WordFlix

Writing serendipitously

There's something to be said for serendipity.

Here's Dictionary.com (really, the American Heritage Dictionary, if you read the website's fine print) on the word and its origins:

ser·en·dip·i·ty

n.   pl. ser·en·dip·i·ties

1. The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.
2. The fact or occurrence of such discoveries.
3. An instance of making such a discovery.

[From the characters in the Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip, who made such discoveries, from Persian Sarandīp, Sri Lanka, from Arabic sarandīb.]

ser'en·dip'i·tous adj., ser'en·dip'i·tous·ly adv.

Word History: We are indebted to the English author Horace Walpole for the word serendipity, which he coined in one of the 3,000 or more letters on which his literary reputation primarily rests. In a letter of January 28, 1754, Walpole says that "this discovery, indeed, is almost of that kind which I call Serendipity, a very expressive word." Walpole formed the word on an old name for Sri Lanka, Serendip. He explained that this name was part of the title of "a silly fairy tale, called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of."

Now, as readers of this blog know, I'm not a fan of waiting to write until your muse communes with you.  Or until you start channeling genius.  No, indeed. I'm about embracing routine, habit, and doing the work.  Do it, and the words will come. Eventually. They won't all be good ones, but once they're down on the page you can start tweaking and revising.  Through the practice of your craft, it can become art, if that's what you want.  If it's not, and if you're satisfied with a damn fine piece of well-crafted prose or poetry, well, then, that's fine, too.  Absolutely nothing wrong with that;  in fact, that's what this summer's writing is all about for me.

But I don't want to overlook the phenomenon of serendipity. First, it's a fabulous-sounding word (it's right on up there with "zephyr" and "halcyon," about which I've blogged before). Second, it's a kind of magical notion: the idea that through a happy coincidence of time, place, and circumstance -- through "accidents and sagacity" -- unanticipated moments of clarity and discovery can and do occur.

For me, serendipity is a by-product of undertaking and engaging with the routine, practice and the hard work of writing.  It feels magical but there's no magic about how it happens.  No, the magic lies simply in the  when of it. When I'm doing that work and when I'm lucky, I will have moments in which previously unanticipated moments of insight not only come to the fore but find expression on the page, almost ... almost like magic.  In such moments, as I type words on the screen, they shape and form themselves in a way that they give form and voice to ideas I hadn't realized I'd had and that are, in fact, smarter and truer than conscious, vetted thought.  Usually such moments burn themselves out in the space of a few sentences or -- more rarely -- in the space of a paragraph(for me, at least -- clearly truly great writers have periods of sustained composition of this kind), but that they exist at all feels like a precious gift to me.

When writing academic prose, I have to go back over writing produced in such moments and make sure that I truly believe what I've said.  I have to make sure that the words themselves have not seduced me into claiming something that's beautiful but untrue or critically or theoretically unsound.  I have to connect it to what went before and what comes after, to the more pedestrian moments that precede and follow.

But when I can do that -- through the hard work of self-assessment and revision?  Those moments of serendipitous prose shimmer like jewels.  And I am grateful.

Three-minute fiction: writing competition

A cool idea and an excellent opportunity (not to mention a really wonderful exercise, regardless of whether one wants to compete formally):

Three-Minute Fiction: Send Us Your Stories : NPR.

"James Wood, literary critic for The New Yorker and author of the book How Fiction Works, will serve as NPR's "Three-Minute Fiction" guide. Wood will appear on-air throughout the summer to read his favorite submissions, and we'll also post them here on NPR.org."

Katie Fforde

Oh dear.  I've discovered another few books I need to get my hands on.  The good news is, at least they're for pleasure, not work.

Thanks to Elaine over at Random Jottings who's mentioned Katie Fforde's work several times on her blog and even had the good fortune to meet up with her, I've been turned on to a source of thoroughly enjoyable light fiction -- perfect for summer reading. 

It helps to like romance and it helps to like reading novels with an English twist.  Think Bridget Jones's Diary ... only, well, more pleasant, less sarcastic, more relaxing.  (Hey, I liked the latter, too.  I'm just saying ...) Funny female protagonists, great best female friends characters, amusing situations, and happy endings. Chick lit, in other words (a.k.a. "hen lit" in the U.K.).

I'd not heard of Fforde much before, but I can be a real ignoramus when it comes to contemporary fiction.  Also, I gather that she's somewhat better known in the U.K. than here in the U.S.

Pity. That should change.

I prowled about online and it looks as if Fforde has written at least 15 novels, perhaps more.  Er, rather than blow my finances entirely, I'll check the local library and second-hand bookstores first.  However, it's nice to know that I can get my hands on more, and it's satisfying to know that I can now plan for some major recreational reading in the evenings once my work is done.

As I've said before, I like to know where my next read is coming from.

