Pretty

So, do you like the look of Destination: denouement? 

It’s not at all what I imagined when I first set out to do it.  I quite like the typewriter background and the typeface header font.  (I’m juuuuuuust old enough to have learnt to type on one of those old monsters before I was seduced away by floppy disks).  I’m not so sure about the link colours, though, and I think it needs a few pictures too.  I have this naff old typewriter gif that I’d love to insert between posts if I can only work out how.  I fear it involves a deep-end dunking in html.

My apologies if the page colour is a much screamier shade of pink/orange/cream than it appears to me.  Really, if it’s offensive, you should let me know via "comments" below.

Claytons

I was thinking a bit more about rule #4, and versions of success, and goals, and what really this blog was going to be about, when I thought, “Why not have a mission statement?” 

But since I’m not really a mission statementy type person (as that might require wearing shoulder pads and pantihose), there is a limit to how much I ever want to know about them.   Nonetheless it’s a useful exercise to think about what exactly I’m denoue-ing here.

So here goes with the mission statement you have when you’re not having a mission statement.

Destination:  denouement is ~

·       A celebration of the creative process

·       A love-fest for stories, and all the book-based joys of life

·       A conversation with fellow writers and readers

·       A place for me to Get Over It. And Get On With It.

·       A generous share of the things that inspire me to write

·       A interesting, entertaining, honest and aware read

·       A demonstration of even just a sliver of writerly skill

I think that’s enough to keep me busy.  What about you?  Do you have a mission statement for your writing?  I would love to hear about it.

Blame Sean Williams

A few months back I was having a debate with myself along the lines of “What actually constitutes a writer?” Meaning, do my passionate scribblings – as yet conducted in a private arena – really count as “writing”? Is it big-noting yourself to identify yourself as a one-who-writes? Or is it a necessary step on the path to publication and promotion?

At what point does one step up to claim a position in the vast community of those who strive with their pens and keyboards? When does one cease being an invisible neophyte and earn reader-worthiness? And how the heck do you know?

This was swirling around in my mind when I stumbled across a blog post by Sean Williams, an Adelaide writer well known for his prolific successes, as well as for being a real human being that you might run into at the SAWC on Rundle Street.

Having been asked many times for his advice, Sean compiled a short but pithy list of first principles for new writers, “The 10 ½ Commandments”. I’m a big fan of serendipity, so when a short but pithy answer drops into my field of vision, I pay attention.

The whole list made perfect sense, and I nodded as I read, but I paused to contemplate this:

4. Define your version of success and take concrete steps towards achieving it.

Yes. It sounds so simple. Think about what’s important to me. Set some goals. Then get shufflin’. Genius advice, and not at all self-evident in an endeavour where success rests upon what other people think of what you do. This was the prompt I needed to think about how I would focus my efforts.

I could feel the conveyor belt of an idea very slowly creaking into motion as I read on:

7. Be visible.

(Pause for digestion).

Thank you, Sean, very much. I’ll just take a moment and absorb that. Be visible: give myself permission to identify myself as one-who-writes.

From now on, I will turn up to writers’ events and make conversation and learn the secret handshakes. I’ll stop treating my writing like a covert operation. I’ll start talking about my achievements (self-defined, see #4 above) like they’re something to be proud of, and the not the poor cousins of what I couldawouldashoulda done in that alternate universe where I was a superstar by age 25.

In short, I’ll eschew my persistent habit of being invisible.

And, since writing is my chosen medium of self-expression, how better to do this than in actual writing? And thus, Commandment #7 was my personal tipping point to create a public blog with my actual real name on it.

So, blame Sean Williams for the spike of inspiration that jolted this blog into being. Not only because his words gave me the push I needed, but because the force of the jolt itself demonstrates the alchemical possibilities of writing.

Thanks, Sean.

How do I write?

