George Saunders on writing

Yes, I know, this could go on and on... I could quote pithy wisdoms for ever, but George Saunders is one of my favourite writers and I like this! And it seems to be telling me to stop thinking about it:

...we “decide” how to write by doing it over and over, all the while trying to avoid nauseating ourselves—and then we look up afterwards and maybe try to figure out what we’ve done, and what we, therefore, must “believe” about writing.

 Read the rest of the interview over at BOMB magazine's blog.

On Being A Writer by John Siddique

My fellow Salt author, John Siddique, has just published his 4th collection of poetry, Full Blood, and is interviewed wonderfully over at Sue's blog today. As well as finding his answers about putting together his collection fascinating, I loved the poem from the book that Sue had included in the blog post and asked for permission to publish it here too. I think it fits so well with what we've been discussing here... and so beautifully written, too. Stunning! Can't wait to get my hands on the book, and hopefully also host John in person at a real (yes, non-virtual!) event in the summer.


On becoming a writer

Learn to sit and be invisible,
surround yourself with ordinary
things. Take no notes in public.

A glass of water with your coffee
will let you sit for longer.
Never appear interested in the talk.

Be plain on the outside. Inside
your mouth is a diamond; never
speak of it before you set its ways in ink.


© John Siddique 2011
Taken from Full Blood (Salt Publishing)
ISBN 9781844718245
Available at your Bookshop, Library & Online Store 

My writing process: what I'm learning

• I just looked at a story I hadn't looked at for 5 months - the editor of the anthology it was commissioned for made excellent suggestions - and tweaking it was so much easier than when I'd just wrote it. I could see where I'd overwritten, where I had put in "pretty" language just for show and not for the story. I was not attached to it anymore, it wasn't my latest "baby",  so I could strip all that away without regret. Let it lie, put it away, for at least a week
• I shouldn't show a first draft to anyone, I need to make sure I am happy with it, I'm not trying to please a group, or even any one other person. Write what I want to write
• I am not going to submit so many stories for publication, will hold stories back for my new collection. Don't worry about being published.
•  I wrote a new story yesterday in one sitting, while playing online scrabble, alternating between writing and playing my turn (see recent New Yorker article about possible benefits of distraction). Distraction helps me stay in the zone, don't feel guilty about needing that
• I am reading so much and it all inspires me to try new things, things that may not be what the market "wants", but which I love to write Don't worry about the market
• I am reading Collected Stories by a 90-year-old author and seeing how what she wrote changed over nearly 60 years. Give myself time and space to evolve 

May Short Story Month Giveaway

While I keep on pondering the process of writing a short story, here's an interlude. I had an email recently from the Fiction Writers Review about this wonderful intiative, which I will definitely be taking part in. The only question: which collection to give away??!

Inspired last year by the Emerging Writers Network—who inaugurated May as Short Story Month three years ago—and the Big Poetry Giveaway for National Poetry Month, Fiction Writers Review is excited to launch our second year of The Collection Giveaway Project: a community effort by lit bloggers to raise attention for short story collections. Warm thanks to FWR Contributing Editor Erika Dreifus, who suggested FWR as a home for this project last year and will not only be participating on her own blog, but will also be helping FWR run the project right here.

To participate in Short Story Month 2011: The Collection Giveaway Project , here’s what to do:

(1) Post an entry on your blog recommending a recently published short story collection (or two, or three).
The post can be long or short, a review or merely a rave. The one requirement is that you, the blogger, have read and loved the book(s) in question.
(2) Offer a copy of the book (or each book) as a giveaway to one lucky person who comments on your blog.
You can choose the winner through a drawing, or by the wittiness of his/her remarks, or by whatever criteria you choose.

NOTE for blogger-authors: You can absolutely give away a copy of your own collection—but in an effort to keep this as much about community as publicity, please also offer to give away a second book that isn’t one of yours.

(3) Announce the winner(s) on May 31, 2011, and arrange to send out copies of any books you are giving away.
If you’re participating, drop Erika an email at erika [at] fictionwritersreview.com to let us know. We’ll add you to the list of participating blogs/sites and link to you from this frequently updated page on our site.

