What to Wear/What to WRITE?

 

This morning, just awakened by my orange furry feline, I lay in bed and tried to think of what to wear for the day. I went over the things I have set to do and the current weather requirements. I thought of the items hanging in my closet.

I drew a complete blank.

The orange feline continued to insist. It was time to get out of bed and start a day full of this and that, which to her means mostly entertaining her.

And then I knew. I conjured the perfect attire for this day’s planned tasks. I was out of the warm bed without hesitation, raring to go.

 

A writing analogy came to me right then.

I thought about how similar it is to the days of writing first drafts. Some days I know exactly what the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next chapter is about. Specific words swirl in my head, ready to come out and dance.

Other days, I know what I have to do but no idea how to do it. It’s a white page, a blank mind, and getting going feels like time in slow motion.

 

But either way, I get dressed and get to writing. One way or another.

 

Long ago, a close relative came to say goodbye before we embarked on a trip back home.

I never remember jokes, but he left us with one so lame that it managed to stick to the crevices of my mind.

Mississippi asked Missouri, “What will Delaware?”

Said Miss Ouri to Miss Issippi, “Idaho, Alaska!”

I didn’t know it would be the last time I will see this relative.

 

Wherever you are, seize the day you were given. Throw some clothes on and get to it.

THE MOST IMPORTANT “W”

 

Of all the “W”s of a story, (Who/Where/What/When/Why) there’s another WHY that may be the most important. Another blogger, Jennie Nash, addressed it succinctly here.

 

It’s the why you must tell this story.

 

I see this more and more with critique exchanges, of which I have done too many to count, and maybe most of all for picture book manuscripts. I’ve read nicely constructed stories based on tried and true formulas that are spelled out in writing craft books and repeated in writerly conventions or blogs. “This is how you should do it,” is their essential message, which the writer then followed to a T.

 

Many use so-called mentor texts. Every bit of how-to advice is incorporated.

 

What’s missing, sorely utterly absent, is the passion for the story.

 

These painted by the numbers creations remind me of birds without wings. Nice colors, pleasant faces, point-on beaks.

But they don’t fly.

It’s far easier to comb the feathers of inspired stories that, even in an un-polished state, already soar.

I’ve seen feedback that try to blow air beneath these flightless stories by suggesting a stronger action, more tension, tighter phrasing, etc. What the person giving feedback is not saying (because we try to be polite and kind) is that the passion is missing.

 

If you ask: “Why did you write this story?” A likely answer is a version of “I read publishers/agents are looking for such.” Or, “my kids liked that other story so I used it as a mentor text.”

Better: “Why were you burning to write this story?”

 

Putting it this way, I find that with wingless stories there’s rarely an answer.

 

For myself,  I start with that WHY. Why must I write it?

Then it’s a GO.