Showing posts with label write. Show all posts
Showing posts with label write. Show all posts

Friday, June 24, 2011

O Me! O Life!

The Walt Whitman Bridge
Been away for a while, not that my absence has shattered the Earth or blogosphere very much. But still... two weeks away? Eh, annoying to those who care, but not unforgivable (I hope). Two months away? Some small bit of explaining needed.

Well, I have been working -- lots of writing, which is good I suppose. Good to keep busy, even if it is the poverty-stricken kind of busy. But also, without oversharing ("Hey!" You're saying. "This is a blog. You're supposed to overshare!!!") I have been dealing with a whole lot of very crappy crap. And writing a little poetry. Can you tell? Crappy crap. I coined that phrase. Trademark WordNerdGirl 2011. Hell, Walt Whitman has nothing on me.

Why poetry? I used to write a lot of very angsty verse when I was in high school -- the kind of stuff that I cringe to read now, and likely made my English teachers roll their eyes at the earnestness of it all. Even now, it is not anything that could be considered "good." But I enjoy playing with words and odd phrasings, and finding the natural rhythms as I work on a piece.  Even just creating an unusual layout with the words, lines and stanzas on the page -- I'm a big fan of using white space for dramatic effect -- has been therapeutic.

It is a form I've enjoyed rediscovering, and it suits my overall mood right now. Melancholy and poetry. Peanut butter and jelly. It's a natural fit.

I've also been reading a lot of poetry, which is a relatively new thing for me. I was initially looking for words of comfort or wisdom. But I'm finding a new appreciation and inspiration as I discover or get reacquainted with the works of Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Edgar Allen Poe, Shel Silverstein and the esteemed Mr. Whitman. He's a much better poet than I ever will be -- and has his own bridge to prove it. So I'll end here for now with this new favorite of mine:

O Me! O Life
 O Me! O Life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more
faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever
renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
--Walt Whitman

Thursday, March 3, 2011

The Feedback Loop

Last week, Salon posted a good Q&A with comedian Michael Showalter about his new memoir, "Mr. Funnypants." One quote of his, in particular, jumped out at me...

"I didn't perform any of it (his book's comedy material) in front of an audience, which is one of the more interesting and terrifying things about writing a book. You really have no idea whether or not what you're writing is funny. In stand-up and sketch comedy, you know right away and you can make your changes accordingly."

I smiled the first time I read that, because I can relate -- especially now that I've made the conscious decision to write more humor. It's a frustrating thing writing the funny for print. You have no way of knowing for certain if what you're writing is getting the laugh until it's read or published. I often crave that immediate feedback. When you can tell a joke or perform a sketch, if the intended gag is met with audience silence, that will usually tell you everything you need to know.

Every writer -- regardless of their experience, or what they're writing -- carries a tiny bit of anxiety, questioning, "Is what I'm writing going to get the reaction I want?"
  • Will my memo convince the boss to start production on my product?
  • Will my legal brief sway the judge?
  • Will readers get turned on by my steamy romance story?
  • Will my headline generate page views on the website?
  • Will the studio buy my screenplay?
That's why it's so important to seek out -- and listen to -- feedback on your work. The "seeking out" is relatively easy: go to writing classes and workshops, open mike (mic?) nights, track the web hits counter, track your book sales, watch your Facebook friends hit the "Like" button, ask a colleague, seek out the advice of a mentor.

Experienced writers can get in their own way, tuning out help because they think they know what they’re doing – even when they don’t. New writers, because they lack confidence, tend to "over-listen." Regardless of where the feedback is coming from, they make every change suggested, and question their own instincts. They don’t stop to ask, "What is this person's motivation?" Sometimes, you have to consider that the person giving feedback has his or her own agenda.

This happened to me early in my career. For a (thankfully) short time, I wrote for a newspaper where one of the editors actually had the balls to circulate a memo that showed examples of how to not write stories. Every single ‘don’t write like this’ example quoted from stories with my byline.

Still relatively new and unsure of myself (despite a couple of years and awards already under my belt), I felt humiliated and took it to heart, because this guy was an editor with more experience. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me:
  • The stories were all good enough to publish in the first place.
  • None of my other editors had complained before (or since).
  • I never asked for his opinion. No one did.
  • His memo did not offer constructive criticism -- helpful suggestions that would be instructive to everyone who saw it for how to make our writing better.
  • He may have been purposely sabotaging me, trying to push me out of the job.
 While at the time, I was floored (and – surprise, surprise – quit very soon after) I eventually came to realize that this guy, even though he was an editor and had more experience than me, was your basic, run-of-the-mill d-bag asshole. He had his own agenda for telling me and everyone in the office I didn’t know what I was doing. Helpful instruction was not part of that agenda. This was feedback that could be rejected.

Now, this is the exception, I believe, not the rule. Most often, if you ask for, or are offered, feedback -- especially from other writers – people genuinely want to do right by you. But sometimes the feedback is misguided. Occasionally, it can be damaging. It takes experience to learn how to sort through it all. This is by no means complete, but here is a list of questions to ask yourself to help tell the difference.

Advice from a Do-Write, or a D-Bag?
  • Why is this person giving the advice? Did I ask, or was it offered?
  • Does this person have expertise in your area of writing?
  • Is this person giving you their honest, fair assessment?
  • Does the feedback talk to you in terms of what works and what doesn't in your writing? (As opposed to what is "good" or "bad" about your writing. "Good" and "bad" are subjective. What "works" is something that can be quantified and/or explained.)
  • Is the person asking questions about what you were trying to accomplish?
  • What's in it for this person if he/she is offering to help me?
  • Is this person only focused on what they didn't like, or what was "wrong" with the writing? Can he/she point to what you wrote that was right.
I'd love to hear about how others get feedback, and when you can tell if that feedback is good. Post in the comments.

Referenced link: Salon: Michael Showalter interview