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IS THERE NO SUCH THING AS
FAILURE?
ARE THERE ONLY DIFFERENT
SUCCESSES?
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LITERACY COURSE
Course Aim: To improve literacy skills Course Content: Students and tutors plan the learning programme on an individual basis. There is a focus on 'real-life' literacy and on building confidence as well as skills. Assessment: Students and tutors agree learning goals, which are regularly reviewed Entry Requirements: There are no formal entry requirements but you need a commitment to regular attendance Qualification in Context and Future Opportunities: The course is for adults who want to improve their literacy skills for a range of different reasons. Advice and guidance on further opportunities is available on an individual basis. Pre-Entry Preparation: A willingness to learn, and an awareness of the importance of literacy in every-day life. |
Remember, in writing, your ultimate employer is yourself.
There is a business magnate in Brazil, Ricardo
Semler, who has totally transformed the commercial
model, and one of his major innovations is that
employees set their own salary
levels . This is a beautiful model; it allows
business to move beyond a command-and-obey method
into a truly analytical age. What happens when you give
employees (or anyone else for that matter) more leeway
to think, to decide and to plan? I'm not even going
to suggest an answer.
Why is this important to you? You take control
of the writing process when you decide that
all projects, whether your own baby or the imposition
of another, are ultimately aspects of your own
self-employment. It seems ridiculous in a writing
course to invoke the basic human right to self-determination,
but writing and creativity in general is the
only means of being free in a
society which won't ever let you take advantage of it
without demanding something in return. There is a lot
of talk about how this is an age of leisure, how computers
have so lessened the time we need to spend on
perpetuating the human race and society, that
we can spend time watching television and doing
the things we want to do. In fact, this "ideal"
is almost always talked of in the future tense.
This is the premise behind insurance policies,
among other things. Yet it is illusory. The man or woman
who sits idle day after day soon incurs the wrath at
least of those around him or her, if not himself
or herself . Note the importance of the term
"waste of space". That is one of the words with
the most hidden power, "waste". The idea of waste
is the idea of spending without benefit, and you
start to waste time when you lose sight of what
you are achieving or trying to achieve. Consumerism
is an interesting term. Fire consumes. Greed,
anger or lust consumes. Jealousy consumed Othello. The
story of Othello can be seen as a metaphor for the human
psyche. It is almost as if Othello needs crisis. In
the administrative placidity of Cyprus, (possibly
to be conveyed by a modern office block?) he loses
the focus. The "weakness" of Shakespeare's dual
time scheme can be turned to strength here, to
emphasise how so little of import happens in
a typical office that petty rivalries and jealousies
can assume huge proportions. My take on consumerism
is this: War comes when man consumes only
what he wants. Peace comes when man consumes only
what he needs .
By a roundabout process we come back to my
original point, which was about self-reward. A
fundamental tenet of religious thought is that
voluntary renunciation, however brief and however
small, is akin to the return of a prodigal son.
In other words, when you admit even for a second
that you may still have work to do to earn that
rest, when you doubt for the merest second the
primacy of your ego in dictating what is best, whether
you know it or not, you have turned back to God, and
He will shower you with blessings. The fact is, it is
also wonderfully addictive. You will find yourself
doing more and more with less and less thought
of what you might or might not get in return. Slowly,
but surely, the focus of your life will change
from consumerism to service providership
, which, as everybody points out, brings its
own rewards. Another fundamental tenet of religious
thought is that Jerusalem wasn't builded here
in a day. Changing the focus in your life takes
time, and we all need to rest sometimes. True
rest involves getting over the panic of divine retribution
if you don't attain Jesuitic heights. The comforting
truth is that we are all miserable sinners before
God. The gutter is crowded with the entire human
race, so any time at all you can spend star-gazing
(contemplating eternal verities such as Truth,
Light, Joy, Love) you are building the means
to get out of the gutter. Thus, the duty is to
encourage others to star-gaze, and to encourage
others to help us build our way out of the gutter.
Encouragement, co-operation, service. What great
principles for a way of life!!
In other words, once you have had an idea,
it is important that your first reaction be to
write the first draft. The more official you can
make this draft, the stronger the idea will be
etched into your brain. This is also a way of
taking control of a task imposed from without.
Going back to the leaflet above, which we decided was
probably the result of a particular corporate attitude,
it is absolutely vital to note that not only was it
the responsibility of the organization, but it was
the responsibility of the individual who drafted
the document to make sure that the document
achieved what it set out to achieve.
