Still with the process questions, starting with “What in the writing process TERRIFIES you (gives you bouts of anxiety)…and how do you push through it? For example, a blank page is both terrifying and exciting at the same time…”
I think I spent ten minutes staring at that question, trying to formulate an answer more coherent than “What?” Because I have a hard time imagining writing being terrifying. Climbing cliffs is terrifying; hearing the phone ring and having the first words be “Your mother had a stroke last night and is in the hospital” is terrifying; spinning out on an icy freeway overpass when I didn’t know whether I was going to go over the side onto the lower freeway or slam into the cement median is terrifying.
Writing? Does not compare in the slightest. Because those other things have serious real-life possible consequences ranging from emotional trauma to serious injury or death. The only consequence of screwing up a scene in my writing is that I’ll have to rewrite the scene. Or possibly the story won’t sell. Absolute worst case is that the story does sell and the editor doesn’t point out that the scene needs to be redone and the thing will be published and I’ll be embarrassed in public. But it isn’t like I’m a surgeon; babies won’t die if I mess up a scene, a story, or even an entire novel.
(Um. Just so you know: I didn’t fall off the cliff, but I’ve been nervous about heights ever since. Mom died peacefully at home three weeks later. The car managed not to go over the guard rail or hit the cement barrier; I ended up in the center of the freeway in the narrow space between the barrier and the traffic lane, facing the wrong way. I spent about five minutes watching everyone coming in my direction figure out what had happen and slow down before they got to the black ice, and then there was a break in traffic long enough for me to get turned around and drive on. Trust me, writing doesn’t even come close.)
There are some things that I refuse to get wrong, but the idea of writing about them doesn’t terrify me. I don’t have to write about them if I don’t want to; I am perfectly capable of setting a story aside if I don’t think I can do a proper job of handling something, or if I’ve written it and, upon examination, it doesn’t do justice to one of those touchstones. There are a couple of things that have been in the to-write stack for years waiting for me to have the chops to write that particular story the way I want to write it.
It might be a problem if everything ended up in the “I’m not a good enough writer yet” stack, but I am also wonderfully stubborn about some things. If I think I can make something work, and all my test readers say it isn’t working, I badger them until I think I have a theory about why it isn’t working, and then I go off and rewrite it. Lather, rinse, repeat, until it does work.
There are also some things that I dislike writing. This is not the same as having an anxiety attack; I’m perfectly capable of writing council scenes and transition scenes, but I dislike doing them. A lot. I also turn out to have a really deep desire not to write contemporary-setting fantasy, which I didn’t know until I sat down to write the first few chapters of the current WIP and realized that if my characters didn’t get out of here a lot faster than that I was going to start throwing things or break my computer or something. Even so, it was basically a matter of a) cutting things back to make that part as short and tight as possible and b) buckling down and writing it so I could get to the fun stuff.
Next: idea sources. I have plenty of dreams, few nightmares, and no, they don’t end up in the books. They tend to be long and convoluted, and either they make no logical sense when examined upon waking, or else they are intensely boring, like the one that had about ten people arguing about how to purify the water supply in a cave. Boiling or chlorine tablets? Or the ceramic camping filter? Or the Rube-Goldberg contraption somebody whipped up? Or ordering from the survivalist catalog somebody else had? With endless technicalities and nobody ever getting around to making a decision.
Trust me, this would not make even a good scene, much less a decent story idea. I might be able to do something with the reason all those people were sitting around a cave arguing about the water supply, but I’d have to come up with it; it wasn’t part of the dream. And frankly, they weren’t interesting enough for me to want to write about.
I was going to go on some more about ideas, but the post nearly doubled in size and I wasn’t even half done, so that’ll be Saturday.
How do you assess that you’ve gained the chops you need? Honest question.
I had a story on hold for just that reason. Then, one night when I turned out the light to go to sleep, the opening for the story burst into my head. I got back up and wrote it down. And then continued writing it the next day. (And finished it a week ago. 😉 )
But I imagine that realizing you are ready to tackle an on-hold story probably doesn’t always go like that. So how does one know?
