- Joined
- May 3, 2018
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So what the actual hell?
As I take a break from endless, endless revisions of my first and only WIP, I've been dabbling in other people's fiction and some poetry (I'm paranoid about reading other work while I'm writing/revising my own) and I'm just amazed at what I'm reading. Amazed at how people can actually express themselves in their writing. I *still* don't know how to do that. I am working so hard (too hard) at rearranging sentences, substituting one word for another, questioning show vs. tell, and on and on and on.
Why can't I just write?
I figured out a while ago that the greatest effort that goes into writing is to make the writing appear effortless.
But it's more than just that.
Until I wrote this book, the entirety of my writing experience had been confined to elementary school and high school. And quite frankly, my teachers, as I now realize, were not particularly good. All of them were the type that insisted that quality writing followed all the rules, and must be formal and stuffy and boring. Creative expression was not welcome - what mattered was proper grammar, repetitive, droning syntax, and a regurgitation of the messages and themes the teachers themselves drilled into our heads. Any coloring outside the lines would be met with disapproval.
Many (many) years later, I still have not cleansed myself of that. Lots of ideas come to my imagination, but when I sit down to write, I sit up straight, clear my throat, and filter all those ideas into the kind of stilted, proper prose that would have impressed my 8th grade English teacher.
So my work has no voice. And the thing is - I actually do have a voice. Every once in a while I come across a passage in my book that escaped the filter, and those are my favorite parts. But no matter how aware I am of this problem, I still cannot. get. past. that. filter.
Oh the frustration...
And a curse on you all, you cold, rotten, boring, pearl-clutching English Lit teachers from decades past.
As I take a break from endless, endless revisions of my first and only WIP, I've been dabbling in other people's fiction and some poetry (I'm paranoid about reading other work while I'm writing/revising my own) and I'm just amazed at what I'm reading. Amazed at how people can actually express themselves in their writing. I *still* don't know how to do that. I am working so hard (too hard) at rearranging sentences, substituting one word for another, questioning show vs. tell, and on and on and on.
Why can't I just write?
I figured out a while ago that the greatest effort that goes into writing is to make the writing appear effortless.
But it's more than just that.
Until I wrote this book, the entirety of my writing experience had been confined to elementary school and high school. And quite frankly, my teachers, as I now realize, were not particularly good. All of them were the type that insisted that quality writing followed all the rules, and must be formal and stuffy and boring. Creative expression was not welcome - what mattered was proper grammar, repetitive, droning syntax, and a regurgitation of the messages and themes the teachers themselves drilled into our heads. Any coloring outside the lines would be met with disapproval.
Many (many) years later, I still have not cleansed myself of that. Lots of ideas come to my imagination, but when I sit down to write, I sit up straight, clear my throat, and filter all those ideas into the kind of stilted, proper prose that would have impressed my 8th grade English teacher.
So my work has no voice. And the thing is - I actually do have a voice. Every once in a while I come across a passage in my book that escaped the filter, and those are my favorite parts. But no matter how aware I am of this problem, I still cannot. get. past. that. filter.
Oh the frustration...
And a curse on you all, you cold, rotten, boring, pearl-clutching English Lit teachers from decades past.