On Writing - Creative Loafing

Writers—especially fiction writers—are constantly alert to story possibilities and character ideas, whether at a baseball game, a restaurant, or riding on a rollercoaster. Often, we find ourselves contemplating stories at seemingly inappropriate times, such as when we’re entertaining guests, or watching a school play. A wandering mind is one of the hazards of creative thinking, and even though it is a common trait among serious writers, we sometimes have to suffer through the misconceptions of those around us.

When your spouse or significant other sees you sitting on the front steps, staring into space, it’s only natural for them to assume you are loafing. Most non-writers don’t understand that much of the writing process goes on silently, inside the mind, before your fingers ever touch a pen or a keyboard. It’s a good idea to explain this to those you live with, so you don’t end up feeling guilty every time your brain takes a time out from the world around you.

Though I don’t subscribe to the old adage that says you must set aside a certain time each day to do nothing but write, I do believe that writing something every day is healthy for a writer. This could be an entry in your journal or diary, some personal correspondence, or maybe a poem. After not writing for more than a couple of days, it’s hard to get the literary engine warmed up again.

Vacations are a good example. This is supposed to be a time when you leave your work behind and relax. That works fine if you are leaving behind a regular job, but writing puts you in the category of "artist," and most artists cannot actually leave their art behind when they go on a vacation, especially when the surroundings are creatively stimulating, as are most vacation spots.

A guitarist for example, would probably not leave his or her instrument behind when going to the mountains, and a painter would most likely take a sketchpad along when vacationing at the coast. Writers are no different. That’s why you should always carry a note pad, or some kind of recording device (your smart phone probably has a recording feature) in order to write down or record ideas, scenes, descriptions of characters you meet, and interesting snippets of conversation.

In many cases these random scribblings or recordings are never used. However, they act to keep the juices flowing at a low ebb, and make it easier to begin writing again once the vacation is over. This is not to say that you should never attempt to clear your mind of all things related to your writing career, but leisure, quiet, and soft ocean breezes are simply not conducive to doing this. Deliberate loafing invariably turns into "creative loafing," simply because it leaves the mind free to explore.

I’ve found that the best way to relax without thinking about writing is to involve yourself in activities that demand so much thought and/or physical exertion you have no choice but to give them your full attention. Such activities differ for each person, but might include things like hobbies that require concentration, good films, or competitive sports (except, perhaps, golf). Basically, anything that does not take on a monotonous flavor, like riding a bicycle, walking through the woods, swimming, or listening to familiar music.

Poetry and personal correspondence are also things that can take your mind off work. Though they are forms of writing, I think of them as the dessert portions of my career. Though I’ve written hundreds of poems, I’ve never tried to sell one, nor do I plan to try (I once entered a poetry contest, and the result convinced me that I wasn’t a poet). But writing poetry does allow me a freedom of style and content I do not normally have. The same freedom applies to personal correspondence. Not having to adhere to anyone’s rules provides a welcome relief from my normal routine. It is somewhat like the classical guitarist playing a little folk music at a campfire sing-along—not as taxing as a regular performance, but creatively stimulating and pleasant.

It is important to draw a balance between family, social life, and career. There are dozens of stories about writers whose obsession with work destroyed their most intimate relationships. Because a writer is free to work anytime, many are driven to work all the time, and this is no healthier than incessant loafing. The "workaholic" syndrome is not exclusive to corporate executives; writers, are just as susceptible to the pitfalls of overwork.

However you choose to relax, make sure you find some time every day to do so. Not only will it help clear the cobwebs from your mind, it will help keep you healthy. Too much work, as we all now know, can lead to several forms of stress-related illness and, though it used to be fashionable for writers to die young, early death (at least for me) has gone out of style.

Today's Word: Polymath

Some years ago, during a lengthy and somewhat inebriated conversation with a lovely young bartender, I was asked how I knew so much about so many different things. I must have been inadvertently trying to impress this young lady (booze sometimes has that effect on the connection between my brain and my mouth) because the truth is, I know a little about a lot of stuff, but not a lot about anything. When I realized this faux pas, I quickly regrouped and admitted that, out of financial necessity, I had worked at dozens of different jobs during my life, gleaning a tiny bit of experience and knowledge from each one. She gave me a skeptical smile, then politely asked me to list those jobs. I told her I could not possibly do so off the top of my head, but that I would comb my memory and get back to her. A few days later, I returned to the bar and handed her the list, which was, to the best of my recollection, an honest recounting of my rather pedestrian history from age five on. As a way of introducing today’s word, I’m going to include that list here.

