Note: A version of the following post was written for Ireland Writer Tours. The week I had been invited to spend in Ireland leading discussions for a group of writers, in September, has been canceled. Ireland is still struggling with variants of the COVID-19 virus; there weren’t enough participants booked to make the week work. Yes, it would have been great. But public health is the priority. Nonetheless, I thought I would share this post here, too. It’s relevant as we all look forward to Colorado Gold in October.
++
At the International University of Writing Fiction, there are 1.5 zillion professors.
It doesn’t take much—right?
Many writers want to share their insights, their approach, their thoughts on everything from the hero’s journey to their opinion on dialogue tags, character development, or how best to use the latest newfangled story-tracking software.
I have attended workshops given by master-level writers with 50 million books in print. I have attended workshops led by writers who have published a handful of avant-garde short stories in underground zines. And I might have gleaned some worthy nugget—of equal value—from both classes.
We writers are curious about the work habits of others. We want to know how others developed their own special sauce. We want to know how others edit, rewrite, promote, think up new ideas, all of that.
In short, most of us love talking about writing as much as we love writing itself.
Not everybody is a teacher, but there’s a natural inclination among many writers to share what they’ve learned—and thank goodness most writers believe in sharing insights. Sometimes, that’s in front of a class. Others, it’s over a tart paloma at the bar.
Me?
Two of my favorite topics about writing are these:
- Why do we write?
- Why do we read?
I believe that your answers to those questions carry lots of valuable information about the writing process itself.
Both questions are connected to a big over-arching question I learned from my friend Murph. Murph is the fictional hero of nine books in The Asphalt Warrior series by the late Gary Reilly. Murph is a Denver taxi driver. He has two goals in life. One goal is to earn as little money as possible—only enough money to keep his simple, bohemian life afloat. The second goal is to never get involved in the lives of his passengers.
Murph is pretty good at the first goal—though he does slip up every now and then. But he’s terrible at the second; he is constantly getting involved.
The novels are hilarious and, full disclosure, I have played in a role in the posthumous publication of Gary Reilly’s works. (More about the nine books in that series here.)
One question is at the heart of Murph’s view of the world—and it’s a valuable question for writers to ask of all their characters and, in fact, of themselves: “Why does anybody do anything?”
No, seriously.
Don’t just take it for granted. Why do you get out bed in the morning? (Or not?) Why do you go to work? (Or not?) Why do you have a family? (Or not?) Why do you jump off a cliff with a flying suit on your back? (Or not?)
Why do your characters do what they do? What is their essence? Are they aware of their place in the world, how they got there? Or not? Do they feel in control of their lives? Or not?
Writing takes time. Why do you do it?
Reading takes time. Why do you do it?
Again, seriously—why? What’s in it for you? Why do you feel so strangely compelled to seek out so much time to read and write?
I mean, you could be practicing with those flying suits. It’s an option! Or setting the world record for free-diving (702 feet) or upping your skills at chess.
Why writing? Why spend a weekend in Denver at Colorado Gold gleaning insights and ideas from your peeps?
Why?
Because you believe in yourself. And you believe, like me, that we all have lots to learn.
++
By the way: The late Gary Reilly’s 15th posthumous publication debuts on July 13: Jeremy Bannister, or The Ups and Downs of An Aspiring Novelist.
Fabulous!!! Good ol’ Murph!!!
I’ve been thinking about this lately, as it relates to mindfulness. Writing, for me, is a record of reflection and projection. Does this mean I’m missing the present by dwelling in the past, or worrying about the future? Maybe. But it’s the only way I know how to function in this “too much” world sometimes. I read and write to make sense of things, and to share that process with others. Or, as George Orwell more wittily put it: “The job is to reconcile my ingrained likes and dislikes with the essentially public, non-individual activities that this age forces on all of us.”
Thank you, as always, Mark, for your insight and positive provocation!
Very very belated t-h-a-n-k you. Love that Orwell quote.
I believe we all have our superpowers!
We have to do something while inhabiting this rock out in space! We are all “built” to do certain things in life–it doesn’t mean that that one thing is all we CAN do, it means that we have within us the predisposition and initial skills to perform certain activities better than others. And that if we want to or need to do something else, we have certain predispositions for still other things. I do not believe for one second when someone says that all they can do in life is one certain thing, like being a writer or a chess player. If times of stress, e.g., wars, hardships, have shown us anything, it’s the resiliency of the Human Spirit when pressed…forced into corners. The Human Being is an amazing organism capable of so many things, including things we haven’t begun to discover. If we need to do something or discover we have a certain talents we never realized we had, we will and can do those things. We just chose to do certain things over others. Develop skills to do one thing over the other, because Time and Space are limited and we can’t do everything at once, here in the Corporeal Existence we find ourselves inhabiting.
My Three cents. 🙂 Nice, provocative post!
Many thanks, Frank!
Great post. Thanks for reminding us why writers do what we do.
Thank you, Donald!