daveraines

There's been a discussion going on at Dean Wesley Smith's blog, about the myths that keep writers from being more effective, more businesslike, more published.

Dean defines the word "myth" as "a falsehood that is believed deeply by a large number of people," which is the main dictionary definition and the main way people use the word.

I suggested that "myth" can mean "stories with power"--a useful definition in my world. But it's tangential to what Dean's trying to do on his blog, so I thought I'd move my thoughts over here.

Because I need to find a "story with power" to improve my writing.

My first organizing myth began years ago, with one of those "fifty things to do before you die" questionnaires. And I put down, I'd like to publish a story before I die.

Well, I've done that. So that myth no longer has power for me.

My second major organizing myth began six years ago.  I joined Wordos partly because of anger at two books: Left Behind and The DaVinci Code. Two very different approaches to Christianity, but in both cases, bad approaches, I thought. I wanted to get in the game; not to achieve best-sellerdom as these authors did, but just to put something out there, so I felt like I was doing my part to tell a different story.

I kind of lost the power of that myth, too. It's not a driving force in the stories I've published nor, maybe, in half of the unpublished stories I've written.

Then, when I discovered how much time and effort it takes to write well, I found a new story: "I'm slowly building a semi-pro career that will lead, after I retire, to being a full-time writer." That hasn't been a helpful story either.

So I'm casting around for a new myth that leads to Writing Valhalla. Dean says he's holding up realities in the business of writing, not creating new myths. But I can adapt parts of what he's saying as myths: new stories that organize my life. I took one of his workshops specifically for that purpose. I can't imagine anyone whose personality and work style are farther from mine than Dean's (he's massively published and I'm not... hm...), but that's exactly why I took his workshop and still read his blog. There's something in it that I need to know, a new story with power. Not only business realities, but a new story of what it means to be a writer.

Writers work hard, he says. Even those with jobs and families can spend an hour a day writing. The key to success is to write--a lot--and submit--a lot. Control your own career, make your own decisions, know the business as well as the craft.

Oddly enough, the successful writers I know from Wordos say the same thing.

I know what I "should" do, that's not the problem.  It's with what I'm calling the "myth" of my life as a writer. The story I keep telling myself is, "I don't write enough, I don't submit enough, I'm not online much, I don't network much, what kind of writer am I?" And part two: "I don't want to be a full-time freelancer at this time. I have a job that's emotionally demanding and rewarding, and a family in whose company I love to be." Both stories are true.

So what I desire is a new myth, one that acknowledges the realities of my life, yet still offers promise, an upward path toward people reading my stories. I want to be something more than a hobbyist, though less than a full-time writer.

I get some of what I need from Wordos and from Dean (also Kris): "writing is fun, what a privilege to be a writer, yes you can sell, your stuff is publishable, you don't need an agent to submit stories, here's what the future looks like if you want to be a writer."

So I've made incremental improvements: I write more, I submit more.

I've also changed some structures to help me write more. In Wordos, I'm submitting for critique a chapter every week, as I revise a novella that's been languishing for years. I give myself a week after the crit to revise it (and only if I agree with the crit!). When this process is done, it'll be the last time I touch it: good, bad, or indifferent, when it's done, out it goes!

These are pieces of a new myth.

It hasn't yet come together; it's an engine missing on two cylinders. Maybe I just need to revisit Myth #2, "I write to tell powerful and faithful stories with implicit or explicit connections to Christianity." Put that way, it sounds like a mission statement, some kind of MBA visualization exercise; it doesn't move me or change my behavior. But the story of why I entered the game, the people I've encountered, the changes I've experienced--supplemented by the story of "how I became a professional, or at least semi-pro"--well, that may have some power.

And I'll know I've found the right myth when I've changed to fit it.

Reading jaylake 's blog has been a melancholy experience for me recently. In terms of productivity, one normal Jay equals one and a half mere mortals: a full-time job, a formidable web and personal-appearance presence, a flight-intensive relationship with calendula_witch , time devoted to his child the_child ... and, oh yes, a writing career that involves producing 2500 words each day and a couple of novels a year.

Okay, two mere mortals.

Lately Jay has been chronicling his experience with cancer and with chemo. He's been rather explicit about it. In view lately has been his pain at diminished energy, increased sleep, and fewer words coming from the processor. It's temporary. We all expect that he'll recover completely. Still, for now, he resents it, I think.

