Lately, I have been struggling with a complete lack of motivation to write. I know the stories I want to tell, they are constantly whispering inside my head and demanding my attention in the middle of other tasks, but I cannot seem to force myself to sit down, shut everything else out and do the work that gets them out of my head and onto the screen. I have become so frustrated that I have sat back, thrown my hands up and said, if only in the privacy of my own room, that maybe I should just go back to school and give in to the inevitable nine-to-five. Because if I can’t even make myself write when the stories are coming easily, what hope do I have when it gets harder and is more like work than play? And, on top of this, I have had more than a few moments where I get very upset because everyone else’s words are so much more than mine, and why did I ever think I could write, and who am I kidding trying to do it professionally, and why not just give it all up before I really embarrass myself? These have been some very disheartening days, and Stephen King’s “On Writing” was exactly what I needed to help me through.
I am not sure if this book would be so enjoyable to someone who is not already interested in Stephen King, or at least a fan of his work. I am both. But even if you think he is a talentless hack, as someone I know once said, I think there are some very honest, very insightful writing lessons that everyone who writes with any degree of seriousness should learn. Of course, there are also a couple of things I think can safely be disregarded, but as far as I know Stephen King never claimed to be an expert or to be writing a manual that every writer must live by, so that is all right. I think I marked more quotes from this book than from any book before it, and perhaps, if you are struggling with your own writing as much as I am struggling with mine, some of them will help you, too. So I will share them here, and I will also share some tidbits of writing wisdom from Neil Gaiman and from an article written by Stephen King in the Washington Post, and links to a couple of other writing-related things that have been helping me to press on.
Many people would probably not put much faith in Stephen King’s opinions on what makes a good writer, because many people do not think he is one and so he would not be qualified to judge. I think much of the negativity surrounding what he writes is the result of how people react to his word choices and the way he tells his stories, which is not elegant or refined or anything else ‘literary people’ tend to value so highly. And to all those who feel this way, that he is too crude or vulgar or just not sophisticated enough in expressing himself, I offer this quote.
Make yourself a solemn promise right now that you’ll never use “emolument” when you mean “tip” and you’ll never say John stopped long enough to perform an act of excretion when you mean John stopped long enough to take a shit. If you believe “take a shit” would be considered offensive or inappropriate by your audience, feel free to say John stopped long enough to move his bowels (or perhaps John stopped long enough to “push”). I’m not trying to get you to talk dirty, only plain and direct.
That last sentence especially is the perfect summary of his own writing. Not talking dirty, only plain and direct. When I read Stephen King’s books, I do not read them for the beautiful prose. I read them for the wonderful storytelling. His style of writing feels very much like being told a story by a favorite uncle, perhaps, or a good friend, relaxed and informal and comfortable. And he has so many excellent stories to tell, filled with so many insights into humanity and the things we do to one another and why we do them; it would be a shame to miss out on all of that just because he doesn’t try to dress up his stories with flowery prose. They don’t need it, anyway.
There is a lot in this book that is just common sense stuff, grammar rules you should have known years ago and things about the structure of sentences and how to make paragraphs flow, examples of good and bad dialogue, et cetera, and also things about agents and the rewriting process and having your own writing place. It is all very useful and it never hurts to refresh your understanding, and if you’re like me you always need help improving your dialogue, but it is not what made me love this book. Stephen King uses experiences from his own life to illustrate most of the points he makes, and even if you do not care about him personally, the way he tells his stories is very engaging and humorous and there is truth in them that can apply to everyone. I have always loved the way he writes about relationships, and marriages in particular, because he does not try to romanticize them but still manages to have plenty of sweet, poignant things to say. And he is very honest about his drug and alcohol addictions and the accident he had when he was hit by a van and how that affected his writing. I love these personal touches, they make his advice feel more meaningful because it comes from a real person, one who allows me to feel like I know him. And there are also things like this, which just makes me want to shout and fist-pump because yes, yes so much.
Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second-to-least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.
And this:
Life isn’t a support-system for art. It’s the other way around.
And this, which is something I probably need to put on paper and hang above my workspace because it is far too easy for me to forget, to begin to romanticize and think that if it is coming hard or not coming at all, it is because it just isn’t the right time or the story is not meant to be written, not because I am just being lazy and expecting a fully-formed story to fall right into my lap:
Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to a lot of creative fluttering. This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks.
