Several weeks ago I attended two very different writers' festivals. The first was the 2010 Melbourne Writers Festival. The second was the 68th World Science Fiction Convention. I had a fantastic time at both of them: catching up with friends, seeing interesting writers, and learning a few more things about writing and the publishing industry. Yet, though both events featured writers and readers, they had different emphases, and this wasn't because one dealt with mainstream fiction (however that is defined) and one with a particular genre fiction.
I’ve been attending the MWF for over twenty years, and have only missed it once or twice. The first time I went, when it was held at the Kino Cinema, I didn’t know a soul and every time I finished a session I sat on my own, had a coffee and wrote up my notes. Over the years I met more people in the Melbourne literary community and the festival became a chance to see some of them, meet new local and international writers, and discuss the general state of the industry. The heyday of the festival, for me at least, was during its tenure at the Malthouse Theatre complex. Full theatres. Everybody crowded around the bar. Every opportunity to talk to writers I admired or had been impressed by at a session. A community buzzing with creativity and deals and wit and gossip. Yet this high-energy atmosphere slowly changed. As the years rolled on, the festival became more for readers and publishers than for writers. The famous guests were surrounded by their minders, from before they atttended their panels/readings to after they signed books bought by their readers from the well-stocked saleroom. The beginning and developing writers in the audience, who wanted to learn more about the ‘craft or sullen art’ of writing, as Dylan Thomas put it, were being swamped by those readers who were more interested in the juicy lives of the writing celebrities or the upcoming exploits of their characters than in writing habits and influences and the mechanisms of the publishing industry. The tone had changed, had become more commercial. The divide between writer and reader had widened, with the writers becoming like the gods on Olympus and the readers their worshippers. And I have a feeling that the current venue, Federation Square, isn’t helping the matter. Events are held in widely separated rooms and buildings and there’s generally little chance to develop a sense of intimacy, and certainly very little chance to be standing at a bar and finding someone like Isabel Allende or Paul Muldoon ordering a drink next to you.
The recent Worldcon was the fourth Australia has hosted, all of them in Melbourne. I missed the first one, Aussiecon, in 1975, which had as its GOH (Guest of Honour) Ursula Le Guin, but have been to the other three: Aussiecon Two (1985, Gene Wolfe), Aussiecon Three (1999, Gregory Benford) and Aussiecon Four (2010, Kim Stanley Robinson). The divide mentioned above does not seem to exist in the speculative fiction community. The Worldcon is a great big party, where everyone is your friend, or soon will be. Writers who have finished a panel discussion are likely to appear in the audience for the next session. There are no publisher minders. Fans can be also writers, either amateur, semi-professional or professional, and writers were, and often still are, fans. There is a warmth, a camaraderie, at a five-day science fiction convention I haven’t experienced at the MWF, except when I join a group of my friends in a corner for an afternoon of coffee, drink and discussion. The speculative fiction community, possibly because for many years it has been battling for acceptance within the wider literary community, is one big family (though with all the feuds and affairs and alliances that implies) and conventions are like a family reunion. Even though I have drifted in and out of the SF world over the years, I always feel welcomed when I attend a convention, a prodigal son returned, I suppose. The Melbourne Writers’ Festival doesn’t give me the same sense of community. At times it feels more like a business meeting than a place where people are thrilled by the ideas and the discussions and the chance of not only meeting some of their heroes, but also having a long discussion with them, over a drink or during a room party, about their books, the books of their own favourite authors, the canals in Venice or the landscape in Norstrilia .
I suppose one reason for the difference between these two events is the type of organiser involved. SF conventions are organised by fans for fans and for their favourite, yet down to earth, writer heroes. Festivals like the MWF often feel as if they’re organised by publishers to put their wares on show and move as many units as possible. Though I can attend both types and learn much from them, for both my teaching and my writing, I prefer the type where I’m not treated as a customer, but as a participant in an evolving community of imaginative, like-minded souls.
Enjoy your writing.