Check back May 1 for the official launch, but we’ll update the list throughout May!

Revising short stories Part IIb

So, now that the whole issue of revising/rewriting is on my mind (see blog post Part II), I just came across this: American science fiction writer Robert Heinlein's 5 Rules for Writers

Rule #1: You must write.
Rule #2: You must finish what you write.
Rule #3: You must never rewrite (unless to editorial demand, and then only if you agree)
Rule #4: You must mail what you finish.
Rule #5: You must keep the story in the mail until someone buys it.

Yes, Rule 3 jumped out at me! Anyway, one of the blogs that quotes these "rules" carries on to say:

That's it. So simple, so hard to do. The killer are all five rules.

#1 kills those who think they want to be a writer but just can never find the time.

#2 kills those writers who are so afraid of having anything finished.

#3 kills everyone because of the huge myth that rewriting is critical. (Myth fostered by universities and people who can't write a saleable word).

#4 kills every writer with any kind of fear.

#5 kills every writer who thinks that someone else's opinion is more important than their own. 

I find that quite fascinating. Especially, yes, Number 3. These rules were written in the 1940s, but I don't think anything has changed. Perhaps the "rewriting" myth has just become even stronger given the increase in academic creative writing courses? What does it mean "never rewrite"? Does he mean there is no such thing as a first draft, just a written story that's good or no good? Perhaps if we didn't spend so much time "working on" one story we would write much more and "hit" the target more often?

Robert J Sawyer explained Rule #3 in 1996 thus:

This is the one that got Heinlein in trouble with creative-writing teachers. Perhaps a more appropriate wording would have been, "Don't tinker endlessly with your story." You can spend forever modifying, revising, and polishing. There's an old saying that stories are never finished, only abandoned — learn to abandon yours. 

If you find your current revisions amount to restoring the work to the way it was at an earlier stage, then it's time to push the baby out of the nest.

And although many beginners don't believe it, Heinlein is right: if your story is close to publishable, editors will tell you what you have to do to make it salable. Some small-press magazines do this at length, but you'll also get advice from Analog, Asimov's, and The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction.

Lots of food for thought, for me at least. What does this say to you?

Imagination is More Important Than Knowledge: Science-inspired fiction and poetry open mic night!

A wonderful time was had by all last night at the Grant Bradley gallery at Bristol University's Changing Perspectives science-inspired fiction and poetry open mic night. I was host for the evening and, to kick the whole thing off, read my stories Experimentation (from the lab coat I'd written the story on for the Changing Perspectives exhibition) and Healing Wounds.

I was then more than delighted to hand the mic over to 14 readers, who read short stories, poems and excerpts from longer works, all in some way taking science as their starting off point. We moved from oxo cubes to cockroaches, aspirin to drowned cities, speculative Wessex fiction to gifted children, Brian Cox (!) to Pingu the penguin.


I have to say that I don't know about anyone else but I found it all extremely inspiring! We had such a range of readings, across many "genres" (although I hate labels), different styles and tones and subject matter. I loved it all: thank you to Jo, Cath, Stewart, Mary, Mazzy, James, Caleb, Amy, Franca, Tom, Colin, Gavin, Andy and Katrina!

Becky Jones - PhD student from the biochem lab I've been embedded in and organizer of the Art of Science competition - and I had the impossible task of picking just four people to give these wonderful books (above) to, so congrats to Jo, Caleb, Amy and Franca - but really congratulations to everyone, it was a wonderful celebration of using science as inspiration, whether you have any scientific background or not, none is necessary. As Einstein said: Imagination is more important than knowledge. I think he would have enjoyed last night.

Revising short stories discussion Part II

(This blog post is very long, so I thought I'd turn it into a PDF too. See it here - please come back and comment afterwards! PDF with Parts 1 &2 here)

This began here...and it's become such an interesting discussion, focussing mainly on revising short stories, that I have been mulling it over and reading more about how different writers "do it", a kind of informal survey. I've asked members of my writing group, and there are brilliant comments on the first blog post, and I've been reading Paris Review interviews. I think what results is that there is no one way to do this. Revising/ reworking/re-dreaming your story is as much art as science.

