Vulnerability, and/or Mr Brenchley

[desperance]

Okay, look, this is absurd - but it does demonstrate the instability of the creative surge, the hectic imbalance of that push for the line.

Yesterday, I wrote ten pages, and only stopped because I'd decided to do so; I could have written more.

Today, I wrote five pages, and every word was a struggle.

Any time this last five years, five pages (that's, oh, anywhere between 1500 and 2000 words, depending on density of thought, dialogue, fancy layouts, whatever) would have been a really good day's work. Even a month ago, it would have been perfectly satisfactory. Today it feels like a disaster, and I have spent much of the day trying to understand what's wrong, whether I'm writing myself up a dead end, whether I'm ill, whether the rubber band has snapped and I shall falter entirely at this final hurdle, whether I'll ever write another word...

Neurotic, of course, is what we do (I was just reading where the nervous Mr Eliot met the depressive Mrs Woolf - "A polished, cultivated, elaborate young American, talking so slow that each word seems to have special finish allotted it." From her diaries, of course. 'Elaborate' is such a good word, in context). The problem is that the problem is insoluble, because its variables are inexpressible. Why did I write half as much today as yesterday? Unknown, unknowable. I woke half an hour later, but time is fluid and can be made up. Otherwise I behaved in exactly the same way: ate the same food, watched the same TV, listened to the same radio, read the same books. Worked on the same chapter, same POV, same everything. Except of course that none of that is true: I ate different food cooked in the same manner, I watched different episodes of the same TV programmes, listened to different programmes on the same radio channels, read different pages in the same books. Wrote different scenes from the same chapter, using different words. All my input followed the same patterns, but was distinct; my output, ditto ditto. And halved.

Maybe it's temperamental. I do struggle to stay equable, so as to be operating from the same baseline every day (but be aware, all my friends crack up whenever I say this, and suggest gently that I am not the most equable personality they know). Last night, though, I burned the dhal: not in the cooking, but by leaving it inadvertently on a very low heat for hours after (a thing that I do with annoying frequency), so today started with throwing it away, which was not a good beginning (tho' the pan was fine, thanks for worrying). Or no, the day had started with getting up half an hour later than I wanted to, so I was badly begun already. And I've basically been increasingly depressed ever since (yes, it's true: the nervous Mr Eliot meets the depressive Mrs Woolf right here, in me), so you could point an easy analytical finger and say "there you are, then. Problem solved. Feel gloomy, can't write." Except that it was the increasing failure to write that fed the gloom; can't really blame that on an unexpected lie-in and a saved saucepan.

So maybe it's the book. Obviously, right now I'm depressed, and anything I say is unreliable; but it is five hundred pages long, and it really may not be very good, and if my editor doesn't like it I really don't know what I'm going to doooooo; and it is very close to the end now, so maybe I'm just losing my nerve. Or my confidence. Or my ability to put words into coherent sentences, or...

[exhibits signs of manic degeneracy, in vague effort to frustrate analysts]

Ach, I'm going to have a bath and go to bed. Where my cat will continue not to join me. Sob.

Comments

[jodi-davis.livejournal.com]

Oh, I hear you... I so hear you.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Sometimes it's just good to be heard. Ways In Which The Internet Has Changed My Life, vol III, ch 17...

[fastfwd.livejournal.com]

That'll teach you to stop at 10 pages.:)

[desperance.livejournal.com]

I know. I do know. One more jotting in the Great Unknown, which is "how many more books might Chaz have written, if he'd been more diligent/organised/focused and/or less idle/distractable/weak-willed?" It's like the souls that never get born; I shall feel guilty all my life. And then, as we know, the Seventh Circle of Hell is waiting for me hereafter...

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Elaborate is indeed a good word for it.

Maybe Achilles is just slowing down so as not to overtake the tortoise; because once he catches it, he'll have this tortoise, and then what'll he do?

I am, on the other hand, confident that it'll be an excellent tortoise, and if your editor doesn't like it, that's your editor's problem (which she will solve by, y'know, editing it - and you won't like that, either...).

And when my e-mail comes back on line, I will solve the "cleaning the fridge with coffee" mystery for you. So today is a good day.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Today is not a good day, because there is no e-mail. I am glad we suffer together (not in a mean or mangy-dog way, only because if yours is down too, then it is as I deduced the server, and I don't need to phone Roger, and you know that's good news for both of us).

Today is not a good day, because I overslept by two hours; I think perhaps I have been tired?

Today is after all a good day, because I have written two pages and am about to do something entirely unexpected and unbudgeted-for. At least, to celebrate two pages, I am about to go out and buy Danish; when I come back I will do something entirely unexpected and unbudgeted-for, and that will be my thousand words before lunch.