Cheers
Earl
Thursday 23 September 2010
Friday 5 March 2010
The Secret to Writing Success
Earlier this week, when I was taking a break from editing my speculative fiction novel, I flicked through the channels and came across an episode of Criss Angel Mindfreak. The show was almost at an end, so I didn’t to see many of his stunts and street magic tricks. What did interest me, though, was a comment he made just before he hopped into his fancy sports car and the credits rolled in. He said something along the lines of there being three factors to obtaining the type of success he has:
- You must have a dream
- You must have passion
- You must work hard
As I went back to my study, I keep thinking about how true his words were. Suddenly I remembered an article I’d read in Writer’s Digest many years ago. I don’t recall the name of the writer being interviewed (and if anyone can help me with this, I’d appreciate it), but one piece of advice she gave has stuck with me and is one I use in my classes. The interviewer said there are three elements to being a successful writer. The first is Talent. (Notice Criss Angel doesn’t mention this.) The second is Luck. (Again, not mentioned.) The third is Perseverance. As she pointed out, whatever talent we have we were born with and so is not something we can do anything about. We also can’t, by definition, do anything about luck. The only thing we have control over is our level of perseverance, how much we persist in our writing and everything associated with our writing. This means, as far as I can see, applying ourselves to learning the craft of writing, which allows us to use whatever talent we may have. It also means doing those things that belong to that stage of The Writing Cycle I call Business. The more we get our work out there and promote ourselves (‘Wiggle our bums’, as a friend of mine says), the more we may be able to make our own luck. So, of the three elements, the only one that matters is the third one, Perseverance. Yet, by persevering, the other two elements come into play and we’re likely to succeed in finding the audience we deserve.
How does this fit in with Criss Angel’s list? Obviously, for writers the dream is already there: to be a successful writer, whatever that means to each of us. His other two factors, Passion and Hard Work, are related, for we are unlikely to put hard work into something for which we don’t have a passion. Also, these two factors are related to that interviewee’s third element: Perseverance. Hard work is just another name for perseverance. We keep learning the craft, we keep writing, we keep submitting because we have a passion for what we do and, in a strange way, the hard work, the persistence at our passion, at our dream, doesn’t actually feel like hard work. Well, not often.
Thomas Mann once said that a writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. And Juliet Marillier echoes what most writers feel when she says, ‘I write because I can’t not write’. These two writers are indicating that writing is difficult and yet, for a true writer, is unavoidable. And what Criss Angel and my unidentified interviewee suggest is that to be a success at the writing dream requires us to work hard and to keep working hard till that success, however it is measured, comes.
Enjoy your writing.
Cheers
Earl
Friday 26 February 2010
Secondary Composition
As I mentioned in my previous entry, I am on a ‘writing sabbatical’. One of the projects I’m working on is the verse novel I wrote as the creative portion of my PhD in Creative Writing. Though the novel was good enough for the examiners, some of their comments, as well as those of friends who had read it afterwards, led me to believe I should tweak it before submitting it to publishers. I put the manuscript away for several years, while I worked on other projects and on making a living, but at the start of this year I decided I needed to finish what I had started. I needed another round of Secondary Composition.
Secondary Composition is my name for the third stage of the Writing Cycle. I have taken this phrase from Robert Graves, who in an early essay talked about ‘the secondary phrase of composition’. In another essay, he quoted Dr W H R Rivers from his book Instinct and the Unconscious:
In this comparison of the poem with a dream, one fact must be emphasised. The poem as we read it is very rarely the immediate product of the poetic activity, but has been the subject of a lengthy process of a critical kind, comparable with that which Freud has called the secondary elaboration of the dream...[my emphasis]
Conflate these two phrases and we get Secondary Composition. I find this term extremely useful for describing the critical and creative processes that occur after the initial white-heat first draft. I had been looking for such an all embracing term, because I found in my teaching that most students were using such terms as Redrafting, Rewriting, Revision, Editing in the belief that they refer to the same thing, when in fact they don’t. This confusion is something I plan to expand on in a future entry.
So, for the past two months I have been engaged in Secondary Composition work on my verse novel, which is titled The Silence Inside the World. Over the New Year period I had the opportunity for a writer’s retreat, which involved looking after the country property of some friends. The peace and solitude was what I required, and I spent the two weeks reading through the manuscript, making notes on it and using a piece of software called Snowflake Pro to help me clarify character motivations and plot points. The software is available from www.advancedfictionwriting.com, and can be used for the planning of a novel or, as in my case, as a diagnostic tool for an existing draft. Essentially, for those two weeks I was engaged in structural editing. I saw holes in motivation, plot and structure that needed addressing and gained more insight into the story I was trying to tell.
When I came home I was caught up in admin and teaching commitments right up to the moment of my long service leave kicking in. Since then, I have been a full-time writer and will be for almost another four months. For the past four weeks I have taken what I discovered on my writer’s retreat and been applying it to a line edit of the verse novel. This sort of editing is trickier than for a normal novel, as it involves more than the usual rearranging, condensing, deleting or adding of words and sentences that prose writing involves. I not only have to check syllable counts and rhythms for each line, but also have to make sure I keep scenes and actions in the three line stanzas I have been using. If I get rid of a line, I have to juggle the lines around them to retain the stanza form. Such story and editing demands are enough to drive a person to his or her favourite ‘comfort’ substance, demands I’m sure T S Eliot had in mind when he wrote the following lines in his Four Quartets (actual format unsupported by Blogger):
Words strain
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still.