The rest of this post jumps from that point into Christianity, a realm Jay visits occasionally but does not inhabit. On the other hand, it's where almost all my resources and images originate; for me, it's what Jay calls "mythical truth." (A myth is defined as a story that has power.)

The central Christian story involves a man, Jesus, who is so filled with God's presence as to wield God's power: over nature, over illness, and even over death. Productive? I should say so.

And yet the most powerful image of the faith is of a man nailed to a cross, totally helpless. Not free to move his arms, not free to stand straight, not free to catch a breath; experiencing indescribable pain in the shoulders, the back, the sides, the hips, the knees, the feet. He's hungry and thirsty. He's not in control of his bowels or his bladder. This man cannot provide for his mother but must pass her care into the hands of a friend; this man is mocked by the leaders of his own tribe and faith, and is condemned by his government, which puts a label above the dying man: "head Jew." "That's your god up there on that cross!"

To which Christians, then and now, say: "yes."

Because for us, being godly, living the abundant life, is not finally about making the bestseller list (though Jesus did), nor about people liking you (thousands liked Jesus, for a while), nor about wielding power--over others, nor even over our own lives. For us, it's about loving God as best we can, loving our neighbor in word and especially deed, and trusting that finally God will honor that way of life.

Because of course - so the myth goes - God honored Jesus. Jesus rose from the dead with the God's seal of approval: Yes, Jesus can be trusted; yes, Jesus' way leads to both truth and life; yes, finally there's victory over death; yes, Jesus somehow opens us to the final victory of love over hate, peace over violence, good over evil. Somehow the helpless man on the cross becomes the gateway to lasting life.

This has practical implications for the Christian. It means that when St. Paul is "helpless" in prison, he can still solidify an entire religion. It means that when Jesus' eleven closest disciples die "helplessly" for their faith, their deaths are an expansion, not a constriction. It means that, though Adolf Hitler might shut the "helpless" Bonhoeffer away, Bonhoeffer wins. It means when Paul Brand walks among the despised and unclean lepers, he's doing the most important work in the world.

It means when the bodies of our elderly break down, the plot of their lives gets more interesting. At the breaking point, they say, I lose the God of my old ways, I cannot work my way into heaven, but I find God in new ways, and accept the gifts of life gratefully.

It means that when, after the years and years that stretch ahead of us, we fight our damndest against death, and die anyway, yet we live. 

Well, I meant just to hold up a helpful image or two, to tell a story that has some power. I ended up preaching.

At my best I'm not as productive as Jay at his worst. But it's about impact, not production, and this I'd say: perhaps Jay's productive life has led to great impact now. This trip through the valley has opened the eyes of many of us who are well, bolstered many who are not, and deepened, it seems, Jay's own self.

And by the way - to allude to another great philosopher - he's not dead yet.
 

12/31/09

I know, I said my next blog would be about productivity. But I'm on vacation, and who wants to think that hard?

So instead, let's talk about Death of a Starship. (That's right, you've stumbled upon The Blog That Reacts To the Blog that Jay Lake Writes: All Jay, All the Time.) 

Starship, Jay's newest novel, has just been published, This isn't a review - reviews, like theology, takes thought, which I've already ruled out. But I had a reading experience that I've never had before. Namely, I read a draft of this novel before it was published.

So when I bought the book, I read it in parallel with the draft on my computer.

It was like being invited behind the curtain by the Wizard of Oz. Here is where Jay cut an infodump, there he added explanatory material, in this spot he fleshed out a character, there he traded an almost-right word for the right one.

I also discovered that my input was pretty much useless for the last half of the book. The plot gets moving there, and I must have gotten caught up in the story, because I didn't mark much. On the other hand, Jay must have been pretty happy there too, because HE didn't change much; a few touches for clarity, is all.

Overall I was pretty pleased with the characterization of the priest, one of the main characters. He has a few instant identifiers, and he's also got some depth and individuality. I, at least, found I could like him and sympathize with him, and respect his choices in the end.

I've not read anybody blogging about this kind of experience; maybe I'm breaking some kind of fourth wall convention, "talking about Fight Club." Still it's a learning experience I haven't had before.