talking, the mere act of describing to her something I think I already know suddenly makes it seem so much clearer. But however it happened, I now know precisely how the story ends. And, as contradictory as this sounds, it's both happy and tragic. Possibly poetic... time will tell.
When all the words are in their proper order, I'll toss it out on LuLu. It's no Sunken Treasure, but I have faith that it'll contain a pearl or two.
Comments
Posted by Ben Langhinrichs At 08:06:16 AM On 06/12/2009 | - Website - |
Mine was a purely factual book { Link } that filled a need at the time. It was fun putting it together, but not for the writing. My joy was in the finding out of the information itself.
No matter what your passion is. I would suggest you do it. And if you don't want to do it through Lulu (ie. you want to get a bit more of the return on investment) then give United Publications a call. They are UK based, but they now have a US branch too.
Posted by Dragon Cotterill At 06:56:43 AM On 06/12/2009 | - Website - |
Posted by jimmy bracco At 09:44:53 PM On 06/12/2009 | - Website - |