Behind Heinlein's Lines
Wednesday, December 17. 2008
For some time, I've kept Robert A. Heinlein's "Rules of writing" handy in a text file on my desktop. They are:
- You must write.
- You must finish what you write.
- You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
- You must put the work on the market.
- You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.
In Internet writing groups, there's been discussion floating around for years as to the validity and applicability of these rules. Certainly #1, #2, and #4 are valid. The controversial ones are #3 and #5.
What did the Master mean by "rewriting"? Not what I generally mean by the term, I rather think. I rewrite as a component of self-editing, as a way to improve my output based on my own re-reading or in response to Critters' comments. I believe RAH meant that one should not change the essence of what one wants to say in a piece, unless so directed in order to get published; even then, presumably, one would do so only if no principles were compromised. Personally, I'd be elated if an editor ordered me to do anything other than to "think of us again."
The final rule seems to direct aspiring authors to keep trying different editors and markets until a story is finally accepted by someone. The objection to this among purists is that one should not sell to non-professional markets anything that a professional market would not accept, because once one becomes "rich and famous" sometime later, the non-professional sales may become embarrassing. There are many things amiss with that attitude, which I trust are readily apparent. Suffice to say that I agree in principle with rule #5, even though I have yet to sell a short and I have several of them not in active consideration just now.
In between the cracks of writing my novel(s), I'll make an effort to be more faithful to rule #5. As to the rest, Mr. Heinlein, I'm doing my best.
For some time, I've kept Robert A. Heinlein's "Rules of writing" handy in a text file on my desktop. They are:
What did the Master mean by "rewriting"? Not what I generally mean by the term, I rather think. I rewrite as a component of self-editing, as a way to improve my output based on my own re-reading or in response to Critters' comments. I believe RAH meant that one should not change the essence of what one wants to say in a piece, unless so directed in order to get published; even then, presumably, one would do so only if no principles were compromised. Personally, I'd be elated if an editor ordered me to do anything other than to "think of us again."
The final rule seems to direct aspiring authors to keep trying different editors and markets until a story is finally accepted by someone. The objection to this among purists is that one should not sell to non-professional markets anything that a professional market would not accept, because once one becomes "rich and famous" sometime later, the non-professional sales may become embarrassing. There are many things amiss with that attitude, which I trust are readily apparent. Suffice to say that I agree in principle with rule #5, even though I have yet to sell a short and I have several of them not in active consideration just now.
In between the cracks of writing my novel(s), I'll make an effort to be more faithful to rule #5. As to the rest, Mr. Heinlein, I'm doing my best.
- You must write.
- You must finish what you write.
- You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
- You must put the work on the market.
- You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.
What did the Master mean by "rewriting"? Not what I generally mean by the term, I rather think. I rewrite as a component of self-editing, as a way to improve my output based on my own re-reading or in response to Critters' comments. I believe RAH meant that one should not change the essence of what one wants to say in a piece, unless so directed in order to get published; even then, presumably, one would do so only if no principles were compromised. Personally, I'd be elated if an editor ordered me to do anything other than to "think of us again."
The final rule seems to direct aspiring authors to keep trying different editors and markets until a story is finally accepted by someone. The objection to this among purists is that one should not sell to non-professional markets anything that a professional market would not accept, because once one becomes "rich and famous" sometime later, the non-professional sales may become embarrassing. There are many things amiss with that attitude, which I trust are readily apparent. Suffice to say that I agree in principle with rule #5, even though I have yet to sell a short and I have several of them not in active consideration just now.
In between the cracks of writing my novel(s), I'll make an effort to be more faithful to rule #5. As to the rest, Mr. Heinlein, I'm doing my best.
And Be Creative...Now!
Tuesday, December 16. 2008
I'm entirely too busy in my daily life. There are constant demands on my time, and most of them are not mindless tasks; they're operations that require some mental commitment to undertake.
How can one find the time to write creatively in such an environment?
I've blogged before about how I find I often get good ideas in the shower, or when engaged in some other activity where the process involves decoupling the gray matter from reality to some extent. Clearly, as I've said before, an idle mind is best for creativity. When those idle moments are few and far between, how best to make good use of them? In other words, is there a way to be efficiently creative?