Boy soprano; tap/ballet dancer; magician/escape artist; guitarist; drummer; bass player; keyboardist; rock band member; rock vocalist; commercial jingle writer; songwriter; record producer; rock concert promoter; lawn maintenance contractor (I mowed lawns); owner of a teenage night club; air conditioner installer; warehouse manager; roofer; day laborer; carpenter; dry wall hanger; house painter; printing press operator; graphic artist; print shop manager; hospital printing dept. manager; retail salesclerk; manufacturer's representative; wood fence builder; competition trap and skeet shooter; dishwasher; sous chef; failed rock star; studio musician; luthier (builder of stringed musical instruments); music store owner; musical instrument repair and restoration specialist; dulcimer builder; failed poet; planter and furniture manufacturer; director of maintenance for public housing; freelance journalist; newsletter publisher; magazine editor; competition pool player; billiard supply dealer; pool cue builder; pool tournament director and tour promoter; failed pool hustler; professional gambler; marketing director for a major pool cue manufacturer; video & TV scriptwriter and director; marketing consultant; stringer for dozens of magazines; website designer; e-commerce business owner; Photoshop artist; wood sculptor; novelist.

After that, whenever I came into the bar, the bartender called me “Polly,” a nickname I thought was demeaning until she explained that it was short for “Polymath.” Far from being a derogatory reference to a parrot, the word from which my new nickname was derived actually constituted quite a complement, though I have to admit a severely exaggerated one. So, today’s word is “Polymath,” and for those few out there who might be unaware of its meaning, here is a brief rundown:

From The Macmillan Dictionary: 

“Polymath derives from the Greek ‘polys’ meaning ‘much,’ and from the root of ‘manthanein,’ a verb which refers to the process of learning. Its first recorded use is from the 1620s.

“Polymath is a noun that refers to a person who is well-informed and learned about a wide variety of topics, as opposed to possessing expertise in one specific field of inquiry. The idea of a polymath is expressed by the term ‘Renaissance man’ (or woman), and great thinkers such as Leonardo da Vinci or Galileo were embodiments of this concept, possessing an intelligence that ranged across a diversity of subjects, including literature, philosophy and mathematics, amongst other disciplines.”

So, basically, a polymath is a person who knows a lot about many subjects. Which, unfortunately, excludes me, because, as I said, I know a little (not a lot) about a many subjects. And, at least from a talent and intellectual standpoint, I couldn't qualify to tie Leonardo's shoe laces (even the one whose last name is DiCaprio).

The Story Behind Then Again

The story behind Then Again evolved from my years as a singer-songwriter, my later career as a science and medical journalist, and my love for Native American culture. From my early teens through my late twenties I worked as a guitarist, keyboard player, and vocalist, playing in several rock bands and as a studio musician. I later became a singer/songwriter, and delved into record producing with limited success. The impetus for writing the novel stemmed from imagining what it would be like to live my life over again while retaining all my accumulated wisdom and experience. In contemplating the changes I might make and their possible ramifications, I soon realized that it would be far more complex and perilous than I had originally thought, and I became fascinated with attempting to extrapolate all the pitfalls and problems I would encounter.

Drawing on my research in theoretical mathematics, quantum physics, and Native American spiritual practices, I decided to try and develop a story through which such a scenario might take place. At first, combining these three disciplines seemed like an impossible task, especially since I’d made up my mind early on not to base the novel on a fantasy premise. The most difficult aspect of the writing process was figuring out how to combine hard science with the more esoteric concepts of spirituality. Fortunately, good friend and fellow author, Burt Kempner, who had conducted extensive studies of Native American culture, became my advisor on the project, and I was eventually able to come up with a plausible, though somewhat metaphysical scenario.

