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Monday, January 31, 2011
Fee Fi Fo Fear - or - Popular, I Know About Pop-U-lar
I wrote to my editor and asked her opinion. I've been losing momentum with my writing. Her response was exactly what I needed to hear. It's not that it's new information, but rather that it was so concisely and succinctly put (imagine that from an editor, lol). Brilliant as always:
"I don't know that you're over-thinking your writing as much as worrying too much about others--what they think, how you measure up to them, if they'll accept your stories. Perhaps you're writing for others rather than yourself, and that makes you lose interest--you start out with an idea that warps into something you think others will like, rather than following the idea that initially appealed to you; you start comparing your writing to the writing of others and worrying whether or not it's "good enough." And so you lose interest. I think you need to write for yourself--write what pleases you, in your own language, not worrying about anyone else but whether it pleases you--if you're enjoying the process, if *you* like the story and the characters and how things unfold. My absolute favorite author quote is from Dennis L McKiernan in a 1996 interview: "The main thing is, did you enjoy the trip?" That's all that matters--whether you're enjoying the process of writing it. That's when it will translate into something worth publishing."
I'm trapped in the vestiages of high-school judgement.
Specifically for me: publishers don't want to publish books with gay characters.
Not entirely true, but not entirely false either.
I recently was on a trip with some famous people and their entourages.
(I know, I never thought I'd ever type that sentence either)
It was "cool kids vs. the not cool kids." The drama played out so cartoonishly that a couple of us even said outloud "This feels like High School." Even if I was on the cool kids side this time (or at least neutral), the whole thing made me squirm. Cool. Not cool. I felt so uncomfortable. I didn't like being part of the Cool Kids. I felt dirty. Life was trying to tell me something.
And then I heard about someone who got uncerimoniously let go from their job recently for dubious conduct... a fact about them was then revealed... how they were literally classifying the people they worked with in those two categories -- cool kids, not cool kids. This is a grown man in his 30's by the way. Of course this behavior exists outside High School, but people are usually smart enough to thinly disguise it in the work environment. But I might have missed the message had it been less obvious in the above two situations.
Life is finding very creative ways to force me to revisit The High School experience. It was a horrible time of duck and cover, blend and hide, succeed and quietly shine. Funny thing about a sunny kid who loves to sing... it's hard for him to hide for long.
In my 40's, people still "good naturedly" make fun of me for liking theatre and musicals, for the decorting style I am drawn to, because I have a sunny personality, because I like cats, because I love sparkly things and bright colors-- all these things are lumped into being gay, even though I know so many other gay people who don't like these things. It's as if I came into this life to embody "not cool." Oh yeah, and chubby too.
For so long, I've been trying to write what I think is publishable. I try to write what the publishers will be receptive to. Down-playing love and romance and fantasy in an attempt to reach for that brass ring of literary merrit. I try to disguise plots and themes that center around "love" because that makes me a Romance Novelist.
In the Literary field, Romance Novels are the most successful and fastest selling fiction. And the most universally sneered at by "serious" writers. But I actually like to see a lot more novels about gay romance and love... instead of just porn and self-help. To me, that would be a step in a positive direction for the gay self-image. That would of course make me a gay Romance Novelist... not even as cool as the regular Romance Novelists. I've got uncool down to an artform, it seems.
Of course I'm using "cool/uncool" as an exaggeration to make my point, that I'm still haunted by the outdated ideas of myself. After I read my editor's comments, I realized I was trying to write something publishable, something for non gay, non-sci-fi, non-romantic people. What the hell is that? If I tried that, it would end up soulless; there's nothing left to write about after that. Unless I'm writing for other people.
I'm both embarrassed and annoyed that I am still crippled by this in my 40's.
That high school can rear it's ugly, coiffed dysfunctional head so long after the fact and still control my choices. And it's my realtionship with my disapproving dad all over again -- "They disappoint, they disappear, they die, but they don't." (yeah, I'm quoting Sondheim now). These things stay with us, beneathe the surface, motivating our choices and fears so deeply. I've wasted so much time.
At this point, it's about writing, not publishing.
I'm going to write what I love again.
I'm not only going to embrace the uncool, I'm going to celebrate it.
Screw popular. I'd rather enjoy the trip.
~Shephard :)
Labels: Of Mice and Mondays
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