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hrjTo celebrate achieving 100 Twitter followers, I offered a choice of blog topic to #99 and #100. @fadeaccompli was one of the lucky winners and--inspired by a mutual grump session about people whose only posts are “inspiring quotations”--requested that I blog on the general topic. I’m going to go in two different directions here because there are two entirely different things I hate about them.
Inspirational quotes are arrogant, assuming they know your life better than you do. They treat all problems as identical with a single right solution. They paint the entire world with a single brush. Always…. Never…. (See what I did there?) But seriously, the drive for eloquence and simplicity rarely leads to a memorable quotation that begins, “Well, you know, this kind of worked for me a few times, so maybe...?” Who wants to turn to an equivocator for advice? The voice of authority is seductive, even when it ends up undermining the very confidence and ambition it purports to build.
One of my Twitter feeds (which shall remain nameless for the sake of politeness) is an endless stream of inspirational quotations on the subject of writing. I keep this one because it also has interesting and useful links, but as a general rule the sight of a feed full of quotations is enough to put me off any thought of following the poster. (More on this later.) But the genre expectations of the “inspirational adage” combined with my (ahem) issues with authority, mean my reaction to the individual tweets is more often raised hackles than thoughtful gratitude. Let’s take a look at some samples:
“The story would not have picked you if you couldn’t write it.”
Reaction: Really? Every single person who ever came up with a story idea is capable of writing that story? Perhaps in theory. Perhaps for some very low bar of “can write it.” But we all know plenty of would-be writers whose imagination far outstrips their ability. There is no value to assuring someone that the mere fact of having a story idea guarantees writing competence. The two are entirely different abilities. But there’s a more sinister implication here: that stories “pick” you. That writers sit around waiting for the right story to “pick” them and that once that’s happened everything will come out all right. Yes, of course story ideas sometimes seem to appear out of nowhere, but just as often the writer needs to sweat and carve them out of the unshaped stone of language.
“Don’t read back until you get to the end of the draft.”
Reaction: More often than not, the only thing that keeps me going is a self-indulgent love of my own language. Telling me not to read it back is like telling me to create a garden and never smell the roses until I’m finished. Most writers go through many variations of workflow before discovering a method that works optimally for their own habits and thought patterns. Some can hold an entire story in their head at once, others build up layer on layer as they work. Some have uninterrupted writing time, others must come back and pick up the threads after interruption. I’m sure there are writers for whom “don’t read back” would be sound, but they won’t know unless they’ve tried several methods. And there are other writers for whom this advice would be deadly. Writing advice should not imply that one is a lesser writer for not employing it.
“Don’t worry about creating something good. Just write.”
Reaction: Yes, if you are someone paralyzed by the need for perfection. (Though I don’t know that a single aphorism will be sufficient in that case.) I often offer a parallel to this myself along the lines of distinguishing between creating the clay and throwing the pot. But without that context, it implies that quality is irrelevant; that the mere act of spewing verbiage is sufficiently creative. If the only way you can break through your blockage is to turn off the quality filter completely, then do it. Absolutely. But many writers would find it a waste of time. (For example, those writers who find inspiration in reading back while they’re still in the process of writing.)
[paraphrased because I couldn’t find this specific quote again] “If you think your writing is great, then it’s crap.”
Reaction: I’m sure that the intent behind this one was something like, “You need to be able to view your own writing critically and identify its flaws or you won’t be able to correct them.” A counter to the Dunning-Kruger effect, if you will, which notes that the less competent people are, the more likely they are to over-estimate their knowledge and abilities. But what I hear (and particularly in the context of writing advice directed at women) is, “Never have the temerity to be proud of your own ability. If you think you’re any good, you’re wrong. Don’t boast. Don’t have confidence. Be humble and don’t blow your own horn or people will take it as proof of your incompetence.” This is a particularly pernicious message for women to hear, given how thoroughly our mysogynistic society attacks our sense of self-worth every day. You know what? I think my writing is great. I don’t necessarily expect every reader to agree, but every time I see this quote it makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. Did you hear that, world? I think my writing is great and I defy you to use that as evidence that it’s crap.
“Don’t take any ‘advice’ on how to write from anyone who has not written and published a significant piece of work.”