Communism and "Communism"
The ideals of the founders of communism were
to bring about a just society in which power
was not imposed, not wielded like a weapon, but
created by consensus. They foresaw a society
in which man would co-operate with his fellow
man. Throughout the twentieth century though,
the ideal of communism was seen as something
that had to be imposed. Dictators such as Stalin
saw fear as a necessary tool in the excising of greed
and excessive consumption. This led to societies where
excess consumption was impossible, but did nothing
to address the desire for
excess consumption, and led to societies in which
fear, that most constricting of emotions (check
out the science of fear!) was an integral part.
In effect Stalin was attempting to impose on society
something he thought he had imposed on himself
- perfection. The very fact that he was trying to impose
something on the outside world shows the extent of his
delusion. "Change yourself and you have done your
part in changing the world" (PARAMAHANSA YOGANANDA).
Philosophy teaches us that the healthy state is
the fearless state; self-Mastery, where you no
longer fear aspects of your own psyche, because
you control them. Self-control then means you
can offer real service to the world; when you
rein in your own consumptive instincts, your own
desire for instant progression or accumulation of that
which you want, you are then free to consider what else
exists in the world besides the fulfilment of your
personal desires. If you have never asked yourself
this question for a long enough time to listen
for an answer, read through this "challenge"
chapter again, then go and take a walk into town,
or a swim, or any other of your favourite leisure-time
pursuits. Personally, I like to sit in the park
every now and then. I cannot tell you the answer.
I know my answer, but it is only my
answer. I don't have your answers, but what
I can promise you is that the answer will break forth
with immense joy. As soon as you find yourself laughing,
you will know you have found an answer.
What's your point about writing, caller?
Writing the first draft of an "imposed" task,
such as an essay or a memo, makes that task
yours - makes it a challenge from yourself to
yourself - a challenge to shape your writing
until it addresses the opportunities in the task.
No longer then do you have to consider whether
you like the teacher or the manager who imposed
the task. That becomes irrelevant, a separate issue
that you can deal with in different ways. Taking control
of the task will only increase your desire to perform
the task, especially since you will be stumbling
upon your truths by writing that first draft,
finding out what makes you tick and performing
a fractalised service for yourself. This
is the "everyone's a winner" model.
Chapter VII
Elements of the Writing Process
The Physical Process
There are two important points in the physical process of writing; namely where you begin and where you end. Your first draft, as we have seen, is a vital motivational tool in keeping you writing, and of course, your final version (note the change of term) is self-evidently important. The process of how you get from A to B is potentially the most rewarding part, as you see your ideas, thoughts, and language take shape. There may be many different kinds of writing, but, as we saw earlier, there is only one language. Different words have different connotations; a lot of the Romance words in the English language, the longer words from French and Latin and Greek, have connotations of formality, whereas words of a Germanic origin are more likely to have informal vibrations, but the secret to good writing is to mix words from all sources in appropriate measure. This appropriate measure in poetry will be majorly defined by considerations of 'memorability', (one of the more successful definitions of poetry being 'memorable speech'), and in prose by clarity and function. We will consider words in more depth later.
The Psychological Process
One of my biggest regrets is that although
at school I had mastered the art of writing to
quite a degree, I hadn't mastered the science
of writing. I kept escaping with essays;
procrastinating and surviving despite the odds.
This caused a lot of unrequested unhappiness,
and had quite a complex series of "causes", but the
effect was the same; I was not approaching the process
of writing in a scientific manner. Often the first draft
would be left very, very late. This may
not have handicapped me insofar as I finally made
it into Oxford, but it caused a lot of unnecessary
grief. I would approach a typical essay in the
following manner
pre-task planning 85%, first draft 5% task
completion 10%.
pre-task planning
There is a Grateful Dead song, Lady with a Fan, which tells of the rivalry of a soldier and a sailor, different aspects of the human psyche. For those of you who don't know the song, the premise is that there is a lady who throws her fan into the lions' den, setting down a challenge and setting up her love as a reward ("Which of you to gain me, tell, / Will risk uncertain pains of hell / I will not forgive you / If you will not take the chance"). Quite apart from this drama being played out daily in pubs, clubs, workplaces and other social situations all the world over, for our purposes the lady is a symbol of success, and the act of fan-retrieval the act of writing. It is the sailor who goes after the fan; the soldier "being much too wise: strategy was his (my italics) strength, not disaster". Guess who gets the lady.