Here's a selection of views on the subject - it's a long blog post but incredibly useful, for me at least. I am going to try a selection because I haven't found the way for me yet. I'd love to hear more from any of you - what works, what doesn't, any other ideas!

Here's what various writer friends said, on this blog and elsewhere:

I think too much and usually want to incorporate everybody's comments and suggestions, and the process becomes too analytical instead of heartfelt. I actually end up becoming sick of the whole thing and losing whatever emotion or soul I initially had, going into it ... I myself find that my best work are always written in white heat and rarely need to be tinkered with after the first draft. White heat...writing in the zone...lucid dreaming...starting with a fresh page...seems all very "right brain" to me. Left brain = editor head, while right brain = creator head? (Michelle Tandoc-Pichereau)

There is a state that I have on occasion got into (not very often, I wish I could) in which the words just flow: I come up with a sentence and it just leads to another and another and I look at the words on the page and think, where did that come from? Like I said, writing doesn’t often work like that for me. But when it does, I find it really hard to revise what I’ve written. It is what it is: either it comes out perfectly formed (I wish!) or I find myself completely at a loss as to how to fix it. The thing I can’t get back is the voice, the fluency. I also have a different way of writing, much more usual for me, which I don’t especially recommend, which is tortuous and painstaking and slow. But when I write like that rewriting is not a problem: getting the first draft out is the hard bit, and after that I feel like I know what I’m doing. (Emma Martin)

Robert Olen Butler does suggest that before revising anything substantially one should go into 'lucid dreaming' mode. I do do this before I put even one word on a first draft following an impulse of a story, and also before revision. Especially if something struck me as very off during a read through. I don't know if my experience revising a novel is of any value...perhaps it will open up the discussion, but since I am revising in chunks, perhaps talking about process might demystify it a bit.

E.g. I just went through one of the chapters in my novel yesterday. It's about 11,000 words. It's a very long chapter. There are some huge problems with it. The altercation between father and son sounds 'off', stilted, a little unreal. Also, I wanted to work in a couple of other threads that had been swimming and surfacing in various other sections and which I wanted woven more tightly in here. The chapter hadn't remotely done that.

In the past, a read-through with these many flaws engendered an overwhelming disgust, which I was then unable to swim past. It usually ended up with me partially chucking the story. For me, I'm not sure there's much of a difference between revising for a short story versus novel, except that in a novel, you can't afford to chuck it away. That would mean chucking away almost two years of consistent work!

The difference now is perhaps that I do make immediate mental notes as to the concrete things I think are not working. Then I go away. Let those feelings of disgust fade away. Usually takes about a week or so, during which I do other things. Read, chase my kids around, that sort of thing.

When I go back to read through again, if those same mental notes I made still ring through, I trust them. I revise based on that map. I almost without fail never think about craft elements. I don't do the checklist of plot/voice/structure etc. that there's some inordinate slippage into when I read someone else's story. So I think this is one fundamental difference between being a reader of my own work versus others. Having said that, I don't think craft elements don't work its way into revision. I think they become an organic part of a flaw. They are manifestations of a disease, not the underlying cause. Fix the underlying cause, the manifestation through 'voice' or weak plot etc. also goes away.  (Elaine Chiew)

Early on in a serious writer's life, the taking apart of a piece and reassembling it, following advice from peers is absolutely crucial. It's key to developing an instinctive grasp of craft, and allows us to be analytical in our stride rather than stop-starty, editor head v creator head. We need to learn to prevent those two modes of approaching work from being at odds with each other.

After a while I've found they work alongside each other invisibly, and when they do, that pulling apart and adding here and there will make a story less fluent, because when it was first written, the two were engaged, and if we revise with one head on, the story gets lopsided. ...So there comes a time when this is no longer the best mode for reworking pieces. It may work for some stories, but others need to be written again from scratch, to achieve that fluidity and unity.

