Jonathan Langford's Blog, page 5

Plot Synopses

I should be going off to do errands right now. And I will, really. Promise! But I was just checking my blog (trying to find out when I went to the Dan Wells book signing, to find out if it was before or after last Christmas, which in turn would tell me if I can buy a Dan Wells book as a present for one of my nephews this year or if I already did it last year) — and I was struck by the impulse to write a quick post.

(Note: It's now more than 2 weeks later. Obviously, I didn't, in fact, get any further at that time. But I will take up the task now, and hope to actually produce something…)

For much of this past year, I've been attempting (between being a dad, doing my paid writing, political involvement and other projects, and sheer laziness) to work on my empath novel. Somewhere I've got more than a half-dozen drafts of my first chapter alone — some radically different from others, in matters ranging from point of view (first versus third person) to location (Nebraska to Kansas to the Twin Cities) to the sudden unexpected appearance of a mysterious villain in one draft (since excised). About the only constants have been (a) that my character is a teenage boy who is also an empath, (b) that the story begins the day he starts high school, and (c) that his best friend is Iranian-American.

Part of what's had me stalled has been figuring out Cameron's character and how I want to tell the story. A big part, though, has been simply being unsure about where to go next. And so back in November, I think, I decided to try writing an outline, or more precisely a synopsis. (Exactly what makes a synopsis different from an outline is fuzzy in my brain, except that I think of an outline as being more structured and a synopsis as being more loosey-goosey, as well as being written in paragraph form.) And so I did that thing. Then I decided that in order to make sense of what was going on in this novel, I had to add some notes about my intentions for the two novels that will follow it as well. A couple of week later, I had 8 pages of single-spaced text giving a basic overview of 3 novels.

The process was illuminating. I've been leery about outlining my stories, ever since the time a few years ago when I discovered I was following my outline too slavishly and that the story I was writing had ceased to have much life to it. I managed to write No Going Back without ever creating an outline, although I did have a detailed timeline where I kept track of what happened when. It also occurred to me, however — in thinking about my challenges with this empath story — that I had a much clearer mental picture of the main story arc and contributing storylines of No Going Back prior to writing it — and that I spent a fair amount of time mentally working out those storylines as needed during the process of writing. I certainly wasn't simply discovering the plot as I went along.

And so I decided to give outlining — er, synopsizing — a second chance. And to my pleased surprise, I found that the process wasn't simply a mechanical one of recording decisions already made, but stimulated me to think about my story in new ways that made it better and, I think, a lot more solid. At least in potential. Things jumped out at me that I hadn't considered before. New possibilities came to the fore, and previously unmade plot decisions became more clear. Well, some of them. Others remained muddy, or even stirred up new sand and much and flotsam. But then, that's the creative process, isn't it? I don't think I'd trust the results if everything seemed too neat and tidy at this point in the process.

*****

I haven't had a chance to do much writing from my synopsis yet, so I don't know how it will actually work. And I'm sure that many of the things in that synopsis will change during the process of writing, and yet again in the process(es) of revision. But it gives me a place to start. I can't help feeling encouraged — and that I'm now further down the road toward getting this novel actually written.

The Writing Rookie Season 2, #4: Yes, I’m a Stalker — Er, Writer

This post is cross-posted at A Motley Vision. For the complete list of columns in this series, click here.

A couple of months ago — shortly after my oldest son got back from his mission — I hijacked him for a day to go driving with me in the northeastern suburbs of St. Paul, about 45 minutes from where I live. He, unwary soul, neglected to ask the purpose of our expedition prior to departure. When eventually he did discover the purpose — to check out a neighborhood and high school that I’ve adopted as the model for the set of novels I’m working on at present — much eye-rolling was evidenced. (Note my clever use of the passive voice to clue the reader in to just how clever I am. For, um, using the passive voice. Yeah.)

I’m sure the only thing that made the experience bearable for my son was the fact that he didn’t have to interact with anyone himself and could therefore more or less ignore the embarrassing way his father was acting. Later, when I told him about emailing a vice-principal chosen at random from the school website with questions about the school — and then showing up in person one day just as school was getting out — he made a comment the precise content of which I cannot remember, but the sense of which was that (a) I’m really quite weird, and (b) the publishing industry does not have enough money in it to persuade him to go out and be nosy and intrusive and chat up complete strangers. Which, I pointed out, was kind of an odd comment for him to make, given that he’d just spent two years talking to strangers about religion. That, however, was Different. Or so he informed me.

