Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Fuck You, Gustav. Thank You, Edna.


Thank God. Nothing major broke. The evacuation went smoothly. And the storm was not as bad as predicted. Now we can worry about other things, like 17-year-old unmarried mothers and Republicans in general.

And writing.

Shoulda gotten more done this weekend, didn't, as I was distracted by the hurricane and the Last Day Of Summer. I'm feeling good about the work, though, and I know I'll be cranking hard soon. I'm instituting a daily word quota, just to see if I can force myself to pile up a bunch of pages quickly. Like, a whole chapter's worth, stat. Should be easy-peesey, right? Since I have the whole book outlined and researched and everything.

Au contraire.

I much prefer rewriting to initial writing. Initial writing is way too much like real work, and I agonize over it far more than I need to. I always feel like I'm screwing up the story, or just plain sucking, and then the internal editor kicks in and I catch myself redoing the same paragraph seven times and then I stop in frustration.

Rewriting is much more fun and a bit easier, though agony often remains. 

Writing is not for sissies.

I happened across a quote from the great Edna Ferber, Pulitzer Prize-winning author of classics like Show Boat and Giant, which I thought perfectly conveyed that sentiment. The lady knows of what she speaks; she wrote a few dozen plays and novels and was a member of the Algonquin Round Table, matching wits with contemporaries like Dorothy Parker.

Anyway, this is something she wrote in A Peculiar Treasure:

“Only amateurs write for their own amusement. Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain climbing, treadmill and childbirth. It may be absorbing, racking, relieving, but amusing, never.”

Well said, Edna.

I am definitely not amused.

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