Salvageable Gems or They Can't Suck That Bad All the Time

Here's the very stupid thing I did: I deleted all my files when I deleted Scrivener from my computer. I wanted/needed space, I hadn't touched the manuscript in years, I thought I wouldn't care. I didn't know that I'd decide to revisit the work in earnest, let alone finish it for Nanowrimo. I didn't know that though the versions might have sucked butt, I might find salvageable gems that would make me go, "Wow, I wrote that? I did that?" And yet here I am.

See, when I began writing this tale, I'd only recently begun writing again. Not that I was ever really any good at it, but neither had I finished anything significant to figure that out. Can you still be a writer if you don't write? But anyway. The idea for the story actually came from Lucy and Charlie and this scary Halloween wall hanging we put up each year on the front door. Honestly, it only scares small children who are too impressionable to know better, and yet it was the genesis of my work in progress. They came up with the names and their own intricate stories, and I was so fascinated that I asked if I could make my own adaptation.

So there was already this rich foundation upon which to build, and these characters that are both familiar and foreign, and I thought that if I could pull it off, it would be an awesome story. I became a little obsessed. I began with a short story, which I turned in as an assignment, and then ten pages for final paper in my Creative Writing class. That summer, I researched, outlined, and plotted, but ultimately gave up. It was becoming too cerebral. Furthermore, it started to seem too lofty for my skill level.

I'm not saying now that I was wrong then. That Creative Writing class was really kind of the beginning of my recent education during which I decided that I can and that I want to. The rest of the journey (and it continues still) was about honing skill, picking up strategies, and becoming comfortable with workshopping. And that last bit's a bit important because if you're gonna write for an audience, you kinda need one, and you don't get one if you don't let others read your work.

I also had to learn about myself as a writer, which sounds like one of those douchebag phrases I talked about before, but it's what Charlie might call a Truthitude. This self-exploration called bullshit on my typical excuse: "I can write, but I'm not very creative." Because, why? It's a process. Because even though writing can be a lonely process, I'm not alone. I have an audience if I want one who will give me honest, constructive feedback. Because I write as a writer and not a reader. Because I already know what's in my head (usually), and sometimes that doesn't make its proper way to the page. Because the first draft probably isn't going to be the published draft.

My favorite example about process comes from Cormac McCarthy's writing of Blood Meridian. Now, I'm positive I've written or talked about this with you before, so I won't go into it again, but you can read about the process in this Slate article. The author characterizes the prose in McCarthy's early drafts as being "cramped, the voice toneless and noticeably devoid of that deep brassy register" he's known for. And McCarthy's pretty damned successful. If you weren't aware of his literary prowess, perhaps you're familiar with the films The Road, No Country for Old Men, All the Pretty Horses, or The Counselor.

But I'm not trying to toot his horn. I've only read one of his books and seen two of those movies. My point is that he's a successful writer, by many accounts, a GOOD writer, and yet it can take him some effort to get to the point of publication. Why would I assume I bang out one draft and get the same acclaim? I don't think so.

Back to my manuscript. It was inspired by and began by others, and that used to make me feel bad. I know I'm not stealing, and I know this is still my work. My labor of love. I'm the one writing it down and creating as I go. And that's something I've had to grow into. I had to also gain the confidence to know that I can tackle this project, and the time to further develop my style. Ultimately, I don't know what will come of this. Maybe just a finished manuscript that no one will ever read. The really great thing will be that I'll have a finished story and I'll at least know that I could do it.