There's one story in my collection that I rewrote, from scratch each time, about twenty times - different settings, different story telling modes. The version I ended up with was the only one that didn't feel clunky though it didn't get half way towards what I wanted it to say. But fiddling around with early versions led nowhere. It just had to come from a new sheet of paper.  (Susannah Rickards)

Oh goodness, I absolutely know what it is to write a story - a decent but still a little saggy story - and post for critique, come away with lots of useful, thoughtful suggestions and then use said thoughts and suggestions to KILL my story forever....Revision takes away the heart beat, the life of the story, and replaces it with coldness. But it shouldn’t have to meant that. It's to do with lightness of touch maybe. So as not to disturb the magic that's there whilst cleaning/shining lightly? (Sara Crowley)

I am really into walking ... as were the Surrealists, because it concentrates your thoughts, focuses them, and frees them up at the same time, your head has space and there's a rhythm.I find myself dipping in and out of ideas while I'm walking, I get so tuned in that ...I am practically a danger to myself and I don't notice anybody! It's all very routine, I choose virtually the same route every day, and I feel like it's just me and my creative process. I am not great when it comes to revision, I can get it all down on the page to begin, and then I go through and edit all the basics and then I get stuck. Very stuck.

And I'm so glad this has all been brought up here because I thought I was on my own with this. The more I dilute a piece with unsparing editing (which I something I am not averse to with my poems) the more I can't be bothered with it anymore. I have so many stories that I've done nothing with and probably never will, or maybe even can't do anything with, it's a shame. And ... I've had work taken apart by peers and haven't been able to mould it back together... it is weird, with the poetry I absolutely brutalise it sometimes. And that feels ok, maybe I have better instincts with poems because I'm more confident with them? I think a writer's main strength is instinct, trusting instincts and intuition, editing as you go along, getting caught in the heat of the moment. After that, there's a sober period where you look back on what you've done and doubts creep in... I think that by avoiding that hangover period after a first draft maybe that's key to seeing again with fresh eyes.(Melissa Lee-Houghton)

I find it hard to explain because it's more about (warmly) feeling something is right on the page rather than (coolly) cerebrally ascertaining something is right. It's a difficult question to answer because our feelings are ultimately produced in the brain and so, even though I say I'm revising by using my feelings, it is actually the brain that is doing it. When I write or revise it definitely feels more like an intuitive act rather than something that is consciously being controlled or directed. I also tend to revise as I write (as well as after I've 'finished' something) so the writing mode/editing mode are not too different for me. I hope this makes sense! (A J Ashworth)

I sort of think that if there are going to be changes then the whole thing has to start again - else, it's all a bit like trying to untie veins and plonk them somewhere else - the circulation gets messed up, and worse! (Rachel Fenton)

For me, some stories begin with an idea or mood. Words develop around that, but the original seed has to stay. Other pieces begin as bits but gradually acquire a heart. Others begin with a character in search of a plot. I don't think it's always right to re-trace one's steps when re-writing (a story can start on one track and end up on a completely different one) but it's worth remembering what made you want to write the piece in the first place. And not just remembering - keeping those early sketches and drafts. (litrefs)

Because of my sporadic writing schedule I tend to write in short bursts and can sometimes rewrite a paragraph twenty times from scratch. It always boils down to whatever works for you though I guess. One time I wrote a novella and after an edit I got a 3000 word story out of it (that one still stings a little) but as long as you get something you're happy with at the end I don't think it matters how you get there. I don't mind working for months to get perfection. (Alex)

I'm rubbish at working on/revising short stories. There's something in me that insists on the flow of the piece in its entirety, so every time I edit a part of the story I go back to the beginning and read it through again until I hit another part that 'doesn't work' according to the vision I have for the piece. Edit, and repeat. It takes far too long I'm sure, there must be a better way. (Clare King)

I am very jealous of anyone like [David] Vann who can write a first draft as a final draft. My process tends to involve writing in excess of what the story requires and then a trimming back to a shape that best fits the story revealed in the first draft. This can mean cutting out a third to a half of what I've written, shaping the rest as I polish.

