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Realization Dawns
Sep. 29th, 2002 08:48 pmThe dreadful thing about using someone else's computer to update is that you're a slave to their schedule and not your own. As a result, you feel compelled to write an entry the moment you're near a keyboard whether you actually have anything to say or not - otherwise, it's as though you're tempting the gods, or at the very least your readership.
Kristina once told me that Phillip Glass trained himself to only write music in the morning. Or maybe it was John Cage. It's not important. The point is, he sat down first thing in the morning and wrote music until noon - at which point he stopped. If a brilliant melody struck him in the afternoon, he refused to do anything with it - not even to jot down a note. Eventually, he reached a point where inspiration occurred solely in the morning, and always then; not only did it give him an easier time scheduling his day, but it enforced a sort of creative dicipline. As a result, he could be sure he would write every day. Moreover, he had the structure most artists lack - a leading source of stress and mental anguish.
Time and time again, I hear the same thing. Akira Kurosawa, for example, wrote two pages of screenplay every night before going to bed; he'd finish about one a year, (after light revisions,) and never lack for a next project. In Orson Scott Card's book on writing, he continually emphasizes the need to set aside three hours five days a week, or more. Unimpeachable hours, filled with writing and only writing no matter what.
Even if I had not been told of the need for dicipline, I could have intuited it through observation of the Rasors. They're among the most brilliant artists I've ever met, and certainly the best comedians. They have grand, sweeping visions - and they're possible, not just pipe dreams. They even know how to enact them.
But they never do.
And they couldn't tell you why.
"I hate myself," says Uncle Rex in explanation.
The problem I have is that my own schedule is notoriously fluid. "Floating timeline," I say. "Fly by the seat of your pants," says everyone else. I do get things done, and I am an extraordinarily hard worker. I can even set deadlines.
And yet I'm not writing. I haven't seriously written since NaNoWriMo, those many months ago. I'm not blocked - I'm not blocked at all. I just never sit down and do it. What worked then was the word count, which I think is a horrible way to write. What worked then was having Val around, who knows how to read my stories.
I miss my editor.
Maybe that's the word I've been looking for all the time - not quite wife, not quite ruler, not quite companion and confidante. Editor.
I wonder if anyone else can understand what that means.
Kristina once told me that Phillip Glass trained himself to only write music in the morning. Or maybe it was John Cage. It's not important. The point is, he sat down first thing in the morning and wrote music until noon - at which point he stopped. If a brilliant melody struck him in the afternoon, he refused to do anything with it - not even to jot down a note. Eventually, he reached a point where inspiration occurred solely in the morning, and always then; not only did it give him an easier time scheduling his day, but it enforced a sort of creative dicipline. As a result, he could be sure he would write every day. Moreover, he had the structure most artists lack - a leading source of stress and mental anguish.
Time and time again, I hear the same thing. Akira Kurosawa, for example, wrote two pages of screenplay every night before going to bed; he'd finish about one a year, (after light revisions,) and never lack for a next project. In Orson Scott Card's book on writing, he continually emphasizes the need to set aside three hours five days a week, or more. Unimpeachable hours, filled with writing and only writing no matter what.
Even if I had not been told of the need for dicipline, I could have intuited it through observation of the Rasors. They're among the most brilliant artists I've ever met, and certainly the best comedians. They have grand, sweeping visions - and they're possible, not just pipe dreams. They even know how to enact them.
But they never do.
And they couldn't tell you why.
"I hate myself," says Uncle Rex in explanation.
The problem I have is that my own schedule is notoriously fluid. "Floating timeline," I say. "Fly by the seat of your pants," says everyone else. I do get things done, and I am an extraordinarily hard worker. I can even set deadlines.
And yet I'm not writing. I haven't seriously written since NaNoWriMo, those many months ago. I'm not blocked - I'm not blocked at all. I just never sit down and do it. What worked then was the word count, which I think is a horrible way to write. What worked then was having Val around, who knows how to read my stories.
I miss my editor.
Maybe that's the word I've been looking for all the time - not quite wife, not quite ruler, not quite companion and confidante. Editor.
I wonder if anyone else can understand what that means.