Much of pre-task planning is mere procrastination. I used all sorts of excuses and reasons to delay my first drafts but learned one major thing, and that very late; I learned that a duty unbegun hampers all your efforts to avoid it. So, for instance, when as an undergraduate, instead of beginning that essay on Chaucer, I watched the Embassy World Snooker Championships on tv or went to the pub or just sat in my room doing not very much, always in the back of my brain would be the unsettling consciousness that sooner or later I was going to have to start doing work. Not only this, but in fearing the process of doing work, I was actually giving it an aura of impossibility which it really shouldn't have had, which meant that when I came to start it I was hardly ever satisfied with what I was writing, partly as a result of not having very much time and partly as a result of all the fear and negativity I'd been feeding into the task. This had the knock-on effect of making tutorials a nightmare, as often I would turn up without a finished essay, and with the consciousness that nothing I had done that week had been completed to any satisfactory degree. And speaking of unsatisfactory degrees, it reflected in my Lower Second, when I should have been getting a First with room to spare.
How should I have approached it?
It's easy to see now! If I had gone from every tutorial with the express intention of beginning to answer the question, if I had gone and written up my thoughts immediately in first draft form, I would have been able to see clearly what I needed to do in order to mould the draft into a version; I would have found a reason for studying, and I would have been able to reward myself within reason for the work I had done at the end of every day with maybe a pint or two. I would still have been able to lead a social life, but that life and all the other aspects of that life would have been spiritualised by the consciousness of carrying out tasks successfully. Still, it's easy to regret now. These days I write about the past as if writing about a different person - I look back not in anger but merely to remind myself of the lessons of the past.
Doing the first draft immediately has another benefit as well. In procrastinating until the last minute, you are making the amount of time needed automatically100% of the time available. My reasoning for not doing first drafts right away (check this out!) was that "since I'll find enough work revising and tinkering the essay for it to take up the entire time anyway, I may as well not begin it for a while." I was using my non-enjoyment of the work to justify its procrastination, non-enjoyment that sprang from precisely that procrastination! Viciously circular reasoning.
There is one other element to any writing process which we have yet to cover - the supertask. This term is my particular coinage, and refers to the element of any written work which communicates over and above the task. The supertask may be compared to God's reaction to the prodigal son's return; the divine reward for diligence in carrying out a task. This is directly related to service; diligence comes form the Latin diligo, -ere (3) - "I love". Notice how this word has been transmuted in English into meaning hard work. Blending the two meanings together can be revealing. As we have already remarked, everything in life is hard work. Everyone has to have some direction in which to turn their efforts, whether they be employed, unemployed or seeking work. So you have chosen to write. Pour all your energy into completing the task, being as selfless as you possibly can be, and know that there is a Divine power contributing the communication to your readership exactly how much love, effort, service you have put in. Going back to our leaflet, it can reasonably be presumed that someone who was able to read the leaflet could interpret it; the language, although obscure, conforms to a norm for corporatese. It is an example of something where the task, the conveying of information to the reader, has been more-or-less completed, but where the supertask detracts from the task; the task says "here is the information", but the supertask admits "I didn't want to write this leaflet; I didn't write it with you in mind," and similar messages. Our poetic effort, on the other hand, conveys a different message with its supertask; one that again doesn't quite communicate to the reader what a course leaflet should. The problem of the one is that not enough thought has gone into the leaflet's readership, and the challenge to the reader of the other is that that thought contradicts the sense of appropriateness.
The supertask element then is the contribution of the Divine to reward any successful and diligent task-completion in expected and unexpected ways. It is not that you have to believe in God to work this way; you don't have to have believed a thing about what I have been saying in this essay; remember - the law of gravity worked as efficiently before Newton as after him; and not even Einstein has gravity completely worked out.
Chapter VIII
Writer's Block
"You know you can build any prison, any that
you choose,
And later discover the prisoner, - the prisoner
is you"
The Thompson Twins
beliefs that are never questioned can be
seen as faiths. The accumulation of faiths
is the accumulation of knowledge about the
world. It is important for man to consistently
look at his faiths, because they will define
him as a person. If a man's faiths are negative
(for instance that life gets harder as you
get older, that the world is going to seed,
that there is more crime in the world than ever
before) then all his actions and thoughts will spring
from those convictions; they will be narrowed gradually
and he will become the prisoner of his own
thought process.
