What’s that? More whiny self-deprecation, please? Your holiday wish is granted!

Just after Thanksgiving I was CC'd on an email with the subject "Re: Links for Writers". Not too surprising, considering my habits, except that the thread was fourteen years old and I had no recollection of it, the context, or the contributors. The new message:

What now? Who the? Is this coming from inside the house?

The thread was from a creative writing class offered by Main Line School Nights, a non-credit "lifelong learning" program out of Radnor/Wayne (MontCo, PA). That name rang a distant, misshapen bell. Couldn't tell you where it was held, nor identify a single name or face from the class. My only memory is of an in-class prompt to write an over-the-top "dark and stormy night" prologue, and doing something about a posh couple pulling up their blood-brown Bentley to the porte-cochère of the gloomy, fog-cowled Stabbington Estate or something. And...that's it. K*****a? I don't even k*****a!

Long/short: I agreed to help.

I’ve been part of five writers’ groups over the years. Few of the members were traditionally published. Most had no dedicated or accredited writing instruction. There were YA’s penning their epic Harry-Potter-but-with-Furries breakout novels, twenty-somethings developing their Hunger-Games-but-with-Furries breakout novels, thirty- and forty-somethings with their (requisite) epic Game-of-Thrones-but-with-Furries breakout novels, some dark fantasy with prose well into the ultraviolet (ahem), some “literary” superhero stuff well into the ultraviolet (ahem), expertise-specific hard sci-fi with the usual flat archetypes showing off said expertise, so many seniors with memoirs, some poetry with no verbs, a few folks just learning English...

And K*****a’s emailed draft ranks... It’s rough. An accounting of its problems isn’t necessary; assume that everything that can go wrong with English prose occurs at some point. But this is the dear, personal work of a seasoned, educated, multilingual professional who's just starting their journey as an author. Of course it’s raw, loose, flawed. Awful, as she feared. There’s no virtue in savaging a freshman effort; it’s not like she’s E. L. James or Dan Brown.

In later emails she asks after these bullet points (copy/pasted):

• Characters- fully fleshed out? strength, credibility, way they speak, actions, relationships with other characters

• Main character- all the above, plus do you get her, are you rooting for her?

• Narrative - overall story strength, relatability, interest?

• Plot- keeps your interest? Are you wondering/do you care what will happen? Too dramatic/not dramatic enough? Mundane? If you start daydreaming during a section- that means I need to improve it!

• Structure- it’s unusual, does it work?

• Chapters- number, organization, length, level of detail

• My writing style (author’s voice)- any irritating features or inconsistencies? Repetitive? Unclear?

• What’s missing? Are there any fatal flaws?

• What/How can it be improved?

It’s so much a “starter” project that it’s hard to know what feedback or depth of feedback would be most helpful. Some of what she’s concerned about is lost in the background noise. “What’s missing?” Shit if I know.

Were this my first work, what would I have needed to hear? At some point I was where she is; what feedback helped me level up? Actually, I don’t remember. It was quite a while ago.

Quite a while.

Her email shook me up. Fourteen years?! And MLSN wasn’t my first rodeo! I’ve been “at this” for...for how fucking long now?

My BFF is author River Adams (they/them). River and I attended some of the same nonsense writing classes back in the day. We traded drafts, critiqued one another. They came to the U.S. at age nineteen not knowing even basic conversational English; they now have an MFA in Creative Writing from Emerson (among other degrees). Their 2023 literary debut novel, The Light of Seven Days, has been nominated for several awards, and rightly so. Highly recommend it. They’ve appeared in a number of literary journals, and their first book, published in 2014, years before the MFA, was a quirky biography and also well received.

How’s my journey going?

Since my ol’ undergrad days I’ve attended several (how many is “many”?) non-credit “adult ed” writing, uh, “classes”, and four for-credit college-level writing courses (only one dedicated to straight fiction). Let’s not count the how-to books and videos. Been a paying member of two writers’ guilds. I can occasionally write solid scenes. Individual lines of dialogue mostly ring as natural, but not so all exchanges between characters. I still abuse commas, em dashes, semicolons, and parentheses (obvs). I’m inclined to overwrite, aiming for “clever” and “erudite”, pushing my prose into purplish Gordian configurations, but I’m getting better at dialing it back. No, really! I’m not an astute observer of human nature, so my character building and development leave some readers cold or bemused. My story arcs are shaky; I know the various theories for satisfying storytelling (Freytag, Campbell/Vogler, Truby, Harmon, Snyder, Coyne, acts, rising tension, complications, beats, stakes, promises, all-is-losts [alls-are-lost?], false endings...), but effective implementation is still the next story away. What’s that? Theme? Are you kidding me right now?

Got 40k into a “literary” (har!) superhero novel but abandoned it when I realized it thoughtlessly depended on stale, tasteless tropes (refrigerating the lesbian pal, manic pixie dream girl, the “crazy homeless guy” that’s victim and antagonist, all that bullshit. Shameful.) Dozens of unfinished short stories, a bunch of barely-outlined novels, a few stabs at screenplays, a terrible, terrible play written for class, some other garbage (I am NOT a poet). One submission to an online sword & sorcery mag, rejected. I have earned money, kinda: < $500 USD over four pieces (a silly short story to open a [long defunct] TTRPG product, an essay in the local writers’ guild mag, and two flash pieces placing in local contests). That’s it. Decades. What the hell am I doing.

Sigh. Whine.

River is very smart, very talented, well and specifically educated, and dedicated to their craft and career. There’s no point comparing our journeys, considering the gulfs in our instruction and energies devoted to “making it”. But, dammit... Just dammit. It’s not even envy. It’s disappointment in myself, something approaching shame when I tally how much I’ve given up in this anemic pursuit. This...hobby.

