Talking writer problems to a non-writer is a bit like chatting up a flat-earther: you assume you’re on the same page until you aren’t.
Every writer writes differently, of course. But on the off-chance you relate, here are the deep, gritty confessions (and precautions) of a habitual fiction-writer.
- You have thoughts like “Damn, that’s a good description,” and “Damn, that description will be useless anywhere I put it” in the same line.
- In elementary school, kids made fun of me because I said I wanted to write stories when I grew up. Two of my classmates (yes, two) said they wanted to be astrophysicists. These days I write stories, and neither of them are astrophysicists.
- Writing fiction is the perfected art of arguing with yourself for a really long time. “Can the hero defeat the villian?” “Obviously. Xe’s the hero.” “Okay, but the villain can do this and xe can’t.” “Fine, but if the hero learns about this–“
- I will never forgive Stephen King for his outrageous, disgusting, and appalling slander of adverbs. I like adverbs. No man shall tarnish them. Even if that man is clever and successful, and his remarks are very funny.
- Much like cats, children, and your least-preferred political party, you can’t make your characters do shit. Expect traitors, lesbians, and kooky family members to pop up in your draft exactly where you did not intend them to be.
Familiar? Not familiar? Either way, here’s hoping it’s a good writin’ week.