So You Want to Be a Writer?

"So you want to be a writer kid?  Well, whoop-de-do.

I have been around the block before with blockheads just like you.

Each and every one a disappointment.

Pain for which there ain't no ointment.

So much for excuses

Though a kid of books is

Asking me to jump into the fray.

My answer is two words: okay"

Congratulations!  This is a momentous occasion: let me be the first to welcome you to the world of creative license, imaginary worlds, and writer's block--and therein lies the topic for this blog post.  So you want to be a writer: now what?  I faced this dilemma at a young age: in my childhood, I somewhat deludedly pictured myself a future veterinarian, until in-depth coverage of animal surgery turned me off (thanks Animal Planet); I quickly chose writing as a suitable replacement and was once again off to the races--yes!  I would be the greatest writer of all time!  No: in every and all time, to the end of time, in the universe!  Yes, that title would do.

I soon realized the job was not as easy as it first appeared: writing was not that image of a woman lounging on the front deck of her beach house with a computer on her lap and the palm fronds swooning overhead that I had always imagined.  No, it was a labor-intensive mental throw down of adjectives, nouns, and verbs all jockeying for position on the page, and what's worse was I didn't even know what my topic was [NOTE: always start with topic].  This didn't soothe the brawl as now I was attacked on all sides by a myriad of ideas, all of which seemed equally suitable.  What I have learned since is that finding a reasonably entertaining plot line (especially when only 10 years old) is relatively simple: the challenge comes with sticking by your original plan.  You see, as soon as I knew the topic, I had to map out the story--that was the fun part--but by the time I mapped out the conclusion, my idea lost its intrigue: who wants to write a story they already know the ending to?  So I tried mapping out all but the conclusion, and found I didn't understand why I had forced my characters into such absurd situations as make an interesting story.  With no knowledge of the end, I had no comprehension of the characters' motives.

Now I was faced with a new dilemma: I had an assortment of plots, none of which I was interested in pursuing to the end (and if I don't care how it ends, why should my reader?).  In the past few years, I've talked to various persons in the writing and publishing industry and gotten essentially the same advice: write about what you love and you will not lose interest.  Well, I love string cheese, but I wouldn't write a blog about it, let alone a novel.  More frustrating was that each new person I talked to told me the exact same thing, some even (somewhat audaciously, I would argue) tacking an "it's not so hard" on the end.  Well, crap, I must be doing it wrong.  Then an editor told me to write about what caught my eye in the moment.  Some of you will read that as a variation on "what I love," but it took on an entirely different meaning for me: no longer did I have to capture my lifelong passions on a page, nor figure out what they even were; I simply had to write about pop culture tv shows, my eclectic music tastes, my experimentation with typography--my little daily fascinations.  I wasn't trying to write what the reader wanted to hear any more, rather I was writing what I wanted to tell them: my quirky stories, my numerous faults, and my equally important virtues.  I could write about me.

I don't know how many of you this will inspire, if any, but that's okay because I inspired myself writing it.  Maybe I will write a blog about string cheese.