Talking about "What is a writer?"

We were talking about whether another friend was "a writer" - and it was an interesting question.  He has ideas, an imagination, turns of phrase, poetic images, but is the novel the place for him?  I've seen his work, a bit - it is a classic example of having ideas, but no idea how to connect them, how to make a narrative, a story.  The plot's all good - excellent events, plenty of action, but do we care enough about these people?  These talents and ideas don't make you a writer, what a writer needs is a ghastly amount of tenacity, and buckets of supportive self-criticism, i.e. the ability to look at your sentences and think "Christ!  How could a piece of shite like that have been typed without me throwing up!" One needs to experience the utter boredom and frustration of re-reading something you know to be good(ish), yet wondering if it isn't somehow a little thin, and wondering how to put flesh on it.... 

Being a writer is not about being published.  I've said for years that no one recognises your creative work until you are being paid for it, I used to believe you could not call yourself a writer unless you were paid for writing.  I still believe that to a certain extent, but but really "being a writer" is so not about the money, kudos (ha!), or being published.  It is being able to fail and do better, fail and do better, fail and do better until you get to the point where you can't see how to do better.  At that point, if you know the work is not yet right, you need advice, and you need to take some of it. 

A friend said to me the other day "we all really admire the fact that you've kept on going with the book".... a more cynical me might have imagined she was saying "even though you keep failing dismally!" but she is a kind friend, and I think she was saying that "we" would just have "melted" by this stage.  But as my dear friend Tara Moore would say, "writers go on regardless, how can we not?"  I'm not sure if it's genetic, there's nothing like it in my family, but it does seem that what makes one write is a feeling that "there is no alternative".  I cannot melt now, and resign myself to housewifery.  I shall carry on sending out TRF while continuing to re-write Conscience 1.  Once all the agents in London have rejected TRF I shall start sending them Conscience 1. I am about 10% through the re-write... and marvelling at how much shite I managed to sneak into the first draft!

So I shall continue to "fail better"!

la lotta continua.

Hanging on in there...

I think the fact that I haven't been writing in a sustained way for about 8 weeks is a BAD THING - but not a hopeless one.  In this period my husband has effectively become unemployed - which necessitated a certain amount of input on paperwork and finance from me, two friends have been diagnosed with cancer and one has subsequently died, I have entertained a number of foreign visitors, seen a few friends, been to a lovely family book launch... and tried to make some money selling advertising.  I have also submitted TRF to four agents, so far one has kindly refused with the "try other agents" line - a sign that one's book is a book - and one isn't wasting one's time.

I had hoped to spend June revising the first volume of Conscience but this simply hasn't been possible, there has been a great deal of fire-fighting on all fronts (including youngest son's emotional/educational career).  So far, in mid-June, I have revised 10% of it - but I'm happy with what I did because I feel I know now what is needed to make it stronger (thanks to Tolstoy!) so it remains as my project for the summer.  What I wanted to do this summer was put my head down and write Islanders - I have this feeling I could steam on with it and finish it in a few weeks a la Stephen King - I can feel it within, gestating quietly, limbs lengthening, organs functioning, central nervous system building - just ready to be laboured onto the laptop as soon as I have a moment.  As for TRF, irritatingly, whenever I do a submission and read the synopsis I find myself thinking that the book should be stronger in certain ways - points should be emphasised... but we'll see.

Sadly in the last two months I have sometimes been overwhelmed by waves of depression - not sure if it's really "mine" - it seems to come out of nowhere and burst like a raincloud.  It can sometimes be warded off by a nice meal or a conversation, but sometimes it just returns regardless. In these periods I find myself thinking of giving up writing and forgetting all about it.  In those moments, if I had any alternative, I probably would.  But I have been forced to stop writing so often that I don't think I will this time, this is not exactly my last chance, but it sometimes feels like it.