*******
I'm lucky. On the way home from the Glen Lake Fall Conference, I get to debrief and decompress with Gloria since we ride together. We talked over the exercise we did on Saturday night--everyone had a sheet of paper on his/her back and had to go around and write on everyone else's piece of paper. Write a word (or a few words) about that person and/or that person's writing. For someone like me, who analyzes every word, expression, tone of voice, this was an intense exercise. And one that I will probably continue to over-analyze. What did someone mean when he or she wrote voluminous? I write a lot? I'm bigger than I look? We talked about words having different meanings, connotations and denotations.
This led (and I'm sure it was in a fairly round-about way because that is how conversations usually go) to a discussion about what makes a conference (or most things, for that matter) a success or a failure. We came to an agreement that often it was our expectations that made the difference. If one comes expecting to write volumes (is that what voluminous means?) and doesn't, then often the conference is felt to be a failure--even if there were absolutely wonderful discussions and insights into the writing and writing process. If our expectations are met--we had great shopping trips or we finished the story we were working on (your expectations depend on who you are)--then we go back home to the real world feeling fulfilled and successful.
So how often do we miss gold just because we are looking for rubies? And does that mean we should come with no expectations at all? Surely there has to be some sort of balance, an openness to all the wonder of the moment, and yet a focus, a direction to start out at least.
7 comments:
Sarah;
Sounds like I missed a good weekend. Elation or disapointment depends on if we arrive with a goal and successfully meet that goal. Maybe it's writing so many words or getting past, with help from our peers, a sticky spot in our writing.
I really enjoy the fall conferences, even though I don't get there as often as I'd like. The weather is usually gorgeous and the turning leaves, being away, and a chance to explore new places all contribute to my success. I've found more than one story or thoughts for a paragraph or two standing in the Platt River trying to catch a fish.
Larry,
It was a great conference. But then, I finished the rewrite of Black Dragon Part I. Of course, I also talked with other writers, drank good wine, breathed in the fall air that was sweeping over Glen Lake, and learned a little more about myself. All gifts. But completing that goal I made for myself is what made me come away feeling like the conference was a success.
So it got me thinking about how I can make that phenomenon work for me when my writing isn't going. When I'm stuck. In our society, lowering your standards is seen as a bad thing. But maybe that is what I need to do with my writing (and myself) in order to get that creativity going again.
All this makes me wonder if goals and expectations are the same thing? And then there is scheduling. I don't have time to figure that into the mix, but I do wonder how a scheduled writing time fits into expectations and goals and encountering--no, being open to--the unexpected gifts.
For me, having a set goal of so many words per session would stifle my writing. The goal might override the quality of the work. I'd rather have one good sentence or paragraph than pages of words.
Interesting thoughts on goals or expectations. When I sit down to write, I have expectations about the subject, even if the goal isn't to finish the piece in one setting. It's the getting going sometimes that troubles me. If you figure out a way to help writers get over that, you'll be a rich woman.
I've seen your dedication to your writing. I don't have that kind of dicipline. I get side tracked easily. Even at home, I can be on my way to do some small project, and get distracted to do something else. Eventually, I do get back to the original job at hand, but it can be self-defeating. Same thing happens in my writing. It's more fun and easier to write on the blog than work on a piece. It's the only place I get to talk with other writers.
I do like having a set schedule for writing time, even if it isn'y always as productive as I'd like.
In my first draft of Everybody Dreams I would try to write three pages a day. That got it done.
Billy Collins uses the metaphor of cooking to explain the separate tasks of writing. He says he wants to come into the kitchen and create a big mess and not have to put every knife away after he's used it. Later, he'll send in someone to clean it all up. But he sees those tasks - creating and editing - as very separate skills and doesn't want one to get in the way of the other.
I've talked with many other writers about how they can't do it that way - how they need to get it as perfectly as possible in the first draft. Hemingway (who I didn't talk with) wrote about trying to get out one good sentence while writing in a Parisian cafe. I think it might have been the absinthe that was making the one good sentence difficult, but, hey...
Mike
Well, I'd really like to just be able to send someone in to clean up the mess in the kitchen, but that usually doesn't happen. I'm the one who gets to clean up the mess--so that makes a difference in how big of a mess I'm willing to make.
Works the same way for writing. When I'm writing rough draft, I'm willing to go on without it being perfect. However, for my own sanity, it is worth spending the time keeping the mess down to where I can at least navigate through it. Otherwise it starts to interfere with my writing and gets to be overwhelming later.
And, to extend the metaphor, you do have to show up in the kitchen in order for the cooking to get done. Just looking through cookbooks and talking about it doesn't work. (Wish it did!)
Regarding your question of what makes a great conference, I find that my physical environment makes such a huge difference. If my surroundings are peaceful and spacious with a good view, I can write well. If I feel cramped or the surroundings are icky, I feel agitated and find it more difficult to write. And actually, I really liked it at the summer Glen Lake retreat this past year because some of the days had really lousy weather, which made me want to cocoon in and write. I can't wait for winter!
Best, Kimm
There was a wonderful line in your blog, Sarah, that summed up the dilemma: we miss the gold just because we're looking for rubies.
I have a small bag of pea sized rocks that look like colored gravel, found on a long-ago geology field trip. They are raw garnets and rubies and emeralds, but I had to be taught how to see them. I think your blog reminded me of a lesson in looking that I had forgotten.
Being objective; having some idea of what to look for; and allowing yourself to be surprised are part of it. I've avoided retreats for a while and I wonder if I've lost my expectations for finding good results. Perhaps I need to look more carefully. And try again.
Thanks for a thought provoking post.
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