I concede nonetheless that he has a point. Being a writer, I’ve found, frequently puts me in situations where I act in ways that push the boundaries of my comfort zone — and leave my family’s far behind. I’m reminded, for example, of the time I showed up at a community PFLAG meeting for No Going Back (Parents and Friends of Lesbians And Gays, except that now they’ve expanded it beyond the acronym to include other categories such as transgendered). I felt intensely uncomfortable going into the meeting — but I did it anyway, because I thought my writing would be better if I had actually experienced some of what I was writing about. And I think it was.

Part of the reason for my embarrassment, I suspect, is that I lack confidence in myself as a writer. Perhaps this will be different once I get a few more publications under my belt. When I say, “I’m doing research for a book I’m writing,” I feel very much a fraud, even though it’s nothing more than the truth. It’s a truism that if you act as if what you’re doing is perfectly normal, others are likely to treat it that way too.

I admit in this respect to a certain jealousy of Shayne Bell, a member of my old writing group Xenobia who (together with Dave Wolverton) was among the first to break into professional writing. Shayne had a remarkable ability to approach total strangers with what appeared to be absolutely no embarrassment when it came to requests related to his writing. So sincere was his demeanor, so clean-cut his appearance, so reasonable and modest his approach, that he could charm pretty much anyone into doing pretty much anything — or at least, so it seemed to me at the time. Shayne was a dangerous man, or at any rate could have been had he chosen to use his gifts as a con artist or politician instead of storyteller. Perhaps I’ll develop more of that kind of confidence when/if I have more published titles under my name.

#######

The day I showed up without prior notice at the school, I first drove around the neighborhood. My original intent had been to drive back and forth in front of the school several times (I wanted to observe while kids were getting out of school), but after a couple of passes, I decided that was a little too stalker-like. So I parked in the nearby district office lot,  walked over to the school, and then talked to someone at the school office, who in turn called out the vice-principal I’d been communicating with. We talked briefly. She said I wouldn’t be able to stay there and observe without talking to the principal first, and encouraged me to email her to set up something.

So that’s what I did. I thought about it for a couple of weeks, then decided that what I really needed was a tour of the school — ideally while students were there, but I assumed it would be less disruptive and easier to arrange after school. I composed an email to the  vice-principal, specifying the types of areas I wanted to see (halls, commons areas, auditoriums, etc.) and explaining that it wasn’t so much a matter of wanting specific information about the school but rather of wanting to get a feel for the school — which is both older and larger than the one my own children attend, and with a somewhat different student demographic. I also was careful to trot out my credentials as an actual published author, one who had even received a short review in one of the local Twin Cities newspapers, and listed my website. I then had to do the same for the principal — and was rewarded with a message asking me to schedule a time for a school tour with the principal. Success!

So that’s what I’m set to do tomorrow morning (the Tuesday before Thanksgiving — this part was originally written a week ago). I’m looking forward to it. Part of me wishes that I had been more self-assured from the start — it was kind of awkward talking to the office staff when I showed up without any kind of appointment, saying, “I just want to stand somewhere and watch the students going out the doors.” But comfortable or not, the fact remains that I actually did it: another small-but-real challenge surmounted in my quest to write my stories.

#######

So. I went into the office, spent about 10 minutes waiting — which was actually kind of nice, since I got to watch students going back and forth during one of the breaks between classes — then spoke with the principal. He had concerns about confidentiality, but when I explained that what I wanted was all in the nature of background and that I wasn’t planning to share any specifics about their school and its students, it seemed to allay those concerns. I also gave him a copy of No Going Back —don’t know if he’ll read it, but it seemed like the thing to do. (Note to self: remember to record the cost of the copy as a research expense…)

After we had talked, he fetched a counselor to show me around for about 20 minutes. We got to see open areas, the library (er, media center), the lunch area (with students eating lunch), the gym, and the halls. I took some notes — more as an immediate aid to memory then as anything else. I took in the ambience. And then I went home.