This not to say that extra writing is wasted. The extra work gives me a deeper understanding of the characters, while the trimmed sections go into files for use later. I trawl through them from time to time for character stuff and description that will serve the story I am drafting or as a spring board for a new piece.

A little time consuming but the whole process is kind of like writing a block of text then scuplting it into shape, knocking chunks of it off as I go.

An interesting method of editing is Andrew Cowan's, I have heard him in interview explaining that he writes his first sentence, then redrafts that until perfect then writes his next and redrafts that until perfect and he continues this process for whole novels. Now that's what I call time consuming. (Dan Powell)

My method of revising/editing is as chaotic as my creative process. I was taught that you write (the first draft) for yourself, and revise with the reader in mind. But (for me) it's not that simple and there may be many drafts because it's in the process of writing, that I find a sense of my story and the revision process is about making sense of that story. Even if it's a short story, this often turns out to be a long process, especially when my thoughts on what I've written shift, which is inevitable over time. On my blog, I've been likening the process of revising/rewriting/editing to knitting; being prepared to unravel, pick up dropped stitches, rework the pattern, but really I think it's more instinctive than that, more like the creative process involved in painting. I know it's right when it feels, looks and sounds right. (Diane Becker)

What works for me is leaving it for a long time and then entering the text in a new creative headspace, almost rewriting it even if I might just change one paragraph to get it right. Dreamy creative is better than analytical in my world ... You have to leave your FEELINGS in even if you're clutching the red editing pen at the same time  (Louise Halvardsson)

Appreciating the strength of analysing the craft and applying that analysis to the editing process is fine. However - I do think we need to be flexible - and not slaves to any method at all. I think we need to embrace as many ways of doing this thing as we can, and understand that what will work one day, on one piece of work, may not be right for another, on another day.

I guess that when we get a way down the track, our understanding of our own drafting process can encompass some of the 'revision' process, as we go. So what comes out, has already been subconsciously smoothed.

I also think that might work for short fiction, flashes, shorter short stories - but the more complex a piece of becomes, the less likely it is to work well. So consideration of structure, how far it is working to deliver the end product you want, arches over the craft elements within. Thats how I approached revising my longer work recently. I think...(Vanessa Gebbie)

The received view seems to be that you are in a creative/right brain state for stage one (writing) and in an analytical/left brain state for stage two (revising) – there should be an unconscious creative burst followed by an analytical going over. But I think in reality it's more complex than that, as this discussion shows. To be honest, I don't feel such a big difference between the two stages. Maybe I'm just doing it 'wrong' - but when I write and also when I evaluate what I've written, I try to think it and feel it at the same time. (Emma)

I used to be all about the emetic first draft – I just got it all out on the page, beginning to end, before I edited a single word. Then I'd look at the thing as a whole and make big changes. Then the next rewrite would be smaller changes, and smaller and smaller until I'm just fiddling with individual word choices.

I've slowed down a bit over the past few months, both in terms of my overall output and how quickly I write each sentence. Now I find that my first drafts are slower, but with each draft I change fewer things. Maybe one day I'll get to the point where I perfect each sentence before moving on, but I doubt it. I prefer to find my way through the story as I go, rather than plan it all out beforehand.

That said, I love editing and rewriting. The blank page still scares me a little, and there's comfort in knowing that I have the framework of a story already there. (Kirsty Logan)

And here are quotes from other writers and an editor, most from Paris Review interviews, about what they do - and don't do:

Marilynne Robinson:

If I write something and don't like it, I basically toss it. And I try to write it again or I write something else that has the same movement. But as far as going back and working over something that I've already written -- I really don't do that. I know there's a sentence that I need, and I just run it through my mind until it sounds right. Most of my revision occurs before I put words down on a paper.

