Infernal Editor
Dave Letterman often quips, “There is no off position on the genius switch.” Now that NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) has landed, I wish that were true for me. The only thing for which I have no off switch is my internal editor. I guess majoring in literature, teaching English for twenty-seven years, and writing on a daily basis will do that to a person. I can’t write without thinking: Does that verb punch? Is that modifying phrase correctly placed? Does that pronoun have a clear antecedent?
All this is not to say I write flawlessly. My writing groups and proofreaders ferret out an astounding number of errors! The point is that during NaNoWriMo one is supposed to kill those internal editors and just write.
One speaker at our local NaNoWriMo kickoff said when he gets stuck, he throws in a ninja attack. The hordes crest the hill with their swords drawn, the steal blades gleaming in the sun. My internal editor launches an immediate counter drone strike. Bits of black fabric and clods of dirt explode into the air. My internal editor obliterates the mass of ninjas. The stench of burning flesh rises in the smoke.
With this vicious internal editor, I doubt I’ll reach the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words, but the truth is I have no desire for an off switch. My former volleyball coach used to say, “It’s not practice that makes perfect. It’s perfect practice that makes perfect.” If a person practices a volleyball bump with an arm swing, he/she will swing his/her arms during the game and shank the ball. I believe in my coach’s philosophy when I’m writing. I want to select the best words and to strive for perfect sentences even if I’m “practicing.”
Hemingway was content with a daily count of 500 words. He worked in the morning, standing much of the time because he suffered from leg wounds he sustained in WWI. He felt it was important to stop while he still had some juice, so he could pick up the next day without writer’s block. However, he had moments when he couldn’t get started, and he offered this advice in A Moveable Feast:
Sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, “Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.”
When Hemingway had the “one true sentence,” he’d go from there. Loaded as I am with an internal editor, one true sentence and 500 words per day seems much more doable during NaNoWriMo—a measly 15,000 words for November, instead of 50,000, but I would be satisfied. If that rate of writing was good enough for Hemingway, it is good enough for me.
All this is not to say I write flawlessly. My writing groups and proofreaders ferret out an astounding number of errors! The point is that during NaNoWriMo one is supposed to kill those internal editors and just write.
One speaker at our local NaNoWriMo kickoff said when he gets stuck, he throws in a ninja attack. The hordes crest the hill with their swords drawn, the steal blades gleaming in the sun. My internal editor launches an immediate counter drone strike. Bits of black fabric and clods of dirt explode into the air. My internal editor obliterates the mass of ninjas. The stench of burning flesh rises in the smoke.
With this vicious internal editor, I doubt I’ll reach the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words, but the truth is I have no desire for an off switch. My former volleyball coach used to say, “It’s not practice that makes perfect. It’s perfect practice that makes perfect.” If a person practices a volleyball bump with an arm swing, he/she will swing his/her arms during the game and shank the ball. I believe in my coach’s philosophy when I’m writing. I want to select the best words and to strive for perfect sentences even if I’m “practicing.”
Hemingway was content with a daily count of 500 words. He worked in the morning, standing much of the time because he suffered from leg wounds he sustained in WWI. He felt it was important to stop while he still had some juice, so he could pick up the next day without writer’s block. However, he had moments when he couldn’t get started, and he offered this advice in A Moveable Feast:
Sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, “Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.”
When Hemingway had the “one true sentence,” he’d go from there. Loaded as I am with an internal editor, one true sentence and 500 words per day seems much more doable during NaNoWriMo—a measly 15,000 words for November, instead of 50,000, but I would be satisfied. If that rate of writing was good enough for Hemingway, it is good enough for me.
No comments have been added yet.