Reaction: So if my editor has never published a significant piece of work, I should ignore anything she has to say? If my proof-reader points out inconsistencies in the plot I should ignore her? Taken to extremes, this makes it awfully difficult for a new writer to get feedback, as the set of “significant” writers with time to spare for mentoring is far too small to accommodate the demand. I rely extensively on feedback from beta-readers who have never aspired to write fiction, much less published anything significant. But that doesn’t mean that they have nothing of value to say.
Beyond the raised hackles, there’s another reason I dislike following Twitter feeds (or facebook feeds) that consist primarily of quoted material, and by this I include “shared” memes, videos, etc. You see, I actually believe in the “social” part of the phrase “social media”. I’m an introvert, and despite the good face I put on it, I’m terribly shy when I don’t have a clear framework for social interactions. I don’t make friends easily or quickly. But one of the glories of online social media, for me, is the ability to gradually build up a social relationship with people I admire and like without the paralyzing pressure of face-to-face interaction. (And, as I’ve been told any number of times, the paralysis can go both ways!)
My focus online is in building threads and networks of interactions that may (eventually, I hope, if everything comes together just right) be strong enough to support the weight of a true friendship. I want to learn who people really are inside, not just what jokes they find funny or what pictures they decide to share. And if I’m going to pursue a friendship with someone, I need to know that they’re interested in who I am as a specific, unique individual. That sort of understanding can only develop when you share bits of yourself, however seemingly trivial. An automated bot could create an entertaining feed full of quotes and memes and shared pop culture references. But I only have so much attention to spare and I don’t want to waste it on someone who might as well be a bot for all I can tell. I don’t want entertainment, I want connection.
I’ve never really been interested in asymmetric or one-way social relationships. I’ve never seen much point in putting a lot of energy into being a “fan” of someone who neither knows nor cares about my specific individual existence. And this is something I’m struggling with from both sides as a newly-published author. In trying to build networks with others in my field who have similar interests, I have to accept that most authors that I consider my work similar to have no personal interest in me or my writing, or in connecting with me as anything but a reader and fan. In fact, they’re likely to consider it anything from annoying to impertinent for me to aspire to anything more. Conversely, it’s logistically impossible for me to have a personal connection with everyone who reads my books. (I may mope regularly about sales, but they’re still better than that!) So I need to accommodate the idea of having fans who will never become personal friends.
But even in accepting these one-to-many relationships, it benefits me nothing if the other party is a complete cipher. If they're going to be taking up online space in front of my eyes, it needs to benefit me in some way, either as personal contact, or by networking, or by providing me with information. So when I check out someone’s blog or feed or stream and I find no “there” there, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to add you to my online environment.
Inspirational quotes are arrogant, assuming they know your life better than you do. They treat all problems as identical with a single right solution. They paint the entire world with a single brush. Always…. Never…. (See what I did there?) But seriously, the drive for eloquence and simplicity rarely leads to a memorable quotation that begins, “Well, you know, this kind of worked for me a few times, so maybe...?” Who wants to turn to an equivocator for advice? The voice of authority is seductive, even when it ends up undermining the very confidence and ambition it purports to build.
One of my Twitter feeds (which shall remain nameless for the sake of politeness) is an endless stream of inspirational quotations on the subject of writing. I keep this one because it also has interesting and useful links, but as a general rule the sight of a feed full of quotations is enough to put me off any thought of following the poster. (More on this later.) But the genre expectations of the “inspirational adage” combined with my (ahem) issues with authority, mean my reaction to the individual tweets is more often raised hackles than thoughtful gratitude. Let’s take a look at some samples:
“The story would not have picked you if you couldn’t write it.”
Reaction: Really? Every single person who ever came up with a story idea is capable of writing that story? Perhaps in theory. Perhaps for some very low bar of “can write it.” But we all know plenty of would-be writers whose imagination far outstrips their ability. There is no value to assuring someone that the mere fact of having a story idea guarantees writing competence. The two are entirely different abilities. But there’s a more sinister implication here: that stories “pick” you. That writers sit around waiting for the right story to “pick” them and that once that’s happened everything will come out all right. Yes, of course story ideas sometimes seem to appear out of nowhere, but just as often the writer needs to sweat and carve them out of the unshaped stone of language.