The Writing Rookie Season 2, #4: Yes, I'm a Stalker — Er, Writer

This post is cross-posted at A Motley Vision. For the complete list of columns in this series, click here.

A couple of months ago — shortly after my oldest son got back from his mission — I hijacked him for a day to go driving with me in the northeastern suburbs of St. Paul, about 45 minutes from where I live. He, unwary soul, neglected to ask the purpose of our expedition prior to departure. When eventually he did discover the purpose — to check out a neighborhood and high school that I've adopted as the model for the set of novels I'm working on at present — much eye-rolling was evidenced. (Note my clever use of the passive voice to clue the reader in to just how clever I am. For, um, using the passive voice. Yeah.)

I'm sure the only thing that made the experience bearable for my son was the fact that he didn't have to interact with anyone himself and could therefore more or less ignore the embarrassing way his father was acting. Later, when I told him about emailing a vice-principal chosen at random from the school website with questions about the school — and then showing up in person one day just as school was getting out — he made a comment the precise content of which I cannot remember, but the sense of which was that (a) I'm really quite weird, and (b) the publishing industry does not have enough money in it to persuade him to go out and be nosy and intrusive and chat up complete strangers. Which, I pointed out, was kind of an odd comment for him to make, given that he'd just spent two years talking to strangers about religion. That, however, was Different. Or so he informed me.

I concede nonetheless that he has a point. Being a writer, I've found, frequently puts me in situations where I act in ways that push the boundaries of my comfort zone — and leave my family's far behind. I'm reminded, for example, of the time I showed up at a community PFLAG meeting for No Going Back (Parents and Friends of Lesbians And Gays, except that now they've expanded it beyond the acronym to include other categories such as transgendered). I felt intensely uncomfortable going into the meeting — but I did it anyway, because I thought my writing would be better if I had actually experienced some of what I was writing about. And I think it was.

Part of the reason for my embarrassment, I suspect, is that I lack confidence in myself as a writer. Perhaps this will be different once I get a few more publications under my belt. When I say, "I'm doing research for a book I'm writing," I feel very much a fraud, even though it's nothing more than the truth. It's a truism that if you act as if what you're doing is perfectly normal, others are likely to treat it that way too.

I admit in this respect to a certain jealousy of Shayne Bell, a member of my old writing group Xenobia who (together with Dave Wolverton) was among the first to break into professional writing. Shayne had a remarkable ability to approach total strangers with what appeared to be absolutely no embarrassment when it came to requests related to his writing. So sincere was his demeanor, so clean-cut his appearance, so reasonable and modest his approach, that he could charm pretty much anyone into doing pretty much anything — or at least, so it seemed to me at the time. Shayne was a dangerous man, or at any rate could have been had he chosen to use his gifts as a con artist or politician instead of storyteller. Perhaps I'll develop more of that kind of confidence when/if I have more published titles under my name.

#######

The day I showed up without prior notice at the school, I first drove around the neighborhood. My original intent had been to drive back and forth in front of the school several times (I wanted to observe while kids were getting out of school), but after a couple of passes, I decided that was a little too stalker-like. So I parked in the nearby district office lot,  walked over to the school, and then talked to someone at the school office, who in turn called out the vice-principal I'd been communicating with. We talked briefly. She said I wouldn't be able to stay there and observe without talking to the principal first, and encouraged me to email her to set up something.

So that's what I did. I thought about it for a couple of weeks, then decided that what I really needed was a tour of the school — ideally while students were there, but I assumed it would be less disruptive and easier to arrange after school. I composed an email to the  vice-principal, specifying the types of areas I wanted to see (halls, commons areas, auditoriums, etc.) and explaining that it wasn't so much a matter of wanting specific information about the school but rather of wanting to get a feel for the school — which is both older and larger than the one my own children attend, and with a somewhat different student demographic. I also was careful to trot out my credentials as an actual published author, one who had even received a short review in one of the local Twin Cities newspapers, and listed my website. I then had to do the same for the principal — and was rewarded with a message asking me to schedule a time for a school tour with the principal. Success!

