I reread my last blog
post and thought, man, what mule-headed stubbornness. Is that really me? Turns
out it is. So my goal the past few weeks was to do some research into what I
disdain in writing advice, and find a way to give it a try. I researched some
authors I like that offer classes and books on the very things I don’t like to
do. I read through every page of their website, read their philosophies, and
picked one I thought I would be able to work with.
Cautiously optimistic, I
bought a writing e-book by the author and dug in. Right in the first chapter I
ran up against my prejudice. It had exercises. Exercises that were intended to
make me do things. I think exercises are useless, I should be using my limited
writing time to work on my novel. Write, write, write, right?
Turns out there is a
reason for these exercises. To make my pea brain stretch, and think beyond my
novel to the future. Where I want to be instead of where I am, and drill down
to what my novel is about. When did I get so prejudiced against homework? I was
a book nerd in high school, doing my homework and even extras for the
sheer joy of learning. When did I lose that?
Turns out it wasn't
lost, just buried deep beneath a layer of inexperience and attitude. In trying
so hard to convince myself I could do this, I convinced myself I knew HOW to do
this. One of these things is not like the other.
So I cautiously printed
out the exercise pages from the pdf, and began to read the damn directions. I
did the exercises. In order. (A first.) I actually got excited to write a scene
to the specified criteria. (Of course I had to stop in the middle to research
exactly what shade of brown I needed to describe. For the record, it was Raw
Umber.) I was pretty happy with the scene I wrote. So happy I'm thinking it
needs to go in the novel and I know just where to put it.
You'll be pleased to know,
I'm 2/3 less stubborn about writing advice than when I started. There's some
things I still have a difficult time believing is going to help. But I won't
discard the advice, until I give it a try or two. What works might not be readily
apparent at first impatient glance. If it still doesn't work for me, why then
I'll fold the exercise into an origami mule, and place it by my computer as a
reminder.
Sometimes you just have
to slap your own hand, loosen the reins, and gallop wildly forward, careening
over half-baked, rainbow hued obstacles until you crash through the brick wall.
Or is that just me?
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