Folly of the Faithful Canine

I’m sure you’ve heard of “Show, don’t tell,”
A writing tip we all know well
From Anton Chekhov, though he said
A longer phrase, from what I’ve read.
It’s meant for use in not just plays
But writing in all kinds of ways.
The point is to describe the scene
So readers sense just what you mean.
For instance, you had best avoid
Declaring someone was annoyed
When you can say they rolled their eyes
Or heard a crowd as buzzing flies.
That said, plain telling has its place,
If only to increase the pace.
The duller details can be skipped
Or covered in a briefer script
With exposition, which would leave
The better parts to image-weave.
Like any other writing rule,
It’s not a law but more a tool.
Decide yourself what’s best to show
And what to tell; I hope you know.

Some characters accused of having zero personality
Are really just inclined toward expressional neutrality.
They’re tolerant of many flaws and bear aggression stoic’ly,
Or else they stand by principles, defending them heroic’ly.

They can be quite emotional and talkative and sociable,
But something in their attitude is strictly nonnegotiable.
Perhaps you think consistency makes people one-dimensional.
It doesn’t, least of all when they are highly unconventional.

They have a set of int’rests if you watch them more attentively.
They even sometimes find a way to pass the time inventively.
In short, if you like criticisms based in actuality,
Think hard before you say that someone lacks a personality.

Robert Heinlein listed rules for author wannabes.
The first is “You must write”; it’s very plain but not a breeze.
The second rule tells writers they must finish what they start.
(It’s hard to reach an ending—more than other forms of art?)
The third rule says to hold off on rewriting for the nonce.
You’ll never stop unless you wait for editors’ response.
The fourth rule says you must submit the story to be sold.
Beginners find it difficult to try an act so bold.
The fifth rule says to resubmit until you have a sale.
Don’t let rejections make you think the story’s doomed to fail.
A supplemental rule I’ve seen says not to stop with one.
To be a true professional, don’t think you’re ever done.

More than five years ago, I said it would be a while before I read another Ursula K. Le Guin book. Not only has that prediction proven correct, but the next book was both short and nonfiction. The author's name had no real bearing on my desire to check it out. I just trust anyone widely published to have a few good tips for those who aren't.

( Read more... )

Now I've picked up Eldest, the immediate sequel to Eragon. What can I say? I have dragons on the brain lately.

I hadn't heard of Michael Hauge, but apparently he's an accomplished screenplay consultant to this day, at 71. His last book was published last year. I think this was his first. Anyway, I picked it off the giveaway shelf because of a casual interest in the prospect of screenwriting.

( Cut for length )

My current reading is of Roger Zelazny's Nine Princes in Amber. That too is a used book selected on a whim, albeit from a store.

I write all these poems and draw my cartoons
And sometimes compose a few musical tunes.
It strikes me that while my creation is fun,
I’m a jack of all trades and a master of none.
Who else do I know who tries so many arts?
Could this be a sign I’ve been lacking in smarts?
Is specialization the way I should go?
I’m asking in earnest; I really don’t know.

An older and more successful fellow Web cartoonist just wrote and publicized a "My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic" fanfic. I've given thought to doing the same, but it always seemed beneath my dignity.

Thing is, I have made FIM fanart. Why should fanfiction be different? It's worth noting that I would never draw straightforward fanart; I have to make it ridiculous somehow. But with fanfiction, I feel this obligation to stay as faithful as possible to the source material, as if to prove that I could match the canon in writing skill. Well, I probably could match the dumber FIM episodes, but I think it would do no real favor to what little cred I have. Does this make sense?

As I read the fanfic in question, I became newly aware of another seemingly irrational aspect of myself: I have little patience for fiction in text on the computer screen. I can read lengthy forum discussions, work papers, and online articles for many minutes if not hours uninterrupted, but even a good story will have me looking away before long. This is not a problem in hardcopy. I can attribute it only to an idiosyncratic psychological phenomenon.

Just finished another book. No, it's not short and I didn't read fast; I just started it about a decade ago and put it aside, digging it out twice since. It's Chicken Soup for the Writer's Soul. You see why I chose NaNoWriMo to get back to it. Being a collection of essays by different authors (a few of them vaguely familiar to me) on their experiences, it inevitably varies in interest. But by now you probably know enough about the Chicken Soup series to form your own opinion on whether it's worth your money, so I won't bother with a full review.

Instead, I thought I'd mention one of the final sections, "The Power of Perseverance." Those chapters primarily emphasize how common rejection is. I remembered that Robert Sawyer's record number of rejections for one work before it got published was 18, but that didn't paint enough of a picture for me. Some big hits got dozens or even hundreds. Worst was John Creasey: 774 before even one story got accepted, but eventually he wrote more than 600 published books. (If his name doesn't ring a bell, it may be because he used a ridiculous number of noms de plume, possibly to avoid prejudice on the publishers' part.)

This section is supposed to reassure readers that they will succeed if they just don't give up. But to me, it more or less backfires. Theoretically I could submit that many times, but do I have that kind of patience? Do I want literary success that badly? If Gone with the Wind took more than 25 tries, it would take real hubris to expect mine in fewer. The section does list a number of self-published hits, but I've heard of very few and some had the advantage of preexisting author fame. My childhood poems, jokes, and other small things that got published in anthologies and magazines never prepared me for this kind of competition.

There's also the question of time to write and rewrite. I doubt if many readers miss "Downscale," but my mom sure does and I'd hate to leave it hanging where I did indefinitely, partly because of my promise otherwise. I wouldn't mind taking a little more time to improve the comic and/or its website and hopefully do some unrelated drawings, but that's unlikely enough as it is. Clearly, my best activity to cut back on is movie viewing (you're welcome, Netflix), followed by video games. Basically, any nonsocial free time would be taken up by creative endeavors and exercise... and probably leave me mentally bushed.

What it comes down to is a question of destiny: I must either devote myself in earnest or settle for utter mediocrity. If I don't take my artistry fully seriously -- yes, even with comedy and fantasy -- then I might as well sit at the TV. I'd be wasting fewer people's time and resources.

Fortunately, my present story is such that I'm willing to rework it quite a bit. I can see myself adding and dropping several scenes and characters, making the protagonist all but unrecognizable from before, adjusting the takeaway message... even switching the medium. This might just be my first big-time publication in the works, and I won't resort to self-publication right away.

Last night I wrote nearly 2,000 words in less than 2 hours. And it's not like I spent the rest of the day thinking of what to write. If I could get in the zone maintain that momentum every time I was in front of a computer with nothing important to do, I'd've finished the NaNoWriMo challenge in about a third of the required time.

I admit to using a cheap trick from time to time, but if founder Chris Baty endorsed it, then why should I mind? Specifically, he said to resist deletion: Anything you plan to delete in editing after reaching 50,000 words, you can turn to white text. My variant involves mere yellow highlighting instead; it's quicker and less confusing.

Incidentally, my protagonist is preternaturally fast. Just not when it comes to thinking of stories.

During November and neighboring weeks, I keep finding parallels between a work of fiction and either the story I'm writing or the NaNoWriMo process itself. This time it was a movie I selected for Halloween, The Fly (1958). In it, an obsessed, secretive inventor creates something brilliant, but when it goes wrong for a few days, he gives up on rectifying the situation and insists on destroying all evidence of it rather than asking for outside help.

I've been there.