Sunday, 29 July 2012

Being an Author: When life creeps in...

I've been thinking. (Yes you, you at the front, stop giggling)

On the subject of 'write what you know' (I know I wasn't on that subject), exactly where do you stop doing it? Where's the line? I mean, let's say that (heaven forbid) a loved one passed. At what point do you say, 'Fine, I'm doing a horror story about that event'? When you have a car accident - killing someone - when do you go, 'Hold on, I could make a nifty tale on that?

See, thing is, I have stuff that happens (shock shock, horror horror), and I don't put said stuff into my writing (most of it is laborious stuff - who wants to read about my day at work - amiright??), but when something interesting happens (rare) I still don't do it.

So I separate my life from my writing.

So when do I 'write what I know'?

Is it never? It feels like never. When George penned the mighty Star Wars (and before you start spouting about what he penned/didn't etc... I know) was it from personal experience? I hope so. I hope he met a wookie and lightsabered everyone in the foot. (See. No profanity) Did Gene boldly go? Did he do that?


Is that what it means though?


In profound land, I'd like to think that 'write what you know' means that you bring yourself to the story, your 'way', your voice, your 'you'.

But I don't think we live in a profound land (most of the time, anyway). So I'm going to get drunk, get in my two-story-tall mech and go squish some people.

You know who you are.

'Til next time.

Saturday, 21 July 2012

Being an Author: Writing Your First Novel Part: Something

Did you see what I did there?

You see, when you're writing your first novel, everything seems to go out the window. Especially if you've had the year I've had. I was supposed to finish in February at the latest. First draft - words flung at paper. And here I am. July.

It is still July isn't it?

Anyway, much as I tend to, I've digressed.

I've finished. (Yeah I know that by finished I mean I've done the first draft. Tears were shed. Lamp loved. A meager battle in the war, victorious.)

You see, I didn't give up. I read so oft that this writer and that writer have the great novel in progress. Have they given up? Is it War and Peace? Who cares? I could have given up. No one would have blamed me. Let me clarify. I had a voluputous change in my circumstances at the beginning of the year. (you know, shattering) and I had written (almost to the word) half a novel at the time of said happening. Compounding this, it was my first time. My cherry novel.

It would have been easy to burn the book (see, I even got in a nazi reference) much like a lot of other things, but I didn't. It took me months to get it (and me) back on track.

There is a moral to this, and it is simple.

Don't give up. Finish what you started. If you want to write a novel, write a goddamned novel. Take your time - the time you need. But whatever happens. And for the first time in the history of filingwords, I'm going to splurge profanity:

If you want to write the novel. Write the fucking novel. 

That is all.

'Til next time (and hopefully profane free)...