My experience might be of interest for a perspective on writing (novels, novellas, short stories, poems, memoir, non-fiction (actually, no, not non-fiction, or maybe yes actually, writing anything). I'm now 61. The first writing I did of a personal nature was largely stream of consciousness, with a huge debt to David Bowie's lyrics. It was dreadful. I didn't keep it. But I knew I wanted to be a writer. It went with my view of myself as highly intelligent, sensitive and creative, and was a good shield. Like many, my childhood left me deeply disturbed (childhood is disturbing anyway, with the heightened perceptual mechanism of a forming mind, without adding emotional or physical domestic abuse).
London in my twenties, drifting, taking drugs, living for sensation. The inevitable breakdown came, and when the voices in my head stopped, my writing began in earnest: monologues, plays, screenplays, absurd, cynical comedies. I somehow managed to get an agent for tv writing, but nothing came of it. I still have a few things I wrote in that period. I was 20 years ahead of the curve, but lacked discipline and story-telling.
I went to live an itinerant life in the highlands at 30, to become a writer of novels (v. serious and profound endeavour, taking Nietzsche (to this day I still get the z and the s the wrong way round), Heidegger, Beckett and Dante for company). I had fine and grand solitude for a year or 2, but when I stopped moving around I was struck down by the illness of loneliness. I wrote a diary all the way through, full of descriptions, ideas, feelings. I didn't realise it at the time, but I was developing the language I would use ever after. I left after 5 years, about 3 years later than I should, with a whisky habit that has been hard to shake off. The writing habit had taken hold though, so perhaps 5 years was the correct time to be lost and alone in the wilderness.
Then it was trying to make a living, and writing. I managed somehow. But for 10 years I never finished anything. Rather, I never revised it. I wrote like a train. I've never had a blank page problem. The opposite of that is still a problem. It took me a long time to realise this.
Everything I wrote was from my experience, the people I knew, the things I'd done, or been a part of, re-imagined with a strange distorted sensibility leading directly back to the troubled childhood. Naturally, memory seems of the utmost importance to the life of any of my characters. The central character is somehow always a version of me. I took an MLitt in creative writing the year after our first child arrived, didn't work, lived off a small inheritance and wrote and fathered. It was a great year. I don't recommend creative writing courses, apart from being forced to go public, take the cold shower of indifference and go on. After that, I spent 10 years on an epic heterotopia, working out an idea of tyranny and stasis, and escape from the same. I revised for 5 years, hard, but it was flawed in its conception and is now in the graveyard of my SSD external drive. The fact I refer to it as an epic heterotopia is a clue there. But, but-but-but, I finished it and began learning the craft.
I've never plotted a novel out. I find my way to the end. This is a little risky, but I need the stimulus. I used to go for long trips in the wilderness alone and without a map or compass.
What I've learnt from finishing and editing boils down to how hard you must revise. I mean really, really hard, with a slowly developing skill at getting my carcass out the way of the story.
I've just finished another novel, short (50,000 words), 2 years to write and 2 years to revise (full-time demanding job is my excuse), and I believe it to be engaging, to be enjoyed by the reader all the way through, and funny.
This has been my aim all along: to write a good comic novel. I believe a writer needs at least one idol. Mine was Samuel Beckett. It took me 20 years to stop trying to be him. This was time well-spent.
I've taken a month to write a 1 page synopsis. I've somehow managed to stop now. I've selected about 5 agents from the W&A yearbook and am about to launch it at them. Which is why I posted this, by way of thanks for the insights on submission. Many thanks. I'm new-ish to substack, but it's a great place.
Oh yes, and I write because it's where I've most of my wits, curated experience, arcane language, where I am most free of others. Also, I have to write or I get depressed...
@Mary L Tabor and @Eleanor Anstruther. Hello! I have a question. Some writers are proposing writing their unpublished book through chapters on Substack. If I were to do that, how would I go about it, and should we promote said chapters on Notes?
I'll toss out a question: what are your rules for invention in memoir? I inadvertently touched off a debate about this in a comment on one of David Roberts's posts recently. I have my own thoughts about this, which I will share in a craft essay soon. But I'm curious how both of you navigate those perennial questions about acceptable levels of fiction in memoir writing. How much "emotional truth" is too much? How does one write dialogue in memoir without fabricating the past and destroying one's reliability in the process?
@Mary L. Tabor and @Eleanor Anstruther, Write it! and This Writing Life: what a super idea! I have one that I'd be delighted to ask not only for myself but for my students.