I also must give credit to Fritjof Capra and the film Mindwalk, which was based on his excellent book The Turning Point. It was from that film that I derived much of the material I used in Then Again to explain in lay terms the complexities and confounding nature of quantum mechanics and particle physics.   

Written in three parts (Now, Then, and Then Again), the novel centers on three main characters: Rix Vaughn, an aging, drug-ravaged, alcoholic singer/songwriter nearing the end of a less-than-illustrious career; Heyoka Husereau D'Ailleboust, a world renowned particle physicist and Native American spiritual adept; and Aurélie, a brilliant mathematician who serves as Rix’s spiritual and scientific mentor.

Though a bit offbeat and somewhat humorous in tone, the story is a serious one that incorporates a variety of emotional, psychological and sociopolitical topics, as well as an in-depth examination of what is known as the “butterfly effect”—that is, how everything we do in life has consequences far beyond what most of us could imagine.

On Writing - Rewriting

There are few (very few) professional writers who do not rewrite, either on their own or to comply with an editor’s request. In fact, I personally know of only one—the prolific science-fiction author, Isaac Asimov—who insisted that his submissions be published without editorial changes. For the vast majority of professional writers, rewriting is an integral and important part of the writing process, not only to proofread and correct errors, but to assure that what they have written makes the kind of sense they originally intended.

The rewriting process allows you to correct grammar and punctuation, check word meanings, and spot common mistakes like doubled words (the the – said said, etc.) or repeating the same long word several times in close proximity. Unless you are an expert in English composition (and even sometimes if you are) you will probably find that your early drafts do not always convey your thoughts as clearly as you hoped they would.

If you are not educated in the mechanics of writing, don't despair. Many famous writers were not adept at the fundamentals when they first started out. Most beginning writers depend on "how it sounds," but just because something sounds wrong doesn't mean you will always know how to correct it. In these situations you can turn to reference books or to the Internet. Online dictionaries and Thesauruses abound (my favorite can be found at www.dict.org). For other questions, a simple search for, say, “capitalize [word]” will bring up dozens of answers. Just be sure that the source you chose is one of authority, such as a university website or a respected style book like The Chicago Manual of Style. 

Unfortunately, as with fashion, the “rules” of style for various types of writing change over time. A good example of this can be seen in the use of commas. In days past, commas were used much more frequently than they are today. In some cases I see this as an improvement; in others, not so much. When writing non-fiction, adhering to current trends is probably a good idea, whereas in fiction, it’s more a matter of choice. If you read a lot of fiction you will see that punctuation and grammatical style vary widely, even among best-selling authors. 

I never eliminate commas or other punctuation marks simply for the sake of reducing their number. My rule of thumb is: if punctuation of any kind unnecessarily impedes the flow of the prose, I remove it. On the other hand, if the intended meaning of a phrase becomes difficult for the reader to grasp without the punctuation, I leave it in. When punctuation (or the lack of it) makes me wonder what an author meant to say, I often find myself having to reread a passage, and that can become irritating. Creating beautiful prose is an admirable goal; but when you sacrifice clarity to achieve that beauty, the result can sometimes confuse the reader. My goal has always been to make whatever I write as clear and easy to understand as possible, because the last thing I want is to leave my readers scratching their heads.

Some folks scoff when I tell them I often spend many hours rewriting a single paragraph, but it’s true. Finding the perfect word or phrase to precisely convey my thoughts is of paramount importance to me, particularly when I’m writing about complex subjects or emotions my characters are feeling. 

I would estimate that composing the first drafts of sentences, paragraphs, or chapters takes up only about 10% of the time I spend working on a novel. Another 15% is dedicated to research, character studies, and developing timelines (a reference that helps me remember when and where things happened). The bulk of my time—the remaining 75%—is spent correcting and rewriting. Some of this rewriting is done at the suggestion of half a dozen critical readers and editors, but most of it occurs before I allow anyone to see the manuscript.

To some aspiring writers, rewriting may seem like a chore, a burdensome and boring task that only prolongs the already lengthy process of preparing a piece of writing for publication. But most professional writers will tell you it is an absolutely essential part of the creative process, without which your chances of success will be reduced to near zero.