Truman Capote:

I am a completely horizontal author. I can't think unless I am lying down.... I don't use a typewriter. Not in the beginning. I write my first version in longhand (pencil). Then I do a complete revision, also i longhand. Then I type a third draft on yellow paper, a very special kind of yellow paper. No, I don't get out of bed to do this. I balance the machine on my knees.... When the yellow draft is finished, I put the manuscript away for a while, a week, a month, maybe longer. When I take it out again, I read it as coldly as possible, then read it aloud to a friend or two, and decide what changes I want to make and whether or not I want to publish it. I've thrown away rather a few short stories, an entire novel and half of another. But if all goes well, I type the final version on white paper and that's that.

Hemingway:

I always rewrite each day up to the point where I stopped.... I rewrote the ending to Farewell to Arms, the last page of it, 39 times before I was satisfied. 

 Jorge Luis Borges:

Interviewer: When you wrote your stories did you revise a great deal?

JLB: At first I did. Then I found out that when a man reaches a certain age, he has found his real tone. Nowadays I try to go over what I've written after a fortnight or so, and of course there are many slips and repetitions to be avoided, certain favourite tricks that should not be overworked. But I think that what I write nowadays is always on a certain level and that I can't better if very much, nor can I spoil it very much, either. Consequently I let it go, forget all about it, and think about what I am doing at the time. 

 William Faulkner:

Let the writer take up surgery or bricklaying if he is interested in technique. There is no mechanical way to get writing done, no shortcut. The young writer would be a fool to follow a theory. Teach yourself by your own mistakes; people learn only by error. ...

Sometimes technique charges in and takes command of the dream before the writer himself can get his hands on it. That is tour de force and the finished work is simply a matter of fitting bricks neatly together, since the writer knows probably every single word right to the end before he puts the first one down. ... The quality an artist must have is objectivity in judging his work, plus the honesty and courage not to kid himself about it. Since none of my work has met my own standards I must judge it on the basis of that one which caused me the most grief and anguish, as the mother loves the child who became the thief or murderer more than the one who became the priest.

Georges Simenon:

Adjectives, adverbs, and every word which is there just to make an effect. Every sentence which is there just for the sentence. You know, you have a beautiful sentence - cut it. Every time I find such a thing in one of my novels it is to be cut. 

Interviewer: is that the nature of most of your revision?

GS: Almost all of it.

Interviewer: It is not revising the plot pattern?

GS: Oh, I never touch anything of that kind. 

 

Gary Fisketjon, editor-at-large at Knopf. He has edited the works of Raymond Carver, Bret Easton Ellis, Patricia Highsmith, Cormac McCarthy, Jay McInerney, Tobias Wolff, and Haruki Murakami.:

[I]t all starts with the editing, which is when I see most clearly what distinguishes this particular book. […] In my comments, what I hope to do is akin to giving the author a fresh look at something that has been labored on so long that certain things have become invisible. Countless thousands of decisions factor into the writing of any book, and it defies mathematical odds that each and every one was the best decision; but after someone has rewritten sentences and chapters or whatever God knows how many times freshness is hard to come by[… That] can occur when the book is finally set in type, as opposed to whatever computer typeface was used on earlier drafts: suddenly a writer will say, Well, that looks funny, or doesn’t read right, or whatever. This is another means—though merely visually—of getting a fresh or different look at something one has looked at so many times before.

Dorothy Parker:

It takes me six months to do a story. I think it out and then write it sentence by sentence - no first draft. I can't write five words but that I change seven. 

Eudora Welty:

Often I shift things from the very beginning to the very end. Small things - one fact, one word - but things important to me. It's possible I have a reverse mind and do things backwards, being a broken lefthander. Just so I've caught on to my weakness.... I do [rewrite considerably.] Some things I let alone from the first to the last - the kernel of the story. You know enough not to touch something if it's right. The hardest thing for me is getting people in and out of rooms - the mechanics of a story. ...I find that very challenging, especially to describe an action that I don't do very well myself, like sewing.

