Progress

It’s always a little nerve wracking joining a new group whatever the theme.  But a first night at a writer’s critique group is a double whammy as you are not only meeting new faces but you are putting your writer soul on the line too.  It takes a little courage and a whole lot of faith.  Stereotypically, writers test very introvert, preferring the comfort of their dens and the tip tap of their computer to schmoozing and self-promotion.  I am no different.  But, as I learnt last night, here in California it’s all about your Platform.  What are your writer credentials?  What magazines have published your work?  Do you blog and what is your Internet address?  It’s all about progression, baby!  Gee, I just want to write … but, apparently, that is not on option.

Californians are different.  I find them intriguing.  Most but not all, have a cool confident air and are VERY polite.  It’s the Californian way.  It’s a little disconcerting as I am used to irony and pithy sarcasm.  That just wouldn’t work here as proved very convincingly by Ricky Gervais at his Golden Globe debacle.  Personally, I thought he was brilliant.  LA did not. 

The critique meeting was fun and friendly but the format was quite different from what I am used to.  We all read our pieces aloud which was incredibly nerve-wracking.  Words that you’d slaved over and had marveled at suddenly jarred and clunked.   Oh dear, back to the drawing board.  But there were loads of positives to take away too.

Here, it is taken as a given that you are confident about who you are and what you write.  I think it is good for me to be around my newfound fellow scribes as it brings into question just what it is I am insecure about and wonder whether I just need a good ol’ British clip around the ear!  Maybe … but, no matter how far you travel you can never run away from who or what you are and I’ve come to an inner place where I enjoy being me and accept who I am.  Now, that’s what I call progress! 

But, taking all into consideration, weighing up the pro’s, the con’s … at the end of the day … ok, ok, I know I’m sliding into Sir Humphrey of Yes, Minister now – you can’t beat a healthy dose of cynicism and a good old fashioned bit of leg pulling.  Bring on the Brits!

Voice

The character voices I hear in my head come through loud and clear when I lay awake at night (I’m a poor sleeper); when I’m driving the school run (maybe I should be concentrating?), and when I’m watching the sunset with a glass of something nice.  But when I sit at my computer the journey from my brain to my fingertips seems to water down their strength.  Maybe the clue is in the word ‘brain’.  I’ve read two books now on Voice both extolling that good writing does not come from this part of our anatomy.   It comes from a mystical place deep within that you need to meditate to access.  I am trying, as Voice is something I need to work on. 

Results so far have been mixed.  I have used the dreamscape method: writing as soon as I awake when Voice is supposed to be at its clearest, untarnished by the day’s tribulations.  I wrote a girl’s voice, teenage Rachael, who juggled her time between being the school swat to fitting in with the coolest crowd.  I have to say it worked.  She came through loud and clear, her confidence obvious, tinged with every teenager’s worst nightmare: not fitting in.  I should have kept the momentum going.  But I allowed life to get in the way and allowed Mr. Procrastination to creep back in and I filled my morning with displacement activities.  Who doesn’t love unloading the dishwasher?

I then tried keeping a sensory journal, writing small excerpts everyday, closing my eyes, imaging the scene, the setting, the voice and allowing the words to flow.  I kept this going for quite some time managing ten or so pages.  But as I reread my daily entry twenty-four hours later, what I’d been blown away with the previous day now seemed overblown.  Damn you overwriting!

I have read a book called Outliers: the story of success which gives the background on how hugely successful people have got there.  One of its key messages is that to become good at anything you need to have put in your 10,000 hours.  This certainly rang true with the case studies the book highlighted and it felt right to me.  When it comes to writing I don’t think a smattering of talent is enough.  Outstanding prose comes from thought, practice and a shed-load of re-editing.

With regard to Voice, I think I will dip in and out of all the suggested exercises I’ve come across until I find one I can actually stick at.  In the meantime I’ll keep racking up the hours until I hit the magical 10,000.  Who knows, maybe by then I’ll actually write something that’s worth a second look.

Wendx