The three P's of writing

Excellent post by author Barbara Samuelson over at Writer Unboxed on three writing fundamentals:

THE THREE P’S OF WRITING: Persistence, Passion, and Practice.

Yet another productive writer weighs in with the idea that it is not genius that makes for success.  There are plenty of plenty of wonderful writers out there who will flame out -- or never flame at all -- and become Something Else Besides a Writer because they will lack one of the three P's. 

The same is true for any practitioner of any art.

For me the challenge is persistence.  That's where I get hung up. 

Talent? Yeah, I have talent.  So do lots of folks.  Passion?  I've got that, too, though sometimes those drunken monkeys that Anne Lamott writes about chatter so loudly that they drown it out.  It can be hard for me to connect with it, but through reading, blogging, and the good days spent on my professional writing, I rediscover that passion. Practice?  Again, not a big stumbling block for me.  See above. 

But persistence?  That's a tough one for me.  Not when it comes to informal essayistic writing -- but that's not (currently) what I'm paid to produce. It's persistence in generating academic prose that sometimes stymies me.  Deadlines and sticks and carrots are pretty much the only way in which I can be gotten to produce formal academic writing -- not because I'm not good at it (I hasten to add, somewhat immodestly) but because there's such a psychological burden that goes along with it.

Publish or perish. Life or death. You're either with us or against us.  If you don't write, the terrorists win.

Okay, maybe that part about the terrorists isn't part of the burden.  But the rest of it?  If you're like me and you've spent your entire life in an academic family, and most of your professional life being an academic, those drunken monkeys can squawk awfully loudly, to the point that your own voice is almost drowned out.

Because you see, traditionally there is an Academic Voice in which one is supposed to write, and assuming it often feels to me like a masquerade.  Suppose I don't want to write with that gravitas, even in an academic context? Suppose I want to experiment with voice?  Can I do that?

What I'm beginning to discover for myself, rather late in life, is yes, perhaps I can.  I'm hardly the James Joyce of my particular academic discipline, but who's to say I can't write in my own voice? Who's to say that academic writing can't be creative?  Who's to say I can't?

Certainly not me.  Because you know what?  Yes, I can.

How Nora Roberts became America’s most popular novelist

How Nora Roberts became America’s most popular novelist:The New Yorker.

Bottom line (dreadful pun intended): "Ass in the chair."

1970s icons

Two key pop icons from my youth died today.

 

Non-writing writing tasks

You just never know. 

Yesterday I thought I would have trouble writing one short assignment I'd set myself -- and then, unexpectedly, I turned into a mini-powerhouse. I cranked through the finite task I'd vowed to get done, had (and articulated!) an insight I hadn't anticipated, and ran all manner of errands besides.

In other words, in contrast to the day before, it was a Productive Day.

Today? I thought I'd be on a roll.  Mmm -- not so much. 

However, not content to leave it at that, I poked around online for some external motivation or encouragement, and I bumped into some excellent writing resources at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.  Like many similar university sites, its materials are aimed at students of all levels about writing and the process of writing.  However, you don't have to be a university student to get a lot out of its online handouts. I particularly like what UNC has to say about procrastination and about writing a Ph.D. dissertation (or any kind of longer project). 

The following passage happens to be about writing a dissertation, but I've substituted "Project X" for "dissertation," just on general principle:

"Make a list of all the little things you need to do for a given section of the Project X, no matter how small. Write down everything that you need to do to get it out the door. Then when you don't feel like tackling something big, like relating a key point in your argument to the relevant literature, you can insist that you do something else, like photocopying an article you've been meaning to consult or checking your citations. You don't have to do everything on the list during the time you've allotted for Project X work, but tell yourself that you DO have to do SOMETHING.You'll be surprised that the habit of getting something (no matter how small) done on Project X every day can be addicting."

As is so often the case with me now, this doesn't tell me anything I don't already know and don't already put into practice.  However, it serves as a useful reminder that there are all manner of productive things one can do when, in the moment, writing itself just isn't happening, for whatever reason.  That is, the choice does not come down to Composing Deathless Prose or Going Shopping. There are a range of options between those two poles.

In fact, as I write this, I'm realizing that writing itself is not actually what I need to be doing today to move through the penultimate phase of the article I'm working on.  Nope, today I need to do some final CYA reading -- that is, some skimming of related literature to make sure that, as I argue my own particular case in Project X, the due diligence that I've done to this point has been adequate.  I've been putting off doing this because my lit review is already written, I've set up my case, the bulk of the article is pretty firmly drafted, and I don't want to upset the balance with any eleventh-hour discoveries as I dive into my analysis.  However, better now than later. 

