Image via Wikimedia Commons
Twitter can be a lot of things: a cesspool, a time sink, the repository of amazing cat videos. But my Friday Twitter gave me all sorts of motivation – a gentle but firm reminder that writing is hard, but what else are you going to do with your time? Scroll through Twitter all day?
I’ll share, and you can see if anything resonates with you.
The first tweet is from DongWon Song of the Howard Morhaim Literary Agency, who links to a Substack essay ostensibly about empathy when critiquing, but contains the startling metaphor that a professional chef ignores little burns and cuts, while the home chef may feel differently about blood on the counter or some blisters. If you’ve had your feelings hurt by the publishing business (and let’s face it, you don’t avoid the burns and blisters by self-publishing, either), you might like reading the whole essay. Tough, but it feels true. Here’s the tweet with the link:
Feeling like a failure? @ShaxxMotivation reminds us that finishing is one goalpost, but not the only goalpost. “WRITERS HAVE DOZENS OF SCRAPPED STORY IDEAS” and “THESE THINGS ARE PRACTICE, NOT FAILUREs” Finishing is one of my big problems. When I do finish longer pieces, it sometimes feels rushed, like I was just racing to get the damn story done and get it out of my head. Probably because that’s exactly what I do. I’d like to say it’s very reminiscent of an early Alice Hoffman novel . . . but that’s rather rarified air I’m breathing there. At any rate, I have lots of practice. I should be doing a for-realsies any time now. Shaxx Motivation’s tweet is something I needed to see.
Every good story needs three magic beans, and it just so happens that Friday brought three magic tweets for me. The third one by C.G. Drews (author of The Boy Who Steals Houses) made me laugh, but it also conveys one of my personal writing truths: write it fast before it gets away. She starts out with immensely practical, every-standard-writing-blog advice . . . but then treats the book like a tired child. Distract it! Write fast! Give it a sticker for cooperation! I have tried and failed to make sticker charts in the past (only digital ones seem to work for me, and 45 days is my limit). But maybe the story-changeling can be bribed with hot cocoa. Sit down and write it fast before the warming beverage cools . . . . The comments to the thread are also well worth a look.
I hope I get some writing in today. I have at least two WIPs that I’m interested in finishing, and maybe I’ll figure out why I don’t. I will definitely be writing a poem for a birthday, and then Sunday stretches out like a long, golden vista full of fruit and honey. A box of bandages, some unfinished WIPs and a delicious drink, and who knows what I can accomplish this weekend? Wishing you all the best on your writing adventures, too.
Eight Ladies Writing 
I’m not going to those Twitter links, because…Time Sink! But I enjoyed the posts, and those people would be fun to read, if only I had more time. Alas. I have much to do and now I must get to it. Progress! (I get a sticker for that.)
You get a gold star for ignoring the siren song of Twitter!
The idea of treating a WIP like a tired child made me laugh because that’s exactly what I do at time. Maybe not the best of long-term strategies, but often helpful for short bursts.
I think I should try more of that! Be sweeter to the Girls in the Basement.
When I was doing research for The Demon Goes Hungry this summer, I ran across an essay that talked about the difference between being a talented home chef and a professional. It wasn’t ABOUT the different attitude toward cuts and burns, though–it was about he goal.
A home cook’s goal is to create a delicious meal that wows their friends and family. It doesn’t matter if their turkey divan is a little different this time than it was last time, as long as it still tastes good. Their audience may even applaud a change if it feels like an improvement.
The goal of a professional chef, on the other hand, is consistency. Customers want to know every time they come into a restaurant and order a dish that it will taste just like it did last time. I have a friend who took a knife skills class from a professional chef. The chef told her the goal of the class was to learn to produce uniformity–diced onion where every single piece is the same size and shape as all the others. Which, of course, is a building block for preparing consistent dishes.
I kind of think this version of the metaphor still holds for writing versus publishing. Writers, like home chefs, want to create something wonderful and tasty. Publishers, on the other hand, want to ensure that customers consistently receive the dish they’re expecting.
And I think that tension needs to be there. If artistry and creativity had the last word, readers would never know what to expect. And if publishers had their way, there would never be another breakout bestseller that goes in an uncharted direction. Yin and yang.
Oh, that’s an interesting cooking analogy, too! It’s surprising, though, about how many people extol good home cooking.
I think Sturgeon’s Law may come into play here — 90 percent of anything is dreck (to paraphrase politely). So, there are standouts in the Gentleperson Writer category (the amateur dabbler, if you will), and there are standouts in the Professional category, as well. Distribution is the huge problem, and scaling up.
Just like a home chef may be able to cook for 10 or even 20, can they handle 100 covers a night, every night? Do their recipes scale up?
And on the other side, professional chefs may explore their wild sides if the market has enough people to support the niche bits. But by far the largest number of professional cooks are people who work from standardized recipes meant to please most of the people. It’s not exciting, sometimes. But OTOH, they aren’t sending out charred food (unless it’s supposed to be charred) or overly salted soup.
My cousin is a professional chef who takes inspiration from home cooking, but his craft and his talent makes something like buttered carrots into something really worth eating.
Interesting twist! Thanks, Jeanne!