So that's what I'm set to do tomorrow morning (the Tuesday before Thanksgiving — this part was originally written a week ago). I'm looking forward to it. Part of me wishes that I had been more self-assured from the start — it was kind of awkward talking to the office staff when I showed up without any kind of appointment, saying, "I just want to stand somewhere and watch the students going out the doors." But comfortable or not, the fact remains that I actually did it: another small-but-real challenge surmounted in my quest to write my stories.

#######

So. I went into the office, spent about 10 minutes waiting — which was actually kind of nice, since I got to watch students going back and forth during one of the breaks between classes — then spoke with the principal. He had concerns about confidentiality, but when I explained that what I wanted was all in the nature of background and that I wasn't planning to share any specifics about their school and its students, it seemed to allay those concerns. I also gave him a copy of No Going Back —don't know if he'll read it, but it seemed like the thing to do. (Note to self: remember to record the cost of the copy as a research expense…)

After we had talked, he fetched a counselor to show me around for about 20 minutes. We got to see open areas, the library (er, media center), the lunch area (with students eating lunch), the gym, and the halls. I took some notes — more as an immediate aid to memory then as anything else. I took in the ambience. And then I went home.

The Two Towers

Earlier this evening, I finished reading the last few chapters of The Two Towers to my children — including my oldest, now back from his mission. As always, it was a bit of an effort to pull them away from their various evening pursuits to listen. But once I started, they were quickly drawn in.

Generally speaking, I tend to read only a chapter at a time. This time, though, we read three chapters with only a couple of relatively short breaks. Partly, that was because I feared that if I stopped, they'd never let me start again. It's pretty intense.

Reading aloud is one of those things I like to do with my children, even though I don't do it often enough. Our current project of reading The Lord of the Rings is one that we've been working on for over a year now.

My 16-year-old is finding it a revelation. After tonight's reading, she commented that Eragon (a favorite of hers from a few years back) is really a pale imitation compared to Tolkien. Even our 11-year-old seems absorbed by it. I think he wanted to start reading ahead a few months ago, but reluctantly deferred to my desire to have this be a family activity.

There's a lot I'm finding in it that I don't remember noticing either, despite the many times I read the books during my growing up — and the master's thesis I wrote about it, once upon a time. Reading aloud brings some things to one's attention that are easy to skip in silent reading. Part of it, too, may be that I've spent more time trying to write narratives myself since I last read Tolkien's work. There are things I notice now because I'm seeing it from the writer's perspective.

It's a good experience for our family. And it's a good experience for me as a writer. One thing I know: I'm still just as blown away by Tolkien's writing as I was when I first encountered it almost 40 years ago. More, maybe. Nobody does it better…

Status Check

So it's the second of September. School has just started for the younger two children, and is about to start for my Beloved Spouse (who teaches). Oldest Child gets back from his mission in a week, and we're back from our summer excursions Out West. And I'm ready to get back in the harness and start being more regular about posting on this blog again — and about my not-for-hire writing in general.

Not much to report on the N0 Going Back front. I've had one new blog review since I posted last, from One Literature Nut. She wrote in part: "There were many layers of conflict built into this story, which I think does a nice job of touching on some of the realities that must surround a teen who wants to admit that they are gay…. There aren't any easy or pat answers given in the book, which is probably for the best, but this story tries to tackle them head on.  For starting a dialogue and giving voice to teens also coming out, this book does a really nice job." As I wrote to Chris Bigelow (my publisher), at this point I think the only thing that might impact sales of No Going Back are either (a) a random meteor-strike event, such as being endorsed (or condemned) by Glenn Beck, and (b) getting something else published that's a lot more popular and leads people to wonder what else I wrote. Which isn't going to happen unless I actually write something else…

Which brings me to the realm of my other creative endeavors. After taking several months off my creative writing — due in part to the press of other work projects — I'm now hoping to get back into writing more regularly again. The first step is probably to get more solid plotting done on the story I'm working on most seriously right now. Then some rewriting… As always, the biggest challenges are (a) keeping myself on a good schedule, and (b) getting my nervousness so that I actually do something instead of whining about it. We'll see how that goes…

No Going Back as a Novel of Ideas

Over the past year, one of the most interesting places for thinking and reading about Mormon literature has been The Low-Tech World — a blog by Scott Hales, a graduate student in English and comparative literature at the University of Cincinnati. In a series of witty and insightful reviews, Hales has tackled topics ranging from Doug Thayer's The Tree House to the works of Nephi Anderson. This past week, it was No Going Back's turn in the barrel. I think it came out pretty well.