I’m not evolved enough a writer to be authoritatively critiquing a piece which (a) exceeds the scope of anything I’ve finished to date and (2) is in need of such fundamental guidance. Had I known what to expect, I’d have deleted her mail. But I did my level best to answer her questions and offer whatever other honest thoughts arose while trying to be encouraging.

Reading this draft was a slog. Trying to be positive and constructive hurt my brain and heart. But reviewing my notes I found:

Subtle mixed POV mistakes. An unintended layer of detachment in some of the third person narration. Uneven tone in the prose. Melodrama for drama. The protagonist lacks agency. Unearned character development. Telling instead of showing. Page time on minutia while summarizing truly telling events...

...Things I wouldn’t have picked up on a few years ago.

River did a lot of guided reading and analysis at Emerson. Sounds amazing. But I think experiences like this are helpful, too. Refreshers on basics, building confidence knowing I’ve moved beyond the tutorial level, etc. This will certainly be on my mind when I next to put middle finger to backspace key. Which will be...

Yeah. When?

I can’t keep playing around with this bullshit.

I mean, I can.

It’s just you and me, 2025. Mano a año. Let’s see who blinks first.

My local writers' guild has opened this year's Mentorship Program for Emerging Writers, for "members in good standing with a substantial work-in-progress in any genre." The program is free, but limited to a handful of participants. The first round of panel evaluation is ten pages of the manuscript, due mid-August. I've polished the first ten of my Chapter One, and sent it to some folks for feedback. Now I'm anxious. Approaching "clutched." Not many people see my work, fewer still when it's "in progress."

A second evaluation round may call for the remainder of the work. I have about 40k uneven first draft words toward what I expect is a 90k novel, and there's no way I can finish it by the end of August (when selected apprentices will be notified or additional materials requested). Still, I understand a couple folks got in last year with fewer, one with only 12k done. I'll be shoring up those 40k and reworking my outline (it needs help). But I'm already biting my nails, and haven't even officially submitted my application.

It doesn't help that I'm writing genre fiction: a superhero memoir. (Three things in which I have no direct prior experience - writing a novel, writing a memoir, and being a superhero.) I'm hoping the panel can find value in such a superficially silly opus. I'm aiming for seriocomic semi-literary meditative action, whatever the hell that is.

I'm already months past my self-imposed deadline for the first draft. This "block" is complicated, but largely a case of "I need a map." I have a programmer's brain; I code to spec, architect to solve a specific problem or meet a specific need. Give me a problem, I'll work it. Tell me what should appear in a paragraph, a line of dialogue, a scene, I'll write it. But crafting a novel is both the code (the prose) AND the spec (the story, characters, et al). Turns out, I'm not very good at "story." (Or probably quibbling things like characterization, pacing, dialogue, etc.)

I spent a lot of 2017 and 2018 diving into theories of narrative structure, from the good-ol' Hero's Journey (and its derivatives) through Shawn Coyne's Story Grid to John Truby's The Anatomy of Story, and pretty much everything between and adjacent.  Thing is, I've been framing this novel as a memoir, where such forms and formulae start to break down. My research into memoir, fictional or otherwise, hasn't been effective or revealing. I don't want to write formulaic hack shit (looking at you, Dan Brown), but dammit, maybe that's what I need to do to get moving? Ugh.

A degree program has crossed my mind. The local university offers an MFA, and on the (comparatively) cheap side for provincial residents. I'd hope such a program would sharpen my critical/analytical skills, help hone prose technique, and give feedback in the form of student and teacher reviews of submitted work. But will it? Can it?

So this mentorship program may be the ticket. It's only five months, it's free, it's personalized. Maybe it'd be enough to finish this thing, maybe enough to learn how to do the next one. If nothing else, maybe it would indicate whether an MFA would be worthwhile.

But if I don't get in or it doesn't really work for me, well... Hell. The whole "writing" thing may be on the table here. Guess I could always get back into coding. Become the stevedore I never always wanted to be. Say "good morning" to shoppers at a Mega-Lo-Mart.

It doesn't help that I'm such a snob about prose, especially mine. This is my other big "block." First drafts suck monster moosecock. Writing one is like practicing the piano, something else I could never stand long enough to benefit from. It's just constant failure until it's not. Practice sucks. Failure sucks. Not being good enough to do something well sucks. I want to write crystalline, erudite, heart-spearing prose to make the angels weep and the scholars delve and the poets green and all humans say, "yes, yes - perfection." You know, like no one ever has, ever.

I turn my nose up at so much stuff out there because it's not "smart" enough, not "literary." Bear in mind I read SF/F almost exclusively, so the stable is already small. Gene Wolfe, Tanith Lee, Angela Carter, Minister Faust, N. K. Jemison, Steven Erickson, even Clive Barker...yes. But I don't even like GRRM's prose enough to read GoT, let alone Anne Rice or S. King or literally most genre authors. I know I'm missing out on some great storytelling. I know I should suck it up and learn from what they obviously do so well, but...grrrrrrrrrr.

This bit crossed my path while writing this very post, from a free ebook offer - here's the description on Amazon:

A black-ops agency discovers hieroglyph-covered pyramids on Jupiter's moon Callisto. The government forcibly taps rebel archeologist Kaden Jaxx with only two instructions: 1) decode the ancient writings and 2) keep his overactive mouth shut...or else. But what if the writing spells out an ancient prophecy for Earth’s doom?

Seriously? "Rebel archaeologist?" "Kaden Jaxx?" Black ops on a moon? It's like Stargate fan-fic for a high school assignment. The name's even better. I mean worse. No, I won't share it here.

But you'll notice: that's on Amazon.

I'm not.

So who's the real tool here?

Maybe the mentorship program can teach me to get off my high horse long enough to write the fucking thing. I can always fix it later, right?

Right?