Growth
When you can look at something you wrote over a
year ago without wincing, you've stopped growing as a writer. We
always need feedback and advice, but the advice we need changes as
we develop. Or don't. When I was in first grade, printing a capital
"s" with all those curves took five minutes. When I was twelve,
dyslexia made for creative spelling. Now I struggle to make my
characters real and my prose lively.
Twenty-five years apart, two people's comments
stick with me, partly because they were so concrete and practical.
Both were easy to say, but putting them into practice keeps me busy.
Dr. Joseph Reed sponsored the novel that became
my sixth-year thesis at Wesleyan University. Joe didn't give a rat's
ass about hurting your feelings. When I phoned to ask him if he
would be my advisor, he said, "Probably not. But come in tomorrow
and we'll discuss it."
I went to the meeting bearing a 2-page summary
(Now I know enough to call it a "synopsis") and a chapter-by-chapter
breakdown of the scenes and events. Joe looked them over as though
he saw checkmate in three moves.
"You've written this book before, but now you're
going in a very different direction with it, aren't you?" It wasn't
really a question. Two early versions of the book already had over
twenty rejections, but I was adding a new major character and a
meaty subplot. "Come back next week with a chapter you haven't
already written before."
I wrote chapter twelve because it involved the
new character, and met Joe in his office again the following week.
He dropped the pages on his desk without even looking at them.
"OK. Now write me a new Chapter One for next
week. Then I'll decide if I want to do this."
When I showed up with Chapter One, he decided we
could work together. When he found out that I wrote everything out
longhand and re-typed it for him--this was 1980, pre-computers--he
gave me the first "simple" piece of advice.
"That wastes too much. Learn to compose at the
typewriter and don't worry about typos. You're going to revise
everything to death anyway."
Well, DUH.
I still do early planning in longhand because I
draw arrows or diagrams to help me see plot and character
connections, but I type all my first drafts. Joe also gave me a way
around writer's block, which mattered because I only had nine months
to complete the project for a grade. I was teaching high school
English and working weekends for a photography studio, too.
"You've got an outline," he said. "If you can't
think of chapter four, write chapter nine or ten. Write the ending.
You'll smooth out the time and transitions when you re-type it all
anyway."
There you are, friends. Don't worry about getting
it right, just worry about getting it down. That counsel helped me
write a 349-page novel between Valentine's Day and mid-June. We
agreed that only three sections of the book needed major revision,
and I had five months to do them.
Joe gave me an "A" and urged me to send the book
out again. It didn't sell, but, as you read this, I still do a rough
outline and fast first drafts.
Skip over twenty years.
Back to Wesleyan and the 2004 Wesleyan Writers
Conference. I've sent in twenty-five pages of a PI novel for a
critique, and Chris Offutt, who teaches even better than he writes,
looks at me over a stack of other samples. The word is that he gives
the best critiques, so he gets more chapters for the week-long
workshop than all the other visiting writers combined.
"You write really good dialogue." His tone sounds
like, "Sorry, we'll have to take the other leg off, too."
"Thanks," I say. "Why is that bad?"
"Because you know it, so you rely on it too
much," he says. "You need to writer stronger narration and
exposition. Learn more technique so you can vary your approach."
He flips through the pages.
"Here. Two sentences of description would get you
as far as this half page of talk. A pitcher can't use a change-up
until he's got a fast ball, but he needs both of them and something
else or he won't survive. "
"Oh, by the way, I like your characters."
He goes to the student union for coffee and I go
to the bookstore for more books on writing.
You only stop learning when you decide you know
it all. I'm still making lists of what I don't know.
It keeps me pretty busy.
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