I'm not really expecting any nasty surprises that will pull the rug out from under my work,  but the possibility makes me apprehensive. I guess it's that fear that I'm working around today.  But what's that saying?  "The only way out is through"?  I'll deal with whatever  I find and make it work for me.

So?  Today's non-writing writing-related tasks?  To skim two of the four CYA books and check them off my list once and for all.  Tomorrow? Well, I'll wait and see, but my guess is that tomorrow I can polish off the final two books.  Friday?  Review the film I'm analyzing in detail.  Weekend?  Draft the remainder of the article.

One day at a time, however.  Hell, one task at a time.

One short assignment

 "Say to yourself in the kindest possible way, Look, honey, all we're going to do for now is to write a description of the river at sunrise, or the young child swimming in the pool at the club, or the first time the man sees the woman he will marry. That is all we are going to do for now. We are just going to take this bird by bird. But we are going to finish this one short assignment."

- Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird (again)

Today's short assignment is simple.  It's discrete.  It is not rocket science -- or, more to the point, it is not to write the Most Brilliant Academic Article since Christ was a corporal (to appropriate a turn of phrase of which my mother was fond).

It is merely to write a single paragraph -- one in which I address the work of Critic X and move on.  I'm going to plug that baby in and call it a day on Parts I through III of a 6-part article (Part IV is already written, Part V! is the conclusion and not difficult). I could tinker forever with those first three parts, but you know what?  I'm not writing a book the topics I cover in those sections. Other people have done that. I'm really just justifying why I'm doing what I'm doing in Part V, which is the most interesting portion of the article to me. So justify it and get there already.  This train is going to leave the station in five minutes.

Because, come hell or high water, this first draft is going to be done come June 29.  It'll go to my colleague for her input, I'll tweak it, and then by the end of the first week in July, whatever shape it's in, it's going out the door for submission.

Because nothing's perfect, and good is good enough.

Drunken monkeys

 Today's writing session was, in a word, painful.

On days like today I need to remember that other  kinds of writing days are possible as well and that I've had them.  Recently, even. But today was definitely not one of those days.

In fact, it was very similar to the session that Anne Lamott describes in Bird by Bird:

"You put a piece of paper in the typewriter or you turn on your computer and bring up the right file, and then you stare at it for an hour or so. You begin rocking, just a little at first, and then like a huge autistic child. You look at the ceiling, and over at the clock, yawn, and stare at the paper again. Then, with your fingers poised on the keyboard, your squint at an image that is forming in your mind -- a scene, a locale, a character, whatever -- and you try to quiet your mind so you can hear what that landscape or character has to say above the other voices in your mind. The other voices are banshees and drunken monkeys. They are the voices of anxiety, judgment, doom, guilt.  Also, severe hypochondria. There may be a Nurse Ratched -- like listings of things that must be done right this moment: foods that must come out of the freezer, appointments that must be canceled or made, hairs that must be tweezed.  But you hold an imaginary gun to your head and make yourself stay at your desk. There is a vague pain at the base of your skull.  It crosses your mind that you have meningitis.  Then the phone rings and you look up at the ceiling with fury, summon every ounce of noblesse oblige, and answer the call politely, with maybe just the merest hint of irritation. The caller asks if you're working, and you say yeah, because you are."

That is the kind of day I had today. The prose did not exactly flow.

On the other hand, Lamott's description, above, is not about the Difficult Writing Day. In fact, the encouraging thing about it is, it's pretty much standard operating procedure.  Because sooner or later, she says, if you can get yourself to sit down to writing more or less at the same time every day, you train your brain to start moving, start producing:  "You cannot will this to happen."  (I'll say.) "It is a matter of persistence and faith and hard work."  (Amen, sister.)

Note what Lamott does not say, however:  she does not say it's a matter of inspiration or waiting for that elusive muse to visit you.  It's just not that easy. You're not going to be saved by the writing angel.

So.

Persistence? Yeah, I can do that, even if I kick and drag my heels a bit.  Faith?  Well, I can act as if  I have faith.  Hard work?  Yes, ma'am. That I can do.

Bird by bird.

Caffeine is my drug of choice

It didn't always used to be. 

Food in general filled that category.  But since losing a lot of weight (with the help of duodenal switch surgery -- best decision I ever made), it's definitely coffee.  Fully caffeinated coffee.  I like it strong, with half and half, and a packet of Splenda.

Even better?  A latte -- first, because of the taste and second, because I can count the milk in it toward my daily protein requirement (which is high, given the aforementioned surgery).

Coffee wakes me up in the morning and soothes me as I settle into my writing day.  It's stimulating and comforting at the same time, though folks rarely write about the latter attribute of coffee. 

As I write this I've had my first cup of the morning, and shortly I'll pour myself a second cup and turn to create some java-inspired prose.  In fact, coffee is most definitely part of my writing routine.

It's a good way to start the day.