Let it sit awhile, sometimes

[hmmnmm]

I know there is no one way for everyone, and part of the deal is for each one to find his or her way. But I learned something lately, when I scrounged up a few stories I'd had on here when I was rather new, but took down for various reasons. On second submission, a couple of them seemed to benefit from the trims and rewrites (one of them actually landed in the top lists for a few minutes), and a couple of them kinda tanked. No big deal.

But I noticed something: with the passage of two or three years, the success or failure of them was less important than if I'd just labored over something and submitted it as soon as it looked 'good enough'. It's easier to look at it with less prejudice? Something?

Have to wonder if that's something to take note of for the future. You know, write one story, set it aside, then work on another or two, then later on take another gander at the first, you might catch weaknesses you didn't see when you were so close to it. It isn't easy, because you get so excited about something new, and you want to share it. But maybe sometimes it's best to settle them horses and just let it cool off a bit.

Think?

 

[jomar]

I definitely find it useful to set something aside for a week or so then re-read it. Doing so gets me away from it emotionally so I see it with 'new' eyes and, hopefully, more objectively.

 

[slyc_willie]

I have a few longer (nevel-length) stories in the works that I get to now and then. I started them all over a year ago. I'll latch onto them for a week or two, plugging in a good thirty or forty pages, then put it aside again.

Each time I look at it, I always go back and edit first. Sometimes I change previous edits. Sometimes I add a little to previously-written text.

Each time I do it, the story changes a little. And each time I do it, I almost feel like it's a new story.

 

[hmmnmm]

emotional attachment!
emotional: that's the word.

 

[slyc_willie]

emotional attachment!
emotional: that's the word.

I'd call it a requirement.

Writing isn't a 'passion' for nothing, you know.

 

[jomar]

emotional attachment!
emotional: that's the word.

Hard to kill your darlings if you're too attached.

 

[Darkniciad]

Even a day or so can do the trick, if you move on to a different story with different characters. I'm trending that way of late, and it's making things a lot easier on my editor. He keeps telling me that I'm almost wasting the time to send them to him, considering how few changes he ends up suggesting by the time they get to him.

 

[hmmnmm]

Hard to kill your darlings if you're too attached.

Or let someone else kill them

 

[jomar]

Or let someone else kill them

Damn editors.

 

[hmmnmm]

Damn editors.

Editors? I meant the public.
I didn't father that child!

 

[jomar]

Editors? I meant the public.
I didn't father that child!

Ha! ..

 

[hmmnmm]

better way to say it

The one represents fresh apples from the apple trees in your back yard, that you tended to and labored over, and they're fresh. You're eager to share them. Maybe some of them are sweet and juicy, maybe a few of them are on the green side, and maybe a couple others ended up with a worm or two.

The other represents last year's harvest that you made into applesauce and canned. If you have guests for supper, you inform them, without too much worry, "there's applesauce if anybody wants some." Maybe some of them say No Thanks. Maybe some say, "yeah, I'll have a dab of applesauce" which they ingest without much else to say. And maybe one of the guests will actually say, "wow, I really like this applesauce!" and you can say, "well I'm glad to hear that."

 

[bluebell]

But maybe sometimes it's best to settle them horses and just let it cool off a bit.

I agree with the force of a sandbag that's been pushed from a hot air balloon.
For me, stepping back has far more merits than hasty submission, although I would add the caveat that it's easier for me to actually get the writing down in haste. And when I'm on a sort of jag. Otherwise it just feels plodding and awful (for me, anyway).

One reason I feel so strongly about the stepping back is that I've been awfully embarrassed about writing that wasn't sculpted with a proper time frame in mind. Meaning, aside from haste, it wasn't edited with foresight. I didn't think, "Gee, this will be bloody embarrassing to read two years from now."
And it usually is.

