It can be a calling, but that doesn't stop it being work.
The importance of knuckling down
WRITING:
Good afternoon, and welcome to 2024. Going well for you so far? Splendid, I’m delighted for you. And me? Well, thank you for asking. I’ve hit a wall.
Bound to happen, of course. The new project I started last year, which was spewing out of me, has come to a stuttering stop, just about at the place where the material I had planned out in my head finished and where I was going to start improvising. WHO SAW THAT COMING??
It did not, sadly, yield as much material as I had hoped. I had more or less decided it was likely to be another novella in the same vein as Playtime’s Over, which was convenient, as that was where I was going to look first to get it published. But it didn’t even make it that far, first time out. I still think there’s something there, but I need to dig around a bit.
So here I am with six WiPs and no gut feeling as to which is the project most likely to give me what I’m after at the moment. Meanwhile, my head is playing “Ah, have you thought about doing a book where…” games with me over and over.
Do you get this? The constant searching for the next thing? The distraction of yet another shiny new bauble to play with? When what I need to do, of course, is to knuckle down and finish one of these bastards. And that’s the bit they don’t show you in the romantic vision of the creative; the bit where it becomes work. The bit where the fancy ideas are no use to you and the getting-down-to-it is what you need. For, like all things, it is work. You could play around forever, flitting from thing to thing, leaving unfinished works of genius in your wake, but nobody wants to read quarter of a novel. Certainly, nobody will want to buy it.
This is, of course, one of the ways A.I. developers try to lure you in. If you’re an ideas man, the sort of person who doesn’t want to write a novel, just wants to have written a novel. Cut out all that tiresome work bit and jump straight from idea to finished product. This is why I can’t play the piano - I always wanted to be able to play it, but I never could be bothered to learn how.
But you can’t cut corners, not if you want something that truly connects with people, truly has value. That takes sweat and tears. No matter how fabulous that first idea is, it’s not going to be any thing until you sit down and grind it out. The good news is, that’s also where the pride lies. Knowing that you didn’t just have a moment of inspiration, but you took that spark, blew on it, and built a fire.
It is, I’m glad to say, not how I roll these days. Not with writing, anyway. When I reach the elusive end of that first draft, whichever project it is, they will be my words, for better or worse. Dragged kicking and screaming from my reluctant mind like a recalcitrant child. So there.
There is, I will add, a certain rumbling around something I have finished a first draft of. I can say no more at the moment, but stick around, you never know…
Lastly, while I’m here, a reminder that my fifth Ray Adams book, Eschatonus, is on offer at the moment - just 99p to download on your kindle or e-reader. An ecology student on the run from a special forces unit teams up with the crew of a crashed spaceship to save the lives of thousands. “A gripping eco sci-fi tale that thunders along” according to Goodreads.
Click here to order. Offer expires 11pm, Sunday 14th.
I have enjoyed:
The Cartoon Life and Loves of a Stupid Man by Marc Joan - He’s a Deixis Press stablemate and a friend, but he’s also one of the finest authors I’ve met. Marc Joan’s latest will feel achingly familiar to anyone who’s ever repeatedly shot themselves in the foot because they just can’t stop making terrible decisions, and it’s written so authentically and convincingly, I started to wonder if Marc secretly had another life as a Swiss seller of comic books. Read it, it’s gorgeous. Full review here.
The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa - I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of books that have actually made me shed tears. TH&TP didn’t quite join the list, but bloody hell it was close. A story about respect turning into love, and the power of human connection. The most elegant of prose in a book that could surely melt the most stubborn of hearts. Full review here.
Songs My Brothers Taught Me - I was a big fan of Chloé Zhao’s MCU entry The Eternals; there was something in her brightly coloured explode-y comic book vision that spoke of a director that knew what she was doing with stories of the human heart. She had, of course, by that time already made her Academy-award -winning movie Nomadland, but before either of those came this quietly, hauntingly beautiful movie, about life on a Native American reservation, as seen through the eyes of a brother and sister coming to terms with the death of their father. It’s insane that this was her debut feature yet it explains easily how, just six years later, she’s landing huge jobs like The Eternals. She’s truly a gifted storyteller.
John Reddy and Jashaun St. John in Songs My Brothers Taught Me Disenchantment - One of those shows I kinda forget that I really like when I’m not watching it. Working my way through s5 now, and thinking I might well start from the beginning again when I’m done.
Greyskin (Deixis Press) and Playtime’s Over (Propolis) are both available direct from their respective publishers, as well as from all the usual places, online and off. You can also support my work by buying Ray Adams’ self-published books, or by simply buying me a coffee.