@Mary L Tabor @eleanor Anstruther
My experience might be of interest for a perspective on writing (novels, novellas, short stories, poems, memoir, non-fiction (actually, no, not non-fiction, or maybe yes actually, writing anything). I'm now 61. The first writing I did of a personal nature was largely stream of consciousness, with a huge debt to David Bowie's lyrics. It was dreadful. I didn't keep it. But I knew I wanted to be a writer. It went with my view of myself as highly intelligent, sensitive and creative, and was a good shield. Like many, my childhood left me deeply disturbed (childhood is disturbing anyway, with the heightened perceptual mechanism of a forming mind, without adding emotional or physical domestic abuse).
London in my twenties, drifting, taking drugs, living for sensation. The inevitable breakdown came, and when the voices in my head stopped, my writing began in earnest: monologues, plays, screenplays, absurd, cynical comedies. I somehow managed to get an agent for tv writing, but nothing came of it. I still have a few things I wrote in that period. I was 20 years ahead of the curve, but lacked discipline and story-telling.
I went to live an itinerant life in the highlands at 30, to become a writer of novels (v. serious and profound endeavour, taking Nietzsche (to this day I still get the z and the s the wrong way round), Heidegger, Beckett and Dante for company). I had fine and grand solitude for a year or 2, but when I stopped moving around I was struck down by the illness of loneliness. I wrote a diary all the way through, full of descriptions, ideas, feelings. I didn't realise it at the time, but I was developing the language I would use ever after. I left after 5 years, about 3 years later than I should, with a whisky habit that has been hard to shake off. The writing habit had taken hold though, so perhaps 5 years was the correct time to be lost and alone in the wilderness.
Then it was trying to make a living, and writing. I managed somehow. But for 10 years I never finished anything. Rather, I never revised it. I wrote like a train. I've never had a blank page problem. The opposite of that is still a problem. It took me a long time to realise this.
Everything I wrote was from my experience, the people I knew, the things I'd done, or been a part of, re-imagined with a strange distorted sensibility leading directly back to the troubled childhood. Naturally, memory seems of the utmost importance to the life of any of my characters. The central character is somehow always a version of me. I took an MLitt in creative writing the year after our first child arrived, didn't work, lived off a small inheritance and wrote and fathered. It was a great year. I don't recommend creative writing courses, apart from being forced to go public, take the cold shower of indifference and go on. After that, I spent 10 years on an epic heterotopia, working out an idea of tyranny and stasis, and escape from the same. I revised for 5 years, hard, but it was flawed in its conception and is now in the graveyard of my SSD external drive. The fact I refer to it as an epic heterotopia is a clue there. But, but-but-but, I finished it and began learning the craft.
I've never plotted a novel out. I find my way to the end. This is a little risky, but I need the stimulus. I used to go for long trips in the wilderness alone and without a map or compass.
What I've learnt from finishing and editing boils down to how hard you must revise. I mean really, really hard, with a slowly developing skill at getting my carcass out the way of the story.
I've just finished another novel, short (50,000 words), 2 years to write and 2 years to revise (full-time demanding job is my excuse), and I believe it to be engaging, to be enjoyed by the reader all the way through, and funny.
This has been my aim all along: to write a good comic novel. I believe a writer needs at least one idol. Mine was Samuel Beckett. It took me 20 years to stop trying to be him. This was time well-spent.
I've taken a month to write a 1 page synopsis. I've somehow managed to stop now. I've selected about 5 agents from the W&A yearbook and am about to launch it at them. Which is why I posted this, by way of thanks for the insights on submission. Many thanks. I'm new-ish to substack, but it's a great place.
Oh yes, and I write because it's where I've most of my wits, curated experience, arcane language, where I am most free of others. Also, I have to write or I get depressed...
Such a great idea and project. Wishing best of luck and success, @Mary L Tabor and @Eleanor Anstruther. Looking forward to the videos!
@Mary L Tabor and @Eleanor Anstruther. Hello! I have a question. Some writers are proposing writing their unpublished book through chapters on Substack. If I were to do that, how would I go about it, and should we promote said chapters on Notes?
Delighted to hear this! Thank you, and looking forward :)
This sounds wonderful- I can’t wait
I'll toss out a question: what are your rules for invention in memoir? I inadvertently touched off a debate about this in a comment on one of David Roberts's posts recently. I have my own thoughts about this, which I will share in a craft essay soon. But I'm curious how both of you navigate those perennial questions about acceptable levels of fiction in memoir writing. How much "emotional truth" is too much? How does one write dialogue in memoir without fabricating the past and destroying one's reliability in the process?
@Mary L. Tabor and @Eleanor Anstruther, Write it! and This Writing Life: what a super idea! I have one that I'd be delighted to ask not only for myself but for my students.
This is so exciting! I can't wait to see what questions get asked.