Alice Munro:

I don't grasp it very readily at all, the "it" being whatever I'm trying to do. I often get on the wrong track and have to haul myself back... I could be writing away one day and think I've done very well; I've done more pages than I usually do. Then I get up the next morning and realize I don't want to work on it anymore. When I have a terrible reluctance to go near it, when I would have to push myself to continue, I generally know something is badly wrong. Often, in about three quarters of what I do, I reach a point somewhere, fairly early on, when I think I'm going to abandon this story. I get myself through a day or two of bad depression, grouching around. And I think of something else I can write. It's sort of like a love affair: you're getting out of disappointment and misery by going out with some man you really don't like at all, but you haven't noticed that yet. Then, I will suddenly come up with something about the story that I abandoned; I will see how to do it. But that only seems to happen after I've said, No, this isn't going to work, forget it.

 ...The whole process might take up to a week, the time of trying to think it through, trying to retrieve it, then giving it up and thinking about something else, and then getting it back, usually quite unexpectedly, when I am in the grocery store or out for a drive. I'll think, Oh well, I have to do it from the point of view of so-and-so and I have to cut this character out, and of course these people are not married, or whatever. The big change, which is usually the radical change...

I don't know if it makes the story better. What it does is make it possible for me to continue to write. That's what I mean by saying I don't think I have this overwhelming thing that comes in and dictates to me. I only seem to get a grasp on what I want to write about with the greatest difficulty. And barely. ... I can see the ways a story could go wrong. I see the negative things more easily than the positive things. Some stories don't work as well as others, and some stories are lighter in conception than others. They feel lighter to me. 

Just in compiling all this I feel better, better about not knowing what I am doing, how I do what I do when it works, how to fix something when I feel it just isn't working. I especially feel heartened by that last quote from Alice Munro. I think perhaps it in some way this and other people's comments validate my feeling that I need to not focus too hard at the thing I am working on - although I "look away" by playing online scrabble rather than going for a walk or to the grocery store! Well, I am still working this out. Anything that you do that no-one's mentioned? Let's keep this discussion going.


Addendum:
I was pointed towards Wells Tower's revision process, here's a quote from an interview in the Iowa Review:

Sarah Fay: You revised these stories for eight years. Is that right?

Wells Tower: Something like that. I did such violent revision to the stories that my editor started to worry about me. To some extent the revisions were informed by trying to make the story better, but it did get to a point where I would just keep revising and revising and revising not out of any real editorial intelligence but just because I wanted to be a better writer than I am. My feeling about revision is that we don’t really know what our stories are about even after the fifth or sixth draft. It’s not until I’ve got some distance from a story that I can look at it and see that there is actually a real emotional problem that the story is hinting at. Then the process of revision is about choosing characters, and scenes, and moments, and style that will get at that emotion in the most effective way.

SF: You’ve said you revised the story “Retreat” kamikaze-style.

WT: It was originally published in McSweeney’s from the point of view of the younger brother. The younger brother is this smartass who is pretty sympathetic, and his older brother is this terrible blowhard. The older brother behaves badly and continues to behave badly and is ultimately punished for his bad behavior by ingesting a possibly lethal bit of rotten moose meat. To me, that seemed like a flat line on the moral complexity curve. When I revised it, I thought it would be such a better story—a more interesting assignment—to try to tell it from the standpoint of the unsympathetic character. So that’s what I did.
SF: Do you treat all of your revisions as “assignments”?

WT: I did similar things with a lot of the stories. Often I didn’t look at the first draft when I went back to revise. “Revision” was writing a new story, trying to germinate a new story from the initial bit of inspirational DNA.

A first: Two Stories in One Day

I'm laid up with a flu-type thing, no voice at all but much wooziness, which means, to my immense sadness and frustration, I won't be chairing the session on short stories at the Cambridge WordFest tomorrow with Vanessa Gebbie and Andre Mangeot. Dammit. If you are near there, tickets are going fast, it'll be great!

To cheer me up, today witnesses a first for me: two stories published in one day: In triplicate in Metazen and Tiny Unborn Fish in the science-themed issue of Litro. Very nice news, both are fantastic publications I've had the honour of being published in before, do support them. Litro is also a print publication, "100,000 copies are distributed monthly around London and the UK, including in underground stations, libraries, galleries, bars and cafes, as well as online."

