Vol III: #47 Did I, Grow Up?
As you may know, or perhaps you don’t, I am writing a novel. The process is slow and I spend more time pondering the story than writing it. This is good, I’m told. (I heard a lifelong artist say “an artist should spend more time observing than creating. Then each brush stroke will be made with an educated purpose.” This approach is good for writing too.) And, I since I realized a novel is nothing more than collection of short stories with a common cast of characters organized around a central plot, I spend a considerable amount of time thinking about my characters and how they interact with one another.
Tuesday, I sat down to write a pivotal part of the novel’s climax, and…it sucked. Oh, it sucked bad. The crucial chain of events made little sense to the rest of the novel, and the plot holes were staggering. And the dialogue? It was eight grade school play awful. The shame of such bad writing and composition set in mere minutes after I finished composing it.
I spent the next 24 hours doubting my ability to write a novel worth reading, though I never thought of giving it up. Then, a Holy thought formed in my mind. Write down your fears/disappointments and start over. So, I grabbed my notebook and jotted down my thoughts on what I wrote. Afterward, I took my pen and slashed through eight pages of garbage, ready to start again.
Believe it or not, a moment like the one I had this week- some bad writing or a wrong brush stroke- has derailed me in the past. I have dozens of unfinished projects because I couldn’t handle my mistakes. My mistakes were seen as a judgement on my ability and talent. But you know? I’m learning. Bad writing is part of the process of becoming a good writer. And, I’m not done with my mistakes. Creative people must be able to work through bad choices and missteps. So, I must learn to keep moving/writing/sculpting. And, I think I have.
Feels good to grow up.