Hales starts by acknowledging that calling a work of fiction "didactic" is usually considered an insult. Yet that doesn't necessarily have to be the case. He notes:

[L]iterary history shows us that such works have left no small footprint in the wet cement of history…. Didacticism, sentimentality, and good old American preachiness can be powerful tools in the right writer's utility belt…. [W]e would do well to remember, dear reader, that there are… writers of talent who are willing to break a few fiction faux-pas to make important points about the issues of the day.

This, according to Hales, is a good way to view No Going Back, which he characterizes as

a novel of ideas — a roundtable in book form. In his narrative, Langford has included the perspectives of a variety of people, each of whom has a different opinion about Mormonism, homosexuality, and the choices Paul has to make…. In a sense, what Langford does with No Going Back is show that the issue of Mormonism and homosexuality is complicated — and every voice at the roundtable discussion needs to be heard.

Overall, despite some "stutters," Hales sees No Going Back as artistically successful. He writes:

As a novel of ideas, No Going Back is surprisingly void of sentimentalism — probably due to its avoidance of utopian spaces…. At times… certain scenes, characters, and situations in the novel seem designed to make a point or raise a question in the debate over Mormonism and homosexuality. At the same time, though, the novel never seems too heavy-handed to me. For the most part, Langford tries to approach every idea in the novel evenly and sympathetically, although some points-of-view and organizations come out less scathed than others. This seems to fit with his larger agenda for the book. Langford's after conversation, not conversion.

Hales also praises the novel's major characters as "interesting [and] realistic" and notes the pervasiveness of the theme of silence in the book, extending beyond the main character's situation into areas such as the relationship between Richard and Sandy Mortensen (the main character's bishop and his wife). I'm not sure that as an author, I'd been fully aware of all those connections. It's a cool experience to learn something new about your own work from reading someone else's thoughts about it.

Prevention, Health Care Costs, and Health Insurance

And now for something completely different.

There are two fundamental problems with health care in the United States: cost and equity. Most proposals for reforming the system address (at most) one of these. Given the vast influence that my online presence gives me (cough, cough), I'd like to propose something that might actually manage to address both — or at least address one without doing much in the way of net damage to the other.

I should start by emphasizing that I have absolutely no expert knowledge in the field of health care, thus making it almost certain that there's a good reason why I haven't heard these proposals talked about anywhere. But if so, I'd like to hear them.

The base idea is simple: allow insurance companies to charge higher health insurance premiums for those who don't take care of their own health.

I mean, come on. I'm overweight, and I almost never exercise. This almost guarantees that I'm going to have more health problems than someone who exercises and watches his/her weight. It's only fair that I should have to pay a higher price for that.

In order to keep this proposal from harming those who genuinely can't help their health issues, I would limit it to a few specific criteria. For example:

- Being overweight — and not subject to a medically verifiable condition that prevents you from addressing this

- Being in poor cardiovascular shape (e.g., doing poorly on treadmill tests) — again, with exclusions for those whose health conditions prevent them from exercising regularly

- Smoking

- Not seeing the doctor for regular checkups and meeting specified recommended milestones (e.g., PAP smears, prostate exams)

I would definitely not allow higher premiums based on preexisting conditions, age, gender, or anything else that the person can't control going forward. And I wouldn't allow anyone to be excluded based on these criteria. Perhaps there should be some maximum percentage amount built in: e.g., no one can pay more than double the base amount. All that is stuff that can be worked out by people who know a lot more than I do, if the basic idea works.

The beauty of all this is that it rewards people for doing the things that can help them stay healthier. Prevention, not curing — which I have to believe would reduce bottom-line health care costs. Yeah, I know, people already have plenty of incentives to do that. But at bottom line, we're largely a paycheck-driven society. If I see that not exercising and controlling my weight costs me an extra $150 a month (taking a wild stab), I'll have a very tangible incentive for changing things. And if I don't improve my own health — well, other people who are taking care of their health won't be forced to pay for my sloth.