Eastern philosophy, yoga, teaches that
whatever man's unquestioned beliefs about
the world, there is a higher reality;
I am therefore I can . In a footnote
to Autobiography of a Yogi , Paramahansa
Yogananda points out that Descartes's
"I think therefore I am" is a philosophical error,
ascribing primacy to words, which are themselves
merely the mediating tools of reality and
sense-perceptions . Fred Hageman, author
of an educational guide, Making
the Grades, says:
How do we experience the world? The quick
answer is that we experience it through our
five senses, but this isn't exactly true.
Take the eyes for example. Did you know that
we don't see with our eyes? It sounds crazy,
but it's true. We "see" with our nervous system
and our brain. Our eyes are merely the instruments
that receive the light and send it to the brain
by way of the nervous system. It isn't until the
brain receives the sensory stimuli and gives it
meaning that we can be said to be "seeing" anything.
The important thing to understand here is
that, as far as our response is concerned,
our brain acts on our interpretation of the
event, not the actual event.
The important thing to note from
our point of view is that part about the brain.
It is how we frame an event that defines our
reaction to it, and it defines our reaction
to it on all level
s. Turning this round, it
is easy to see that the things we say about
ourselves, the things we make ourselves believe
about ourselves, will provide the filter for
all future experiences of that type. This is
why I disbelieve in the concept of writers' block
as anything other than a psychological hang-up caused
either by lack of self-belief or by lack of desire
to write.
Writer's Block is an excuse.
Note my re-positioning of that apostrophe. I am
personalising it now, because writer's block can
seem a very personal and lonely thing. I usually
call it writers' block. How do I mean writer's
block is an excuse? Well, I don't mean that
someone who feels unable to write should be
chastising themselves for not writing. I
have very great experience of writer's block;
for years I found it almost impossible to
write - essays, poems, prose, letters - you name
it, I've found it difficult. At one stage or another.
One point about writer's block is that it
very rarely is total. Often you can
write one type of writing very easily, whilst
finding it difficult to adhere to other forms.
So, for instance, in the years when I couldn't
write two lines of poetry with which I was
happy, I could happily burble away in my
diary. Currently I find it very difficult
to write a letter, yet I send e-mail after e-mail
quite comfortably.
Writer's Block will always exist
Writer's block then is a function of what writing technique you are subconsciously attuned to at any one time. Or tuned out of. So, whenever you are faced with writer's block, you have a choice: you can either
a) work hard to tune yourself back in to the writing task you want to carry out.
or
b) work hard to express yourself in a different way and a different technique.
If the task is one imposed from without, then acknowledgment to somebody else of the problem may help enormously. This is especially recommended for school or college essays. Most assigners of tasks will be only too happy to be approached. Find the right way to approach them; isolate exactly what it is that is stopping you from writing. To do this, it may be necessary to go back to our A4 exercise at the top of this page.
Sometimes with a commissioned work, such as one for which you are being paid, you naturally won't want to go back to the commissioner and admit your temporary unequalness to the task - especially if it turns out, as it may or may not, that the problem does not lie in the nature of the task they have assigned you but somewhere else entirely. In this case, you will have to explore other ways of getting round this problem - remember this sentiment - there is a way wherever there is a will.
Writer's Block may always exist, but you
can forget about it
How often have you heard this sentiment
from a commentator; "well, that goal totally
changes the game!" Sport can teach us great
things about how perception determines experience.
In Prague, I was part of a six-a-side football
team. We were not really of the same standard
as the rest of our division (Local League
Division 8!!), which we knew, but that was
mainly a function of organisation - it wasn't that
the rest of the teams were especially talented -
it was merely a case of us being new to the scene.
Anyway, one afternoon we took a 1-0 lead, which
we managed to defend with not much trouble for
most of the game; yet five minutes from the
end, we conceded a soft goal. At 1-1, what
happened next was suddenly always likely to
happen. The stuffing was knocked out of us,
a sense of desperation prevailed, and we conceded
another right on the full-time whistle. 1-2.
