I recently received a rewrite request for a story I had submitted. Over my time as a writer, I’ve received rewrite requests that I’ve accepted, and rewrite requests I have turned down–for a lot of different reasons. I realized that my thinking that goes into the decision of whether or not to do so is somewhat complex, and I got to wondering if it was something that a flowchart could describe. After a little bit of playing around this morning, I have created just such a flowchart.
Click on the thumbnail image to view the full size chart. Did I miss any steps that you would have considered? Do you think I am insane for drawing up a flowchart for something like this? Share your thoughts in the comments.
I have a very rocky relationship with my subconscious.
On the one hand, my subconscious is the font of my best ideas. Even when I writing something that has come mostly from ego-brain thinking, it inserts cool things, catches ideas that I missed the first time around. It’s sometimes like having a better writer sitting on your shoulder catching your missed opportunities.
On the other hand, my subconscious’s interests are not always marketable interests. My subconscious feeds me stories about Kansas about once a week. The state needs to start writing me checks for the PR. Lord knows they need a positive face what with all the wackos that populate my home state. So I write a lot of stories about Kansas or set in Kansas. I’ve yet to find a market for that stuff, and I doubt anyone wants to read about it. And yet my subconscious persists. I’m wrestling with Potatohead (that’s what I call my subconscious) right now about a story that involves mole men and Kansas. Excited to read that one? Yeah, didn’t think so. I keep telling him, we need postsingularity stories that use the entire galaxy as their setting. We need fantasy stories that take place in the New York subway system. What does he feed me? A story about a woman whose abusive dead husband comes back made out of potatoes after being buried int he garden.
Yeah, I actually wrote that one. The rejection Nick gave it at Clarkesworld was enough to put me off writing for a year. Not one you’ll probably ever read. There are a lot of these.
On rare occasions, one of us presents an idea that the other finds just as fascinating. My story “The Yeti Behind Me” is a good example. The idea of ghosts of extinct animals popped up in conversation. I felt the indication of Potatohead’s interest in the form of an explosion just behind my right eye. Potatohead is not subtle. But if we agree on something straight away, I know it’s got legs.
Problem has been, lately, I have stopped trusting Potatohead. He’s fixated on the same things much of the time. He’s not giving me ideas that I can get excited about. And vice versa. I spend all day thinking of story ideas and asking “Hey, Potatohead, what do you think of this one?” His response is generally a resounding “meh.”
I feel like the two parts of my brain are at war lately Each one knows something useful about writing, but they are not agreeing on things nearly often enough for me to feel like I’m moving forward with my “career.” I can write stories based primarily on the input of one half, but those stories are flat, and aren’t going to take me anywhere.
There’s one other, unrelated thing about Potatohead that ticks me off. When I’m asleep, people can talk directly to Potatohead. I have had long and varied conversations in my sleep that I conciously have no recollection of. The thing that gets me into trouble is, Potatohead doesn’t know that I/we are married.
Sarah has come to bed late on several occasions, only to see me shoot upright in bed and demand “Who is that?”
“It’s me,” she says.
“Me WHO?” Potatohead asks.
“Sarah,” she says, beginning to be a bit more exasperated.
“Sarah WHO?”
And that’s the last straw. “Your WIFE,” she snaps. “Go back to sleep.”
“Oh. Okay,” says Potatohead and down he goes back to where he came. And the only indicator I have that this conversation ever happened is that my wife is pissed at me all morning for no apparent reason.
How does one force his or her two minds to sit down and come to some kind of amicable agreement? We have crap that needs to get worked out if we are going to continue to make a career of working together. This partnership is turning sour, and I need to straighten things out quickly. I also need to get it through Potatohead’s half-brain that asking “Sarah WHO?” is not a good thing for either of us. If anyone has any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.
Lately, I’ve been trying to identify where my writing really differs from the stuff that’s great, great writing. There are a hell of a lot of places, but I’ve fixated for a while now on this concept of richness.
The stories that *really* blow me away exude information and confidence. They are full of a richness of detail that is boggling. Telling details show up in nearly every sentence. The entire story works to convince you of this place, these characters, these events.
A great example of a story with amazing richness was David Moles’ “Finnisterra.” I think China Mieville’s novels demonstrate it pretty well too. I see it in many of the stories I have read by Gord Sellar as well. Basically, I see richness as one of the defining qualities of award-winning writing.
The rich telling details are rarely fabricated whole cloth. They’re believable because they draw from some real world knowledge. David uses multiple languages and cultures effortlessly because he knows them intimately. China writes about cities because he dwells in them completely. London is not so different from his fantastical cities. And Gord is so immersed in Korean culture it can’t help but ooze onto the page in a totally engaging way.
I struggle with richness in particular because I’m not sure there’s any way to learn richness other than to immerse yourself in a subject like they do. I think the reason many new writers work fall flat for me is because the only thing they are immersing themselves in is writing and SF/F. The mark of someone who really wants to get out there seems to be someone who takes passion for something else and really drives that home in a story.
There may be veins of richness to tap into from my life, but I’m not sure. It leaves me wishing I could pack up and do some foreign travel for six months all while reading travelogues and history books. I feel like I just don’t have enough packed into my brain that isn’t about computers and web design that can be used to enrich my work.
So that’s the next big thing I’m working on in improving my writing. What’s yours?
There’s a video making the rounds. It’s not shot very well, and it might even make you a little motion sick, but if you can make it through it, I think it’s really worth it. Try to get at least halfway through. Here’s the video. More after you watch it.
Here’s my experience of watching this in a nut shell:
For me at least, the guy looked like a fool! What a crazy way of dancing, and dancing all by yourself like that? How embarassing! I could never do tha–oh wow, someone joined in. Hey, here comes another. Holy Shit.
I felt a shiver run down my spine when I realized what I was watching. Then I started to grin. And I’m still grinning about it. This is one of the more uplifting things I have seen in a long time. I’ve been pondering why that is.
It feels like a metaphor for every creative endeavour. Writing especially, or blogging. You’re on your own at first. Dancing all by yourself in front of an indifferent crowd. It’s harder than hell to get over the feeling that what you’re doing could be just a little ridiculous. You keep doing it though, because it feels good.
Then someone starts paying attention. Your friends, maybe. Then their friends. You accrete fans, or followers, or readers, whatever. The next thing you know, you’ve started that. It’s a brave damned thing to do, and it’s never struck me until watching this just now.
I hope this motivates you like it has me. Keep dancing. Just keep dancing, no matter what.
Expedition Update
Wow, I have some amazing friends. We’ve raised $160 towards my photographic expedition to Yellowstone. Proving that I am the AntiChrist or something, I now only need to raise $666. Please consider throwing a few bucks in the pot. The pictures are SO going to be worth it.
Hi! My name is Jeremiah Tolbert, but call me Jeremy. I am a writer, photographer, and web designer currently living in Northern Colorado, seeking either freelance web design work or fulltime employment. Drop me a line if you have any questions, comments, advice, or heckles. I love hearing from new people. If you’re inclined, you can follow me on Twitter, where I share various links and talk about the same things I talk about here, only with fewer characters.
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