“Don’t read back until you get to the end of the draft.”
Reaction: More often than not, the only thing that keeps me going is a self-indulgent love of my own language. Telling me not to read it back is like telling me to create a garden and never smell the roses until I’m finished. Most writers go through many variations of workflow before discovering a method that works optimally for their own habits and thought patterns. Some can hold an entire story in their head at once, others build up layer on layer as they work. Some have uninterrupted writing time, others must come back and pick up the threads after interruption. I’m sure there are writers for whom “don’t read back” would be sound, but they won’t know unless they’ve tried several methods. And there are other writers for whom this advice would be deadly. Writing advice should not imply that one is a lesser writer for not employing it.
“Don’t worry about creating something good. Just write.”
Reaction: Yes, if you are someone paralyzed by the need for perfection. (Though I don’t know that a single aphorism will be sufficient in that case.) I often offer a parallel to this myself along the lines of distinguishing between creating the clay and throwing the pot. But without that context, it implies that quality is irrelevant; that the mere act of spewing verbiage is sufficiently creative. If the only way you can break through your blockage is to turn off the quality filter completely, then do it. Absolutely. But many writers would find it a waste of time. (For example, those writers who find inspiration in reading back while they’re still in the process of writing.)
[paraphrased because I couldn’t find this specific quote again] “If you think your writing is great, then it’s crap.”
Reaction: I’m sure that the intent behind this one was something like, “You need to be able to view your own writing critically and identify its flaws or you won’t be able to correct them.” A counter to the Dunning-Kruger effect, if you will, which notes that the less competent people are, the more likely they are to over-estimate their knowledge and abilities. But what I hear (and particularly in the context of writing advice directed at women) is, “Never have the temerity to be proud of your own ability. If you think you’re any good, you’re wrong. Don’t boast. Don’t have confidence. Be humble and don’t blow your own horn or people will take it as proof of your incompetence.” This is a particularly pernicious message for women to hear, given how thoroughly our mysogynistic society attacks our sense of self-worth every day. You know what? I think my writing is great. I don’t necessarily expect every reader to agree, but every time I see this quote it makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. Did you hear that, world? I think my writing is great and I defy you to use that as evidence that it’s crap.
“Don’t take any ‘advice’ on how to write from anyone who has not written and published a significant piece of work.”
Reaction: So if my editor has never published a significant piece of work, I should ignore anything she has to say? If my proof-reader points out inconsistencies in the plot I should ignore her? Taken to extremes, this makes it awfully difficult for a new writer to get feedback, as the set of “significant” writers with time to spare for mentoring is far too small to accommodate the demand. I rely extensively on feedback from beta-readers who have never aspired to write fiction, much less published anything significant. But that doesn’t mean that they have nothing of value to say.
Beyond the raised hackles, there’s another reason I dislike following Twitter feeds (or facebook feeds) that consist primarily of quoted material, and by this I include “shared” memes, videos, etc. You see, I actually believe in the “social” part of the phrase “social media”. I’m an introvert, and despite the good face I put on it, I’m terribly shy when I don’t have a clear framework for social interactions. I don’t make friends easily or quickly. But one of the glories of online social media, for me, is the ability to gradually build up a social relationship with people I admire and like without the paralyzing pressure of face-to-face interaction. (And, as I’ve been told any number of times, the paralysis can go both ways!)
My focus online is in building threads and networks of interactions that may (eventually, I hope, if everything comes together just right) be strong enough to support the weight of a true friendship. I want to learn who people really are inside, not just what jokes they find funny or what pictures they decide to share. And if I’m going to pursue a friendship with someone, I need to know that they’re interested in who I am as a specific, unique individual. That sort of understanding can only develop when you share bits of yourself, however seemingly trivial. An automated bot could create an entertaining feed full of quotes and memes and shared pop culture references. But I only have so much attention to spare and I don’t want to waste it on someone who might as well be a bot for all I can tell. I don’t want entertainment, I want connection.
