What they tell you about writing? Forget it or -if possible- don't listen, don't read and don't believe what they tell you. And they will tell you: a) how to write books and b) how you're going to feel while writing them. It won't be like that - not because you are better, or worse; but because there aren't any standard scenarios.
I wish someone had told me this, ages ago. Instead here I am, after agonies, finally understanding how I function. It doesn't fit the theory. For example:
The white screen is the scariest thing you'll ever see. The rest is easy.
Not so. The scariest screen I see is the one I wake up to, every day, containing the dreaded draft. Editing is far worse than writing the first draft. White screens; what's not to love? An empty ballroom, yours for the dance. But this crowded muddle?
I scan each page, armed and vigilant, ready for any horror. Precision, progression, adjectives (adverbs are long extinct), suspense, dialogue, darlings*. The trouble is, it feels exactly like crawling in a jungle. Whoever says editing is fun is in fact a caterpillar.
*When I say darlings, as writers will know, I'm not referring to the people who inhabit my heart (and break it occasionally); no, I mean words, sentences, paragraphs, even chapters, that I love and must kill (because they suck). Darlings - in a first draft - are Satan.
Plan your writing - write synopses, back stories, character outlines.
Yeah, you do that. Every time I try, I fall asleep (best case scenario). I have been known to spend days on creating the perfect character outline template. I applied it to six characters. The first was eight pages. The last five - half a page each. None was used in the writing of the book.
I sobbed with tedium writing synopses and planning scenes - drinking the equivalent of the Caspian sea in coffee. The scenes themselves, when I got to them, were nothing like the plan.
And so on. I am doing what needs done, grateful for watermelon, breaks on the stone bench at the top of the land and the delete button. I reached page 103. Toodle-pip.
I wish someone had told me this, ages ago. Instead here I am, after agonies, finally understanding how I function. It doesn't fit the theory. For example:
The white screen is the scariest thing you'll ever see. The rest is easy.
Not so. The scariest screen I see is the one I wake up to, every day, containing the dreaded draft. Editing is far worse than writing the first draft. White screens; what's not to love? An empty ballroom, yours for the dance. But this crowded muddle?
I scan each page, armed and vigilant, ready for any horror. Precision, progression, adjectives (adverbs are long extinct), suspense, dialogue, darlings*. The trouble is, it feels exactly like crawling in a jungle. Whoever says editing is fun is in fact a caterpillar.
*When I say darlings, as writers will know, I'm not referring to the people who inhabit my heart (and break it occasionally); no, I mean words, sentences, paragraphs, even chapters, that I love and must kill (because they suck). Darlings - in a first draft - are Satan.
Plan your writing - write synopses, back stories, character outlines.
Yeah, you do that. Every time I try, I fall asleep (best case scenario). I have been known to spend days on creating the perfect character outline template. I applied it to six characters. The first was eight pages. The last five - half a page each. None was used in the writing of the book.
I sobbed with tedium writing synopses and planning scenes - drinking the equivalent of the Caspian sea in coffee. The scenes themselves, when I got to them, were nothing like the plan.
And so on. I am doing what needs done, grateful for watermelon, breaks on the stone bench at the top of the land and the delete button. I reached page 103. Toodle-pip.
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