That day, we had been equal to our task, but
as soon as our opposition (who were always expected
to win) scored a goal, the collective perception
of both teams changed. The feeling at the final
whistle was subtly different to any of our other
defeats that season; it was really hard to
forgive our goalkeeper (who had been at fault
for both goals), ourselves, and whatever divine
force had decreed defeat. But there is always
challenge in disaster, and the challenge was
simply to put the defeat in perspective and
move on equably back into real life, where
it didn't matter. Look at it from the other
team's point of view though. We were firmly anchored
to the bottom of the table, and had only won once
in one-and-a-bit seasons. They were expected at
least to get a point from us. Moreover we were
foreigners, so there was added incentive to
beat us, a competitive national pride. I would
wager that half of them were wondering how
they were going to explain their defeat to
friends, colleagues, members of other teams;
yet in the moment they scored that first goal,
the whole atmosphere changed for them.
The point is that focusing on achievement, any achievement, completely erases prior consciousness of difficulties or problems. If God is joy as the yogis attest, then any step towards joy brings Divine help. That help then translates into assistance with whatever task you are trying to achieve. Now, if I wanted strongly enough to write poetry, I could. If I wanted strongly enough to write a story, I could. However, if my reasons for wanting to write a poem are not as strong as my reasons for wanting to write more of this essay, it's going to be far simpler to concentrate on this essay. Similarly, if I am trying to write an essay and an earthquake begins, I will find it very hard to concentrate on what I am saying, since the reasons for the self-preservatory activity of getting out of this building are far stronger than the reasons for wanting to finish my sentence on writing techniques.
Writer's Block is a question.
When you find it difficult to write, it is because of a question you have failed to address, that your subconscious is asking you to address. Address it, because until you do, you won't be writing much, and after you do, you will be addressing it more often, though it will no longer frighten you.
Chapter IX
Fiction
fingo, -ere, finxi, fictum (3) - paint
Most writing resources I have encountered on the internet either skirt entirely the subject of fiction or confine themselves to such structural advice as "move forward in time and pause every now and then". Worthy advice, but in a world where the most popular narrative fiction form, film, has entered the sophisticated world of prequels and so forth opened up by works such as Pulp Fiction, that advice is rather redundant. Everyone has been exposed to narrative structures that are far more complex than that, even in terms of the story told in the pub, where quite often you have to hold a central thought in mind whilst dealing with authorial tangents by the dozen.
What is fiction?
It is the translation of world into word (writing the 'l' out of one's universe?)
The central tenet of fiction can be easily summarised.
Every word must drive forward the story.
Notice I don't say 'plot'. The average work of fiction contains far more diverse elements than mere plot. There is a wonderful gothic novel, The Castle of Otranto , which reads like its own plot summary, and consequently like a piece of journalism or a police statement;
Young Conrad's birthday was fixed for his espousals. The company was assembled in the chapel of the castle, and every thing ready for beginning the divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. Manfred, impatient of the least delay, and who had not yet observed his son retire, dispatched one of his attendants to summon the young prince. The servant, who had not staid long enough to have crossed the court to Conrad's apartment, came rushing back breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes staring, and foaming at the mouth. He said nothing, but pointed to the court. The company were struck with terror and amazement. The princess Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her son, swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the procrastination of the nuptials, and at the folly of his domestic, asked imperiously, what was the matter? The fellow made no (cont'd p.94)
Nice scene-setting, perhaps, for a long set-piece. Except that the narrative never slows down. The work is written in gargantuan paragraphs, page after page of action not sullied by the normal conventions of prose or even punctuation, and is short enough overall (80 pages in my edition) to warrant a look. It, and its antithesis, the tangential Tristram Shandy, stand testament to the universality of style. Words, to misquote Brian Clough, are your friends: go out and play with them. One effect of the extreme self-searching to which the creative arts were subject in the last century was to free the concept of style from considerations of 'right' or 'wrong' and attach it instead to considerations of 'efficiency'; if 'does your writing do exactly what it says on the tin?' is the yardstick applied to the essay, then the new yardstick applied to fiction is 'does your writing do exactly what you want it to?' In terms of fiction, this consists of asking yourself if the elements of the world as you perceive it to be at any given moment in the story are conveyed by the words you have chosen. The creative liberation experienced now has not ever been experienced before. The internet provides the best opportunity so far for unfettered self-expression, and the critical climate which prompted Dr Johnson to sniff "Nothing odd will do long; Tristram Shandy did not last" and found its greatest ally in F.R.Leavis's attempts to impose a canon has been replaced by a far pleasanter cultural liberalism which allows the author far more self-determination.
Your every word must drive forward your story.
Your story.
What is story?