A lot of times, the nature of the beast is wondering whether your writing endeavors age well; whether, if given the chance, you would hop back in time and change everything about a piece, or just not write it at all. Or whether you're still happy. It's all very tricky. But one of my goals when going over a piece now is to try to cut my red-faced losses by giving it the once-over from years down the line, too. I mean, if possible. Or, just something that won't make me want to wear a paper bag on my head whenever I contemplate it.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

Damn editors.

I don't like to use them.

 

[hmmnmm]

I agree with the force of a sandbag that's been pushed from a hot air balloon.

wow
that says it quite well.
sandbag... sandbag. So many great words too easy forgot.

 

[hmmnmm]

For me, stepping back has far more merits than hasty submission, although I would add the caveat that it's easier for me to actually get the writing down in haste. And when I'm on a sort of jag. Otherwise it just feels plodding and awful (for me, anyway).

One reason I feel so strongly about the stepping back is that I've been awfully embarrassed about writing that wasn't sculpted with a proper time frame in mind. Meaning, aside from haste, it wasn't edited with foresight. I didn't think, "Gee, this will be bloody embarrassing to read two years from now."
And it usually is.

A lot of times, the nature of the beast is wondering whether your writing endeavors age well; whether, if given the chance, you would hop back in time and change everything about a piece, or just not write it at all. Or whether you're still happy. It's all very tricky. But one of my goals when going over a piece now is to try to cut my red-faced losses by giving it the once-over from years down the line, too. I mean, if possible. Or, just something that won't make me want to wear a paper bag on my head whenever I contemplate it.

paper bag
sandbag

I think all anyone can do is try. You can't know for sure. And here's something else I just learned: in one of the pieces I resubmitted, a couple of those 'paper bag' moments (okay, more than a couple) ended up unedited. One in particular had the effect of a huge purple sandbag popping out of the road and smacking you in the face. At least that's what it did to me when I read over it again - as if I'd never seen it before, which is impossible, yes, but you know- stopped me flat. I go, "ewwww!" but then I realize, I can't get those words out of my head. I mean, they're repeating, repeating, repeating. Now, for someone else, they may not appreciate the forced implantation or a smack in the face from a big purple sandbag. But, maybe, maybe maybe, if they got that far in the first place, they might come back later, and be on the lookout for where that big purple sandbag flew from the road and smacked them in the face. They'll know to veer or jump. Or stop and wait, then jump.

Or they may not come back at all. Which is probably just as well. Because that one big purple sandbag that smacked them in the face was all they needed.

That sort of doesn't tie in with what you're saying, but maybe a little.

 

[hmmnmm]

To finish the thought, and to tie it to the topic origin: had it been a recently written piece that I was all geared up for, anticipation cranked, and saw a few too many purple sandbags laying on the road, the freakout factor would be much greater. With the older ones, where the 'emotional attachment' was little more than a string of yarn, the presence of the narrative obstructions caused the initial Oh No, quickly followed by a chuckle and a shoulder shrug.

Okay, that's it for now.
Goodnight.

 

[bluebell]

paper bag
sandbag

I think all anyone can do is try. You can't know for sure. And here's something else I just learned: in one of the pieces I resubmitted, a couple of those 'paper bag' moments (okay, more than a couple) ended up unedited. One in particular had the effect of a huge purple sandbag popping out of the road and smacking you in the face. At least that's what it did to me when I read over it again - as if I'd never seen it before, which is impossible, yes, but you know- stopped me flat. I go, "ewwww!" but then I realize, I can't get those words out of my head. I mean, they're repeating, repeating, repeating. Now, for someone else, they may not appreciate the forced implantation or a smack in the face from a big purple sandbag. But, maybe, maybe maybe, if they got that far in the first place, they might come back later, and be on the lookout for where that big purple sandbag flew from the road and smacked them in the face. They'll know to veer or jump. Or stop and wait, then jump.

Or they may not come back at all. Which is probably just as well. Because that one big purple sandbag that smacked them in the face was all they needed.