I tend to write like I quilt, sporadically but with great intensity.  However the last quilt I made was in 2008 and the last thing I wrote was yesterday, so it appears that  writing takes a higher priority in my life.  Plus, I dream about my stories, but I have never dreamt about a quilt.  If ever I do, no doubt it will be woven into a plot line.

Despite the intensity of my efforts, both quilting and writing tends to be a slow process - with a lot of unpicking and rearranging to get it just right.  I like to pause and admire the work as it takes shape, savouring the alchemical transformation of an idea from a formless interior spark into something whole and real and exterior.

The actual manner of the laying out of words onto paper or fabric into patterns varies widely.  Sometimes I prefer the flow of a soft lead pencil onto whatever large clean paper I have handy.  Sometimes it is an urgent scrawl into the notebook that I keep in my handbag.  Other times I enjoy spreading it neatly out onto the computer screen. 

Flow is more important than order, especially in the first draft.  I start with the part of the story that holds the most energy and ride the flow until I feel pulled to another place.  This non-linear process makes perfect sense to my creative subconscious.  As the work blooms into a fuller shape the order tends to arise from within as a result of each part reaching completion, and then the left-brain can fuss and trim and reshape it to fit the desired outline. 

Just like in a quilt, the balance of the whole story comes from balance within the parts.  Each piece needs to be well crafted of itself but also sit coherently with the other pieces.  But both quilt and story will be bland unless harmony is tempered by contrast.  The skill lies in the subtle placement of clever peculiarities, that lure the reader into something they didn't expect. 



greatgrandmother's quilt by normanack @ flickr

What do I write?

I’m blogging aren’t I? (Don’t snicker.  It’s unkind).  I turn out pieces for my local writers’ group.  I journal, ferociously.  My immediate goal is to sharpen my claws skills on a series of short stories, with a hint of the fantastical about them (Zombie grandma, anyone?).  And of course there is my great unwritten novel, brewing in the vast smoky teapot of my mind. 

In fact, the brew is just about ready to pour.  I’ve slopped a bit into a cup and stared at it for a while.  But it’s a bit daunting.  I’m still grappling with how to organise the structure of the thing, and whether I’ve got enough plot layers for a good well-rounded story.  Plus there’s a bit more research to do about the locale.  While I’m all for editing and the power of the roughest first draft, I would rather get it as good as I possibly can right from the start.  Hence the extended stewing.

Destination?

I’m starting this blog because I want to write.

I want to write, and I want to write well.  I want to serve up something that is worthy of the reader’s time and attention.   I want to imbue my work with enough truth and insight for it to resonate with the reader.  More than just narration, I’m interested in connection.  And I want to do that skilfully.  And I’m aware that to get from here to there, there are many kilometres of writing to travel, across page after page, and year after year.

I have started out on this path before, and pulled off to the side to attend to other things.  But the dusty road keeps calling me back.  There is a certain invigoration that writing brings to my life that nothing else provides.  So, here I am again, possibly a little more care worn, but hopefully wiser too. 

I recently re-read some work from that earlier time.  I was finally able to identify what it was that derailed me back then.  Some of my writing was good, but a lot of it was, well… ordinary.  And I have high standards.  And the ordinariness was too excruciating to bear.  Fortunately I am not alone, and there is a way through this, just like Ira Glass said (bless his American cotton socks).  In order to improve I need to persevere, and push on through the humiliation of being imperfect, until my skills finally match my creative sensibilities.

Getting to that point may require a longer road than I can foresee, if one does ever actually “arrive” at all.  Perhaps the destination is really the progress you make, each small achievement along the way, each resolution, each denouement. 

So, I present Destination: denouement.  I intend it to be a tool for my own progression as a writer, and maybe for yours too.  I hope that it will be packed with interesting and inspiring tidbits about the writing life, the craft and community of writing, and a celebration of achievements along the way.  And because I’m all about authenticity on the page, and because I need a constant stream of self-administered encouragement, no doubt some of my psyche will leak through too.


Epilogo by Astragony @ flickr