Easy words and hard words
Mar. 31st, 2008 11:48 pmThe funny thing is, when you go back and read it six months or a year later, you can't tell the difference between the bits you slogged through, cursing every word, and the bits that came out as if Odin himself was feeding you the lines.
There are one or two whole books that I've written in which there is just so much struggle to roll the boulder uphill that I develop a reflexive cringe response to the text itself. All of the parts that I actually like are the parts that were not such bloody-minded struggle, and I am convinced that the book is an abject failure because there were not enough of those parts to support a book. It takes me about two to three years to forget the experience of actually writing the book, so it takes me about that long to be able to read and parse the words that are actually there, as opposed to the words that I'm terrified are there. Which is another way of saying it's hard for me to reread anything I write until I've forgotten the writing of it.
(Yes, this makes revising and editing a big strain, because I am frequently changing words that I hate into, oddly enough, more words that I hate, with no certainty that the changes actually do anything useful. But waiting 2-3 years to revise a book would be a bit problematic.)
But
This implies strongly that there isn't, in the end, a difference. And for the people who weren't mired in the writing, this is probably true. Although it can be true in the "these are all good" or in the "these are all dreadful" way; the point is, the words that are a total, fun-sucking slog do not, in fact, stand out from the words that weren't, regardless of how one feels about the book.
The difference while writing is this: the words that come naturally and easily are words that are easier to trust. They do not automatically feel like garbage. They do not automatically feel like they're full of fail. It is easier to find the shiny bits and point at them and feel, somehow, that we've done something good. There are so many little insecurities and struggles with the ever-smarter Internal Editor while writing any book, that anything that somehow makes the words seem decent and worthwhile makes the book easier to write. People who feel that they need the inspiration or they write crap might not, in fact, be writing crap when they are not inspired -- but their perception of it counts.
Because when it's a slog, it is definitely Not Fun.
(Yes, I am in the middle-of-the-book. Why do you ask?)
ETA: This, I realize, should come with the usual disclaimer: This is me, talking about my process, and my finished books. Other people's process will probably differ widely.
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Date: 2008-04-01 02:28 pm (UTC)Everyone's mileage varies, of course.
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Date: 2008-04-02 05:16 am (UTC)I think this happens to me as well; I just think it's easier for me to get the initial words on the page and to hate them less in their first iteration. Possibly because at heart I'm a lazy person, and the memory of the effort is less, you know, tramautizing.
Basically, I second guess myself all the time. The funny thing, though? There are whole parts of my writing I don't second guess -- but unless I'm called on to defend it, I'm not aware of the parts which I think work. When I am, and I can, I become more aware of the underpinnings for a lot of what goes on the 'page'. But if asked, I would say I doubt all the words, most of the time, and just switch them up under the magnifying glass.