The Art Question
Art wrote me late, late last night. I read the email his worried email this morning while I was making Jake scrambled eggs. (Jake didn’t want eggs, as it turned out but I’m in a lucky great egg-making phase, they are coming out so good these days who could not eat them—is it the full moon? He ate them anyway and said thanks so sweetly (I do warm the plate in the microwave), I almost burst into tears. That would be the full moon.) But poor Art. He was freaking out.
It sounded so familiar.
“What do I do about the structure? Where do I put the daughters? How am I going to get it all in? I have too much. I don’t see how plot point one is going to feature
Exactly. I have this EXACT same problem with my book, too.
This Structure Worry is part of the quality of writing a book. When you are stressing about structure you are writing your book. This is what it actually is like. Structure doesn’t make sense. It isn’t out there, perfect, waiting for us to assemble it like a bookshelf from Ikea. Art (not my friend art, but the other kind) doesn’t come from Ikea.
Writing a book is designing. You build the structure, you make it yourself. It’s not out there. It’s like the old sculpture-hidden-in-the-marble-block thing. You have to discover the thing you are writing while you are writing it. Not relaxing. Not clear.
So I reminded myself and Art of what I know: yes, you have to have a plan. No, it will not work. (Like playing a video game.) Most of what you do will have to be re-done (like keeping house).
And, it’s very, very hard to conceive of the structure in the abstract. You have to know what you are doing, and have no idea what you are doing, at the same time. Art is worrying about all the right things.
Plan. (Don’t get stuck in the gap between these two words) Write. Then adjust the plan. (It is so easy to say this and so annoying to be swamped by all those pages and plans and notebooks and books on writing.) Art is in the swamp. It’s the right place. It’s a grey area.
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Dear Anonymous People Happening to Read This,
What seems to make you guys writers is a simple fact: that despite the continual grey area and “it’s too much” sentiment (genuine)… you decide to keep writing.
All I can say is, why? Is it masochism? No. Somehow, for some reason, the frustration is not enough to stop you from stepping further through the “The Devil’s Highway” …to use Luis Alberto Urrea’s book-title. Maybe the easy times are the mirages and the hard times are the “real.” But you’re only writing a book, not about to die of agonizing dehydration… (if that’s of any consolation)
There must thousands of would-be books (and potentially great ones) that could/ might have been written, had the writer not dropped the project… for whatever reason.
Your hair must grow really fast and thick… given that you (at least I might) have to pull out so much! I’d be bald. Actually, Heather’s hair is nothing short of perfect, so she must do something else… (But now the metaphor is tired and takes a rest.)
Nonetheless, I solute Art’s resolve and Heather’s and all writers who throw themselves in front of the (non-deadly) trains over and over.
Salud! And remember… Maybe a question to ask before all the structure and other things, is “Will I quit or not? Is that an option for me?” Unfortunately, it seems history has shown that many writers have relied on unhealthy substances to keep themselves going.
But Art and Heather and her students around the world are probably proving that the substance of the mind is just fine (and maybe God?)… and that the pain is part of the training.
Some of this sounds kind of cheesy. Am I helping or should I just shut up? I don’t presume to think what I write is important, especially if I’m only writing to myself… which seems to be the case in the “non-entity” that is the “blogo-sphere.” The reign of amateurism, maybe?
On that note, I think I’ll go ahead and stop now. Thanks.
Sincerely,
Nathan
Hello? Is anyone out there?
Nathan
Art is a grey area and has always been recoginized as such. Nathan has a great insight with his comment “the pain is part of the training.”
Reflect on that, understand it, and use it to improve your work. A favorite show of mine from years ago put it this way…
“You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension, a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You’re moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. It’s a journey into a wondrous land, whose boundaries are that of imagination. That’s a signpost up ahead, your next stop, the “Twilight Zone!”
Sincerely,
RP2008