Art, Craft, and Critics

“Critics spend their occupational hours scrubbing the polish off that which causes the spine to tingle, while spending their leisure time frantically polishing that which is already yellowed by too many applications of cheap wax.” - Michael (Crazy Mike) Scrivner

During a recent debate over a bit of poetry, a dear friend and professional poet made a statement about the difference between craft and art, which I will paraphrase here:

This is the kind of work I classify as folk-type, artless, sincere...of heart not art. It doesn’t have breathtaking imagery, metaphor that opens new doors of perception, language that sings in harmony...none of the elements that characterize original poetry, poetry of power. It’s like the difference between craft and art. I notice immediately if the craftsperson doesn’t have corners neat, seams straight, edges smooth, colors harmonious, etc. With art (regardless of genre) I react primarily to the emotional impact of the piece, and only secondarily to the craft elements. If the artist has sent me a powerful message, and I realize she/he has broken (or bent) the rules of craft, I am even more impressed with her/his artistry. I use the same criteria in looking at writing: if it informs me efficiently, it is evidence of good craft; if it moves me in a unique way, it is art.

My response to these opinions was as follows:

I find it a little elitist to place any sincere, creative effort in a class lower than art, or at least to insinuate that it has less overall value. Being a craftsman myself (in wood, words and other media), I have always been angered by those who criticize anyone’s effort at artistic expression, whether that expression be accomplished with a hammer, a brush, a pencil, a loom, or plant dye on rock faces. Perhaps the best spoof of critical hypocrisy can be found in the movie LA Story, when Steve Martin is describing the emotional impact of a large painting, pointing out all the artistic nuances the artist has incorporated. When the camera finally turns to the picture, it is essentially blank. That satirical skit depicts the way I think of art critics in general, no matter what genre they are criticizing. They become so enamored with their own scholarship and purported depth of knowledge, they cannot help but fill up page after page with interpretations based on their own opinions rather than any kind of prima-facie evidence or factual knowledge.

As for craft being a mode of informing the observer efficiently, and only art being able to move one in a unique way, I also disagree. In fact, it really depends upon the observer or user (Art is in the eye of the beholder). I have been moved in unique ways many times by observing the intricate perfection of the woodwork in a classical guitar, the curve of a piece of handmade furniture, or the perfectly efficient design of a tool, all of which would only be considered examples of fine craftsmanship. On the other hand, I would not hang the Mona Lisa in my house on a bet, nor would I pay more than flea-market prices for a Faberge Egg.

The critics’ answer to this, of course, is that I have not experienced enough, or studied enough, or taken enough art appreciation classes to understand and appreciate fine art. Pardon me, but that’s a load of horseshit. It is only those whose confidence in their own opinions is so weak, who must justify them with long lists of academic accomplishments and/or claimed expertise. To me, critics serve a purpose only if one learns their likes and dislikes and makes a value judgment based on comparing those likes and dislikes to their own. When it comes to being the standard-bearers of true artistic value, they are about as useless as male nipples.

Another question arises in the debate over what is and what is not art: is there art in nature? After all, we scientific types tend to think of nature and evolution as being a set of scientific happenstances; the result of fundamental laws and chance at work. In which case, Mother Nature would be seen as a craftsperson. On the other hand, some of the most beautiful painting, writing, sculpture, etc., comes from trying to faithfully copy or depict the beauty found in nature. And if there is no art in the original, there is little hope of art magically appearing in a copy. In that case, only a few of the abstractionists could be considered real artists.

So what is art and what is craft? Is there some magical artistic line a craftsperson may eventually cross, even though they have never attempted to do anything but perfect their craft? Or is that territory forbidden to those who refuse to study and learn the opinions of critics and the history of true art. Is there ‘accidental’ art? Can a craftsperson occasionally cross over that line without knowing it, simply by chance? Perhaps a backwoods mechanic with a third-grade education and a blowtorch could unknowingly create a piece of metal sculpture that would rival in its ability to move the soul the works of Michelangelo or Van Gogh or DaVinci. I guess that would depend on the soul, but would it ever be recognized as anything more than craftsmanship or ‘folk art?’ All the while ‘real’ artists are shooting paint-filled balloons with guns, swinging on ropes to spread random colors on huge canvases, or painting depictions of Campbell’s Soup cans.