I have no idea if the specific items I listed above are the ones that actually would make sense, financially and healthwise. That's the sort of thing that health experts could argue about. But I'd like to at least see the conversation take place.

Random Writing

I spent about an hour yesterday (which turned out to be another long work day) writing on a story starter from a few months ago that I happened to open but had not really planned to do anything with. It was oddly satisfying. Oddly, I say, because it didn't amount constitute progress on the story I'm "officially" working on, or any other project that I care much about for its own sake (though obviously since putting in that hour yesterday I'm now wondering if I can do something with it after all).

The main thing I take away from the experience, though, is a reminder that it's the writing itself I find satisfying: putting words in mouths, virtual flesh on virtual bones, swirling an order of fictional events and chronologies out of primordial chaos. It's not the pleasure of playing God, but rather the joy of creation: a rather more worthwhile thing, I can't help but hope, even if the stuff of it is (as Shakespeare's Puck put it) no more yielding but a dream. That, and a realization that story starters can indeed be useful when I want to do some writing but am feeling stuck.

P.S. I think I've already emailed everyone who follows this blog, but here's a link to my son on his mission, singing a song of his own composition about Mormon doctrine. Fun stuff.

Down Days

It's a down day. The weekend was great; my sister-in-law was in town, and we got a chance to see my daughter's choir concert. And the weather's pretty good, with spring finally more or less definitively here (though that also brings the need to figure out lawn mowing soon). But it's a down day nonetheless.

I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe because I'm still recuperating on sleep I lost over the last couple of weeks due to some urgent work deadlines. Or maybe it's because I'm at "that" phase in my fiction writing process. (I don't think I've commented here on my perception that each major undertaking includes Despair as a distinct, unavoidable project phase.) Or perhaps it's allergies. Or laziness. Or some other as-yet-undefined factor.

#######

Down days happen. This is simple truth. Once you've hit a down day, about the only thing you can do about it is plug away, avoid any major life-changing decisions, and hope not to lose too much ground in the process. Oh, and get as much sleep as you can. And eat. Eating is important. Calories in one's blood sugar, I've found, can have a nearly miraculous impact on negative moods.

As things happened this morning, I wound up getting pulled into several time-sensitive work deadlines, which didn't do much to improve how I felt but also didn't leave me much time to vegetate, which is all to the good, I suppose. It was a bit disconcerting finding that I had to restrain myself from bursting into tears at the shoddy writing one of our clients had sent our way for us to use, but I managed. (This is one of those times when I'm glad I don't share my home-office space with anyone I have to play pretty for.)

And now it's midafternoon. I've got a few other things I want to get done before I knock off for the day. We'll see how that goes.

#######

On other fronts: today saw my latest post at Mormon Mommy Blogs, talking about 10-year-olds and featuring a prized photograph of my oldest son from about dozen years ago, up in a tree with two of his friends. Feel free to check it out.

The Writing Rookie Season 2, #3: The Search for a Writing Group

This post is cross-posted at A Motley Vision. For the complete list of columns in this series, click here.

Back when I was in college, one of the best things I ever did was join Xenobia, an sf&f writing group. It was a great experience. I didn't do much writing back then, but the process of reading, giving critiques, and listening to other people's comments taught me a lot about both writing and what I value as a reader. For several years, it served as one of my primary social groups. Some of the people I met there have become longtime friends — people I'm still in contact with today.

As a writing group, Xenobia is no more, alas. (It still exists as a kind of email list where people share news and encouragement from time to time.) And I truly regret it, because now that I'm finally trying to get my own creative writing going again, I find that I need both readers to react to my work and people I can bat ideas around with.

This occurred to me again the other evening as I was thinking about the teenage empath in my current YA science fiction novel. I want him to be able to sense other people's feelings (not their thoughts), but also physical sensations as well, such as pain or lust. I've been trying to figure out whether those are two truly separate things (in which case one might conceivably develop into the other), or if physical and emotional sensations can't really be separated. That's exactly the type of question we could have had a good discussion about back in Xenobia days. But I don't really have a place to start that kind of conversation nowadays.

