Writers helping writers, pt. II

Jason Sandford

Jason Sandford is a reporter, writer, blogger and photographer interested in all things Asheville.

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In any conference, you’ll pick up themes. Some expected, some not so. Some quirky. A few that are silly. Here are a few I gleaned about writers during this weekend’s North Carolina Writers’ Network conference in Ashvegas.

Here are just a few of the “constants” that I picked up on. Some are serious. Some needle me, or make me want to laugh or just dismiss. But here we go:

Be childlike: over and over, writers urge other writers to soak up the world as a child would, questioning but not judging, curious but not fearful.

Buy books: there’s a fair amount of gloom and doom about the corporate-dominated ownership of the publishing industry. Of course, everyone’s trying to sell a book, so they’re operating out of some very closely held fear.

The more quotes, the better: writer’s love to quote other writers. There are plenty of great quotes out there, but this gets a little tiresome. Be original. Quote yourself. But this leads into the observation that writers can be an overly serious bunch. When faced with a tough situation, they’ll likely not opt for humor, but keep digging for the existential truths. And they’ll whip out a quote on you.

In one class, some old codger was complaining that there are a lot of people who go to schools and get fancy degrees and start writing, without ever having lived or experienced anything. An older woman in the class hit him with a flying dagger: “Eudora Welty said anyone with a childhood has enough material for a life of writing.” That shut him up.

Another man, getting a little caught up in the importance of his work, pulled out a sheet and read a long Kafka quote about how the only worthwhile writing feels like devastation and destruction, impacts like suicide and that a book “must be an axe for the frozen sea inside us.” You go, guy.

You’ll know when you’re done: Writers seem to work a lot on a gut level, and over and over again, writers said that you’ll instinctively know when you’re done with a story. You’ll just know. Which leads into the other constant of writing, your work is never done. Over and over again, writers were urged to rewrite and revise and not be afraid of that hard work, because there really is no such thing as perfection.

Writer’s block – real or not? Lots of discussion here. One class leader declared that there was no such thing, only fear of failure. That didn’t really seem helpful, though, because fear indeed can have a paralyzing effect on someone. Better was the leader who coached us with free writing exercises to help us loosen up and move the critical mind away from the creative mind. This leads into the other common thread that writers should write, just get it down on paper, no matter how crazy or dumb, then come back and sift out the little gems like a miner with a screen.

Writing as a journey: All of life is a journey, and all the writers this weekend wanted to remind us that writing itself is a journey. It’s a journey inside and out. A journey to look at yourself, find those universal connections, and make them. A journey outward to meet and connect with other humans and share what it is to be human, in all its messiness. This constant led to the refrain that the best writing leads you to something you don’t know.

One class leader quoted Picasso, who said that he never painted what he set out to paint. That he would start, but whatever was affecting him right then and there, would find its way into his work. This same class leader also quoted someone else (can’t remember who) who said that, in the best writing, “you fall asleep on one shore and awake on another.”