Fiction differs from the essay in the way that a three-dimensional universe differs from a two-dimensional one. With the essay, we were dealing in hypotheses and ideas. The axiom 'show, don't tell' was principally an intellectual counsel, designed to make sure you proved your point with evidence. In fiction we are dealing with another layer entirely, one in which the word is designed to convert itself back into a picture in the reader's brain. How often have you read a novel and skimped on the pictorial detail, only to find yourself unable to come to terms with the setting in which the action later takes place. At that moment, you often have to go back and work hard to picture exactly what the author meant to convey. By far the best way to look at what story is though is to read what an author has to say. Jarrow and Tales from Praha are to be found elsewhere at this website. Here I am interviewed about those two.
Interview with the author.
How did you come to write the two works?
They're quite different in their conceptions. Tales was written as I tried to make sense of a madcap eighteen months teaching EFL in Prague. The whole experience changed me in ways I could only begin to comprehend, and I was searching for a way to link elements together. I knew there were stories in there, and I wanted to bring them all out onto the page. As for Jarrow, that was a pretty faithful transcription of a dream I had had the previous night, though tidied up, of course! Tales preceded Jarrow by a couple of months, and was much more the exploratory work.
So Tales is a first draft then?
Emphatically not!! Each section represents one day's written work, but also has been read back to myself five or six times since then. It is too untidy to be called the final version, perhaps; but I was very conscious when I was writing it of writing on the web. Readers on the web have notoriously random styles of reading, concentrating one moment and glancing through reams of stuff the next. I tried to give readers something, some novelty, in every sentence. Can we call it a second draft?
What struck me about Jarrow was the lack of a story behind it. Was this intentional?
It's like an endgame, I think. I think there is a type of writing whose function is to suggest. What I've tried to do there is make gestures, to leave words, phrases and features of the story jutting out, hinting at a pre-history that the reader will fill in for themselves, building their own story, and hopefully identifying with the characters enough to want to fill in the blanks. It really is a story which repays re-reading. Even for me - maybe especially for me - precisely because it is so elusive.
What functions did writing these two works perform for you, both as a writer and as a person?
The impetus to write fiction comes from a knowledge that a particular situation or period of time overwhelms me, that I haven't come to terms with mental pictures and that I can see them translating into really good language. Tales was specifically designed to rid me of a lot of self-indulgent energy; there was a lot that I wanted to say, and I knew roughly how I wanted to say it, but had no idea how I was going to make a story out of it. At a later date I might well go back, tidy its loose ends up. I think Jarrow is the much more generous work in that respect, requiring no special perseverance from the reader in following the story. However, in terms of wisdom, food for thought and sheer variety of material, Tales is possibly the richer work.
Thank you very much.
In the above interview we see very clearly that story is the overriding unificatory elements are of what you are writing. As such, and remembering the function of words as releasers of energy, your story is more than likely to be modified by the very act of writing. This in itself is sufficient reason to have a loose conception of what you want to achieve at any one time, and why the most fruitful attitude to have in relation to your subject matter, your themes, characters, situations, plot and whatever other elements make up your fictive world, is one of awed humility. Your words are going to reveal all these elements as you write, and it will often be necessary to keep your mind open to developments which may seem at first impractical to incorporate. Throughout writing and re-writing, the more points of view you can encompass entitle you to have more characters, more variety in plot, and more imaginative language. To this end, I would counsel you - use your vocabulary. Use the first word that presents itself, even if that word sounds pretentious, or if no word immediately presents itself, ponder until it does. What concept are you trying to evoke? Which word comes nearest this concept? You will soon find that (and this is entirely logical of course) most mental blocks can be demolished by just finding 1 (one) word.
Every word must drive forward your story.
Put simply, when you read back your story in whatever draft or version, the more carefully you can read it and make sure that every word is contributing what you want it to contribute, the more service you are putting into the work. The more you accept as your task, the more supertask you will have drawn upon. This is not a function of time alone. There is no point keeping hold of a work with which you are happy if it feels right to set it aside, submit it or publish it. It is a function of making sure that everything in your story does something , even if you're not quite sure what that something is, or how it will be received. The only sure way to proceed is to know that your work will get the reception you want for it, and then make sure it deserves that reception.
Chapter One: What do words do?
"There are more things in heaven and earth than are
dreamt of in your philosophy"
William Shakespeare,
Hamlet
| Read through the above again, and think what implications it has for you as an author. What questions have you got that I have not dealt with so far? Make a list and e-mail them to me here . |