I've been spending a lot of time editing chapters of a book for my friend. She and her sister are writing a book, and I'm thrilled to be trusted with this wonderful role, as the proofreader/ idea bouncer. My friend emails me chapters, and I fix the commas and ask clarity questions and give my honest feedback.
Today they met with an editor from Deseret Book, who is definitely considering publishing their manuscript. (It's only 6 out of 30 chapters completed, but how wonderful to have the editor say they like the concept!)
It makes me think. I am sooo thrilled for my friend, but I am also wistful. Why can't I do that? Maybe I could. Maybe! I used to write many stories when I was a kid. Since then, I have written thousands of pages of journals, newspaper articles, a 400-page thesis, but in years and years and years, no stories. Why? Stories are magic. I love them. We all love them, and live by them. But I am so darn picky and overeducated in literary analysis.
I know I have blogged about my story writing paralysis before. I could cough up an article or a research paper or a hundred page journal lickety-split, but a story? For some reason, I find it very difficult. And I think it's being too adult, too editorial, too picky, too literary, and not like a happy little kid who is just throwing words on a page, or like a happy chimp throwing paint at a canvas. I miss it.
I realize, reading my friend's book, that this is what I am missing. She just has a happy idea, and wants to share it. She was not an English major. She doesn't know all the rules of punctuation and grammar. But her story is lively, fun, and I do think kids will like it. So, she's inspiring me.
Damn those English teachers, with their analysis and their microscopes on every written phrase and semicolon. I can say, "Damn those English teachers because I am one. For years and years, I taught this stuff-- find the theme, find the irony, circle the linking verb, underline the prepositional phrase, respond to the denouement. Grrr... High School English, and Elementary school English, and even two years of University-level English. I cheerfully teach the parts of speech and Shakespeare, but I am afraid to try to write a story because I can't write like Flannery O'Connor, Leif Enger, John Steinbeck, Charles Dickens, Katherine Anne Porter, and the rest of my writing heroes. It's like the gourmet chef who spends so much time and energy on the fancy that she can't enjoy a burned hot dog, cooked on a stick that is still covered in marshmallow goop.
Well, I am determined to change. Right now, I am going to write a story for my little son. He is eight. If he likes it, I will write another. I will keep ya'll posted.
Today they met with an editor from Deseret Book, who is definitely considering publishing their manuscript. (It's only 6 out of 30 chapters completed, but how wonderful to have the editor say they like the concept!)
It makes me think. I am sooo thrilled for my friend, but I am also wistful. Why can't I do that? Maybe I could. Maybe! I used to write many stories when I was a kid. Since then, I have written thousands of pages of journals, newspaper articles, a 400-page thesis, but in years and years and years, no stories. Why? Stories are magic. I love them. We all love them, and live by them. But I am so darn picky and overeducated in literary analysis.
I know I have blogged about my story writing paralysis before. I could cough up an article or a research paper or a hundred page journal lickety-split, but a story? For some reason, I find it very difficult. And I think it's being too adult, too editorial, too picky, too literary, and not like a happy little kid who is just throwing words on a page, or like a happy chimp throwing paint at a canvas. I miss it.
I realize, reading my friend's book, that this is what I am missing. She just has a happy idea, and wants to share it. She was not an English major. She doesn't know all the rules of punctuation and grammar. But her story is lively, fun, and I do think kids will like it. So, she's inspiring me.
Damn those English teachers, with their analysis and their microscopes on every written phrase and semicolon. I can say, "Damn those English teachers because I am one. For years and years, I taught this stuff-- find the theme, find the irony, circle the linking verb, underline the prepositional phrase, respond to the denouement. Grrr... High School English, and Elementary school English, and even two years of University-level English. I cheerfully teach the parts of speech and Shakespeare, but I am afraid to try to write a story because I can't write like Flannery O'Connor, Leif Enger, John Steinbeck, Charles Dickens, Katherine Anne Porter, and the rest of my writing heroes. It's like the gourmet chef who spends so much time and energy on the fancy that she can't enjoy a burned hot dog, cooked on a stick that is still covered in marshmallow goop.
Well, I am determined to change. Right now, I am going to write a story for my little son. He is eight. If he likes it, I will write another. I will keep ya'll posted.
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