pegkerr | A real writer?

I'm indebted to

elisem for the pointer to Neil Gaiman's on-line journal. Neil is the author of the Sandman comic books, which I am ashamed to say I haven't read yet, although many of my friends rave about them, and a series of fine novels (his latest is American Gods, one on my ever burgeoning heap of must-read-this-soon books). A very interesting example of an online journal for a working author.

Apropos of nothing, I still think they should consider casting him as Sirus Black when they film the Prisoner of Azkaban movie. (Note the black leather; I believe he rides a motorcycle, too.)

Listened to an interesting NPR story on the way home from work, about the song "Swimming to the Other Side" by folk singer Pat Humphries. I was particularly interested in what Humphries said about the creation of the song. It just "came out of her," she said. A little business about creation being like "taking dictation." There was an quote (I didn't catch it all) about being "downstream" from the force of creation that offers up songs to the composer's imagination; I think there was some joke about being downstream from Bob Dylan. Didn't catch it all.

Anyway, it prompted that old welling up of bitterness again at how difficult writing has become for me. I have had that sensation of divine inspiration in the past, that the perfect words are effortlessly pouring out, but in the past four years, whatever force drives my fiction writing has dried up. (I remember Megan Lindholm's narrator's remark in her short story "The Silver Lady and the Fortyish Man": "My muse was always a fickle bitch. . . ") I envy those who seem to have a continual well-spring of ideas, of creation. I don't. I rarely have.

I've brooded over the problem for a long time, trying to understand why, and I've examined and discarded a variety of different explanations. I'm lazy. I've lost it: the gods of creation have withdrawn their divine gift from me for some unfathomable reason. Maybe because I've sinned (was I too proud of my books, or something, and my pride erected an overly strong internal critic that damaged the creative well-spring?) Maybe the effort of trying to hold down a full-time job and raise kids has short-circuited the creative process somehow. I need rest (not that I'm likely to get any). I need to re-stock my creative well. I need to do morning pages, like in The Artist's Way. I need more faith. I need to Try Harder. I need to Relax and Let it Flow. I need to Try Less Hard.

I've tried all sorts of tricks to get around whatever is causing the block. I've tried reading books on writing, I've tried writing exercises, I've tried brute force, I've tried . . . well, never mind. I've tried it.

All these mental twists and turns, all this creative agony, and I have damned little to show for it.

I imagine that it sounds quite odd (perhaps even irritatingly self-indulgent) that someone who has had two books published wonders whether she can really call herself a writer anymore. But I have been seriously wondering.

Well . . . ahem . . . on second thought . . .if I can bare my soul by admitting this, perhaps I am still a writer after all.

Perhaps. (Or am I just kidding myself?)

Peg, still wondering.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, I've only ever been a short-story (fanfiction) writer, not a novelist, but I sincerely empathise. In late 2000, early 2001, I was on fire. I was writing an average of 2 fics a week, and once I made it up to 4. In one year (July 2000-June 2001), I produced nearly 50 stories, the majority of those being between November and March.

Then the tv show I was writing for took a 6-week break (no re-runs), and suddenly my Muse went away. I chalked it up to lack of source material, but it did not come back when the show did; I managed a few more very short ficlets, but no more full stories. When I switched to Harry Potter - I wasn't a wellspring of ideas, but the actual writing still came relatively easily. And then even that was gone. I struggle now; my whole writing style seems to have changed. And it's unbelievably frustrating.

What part do you have a hard time with? Overall plot? Details? Do you have it all in your head but it won't come out? Or are you not finding a sense of inspiration or topic material at all? Do you *want* to write, or are you feeling as if you *should* write? I'm just curious, because I've faced, or have seen others face, all of these troubles at various times.

Obviously, can't really offer any advice here - especially since you said you've tried it all already. :) Just ... I hope your Muse *does* come back; she probably will, but the waiting is sure hard. My mother's approach to things like this was usually "God, I know you have a reason for this, but it had better be good!" ;)

Oh, and I concur - that picture of Neil Gaiman would make an excellent Sirius!

I feel like I can't come up with the initial idea. Or I have enough ideas to start, but it sputters out so that I get perplexed by WHAT COMES NEXT. Or I get paralyzed by the notion that the idea I have is boring.

Interestingly enough, it took a lot of handholding from Pat Wrede, my mentor, to come up with the plot for my first book. I stole the plot of my second book from Hans Christian Andersen. I'm just not that confident with plots.

Since finishing The Wild Swans I have started a prequel to Emerald House Rising but it ran out of gas after about seventy manuscript pages. I couldn't see my way out of a plot point to get out of a scene alive. Then I started a collaboration with Kij Johnson, an epistolary novel. We were playing the Letter Game, as Pat Wrede and Caroline Stevemer did in Sorcery and Cecelia or Emma Bull and Steve Brust did in Freedom and Necessity. I really like what we've done so far, but Kij sold a two-book contract to Tor, and so we had to set it aside while she works on that.

Other than that, I've written one short story.

In four years.

Aargh.

You've probably already tried this, and even so I'm once again struck by my chutzpah at presuming to give tips to a published author when I'm just a fic-writer (with a couple of "I got stuck on the plot" half-finished stories of my own) but -- one thing I know helps quite a few of us ficc-ers is to present what you've written so far to someone you trust, and ask them for input. I've done that for other people, and have asked people to look over my stuff too. They can say what comes to mind, in their mind, as to "what happens next" or for overall plot ideas. Or if you have a general idea, but need blanks to be filled in ("I want to get to Z, but I don't know how to get past XY first") - they can do that. You can have a little brainstorm session with someone, even better if you can do it in a chat (or in person) -- Have you tried something like that?

How about -- reading stories where you've thought -- "I would have handled that differently" or "I wish they had expanded on this idea" -- could you use something like that for inspiration?

Otherwise, sigh, I'm generally of the 'don't force it' variety. And I'm sure you've probably tried all these things already.

So, now that I've babbled pointlessly, all I can say is -- I'm sorry to hear you're frustrated, and I hope your Muse cooperates soon.

Debbie

Re: Neil Gaiman as Sirius Black: JK Rowling once agreed, in response to a fan's question, that Sirius Black is supposed to be "deadsexy." Neil has that quality in spades. (In fact I understand it's been a bit of a problem for him, as he's accumulated some obsessive stalker-fan types). Anyway, I was always highly amused by Lyda Morehouse's story about him. Lyda was interviewing him for Science Fiction Chronicle. Neil usually wears dark sunglasses, but at one point he took them off and looked her straight in the eye, and she became so flustered that she could hardly continue the interview. What makes this particularly hilarious is that Lyda's gay. But as she put it, "Now I understood why he was wearing those sunglasses. He was wearing those sunglasses for my protection!

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