'Burnt Norton, V'
Yet it is our job as writers, during our raids ‘on the inarticulate’, to keep trying ‘to learn to use words’.
What I can report is that, as of yesterday, I have virtually finished this round of Secondary Composition. The Silence Inside the World is now a verse novel of 8,589 lines, 64,141 words. I say ‘virtually’ because I will put the manuscript aside for several weeks, so that when I read it through again I will bring fresh eyes to the changes I made, some of them major. Only then will I be confident the manuscript is the best I can make it and is ready for the next stage of the cycle: Publication.
That’s a story for another entry.
Keep learning and keep writing.
Cheers
Earl
Secondary Composition is my name for the third stage of the Writing Cycle. I have taken this phrase from Robert Graves, who in an early essay talked about ‘the secondary phrase of composition’. In another essay, he quoted Dr W H R Rivers from his book Instinct and the Unconscious:
In this comparison of the poem with a dream, one fact must be emphasised. The poem as we read it is very rarely the immediate product of the poetic activity, but has been the subject of a lengthy process of a critical kind, comparable with that which Freud has called the secondary elaboration of the dream...[my emphasis]
Conflate these two phrases and we get Secondary Composition. I find this term extremely useful for describing the critical and creative processes that occur after the initial white-heat first draft. I had been looking for such an all embracing term, because I found in my teaching that most students were using such terms as Redrafting, Rewriting, Revision, Editing in the belief that they refer to the same thing, when in fact they don’t. This confusion is something I plan to expand on in a future entry.
So, for the past two months I have been engaged in Secondary Composition work on my verse novel, which is titled The Silence Inside the World. Over the New Year period I had the opportunity for a writer’s retreat, which involved looking after the country property of some friends. The peace and solitude was what I required, and I spent the two weeks reading through the manuscript, making notes on it and using a piece of software called Snowflake Pro to help me clarify character motivations and plot points. The software is available from www.advancedfictionwriting.com, and can be used for the planning of a novel or, as in my case, as a diagnostic tool for an existing draft. Essentially, for those two weeks I was engaged in structural editing. I saw holes in motivation, plot and structure that needed addressing and gained more insight into the story I was trying to tell.
When I came home I was caught up in admin and teaching commitments right up to the moment of my long service leave kicking in. Since then, I have been a full-time writer and will be for almost another four months. For the past four weeks I have taken what I discovered on my writer’s retreat and been applying it to a line edit of the verse novel. This sort of editing is trickier than for a normal novel, as it involves more than the usual rearranging, condensing, deleting or adding of words and sentences that prose writing involves. I not only have to check syllable counts and rhythms for each line, but also have to make sure I keep scenes and actions in the three line stanzas I have been using. If I get rid of a line, I have to juggle the lines around them to retain the stanza form. Such story and editing demands are enough to drive a person to his or her favourite ‘comfort’ substance, demands I’m sure T S Eliot had in mind when he wrote the following lines in his Four Quartets (actual format unsupported by Blogger):
Words strain
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still.
'Burnt Norton, V'
Yet it is our job as writers, during our raids ‘on the inarticulate’, to keep trying ‘to learn to use words’.
What I can report is that, as of yesterday, I have virtually finished this round of Secondary Composition. The Silence Inside the World is now a verse novel of 8,589 lines, 64,141 words. I say ‘virtually’ because I will put the manuscript aside for several weeks, so that when I read it through again I will bring fresh eyes to the changes I made, some of them major. Only then will I be confident the manuscript is the best I can make it and is ready for the next stage of the cycle: Publication.
That’s a story for another entry.
Keep learning and keep writing.
Cheers
Earl
Friday 19 February 2010
Blog Reboot
Hello, everyone. My apologies for the long delay in adding material to The Writing Cycle. As I’m sure has happened to you at times, life ‘got in the way’, even with the best of my intentions : teaching duties, project deadlines, family commitments. Some of these issues have now settled down and I find myself with a little more time.
So I suppose you can consider this entry as a reboot of the blog. I now hope to contribute to it on a weekly basis and make it a worthwhile experience for both you and me. As to what I intend to talk about, the topics will be a mixture of explanations and explorations of The Writing Cycle, plus those items of general writing interest that may not fit into a particular element of the cycle.
As I indicated, I have more time than I did last year. In fact, I am currently on long service leave from my teaching job. When I tell people this, the usual question they asked, Are you going on a trip? My usual answer is No; however, I've come to realise that I will be travelling, though in places those people would have been considering.