I am now going to spend a quiet weekend reading. I just devoured the new Fred Vargas book, An Uncertain Place, totally wonderful. And new books by writer friends recently received include Melissa Lee-Houghton's A Body Made of You and Meg Pokrass' Damn Sure Right. I can't see the carpet around my bed, it is heaving with books... as it should be. Nice.

Carol Emshwiller on the Bat Segundo show

Carol Emshwiller is my new favourite author - I've been devouring her short stories and one of her novels, I love her surreal, fantastical prose. She has just turned 90 and we just did a wonderful email interview to accompany the review I am going to write of her Collected Stories - despite the fact that she is losing her sight. An amazing person, we had a lovely email chat. She was really interested in my writing, so much so that I just sent her a copy of my book - even if she can't really read right now, I just like the thought of it being on her shelves.

And now I am listening to her being interviewed on the Bat Segundo show, and it's 50% her laughter! And 50% a fascinating insight into a very long writing life, that is most definitely still continuing. A little taste:

"I think I don't plan ahead but the plot is in my fingers....I know enough not to be nice to my characters."

 Listen to it all here - or read excerpts here. Highly recommended!

Win beautiful books - come and read your science-inspired fiction and poetry!

(cross-posted with the Bristol University Science Faculty Blog)

On April 19th at 6pm at the fabulous Grant Bradley Gallery in Bristol, I am hosting an open mic night for fiction and poetry in any way inspired by science. This is part of the amazing Changing Perspectives month of exhibitions and activities bringing together art and science.. This event is completely FREE to attend (but booking is required, click here) and you can win one of several great prizes, including these books:

Radioactive: Marie and Pierre Curie, A Tale of Love and Fallout by Lauren Redniss

Periodic Tales: The Curious Lives of the Elements by Hugh Aldersey-Williams

When It Changed: Science Into Fiction, an Anthology edited by Geoff Ryman

The White Road and Other Stories by Tania Hershman (yes, that's me)

I will be judging, and the theme of the evening can really be interpreted however you like - any genre, any style, as long as something scientific in some way was the inspiration. (I wrote more on my thoughts about this on the Wellcome Collection blog)

To prepare for the open mic, I will be jointly running a science-inspired fiction workshop on Wed 13th April, which once again is completely FREE, at the Grant Bradley Gallery, 2-4.30pm - booking is required, see here. Come and write!

Dublin Review of Books flash contest

While I am contemplating my follow-up blog post on revising short stories, here, thanks to the excellent Nuala, is news of a flash fiction contest well worth entering: 

The Dublin Review of Books has announced its second Flash Fiction Contest. They say: "The prize will bring recognition to distinguished flash fiction writing from within Ireland and around the world."

Winner receives €1,000. Second and third place will each receive €100. The top three stories will appear in The Dublin Review of Books.

Final judging will be made by authors James Ryan, Eilis Ni Dhuibhne and an editor from the drb.

GUIDELINES:

•           Submit up to 3 flash fiction stories of no more than 500 words apiece. Work must be previously unpublished. Simultaneous submissions are not accepted. Copyright will remain with winning authors. The drb reserves the rights to use winning entries up to one year after publication.

•           Manuscripts must include a cover letter containing name, address, e-mail address and/or telephone number, and the title of each work.

•           Entry fee is 10 Euro per story. Payment can be made through our PayPal account when submitting an entry.

•           Deadline for submissions is June 5, 2011 at 5 pm Dublin time. Entries received after this date will not be read. Only winning authors will be contacted.

•           Winning stories will be announced September 30, 2011.

•           Writers may submit through our online form (see details at www.drb.ie) .

•           Submissions may also be made via email. Please include surname and first name in the subject line. If submitting via email, please paste stories in the body of the email AND send as an attachment in one of the following formats:

.DOC (Microsoft Word)

.RTF (Rich Text Format)

EMAIL ADDRESS

flash@drb.ie