And this:
Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy. Some of this book-perhaps too much-has been about how I learned to do it. Much of it has been about how you can do it better. The rest of it-and perhaps the best of it-is a permission slip: you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will. Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink. Drink and be filled up.
there is also a part of the book where he talks about your ideal reader, the person all your writing is for. The one whose reactions you imagine while you write, wondering if this humorous bit will make them laugh or if this moving bit will make them cry. He believes that every novel is a letter to someone. For him, it is his wife, who is always his first reader and will give him blunt criticism when she feels it is necessary, and who will also laugh until she cries when she thinks something is funny. I really like the idea that all novels (and, for me, stories) are a letter to someone, but I do not think I know who my someone is. Everyone in my life is too kind, as ridiculous as that complaint is, and everything I write is apparently brilliant to them because they never criticize. The only time I got genuine criticism and corrections and helpful suggestions was when I sent a story to someone who did not really know me. that person was also an English major, which might have had something to do with it. For this reason only, I would like to be part of a writing group or take a creative writing class.
So, even though I still have no intention of throwing out adverbs entirely and refusing to use them ever again, I do feel like this book has shifted some of the things I thought about writing and the way I approached it, and I feel more optimistic than I did before I read it. It has not magically given me everything I need to write shining, captivating stories and it has not swept all my struggles away, but I think I can try again now, and that is as much as I can ask for. I highly, highly recommend this book if you are a writer (struggling or not), or if you want to be a writer, or if you just like Stephen King and would like to read about his life as it relates to writing.
As previously mentioned, there is a Washington Post article, also written by Stephen King, also containing honest truths about writing. You really should read it, but because I know most people won’t, I will give you the best bit. Or at least the bit that struck me as the best, because it is relevant to my current struggles and also because I always enjoy feeling unintentionally validated by famous authors.
But there’s no shortcut to getting there. You can build yourself the world’s most wonderful writer’s studio, load it up with state-of-the-art computer equipment, and nothing will happen unless you’ve put in your time in that clearing, waiting for Scruffy to come and sit by your leg. Or bite it and run away.
I’m often asked if writing classes are any help, and my immediate and enthusiastic answer is always, Yes! Writing classes are wonderful for the writers who teach them and can’t make ends meet without that supplementary income. They are also good places for unattached people to meet, talk about books and movies, have a few drinks and possibly hook up. But teach you to write? No. A writing class will not teach you to write. The only things that can teach writing are reading, writing and the semi-domestication of one’s muse. These are all activities one must pursue alone.
And a bit of cheering up from Neil Gaiman, taken from this interview, which is very long and probably only interesting to obsessive fangirls like me:
It’s not something (in my experience anyway) that happens on everything at the same time. It’s just that sometimes a project needs a little time to think, a little time to breathe. So what I tend to do when that happens is I always have two or three other things that I’m doing at the same time. I can just go to one of the ones that’s working. Which is how I give this appearance of being prolific. I’m really not. I think of myself as a very lazy author. But it’s very nice for me to have more than one thing that I’m doing at a time, and being able to bounce between them. The other thing that I would say about writer’s block is that it can be very, very subjective. By which I mean, you can have one of those days when you sit down and every word is crap. It is awful. You cannot understand how or why you are writing, what gave you the illusion or delusion that you would every have anything to say that anybody would ever want to listen to. You’re not quite sure why you’re wasting your time. And if there is one thing you’re sure of, it’s that everything that is being written that day is rubbish. I would also note that on those days (especially if deadlines and things are involved) is that I keep writing. The following day, when I actually come to look at what has been written, I will usually look at what I did the day before, and think, “That’s not quite as bad as I remember. All I need to do is delete that line and move that sentence around and its fairly usable. It’s not that bad.”
And a wonderfully simple post from Seth’s blog, which says:
The reason we don’t get talker’s block is that we’re in the habit of talking without a lot of concern for whether or not our inane blather will come back to haunt us. Talk is cheap. Talk is ephemeral. Talk can be easily denied.
We talk poorly and then, eventually (or sometimes), we talk smart. We get better at talking precisely because we talk. We see what works and what doesn’t, and if we’re insightful, do more of what works. How can one get talker’s block after all this practice?
Writer’s block isn’t hard to cure.
Just write poorly. Continue to write poorly, in public, until you can write better.
And finally, How To Steal Like An Artist by Austin Kleon, which is a list of 10 things Austin Kleon wishes he had heard when he was in college, and it is [mostly] wonderful. It is also very long, but worth reading if you are or want to be in any creative field.
What all these things come down to, stripped to the bare bones, is that nothing will be created if someone doesn’t create it. Trying might bring with it the possibility of failing, but not trying brings with it no possibilities at all. And I do believe, even on the worst days, that I have stories worth creating, and so I will try. Even when it is an uphill battle, even when it batters me to the point of exhaustion, even if the things I create are never accepted by anyone but myself, I will keep trying. Hopefully, when we move, I will be able to set up a little writing place for myself, something very small and simple. I think Stephen King is right and it will help me take myself and my writing more seriously. I will also make a schedule, as my mother has suggested, and stick to it like I would with any other job. Because I truly cannot imagine doing anything else, and my someday dream will never become a reality if I continue to poison my environment and sabotage myself, however unconsciously.