I've long been of the belief that one must wait for ideas to happen. Creativity occurs spontaneously, and not on command. The muse cannot be compelled, but must be obeyed. That attitude cannot stand in modern life, if I ever hope to reach what I consider to be my full potential.
I promised some weeks ago to discuss what NaNoWriMo is really about, beyond reaching a concrete goal of 50,000 words. There are several potential payoffs from going through the November exercise, and here is one: NaNo shows that the muse can be compelled. Sometimes.
One must write on a regular basis, regardless of any pre-existing inspiration, in order to be able to "win" NaNoWriMo. At local NaNo meetings, there are regular "write-offs," where the goal is to write more words than anyone else within a given brief period of time (say, thirty minutes). The unstated hope in all this is that the very act of typing will open the connection to one's creative soul and bring forth something interesting. The suprising result is that, often, this ploy does work.
So I'll continue to try to apply this NaNoWriMo principle to my writing, even outside the bounds of November. Yes, much of what I'll write in this manner will have to be thrown out. But it is better to be able to keep 5% of something than all of nothing. And it will represent creative progress, which is what I so desperately need at this point.
I'm entirely too busy in my daily life. There are constant demands on my time, and most of them are not mindless tasks; they're operations that require some mental commitment to undertake.
How can one find the time to write creatively in such an environment?
I've blogged before about how I find I often get good ideas in the shower, or when engaged in some other activity where the process involves decoupling the gray matter from reality to some extent. Clearly, as I've said before, an idle mind is best for creativity. When those idle moments are few and far between, how best to make good use of them? In other words, is there a way to be efficiently creative?
I've long been of the belief that one must wait for ideas to happen. Creativity occurs spontaneously, and not on command. The muse cannot be compelled, but must be obeyed. That attitude cannot stand in modern life, if I ever hope to reach what I consider to be my full potential.
I promised some weeks ago to discuss what NaNoWriMo is really about, beyond reaching a concrete goal of 50,000 words. There are several potential payoffs from going through the November exercise, and here is one: NaNo shows that the muse can be compelled. Sometimes.
One must write on a regular basis, regardless of any pre-existing inspiration, in order to be able to "win" NaNoWriMo. At local NaNo meetings, there are regular "write-offs," where the goal is to write more words than anyone else within a given brief period of time (say, thirty minutes). The unstated hope in all this is that the very act of typing will open the connection to one's creative soul and bring forth something interesting. The suprising result is that, often, this ploy does work.
So I'll continue to try to apply this NaNoWriMo principle to my writing, even outside the bounds of November. Yes, much of what I'll write in this manner will have to be thrown out. But it is better to be able to keep 5% of something than all of nothing. And it will represent creative progress, which is what I so desperately need at this point.
How can one find the time to write creatively in such an environment?
I've blogged before about how I find I often get good ideas in the shower, or when engaged in some other activity where the process involves decoupling the gray matter from reality to some extent. Clearly, as I've said before, an idle mind is best for creativity. When those idle moments are few and far between, how best to make good use of them? In other words, is there a way to be efficiently creative?
I've long been of the belief that one must wait for ideas to happen. Creativity occurs spontaneously, and not on command. The muse cannot be compelled, but must be obeyed. That attitude cannot stand in modern life, if I ever hope to reach what I consider to be my full potential.
I promised some weeks ago to discuss what NaNoWriMo is really about, beyond reaching a concrete goal of 50,000 words. There are several potential payoffs from going through the November exercise, and here is one: NaNo shows that the muse can be compelled. Sometimes.
One must write on a regular basis, regardless of any pre-existing inspiration, in order to be able to "win" NaNoWriMo. At local NaNo meetings, there are regular "write-offs," where the goal is to write more words than anyone else within a given brief period of time (say, thirty minutes). The unstated hope in all this is that the very act of typing will open the connection to one's creative soul and bring forth something interesting. The suprising result is that, often, this ploy does work.
So I'll continue to try to apply this NaNoWriMo principle to my writing, even outside the bounds of November. Yes, much of what I'll write in this manner will have to be thrown out. But it is better to be able to keep 5% of something than all of nothing. And it will represent creative progress, which is what I so desperately need at this point.
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