The Joy of Writing
Maybe you've had a rather disappointing rejection (aren't they all?). Your commiserating friends remind you rejection is part of the process. Like that helps! Or maybe you're stuck in the pit of a story trying to figure how to dig yourself (and your characters) out. Perhaps you've got a deadline galloping toward you and you just can't find the discipline to make yourself sit at the keyboard and produce words. Simply, you've lost your heart for writing. You're certain you'll never find it again.
I've been there myself. Too many times to count until I got to the place I didn't know if I could pick myself off the slimy-bottomed pit one more time. In desperation I began to look at my writing in a different light.
We all want publication. Isn't that why we go to meetings, send in submissions and force ourselves through one steep learning curve after another? Of course it is. But is it really our goal? Should it be? I'm not sure it should. I think our goal should be the process. Or perhaps, more accurately, the story.
Maybe instead of yearning for publication, we need to revel in the challenge of figuring out the puzzle of this story, enjoy the challenge of discovering the missing ingredients, and rejoice in every step forward.
You are by now nodding your head and saying sure, but... or you are shaking your head and muttering, crazy lady.
So forget about writing. Let's talk about something else like... an archeologist. He does his research and is convinced he's found the site of an ancient civilization. What does he do? Call in a big hoe to excavate? No, he digs with a tiny tool, sifts the earth and collects fragments and bits and pieces. Sure, once in awhile he stumbles onto something bigperhaps an undamaged vase or even the footings for a building. But mostly, it's digging and sifting and going home at night to shower with nothing to show for his work but a pile of sand and a fragment or two. And he gets up the next morning, I suspect, anxious to dig a little deeper, uncover just a few more inches. His joy is certainly in the tiny steps, the fragile fragments.
Or think about your friend who quilts. She studies pattern books for ideas but not to imitate. She's mentally taking ideas from this pattern and that pattern until she creates something uniquely hers. She spends weeks selecting the right materialthe right patterns, the right textures, and the right colors to create HER vision. She cuts and fits and sews then spends months hand quilting. You know she has to love the process in order to spend that many hours on a project. She'd be the first one to tell you it isn't about the finished product; it's about the joy of creating. And whether she gives it away or keeps it, whether or not it takes a prize at the local fair, it will always be a part of her and always give her satisfaction. And yes, it's got its flaws. The Amish deliberately create flaws in their stunning quilts because they feel only God creates perfection. Hmm. Not a bad thought to keep in mind. Of course, there will be flaws.
Or consider the woman who buys a new house. Her yard is nothing but rough dirt, but in her mind, she sees a garden rich with flowers and plants. She sits up late at night drawing plans and poring over seed catalogues. She mixes compost into her soil and rakes and levels it. She revels in placing the seeds and roots and bulbs and plants in just the right place, selecting the location to focus on color, or shape or form. She waters and weeds and prunes. Certainly she eventually reaps a reward for her efforts in the beauty of a lovely garden but maybe she doesn't place first in the most beautiful yard contest. Maybe she doesn't even enter because her joy was in the creating. Otherwise she could have ordered in sod and put out planters of flowers purchased from Walmart.
Or think of a research scientist. For years he has sought the answer to controlling a disease. He tries something. It doesn't work. He adds it to his list of what? Failures? No. He adds it to the list of one less thing he has to explore. He puts things together in a different combination to see if that works. And he discovers one clue. Is he discouraged because he hasn't found the whole picture? We hope not if he's tracking down a cure for cancer. We hope he adds it to his growing list of clues and continues to dig deeper. He's on a journey that might take years, even a lifetime. He doesn't give up because his first, his tenth, his fortieth, or even his hundredth trial fails. He's on a quest. And I like to believe he enjoys the challenge of each new test. I want to think he rushes to the lab every morning to see what his latest experiment has produced. Certainly he hopes to someday find all the pieces and put them together for a cure. But his focus must surely be on the information he gains from today's work.
What's with all this discussion of careers you ask?
They are illustrations of a principle I've let myself forget and which, I think, you too, might have lost sight of on occasion and it is this: The joy is in the creating. It's in solving the puzzle of this story. It's in sifting through the bits and pieces looking for and finding things I can use. It's in taking the elements, cutting them, shaping them, piecing them together into something that will be special and unique. It's in loving the process.
So dig. Got to workshops, read how-to books, and fiction books both in and out of your genre. Sift through the details and take home what you can use. Sometimes its a fragment. Sometimes it's a foundation. Enjoy that process.
Dig deep into your story. Find characters, motivation, goals, conflict, and uniqueness. Enjoy that process as well.
Take the rough landscape of your story and add your touch to it. Shape it, rake it, add details, water it, and prune it. Turn the idea into a garden of your creation. Lovingly shape and prune each word, each sentence, and each paragraph like a skilled word gardener.
Take the details, the bits and pieces, shape them into a quilt that is uniquely yours full of rich color, unique texture, and a pattern that seems to imitate another but is somehow different. Accept that there will be flaws. After all, only God creates perfection.
Explore and examine the pieces of your story and solve its puzzle. Just as we wouldn't want a scientist to give up because his experiment produced a negative answer in the quest for a cancer cure, neither should we give up because the story didn't attract that attention of an editor. And in THIS storyour work in progresswe shouldn't give up because we can't get it to work. We need to dig for the clues, take the pieces of character and plot and put them together until we solve the puzzle of what is the shape and texture of this story.
I feel a little like a jigsaw addict. I like finding the right piece and putting it in place until I have the whole picture. But when I dump three thousand pieces on the table, I wonder if I've taken on more than I can handle. Much like struggling with a storytoo many pieces, too many events, or not enough events, a piece that doesn't seem to fit, or one seems to be missing. Accept the challenge of solving the puzzle, finding the pieces that fit, and putting it all together. The joy of a puzzle is in solving it.
So I have promised myself to stop focusing on publication. To stop measuring my joy by the feedback I get. I have vowed to revel in the puzzle of this story because that's what each story is to mea puzzle to solve, a quilt to piece together, a discovery to experience, and a mystery to uncover.
Above all, it's a journey to enjoy.
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