I have taken this time off to work on two major writing projects. The first is a final edit of the verse novel I wrote for my PhD, so I can start submitting it to publishers. The second is a rewrite of a rough draft for a science fiction novel that I wrote in 2008, when I attended The Year of the Speculative Fiction Novel workshop at the Victorian Writers' Centre (http://vwc.org.au/). I also intend to work on new and existing poems and short stories. The trip I am going on, then, is through the worlds of all these texts, a trip through imagination. The details of how I am going during this ‘trip’ will be one of the things I plan to share with you in the next few months.
I would like to leave you with an insight I gained recently. My wife, Jo, and I were having dinner with two good friends, both of whom are involved in the music business, as practitioners and as teachers. We were discussing the relative merits of several Australian musicians and they brought up the idea of a ‘music triangle’. In effect, they are suggesting that to be a good musician requires ability in three areas: musicianship, music knowledge and heart. By ‘musicianship’ they meant that the instrumentalist (which includes voice) knew his or her instrument inside out, knew how to play their instrument well, was a good technician. By ‘music knowledge’ they meant that not only did the musician know how to read music, but that he or she had knowledge of music theory and music practice, both in their chosen field and in the wider field of music in general. As for ‘heart’, they seemed to be referring to the emotions that the musician brought to their playing and could evoke in their listeners through their playing.
Immediately I could see a corollary with writers, a ‘writer triangle’, if you like. This triangle would be composed of the technical, the knowledge of literature, and ‘heart’. To be a good writer, whatever the genre or form, a writer must know the craft of their chosen field, which includes the basics of grammar as well as that field’s conventions; must have an appreciation not only of the history of their field but also of literature in general; and must have an ability to infuse emotions into their work so that others can experience them.
So, what do you think? Does the Writer Triangle make sense? If so, how would you rate yourself on each of the factors? What are you doing to improve each of these areas?
I hope you have enjoyed this taster of what you can expect in future instalments.
All the best with your own writing projects.
Cheers
Earl
So I suppose you can consider this entry as a reboot of the blog. I now hope to contribute to it on a weekly basis and make it a worthwhile experience for both you and me. As to what I intend to talk about, the topics will be a mixture of explanations and explorations of The Writing Cycle, plus those items of general writing interest that may not fit into a particular element of the cycle.
As I indicated, I have more time than I did last year. In fact, I am currently on long service leave from my teaching job. When I tell people this, the usual question they asked, Are you going on a trip? My usual answer is No; however, I've come to realise that I will be travelling, though in places those people would have been considering.
I have taken this time off to work on two major writing projects. The first is a final edit of the verse novel I wrote for my PhD, so I can start submitting it to publishers. The second is a rewrite of a rough draft for a science fiction novel that I wrote in 2008, when I attended The Year of the Speculative Fiction Novel workshop at the Victorian Writers' Centre (http://vwc.org.au/). I also intend to work on new and existing poems and short stories. The trip I am going on, then, is through the worlds of all these texts, a trip through imagination. The details of how I am going during this ‘trip’ will be one of the things I plan to share with you in the next few months.
I would like to leave you with an insight I gained recently. My wife, Jo, and I were having dinner with two good friends, both of whom are involved in the music business, as practitioners and as teachers. We were discussing the relative merits of several Australian musicians and they brought up the idea of a ‘music triangle’. In effect, they are suggesting that to be a good musician requires ability in three areas: musicianship, music knowledge and heart. By ‘musicianship’ they meant that the instrumentalist (which includes voice) knew his or her instrument inside out, knew how to play their instrument well, was a good technician. By ‘music knowledge’ they meant that not only did the musician know how to read music, but that he or she had knowledge of music theory and music practice, both in their chosen field and in the wider field of music in general. As for ‘heart’, they seemed to be referring to the emotions that the musician brought to their playing and could evoke in their listeners through their playing.
Immediately I could see a corollary with writers, a ‘writer triangle’, if you like. This triangle would be composed of the technical, the knowledge of literature, and ‘heart’. To be a good writer, whatever the genre or form, a writer must know the craft of their chosen field, which includes the basics of grammar as well as that field’s conventions; must have an appreciation not only of the history of their field but also of literature in general; and must have an ability to infuse emotions into their work so that others can experience them.
So, what do you think? Does the Writer Triangle make sense? If so, how would you rate yourself on each of the factors? What are you doing to improve each of these areas?
I hope you have enjoyed this taster of what you can expect in future instalments.
All the best with your own writing projects.
Cheers
Earl
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