I’ve never been terrified of writing either. Sad sometimes, but not terrified. And my dreams don’t end up in my books either. My dreams never make enough sense, and I hardly remember them after I wake up anyway.
There are things I find terrifying to write, and that gives me an adrenaline rush, which I like, so it’s not exactly a deterrent. Writing chase scenes at night, for example. I’m so good at freaking myself out. 🙂
I’ve heard of people who have anxiety attacks if they have to speak in public. I think the same thing could happen to a very shy person writing a story, if they think all the people who might read their words will start judging them. I’d guess the easiest way to overcome that would be to tell yourself that you can use a pen name, and then your Aunt Bertha (or whoever you’re worried about) won’t know it was your story, and anyway, if they hate the kind of thing you write and don’t know it’s you, they probably won’t read it in the first place. (I don’t have an Aunt Bertha, by the way. All my aunts are very nice.)
Wait…. a question about writing you don’t even understand? I…. I guess that had to happen eventually. But it is a question I understand. For the last few months writing has been absolutely terrifying. Panic attacks, daily meltdowns, inconsolable crying, insomnia – the works. And I finally figured out why.
In my story there is a boy and a girl falling in love. Actually there is a whole LOT of people, of both genders, in my story that are experiencing the full spectrum of romance. Fathers, Mothers, worried In-Laws, siblings… even adopted Grandparents. And working out a realistic perspective for all of these ages forced me to remember my own childhood. According to Florida legal code, my Father did things that qualified as Child Abuse/Neglect. It was never reported, and no one believed the stories I told. All these years I’ve told myself it didn’t matter because “he never hit me”.
(Side Note. If the best thing you can say about someone is “at least he never hit me” it does, in fact, qualify as abuse.)
So yeah – writing terrifies me. But its not specifically the ACT of writing that is scary. Its the story that my subconscious is insisting needs to be told. The only way out is through. I am talking to trusted friends. I am admitting the reality of my own memories. I’m working on it. And then writing will come as the fear drains away.
Terror is never “nothing”. Panic is never “stupid”. And memories are never “unimportant” or “meaningless”.
I’ve never experienced abuse, as you have, Esther. I’m sorry it happened to you.
But I do know the incredible fear that comes when I HAVE to write something that requires I dig down very deep and expose my own beliefs and experiences, and even the ones I’m capable of imagining. I have fear journals.
But I have come to USE the fear: if I can’t write something, there is fear involved – and that’s my signal for the digging. And after that, I don’t sugar-coat what I find, but believe that’s why I’m writing, get it out there as well as possible, and thank the terror.
It wasn’t always that way – but it is now. I’ve learned to expect, and even hope for, the fear – the results have been amazing and freeing. I LIKE writing about what I find.
Alicia
I’m…. not there yet. Maybe someday.
I’ve never feared writing. I’ve feared not writing – my head gets full and the only way to empty it is to write things down. I’m a very unhappy person when I don’t have the time or energy to write. Empty pages are like my best friends.
I realize I’m a bit late to this, but if you’re still looking for blog topics, I’d love any sort of behind-the-scenes information about your books (like the afterword to your short story collection, or your post about teaching yourself to use tight-third person while writing Daughter of Witches). Thanks!
I had one dream that was directly useful for my writing progress.
In it, I was wandering through my house with a dustcloth. (I don’t do a lot of that in real life–don’t know why I was doing so in my dream!) Then I went into another room of the dream house with another dustcloth and a voice said, “Go back and get that first dustcloth! This one’s a different color and we must have scene continuity.”
Okay, I did. The next day I found some details that didn’t match–they popped right out at me as soon as I started scanning the WIP.
I’ve never heard from Dream Editor again, unfortunately.
Jane
How totally cool!
I’d say what terrifies me about writing isn’t the writing itself (aside from digging up the wherewithal to decide you’ve actually got something *to say*) is the inevitable brick-bats, put-downs, and criticisms. This is especially if you (i.e. Me) prefer writing imaginative genre fiction, while the rest of the family just Doesn’t Get it.
That’s part of why I don’t talk about what I write.