#######

I didn't feel the lack of a writing group with No Going Back, partly I think because I knew that even without one, I'd be able to find people who would give me good feedback. And I did. Part of that was because of the kind of story it was — people had an intrinsic interest in the subject matter, and were relatively eager to give feedback on a book that was exploring new territory in Mormon fiction. Another part, I think, was because I'd been fairly engaged already in the community of Mormon letters. To some extent, AML, A Motley Vision, et al., were my writing group.

It's different now. Partly that's because no one has any community investment in the kinds of stories I'm working on right now. Mostly, though, I think it's because I'm working in a different genre (YA science fiction). I feel the need to talk to people who read and write the kind of stuff I'm trying to write and get their take both on my writing and on the ideas I'm trying to make work.

#######

Thinking about what kind of a writing group I'd want to be a part of, I find that I'm a bit… picky.

As I indicated above, one of the things I really want is people who have first-hand knowledge of the genre I'm trying to write. It doesn't necessarily have to be as a writer, but at least as a thoughtful reader. Indeed, in many ways a thoughtful reader might be an even better reviewer than another writer. Unfortunately, the way these things work, there's very little most writers (including myself) can provide in pay to their readers — except an exchange of comments, something that has value only to another writer.

The underlying economy of a writing group lies in the exchange of comments. If I want to get good comments, I have to be willing to give good comments. That's something I'm pretty good at, based on past experience — except that I've gotten a lot slower at it in recent years.

Back about 15 years ago, I reviewed a book manuscript from a friend of mine who's a professional writer. It was an excellent story. I put in about 40 hours looking at the manuscript and making comments, which he told me were more valuable than what he got from the editor at his publishing house. It's an experience and an accolade I treasure to this day. I have also never been able to make myself read the published novel, nor the stories that were its sequels (though I'm hoping that will change someday).

For me, writing stories and reading/reviewing stories by other writers occupy much the same (highly exhausting) mental territory. I could easily see myself putting energy into critiquing other people's stories that should be going into my own writing. But I know that if I want to make my stories as good as they can be, I need good comments — which means that I need to be willing to give them in turn.

That being the case, I would ideally like for the people in my writing group to be on a level that's more or less comparable to my own in terms of skill and/or knowledge. Working with people who are still trying to figure out how to write sentences and paragraphs is likely to prove frustrating for them and me both. On the other hand, I don't think I belong in a writing group with the professionals either. I'm still learning too many of the basics.

This is a problem that solves itself naturally when you get into a writing group early in your writing experience. To some extent, all of you in the group get to grow along with each other, with people dropping out along the way (as I did) if they aren't ready to go there yet. Unfortunately, I took a 20-year detour between college and the start of my creative writing career, so I need to start over at this point more or less from scratch with respect to finding a writing group.

The other thing I don't want is people who think it's their job to fix my story. Mostly what I want is people who will tell me what worked and didn't work for them, how they reacted to things as they were reading them. An articulate and intelligent test audience, as it were. Then once a problem has been identified, I may want to throw it open to the group for discussion. That's a point where suggestions from other experienced writers could be highly valuable. Most of the time, though, I want to try to fix it first myself.

It also turns out that I don't react well to theoretical or model-based criticism, by which I mean critiques that start from some particular model or theory of what a story should be like rather than from a reader's perception of what worked or didn't work in a particular story. Basically, I don't react well to appeals to authority in any form, aside from the authority of the reader to describe his or her own experience. I can easily see where this tendency on my part could give (and take) offense in some contexts.

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So where does that leave me in the quest for a writing group?

Up to now, this has been something I've thought I could defer until such time as I have a more complete manuscript and am ready to show it to someone. Basically, as I've commented elsewhere, I need to do my best to do the things I already know how to do before I go out and collect other people's opinions about what I need to be doing better. And in terms of motivation, I know of old that involvement in a writing group is far more likely to function as a (highly enjoyable) social distraction from writing than as a stimulus to produce more.

Despite all of which, my frustrated wish for someone with whom to talk over the logic of my story serves as a reminder of the potential benefits of writing groups, even before my manuscript is ready to show to people. Maybe it's time for me to start looking.