This morning I had another brief but momentous discussion, over a social network, about the menace to our civilization, and more importantly to our livelihood as writers, that are themed calls aimed at specific groups – usually based on gender, ethnicity, age bracket or other such things.
You know, SJWs rampaging in the streets, publishers putting political correctness before quality, the usual load of rubbish. And like in that old Flashman book, “I gave them a fine piece of my mind, but at that point they had already thrown me out on the sidewalk.” So I decided to write my thoughts here, just so that I can inflict them on you.
I have been in the habit of bribing myself to write – I set targets and little awards for reaching them. Finish this story, and you’ll get a serving of ice cream, or a Mars bar. Which, in a village where a Mars bar goes for two bucks, is no small thing, you will agree.
Right now I am writing a short story for an anthology submission, and while I have a good idea of where the story needs to go, and through which specific way-points it’s got to go to get there, I am having a hard time finding the proper voice and tone for it. I really like the theme (a cross-over of history, myth and weird fiction) and I really want to make it into the finished book, but I’ve been wasting a lot of time. So I was looking for a little bribe for finishing the job.
The problem, my brother always tells me, is that in this place we live, all days are absolutely equal. There’s nothing to do, no one to talk to, not even a park bench in the shade where you can go and sit, have a breath of fresh air and maybe read a book. It’s like being in the damn Devil’s Island. But with vineyards.
Which means I spent most of the day doing research for my next story, and trying to get the selfsame story started… which I did. Three times. None of those beginnings was any good, but I have the chain of events quite clear in my mind, and now I’m going to put down an outline. Then I’ll sleep over it, and tomorrow I will start and hopefully finish the first draft, and have the finished work by the end of the month, barring accidents. This is a fun project, and I really hope to be able to place the story in the market I have in my sights.
Then August will be here, and we’ll see what that brings. A huge project I was supposed to work on in August shifted to September, so I might be able to finally nail shut the boxes of a couple of stories I have here idling. And maybe start a new pet project of mine – this time, a collaboration. We’ll see.
I decided to follow my brother’s suggestion. It’s usually a bad sign when my brother comes up with some suggestion about my mood or my everyday going – because it means that whatever is going bad is showing. But he had a suggestion, and I followed it.
I’ve been having a hard time writing of late – mostly because after six months of continual writing, revising, re-writing and re-revising for my Client from Hell, and after six months of being spared no disparaging comment about my work, my brain is completely clogged. I have ideas, I have open calls with deadlines ticking like time-bombs, but I find it extremely hard to write – and so, instead of hammering out 1000 words per hour like I used to do, now I have a hard time putting together 500 words in one afternoon. This is not good.
Perceptions are weird. Various clues seem to point to the fact that, in the local business, I am considered a humorless, almost Vulcan-style, reptilian-like emotionless sort of writer. Or something like that. Which is, as I said, weird.
Last night I was discussing a forthcoming project and I was told repeatedly
Yes, but it will need some pathos. You need to put some in.
Considering we were discussing a noirish, hard-boiled story, it is obvious that a certain amount of emotional involvement for the reader will have to be in but, as I tried to explain, it’s not like, I sit at the PC and go
Now I’ll do two heavily pathos-laden pages!
Pathos, the appeal to the reader’s emotions, is something that must emerge from the story, given the genre, the style, the themes. And what the heck, I’m a writer, so that’s what I do.
But again, one year ago, an editor commissioned me a story and then repeatedly reminded me to
Be ironic! The story’s got to have irony!
Which was a given, considering the theme of the project. But there you have it – apparently I am perceived as some sort of word-churning machine, with no emotion, with only word-counts.
But then, just yesterday, an Italian Youtuber did a review of that anthology, and she singled out my story to say “it’s very atmospheric”. And she did not complain for any lack of irony. So there.
After all, it’s writing – the story will feature the required emotions and ideas, or simply I will not be able to write it. As the man said, that’s what I do.
And yes, that’s a quote from Supertramp’s Breakfast in America – but I’m not going to talk about that (great record, incidentally, part of my growing up etc.). It’s lunchtime, not breakfast time, and as I’m skipping lunch, I’ve caught a small bit of silly fluff on the socials that made me feel like writing a letter to the director. As we old people do.
A local influencer posted on Facebook the reason he dislikes ebooks
how do I get an autograph from the author? Do I ask the guy to scrawl his name with a sharpie on my e-reader?
Having set straight (hopefully) the first 150 pages of the second draft of my Ghostwriting Job from Hell in two days, I have spent yesterday afternoon and this morning writing a learned article about the Tomb of Nefertari, the beautiful (and resourceful) wife of King Ramses II. One of the perks of working as a freelance is the fact that often variety allows us to forget about the chores and enjoy the truly entertaining. That’s the nice part – doing something interesting and fun, and get paid for it.
The Nefertari piece is one of three that I pitched to an Italian magazine – the first (already written and accepted) was about the canals of Mars, and the next one will be about surrealist fashion in the ’30s and movie costumes. Spot the common thread connecting the three pieces, and you’ll get a prize. No, not really. But anyway… if you’ve got an idea, just write it in the comments.
Karavansara 