I’ve never really been interested in asymmetric or one-way social relationships. I’ve never seen much point in putting a lot of energy into being a “fan” of someone who neither knows nor cares about my specific individual existence. And this is something I’m struggling with from both sides as a newly-published author. In trying to build networks with others in my field who have similar interests, I have to accept that most authors that I consider my work similar to have no personal interest in me or my writing, or in connecting with me as anything but a reader and fan. In fact, they’re likely to consider it anything from annoying to impertinent for me to aspire to anything more. Conversely, it’s logistically impossible for me to have a personal connection with everyone who reads my books. (I may mope regularly about sales, but they’re still better than that!) So I need to accommodate the idea of having fans who will never become personal friends.
But even in accepting these one-to-many relationships, it benefits me nothing if the other party is a complete cipher. If they're going to be taking up online space in front of my eyes, it needs to benefit me in some way, either as personal contact, or by networking, or by providing me with information. So when I check out someone’s blog or feed or stream and I find no “there” there, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to add you to my online environment.
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no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 09:38 am (UTC)There's the 'sit and wait' aspect of it, but there's another, more toxic one. If I sit and wait for inspiration, it arrives in a particular shape: vaguely renaissance-ish could be medieval, could be later: my idea-worlds generally have printed books, carriages, but no gunpowder, with male protagonists. And if I said 'but that's my idea' I would only ever write about male protagonists in vaguely-renaissance-like settings. I would not write about three-gendered lizards, I would not write about my middle-aged female shopkeeper, or anything else. These days, I treat the first flush of inspiration as a starting point that gets examined from all sides, and which may reveal a completely different society underneath: 'male protag in renaissance setting' is my brain's shorthand for 'there's a story here' but it isn't _the story_.
'just write
Toxic, IMHO, when it refers to the 'you can polish it later' school of thought.
I have a technically perfect picture of a greenhouse backlit by sunshine. The composition is spot on, the lighting is one-in-a-million-wonderful: but it's still a picture of a greenhouse with broken panes and plastic rubbish strewn about. No matter how much you polish the photograph, it will never be fully aesthetically pleasing, because the thing it depicts is not pleasing.
A lot of stories are fundamentally flawed (or fundamentally disrespectful to part of your audience) - if you don't have filters for 'is this a story worth telling' and aren't willing to work on the fundamentals, then all anyone will see are the broken glass and the plastic rubbish, regardless of how much you polish it.
When it's the flipside of the coin, I'd still take it with a pinch of salt, because while a wonderful story that is told so-so (or a snapshot of a loved one with the ugly greenhouse in the background) will be received much better, at some point the weaknesses of the writing or the uglyness of the backdrop will distract from the thing you want to convey. 'Everybody knows folks want to get married' just doesn't convey the same as 'It is a truth universally acknowledged...'
And at some point the skeleton you put down will stop you from drawing out the richer, deeper story that you _could_ be writing instead.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 05:19 pm (UTC)Yes, definitely part of the problem with this advice. It suggests that we, as authors, have no active control over the essentials of our stories. I'm only beginning to discover the joy and power of telling my imagination, "I'm going to start out by specifying X, Y, and Z -- now give me the set of great stories that include those."
no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 05:21 pm (UTC)Q: What's the ideal exercise routine? Time of day? Before or after eating? How long? How varied?
A: The ideal exercise routine is the one you actually do.
And similarly, the ideal writing process is the one that actually produces a good story at the end.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 05:25 pm (UTC)Oh goodness, yes. I'm still working on learning that one, but I at least mostly have it down with writing. (I sometimes wish that my writing style were different, but, you know. I work with what I've got.) Though sometimes it amuses me when I find myself caught between a "Writing is YOUR POURING SOULBLOOD ON THE PAGE" adage on one side and "You just need to write, on time, every day, like you'd dig ditches, it's a job!" one on the other.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 06:33 pm (UTC)I love this image. I also found this post resonating with me quite a bit. I used to work at a school that was absolutely plastered with inspirational posters, and then we were given mandated ones. We were also told to put an inspirational quote in huge letters over the whiteboard in the classroom. I chose a Douglas Adams quote involving small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. I have my own issues with authority.
I also have a similar take on social media - that it is for more direct interaction and I feel disappointed when all I see of a person's life is a lot of soppy memes.
There are statements that I find very interesting or inspirational, but posting those may display more of what my world is or perhaps spark a discussion, and I usually want long and complex statements from writers and thinkers who spark or challenge me.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-17 04:33 am (UTC)