Writing
The story itself came to me suddenly and I felt compelled to get it down on paper. I was amazed and excited at how easily the words came to me. It was like an inner-voice was dictating and I was typing when I heard.
I had my wife read it when I was done. I handed her a printout and took the kids to the basement so she could read through it in peace. When she emerged she had a lot of encouraging words for me. It was good, it was dark, it was full of energy.
Still, I felt inadequate in a lot of ways. How was my prose? Did I flesh out the characters well enough? What didn't I know?
Seeking answers, I went to my local bookstore and made my way to the writing section. I found a smallish collection of books on writing and I had the time to thumb through most of them.
One book caught my eye. It was a book entitled On Writing and it was written by Stephen King. One of the opening sentences read, "This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit."
That was it. I was hooked.
Mr. King recommended I pick up a copy of The Elements of Style, "one notable exception to the bullshit rule." I tore through the King book in about a week and have thumbed through Elements in a more random fashion. My favorite line from The Elements of Style concerns the em-dash, "A dash is a mark of separation stronger than a comma, less formal than a semicolon, and more relaxed than parenthesis."
(You can get an em-dash on Windows by typing Ctrl+Alt+Numpad minus. On the Mac, Shift+Option+minus.)
Stephen King's On Writing was a pretty much perfect thing for me to read. The first section of the book was an autobiography that was not quite an autobiography. It was the story of how he became a writer. The second section was where he focused on dozens and dozens of recommendations on how to write. He went to great length explaining mental attitude needed for writing, the ideal workspace (different for everyone), the tools, and various ruminations on prose, character development, and story. Story is most important.
I could go on but would likely do a piss-poor job at it.
Now I'm writing nearly every day. I'm writing different stories about lots of ideas that have been swimming in my head all my life. I write for the pure joy of it. I don't want to be a writer. I don't think I have any natural talent for it. Still, its been some of the most exciting weeks I've had in a long time.
The other thing that I've noticed happening to me—and it's been happening since early fall—is my voracious appetite for reading. I'm certainly not a fast reader but I have learned to let reading consume all of my idle hours. I read on the train, in bed, in the doctor's office. Reading has even begun to replace some of the mindless hours I usually spend scrolling through dozens of blogs I find that I'm subscribed to.
I find that in my later years my desire—or perhaps ability—to write computer programs has waned. I wonder if I have found a fundamentally new interest in reading and writing. Has this interest displaced my life-long interest in getting the computer to play catch and roll over? Only time will tell.
Stephen King's On Writing was a pretty much perfect thing for me to read. The first section of the book was an autobiography that was not quite an autobiography. It was the story of how he became a writer. The second section was where he focused on dozens and dozens of recommendations on how to write. He went to great length explaining mental attitude needed for writing, the ideal workspace (different for everyone), the tools, and various ruminations on prose, character development, and story. Story is most important.
I could go on but would likely do a piss-poor job at it.
Now I'm writing nearly every day. I'm writing different stories about lots of ideas that have been swimming in my head all my life. I write for the pure joy of it. I don't want to be a writer. I don't think I have any natural talent for it. Still, its been some of the most exciting weeks I've had in a long time.
The other thing that I've noticed happening to me—and it's been happening since early fall—is my voracious appetite for reading. I'm certainly not a fast reader but I have learned to let reading consume all of my idle hours. I read on the train, in bed, in the doctor's office. Reading has even begun to replace some of the mindless hours I usually spend scrolling through dozens of blogs I find that I'm subscribed to.
I find that in my later years my desire—or perhaps ability—to write computer programs has waned. I wonder if I have found a fundamentally new interest in reading and writing. Has this interest displaced my life-long interest in getting the computer to play catch and roll over? Only time will tell.