THE RIGHT WAY IS YOUR WAY
I once dated a man who took me skiing. I had never been before, but as soon as my skis were on I headed toward the bunny hill. My boyfriend caught up with me (easily, I might add) and asked:
“Why do you think you can do everything right away?”
I was taken aback by the question because that wasn’t what I was thinking at all. I was headed off to see how things were done. I wanted to observe and practice away from the crowds. I wanted to fall down without calling too much attention to myself – especially the attention of the man I was dating. He perceived that I arrogantly thought I could just go out and ski. There might have been some truth in that since my intent was to unveil my skills as soon as I had conquered the basics which included standing up on my skis and going at least as far as the little kids scooting down the bunny hill. In short, I wanted to learn alone and then have fun. His idea of fun was trying to teach me how to ski by coaching me. The problem was, we didn’t learn the same way. He learned by having someone tell him what to do; I learned by watching other people do and then attempting to do it myself.
I thought of this ski date because someone asked me, “how do you write a book?”
When I was dared to write a book, I retreated to the quiet of my home and learned by trial and error. I took a book and a bottle of wine and sat in my living room. I was armed with a yellow marker. I sipped a glass of wine as I read the book. I highlighted the important parts: where and how characters appeared, how chapters ended, exciting dialogue passages, expository (though I didn’t know that word then). The wine was soon forgotten (mainly because I am not a big drinker), but the book and it’s lesson lasted long into the evening and beyond.
When I was finished reading and highlighting the text of my ‘learning’ book, I started typing. I mimicked the structure of the novel I had just read. Surprisingly, I must have done it well because that first book sold. Now, after thirty books, I look back and realize that in those early years I was learning how to stand on my ‘literary’ skis. In those early days I was scooting downhill cautiously toward the bottom of the publishing mountain. Every time I took the lift up and started another book, I went down that mountain a little smoother, with a little more confidence and a bit more daring.
It wasn’t until ten years later with ten books under my belt, that I actually found my unique writing voice, my genre, and a definite point of view. That was when I became an author and not just a writer. I also became a teacher. I have taught at UCLA’s Writers Program, conferences and small groups. My teaching always revolves around ‘showing’ how something is done. Sometimes my students get it and run with it and other times I have to refine my lessons to match the way a student learns.
What I have come to realize is that everyone who strikes out on a new venture share certain things: curiosity, desire to learn, and energy. Yet when it comes to learning a new skill, we are all different. Some of us learn by doing and others through instruction. Some can only tackle a project when there are many voices in a room offering advice and their own ideas while many must have complete silence and spend time in the company of their own imagination.
There is no one correct way to write or tell a story. There is only one commandment that must be honored and that is to begin. No matter how you put those words on paper, how you are inspired, or how you learn the craft it is the right way for you. Remember, readers will never ask you how you wrote a book they love they will only ask you to write another.
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This article is copyright © Rebecca Forster