And with luck and diligence, by then the e-mail will be back online, and you will be able to solve the cleaning-the-fridge-with-coffee mystery (how? how?) and then it will be a good day all over again, in wholly new and unexpected ways...

[devonellington.livejournal.com]

I find that ten pages/day is a good, comfortable clip for me. However, on some days, if I write ten pages or more, then, the next day, I can only write about 5. Usually that means I need a change of scenery -- even if it's only a few hours taking a walk or going to a museum or going to a bookstore. I become TOO mired in the world of the book, and I need to step back before diving back in again and hitting that pace.

I understand the depression. I've been struggling with that myself -- especially because, in these two weeks, I'm also working Broadway show schedule and it plays havoc with the writing.

I'm about to email you an excerpt from today's blog, where I mention that your excellent writing has ruined me for reading less-talented writers!

[hamadryad11.livejournal.com]

Today it feels like a disaster, and I have spent much of the day trying to understand what's wrong,

Maybe what's wrong is that sometimes you are a bit too hard on yourself. OK, frequently you are a bit too hard on yourself. 1500-2000 words is rather impressive, I think. It's mind-boggling that you can do twice as much when you're on a roll.

A while back I read a post by a writer who is trying to limit himself to 500 words a day... because he thinks he writes better when he does that. I know people who struggle to write half as much as you did today. Me, I'm happy that I've been consistently writing over 100 words a day for a while now. (Mind you, I don't do this professionally, so I'm not the best example.)

Maybe you do need a little change of scenery. Or a good, long belly-laugh. And don't forget to indulge in that feeling of smugness.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Y'know, I'd like to grant you all of this (well, all except the being-too-hard-on-myself bit; if I'd been harder on myself more often, I wouldn't now be in any of the messes that I am). I do want to agree with you - but when I'm on a roll I really can't afford to waste it, because it doesn't happen often. And I'd love a change of scenery, a change of gear, a little self-indulgence, all of that, I do believe I've earned them - but I can't afford them yet. I'm within a week of finishing the book, if I keep up this pace; if the pace halves, the time doubles. And the book absolutely has to be in the States before the end of this month, in a reasonable revised condition; and the revisions will take a fortnight minimum, so...

Well, you do the math (do you say 'math', in Canada? Or maths, or sums, or arithmetic...?). Literally, I have no spare days.

The thing about limiting yourself, writing less than you're able - I'm not sure. I understand the impulse, and certainly it's true that pushing yourself beyond your natural pace tends to produce inferior work, but I'm not sure that the converse applies. Certainly when I'm editing a novel, I know that some days I wrote two thousand words and some days I squeezed two hundred - but I can't generally tell which was which, except for the very hectic stuff. Mostly I guess I've been doing this long enough that the voice is solid, that just happens whether I'm crawling or cantering or galloping; it's the sliding out of control that tends to show.

As I say, though, everyone can find a pace that makes them comfortable, within the confines of their regular day. Being consistent is a jewel, even at 100 words a day. I confess that something in me is saying "If you can write 100 words, you can write 200, and therefore 300, and that's a page and you've got physical progress, and probably a book by the end of the year" - but I always was greedy. You keep going at your own pace, don't mind me.

I haven't really caught up yet, what are you actually writing...?

[hamadryad11.livejournal.com]

I do want to agree with you - but when I'm on a roll I really can't afford to waste it, because it doesn't happen often. And I'd love a change of scenery, a change of gear, a little self-indulgence, all of that, I do believe I've earned them - but I can't afford them yet.

Oh, I'm not suggesting you should limit yourself if you're on a roll. I think it's awesome if you can write that much and you should definitely take advantage of it when you can! I don't entirely agree with the idea of stopping, even if the ideas are still running through your head. I suppose that was really an irrelevant example.

I was just thinking that if you find yourself struggling or getting frustrated, it might help to take a short while to clear your head. Get some oxygen flowing to the brain. I just think that it's obvious you can get it done, and sometimes, worrying that you can't get it done holds a person back.

As for what I'm writing... well, like I said, I don't do this professionally. I suppose you could say it's a serious hobby for me. I'm working on my first really long story. It's an urban fantasy set in Canada.

Oh and yes, we say 'math'. Generally.

[hamadryad11.livejournal.com]

I still think you are too hard on yourself. But as my own worst critic, I suppose I'm not in a position to comment, am I?

[glass-mountain.livejournal.com]

I feel like this all the time at the moment >_< but then I haven't written anything for AGES.

i have been wondering again today whether the concept behind the book sucks, and it will fall apart into two disparate halves, the second of which will lag...

As for editors...mumble mumble...sigh...(the curse of the Holman)

xxx