That sort of doesn't tie in with what you're saying, but maybe a little.

-poke poke- I enjoy your comments.

I understand what you're saying (I think- you do rather have your own purple-quirked and glorious language ). And I wouldn't suggest that waiting is always and without fail a good plan. It is for me, mostly, because I've gotten caught in the trappings of an odd writing style since college. But I do have my moments of slapdash. I think I can produce a poem without wait, done in about an hour or two (in the heat of the moment), about once every four years...the rest of the time I'm just flooping along. Pretending to make words.

As for the sandbags, that brings to mind something I re-encountered with some force after reading Zoot's story "Hole" a bit ago (which, I've already shared this thought in a place over yonder; I hope people will oblige me again). It is, if the piece affects you that greatly, be it emotionally, psychically, or what-have-you, doesn't that mean it's still a successful work? It could be violent reactions of dislike, but even with that in mind I find I hit up against the fact that the purple sandbag is still hitting me in the face. I might like the pain, and I might not, but it's still hitting me. Remembering is one of the greatest gifts a reader can give to a writer. If you read a story and it crumbles away after the page is clicked off, what does that mean?

At the same time I don't want anyone to take this belief and apply it helter-skelter across the board. As you said earlier, "part of the deal is for each one to find his or her way", and in that framework, I think people should try to be open-minded enough to know when they are merely reacting to a reaction, and when something is genuinely outré for them.

 

[hmmnmm]

-poke poke- I enjoy your comments.

I understand what you're saying (I think- you do rather have your own purple-quirked and glorious language ). And I wouldn't suggest that waiting is always and without fail a good plan. It is for me, mostly, because I've gotten caught in the trappings of an odd writing style since college. But I do have my moments of slapdash. I think I can produce a poem without wait, done in about an hour or two (in the heat of the moment), about once every four years...the rest of the time I'm just flooping along. Pretending to make words.

As for the sandbags, that brings to mind something I re-encountered with some force after reading Zoot's story "Hole" a bit ago (which, I've already shared this thought in a place over yonder; I hope people will oblige me again). It is, if the piece affects you that greatly, be it emotionally, psychically, or what-have-you, doesn't that mean it's still a successful work? It could be violent reactions of dislike, but even with that in mind I find I hit up against the fact that the purple sandbag is still hitting me in the face. I might like the pain, and I might not, but it's still hitting me. Remembering is one of the greatest gifts a reader can give to a writer. If you read a story and it crumbles away after the page is clicked off, what does that mean?

At the same time I don't want anyone to take this belief and apply it helter-skelter across the board. As you said earlier, "part of the deal is for each one to find his or her way", and in that framework, I think people should try to be open-minded enough to know when they are merely reacting to a reaction, and when something is genuinely outré for them.

one of the main reason's I limit my intake of Zoot's words is because of that stick-em quality he gives them, and I have to have my mind ready for anything.

And we seem to agree that it isn't so much the Whats as the Whens and Hows. Which means we should modify the idea of the way to say that there is never any one way for anyone at any given time. In fact, everyone is offered multiple choice ways every step of the way.

Hey, I like how you think and the way you communicate what you think. Should we be afraid that we understand each other?

 

[oggbashan]

I have been letting not just some of my incomplete stories but my ?erotic fiction writing simmer for nearly nine months.

So many of the incomplete stories seem jaded and lacking. I have so many story ideas in my head that I think that the plot bunnies must have bred several generations and are now running out of foodstuff.

But the actual writing rarely gets beyond the first A4 page. Too much else is happening in my life to allow uninterrupted writing time.

I still need to write and I do - but not stories for here.

It isn't an unusual situation for AH members to find their writing for Literotica becomes less important than it was. The impulse may return or, like me, get temporarily diverted into other writing or even real life.

This isn't an announcement that Og is leaving. I love this place. It's just that my ?erotic writing is temporarily missing.

Maybe Earth Day might inspire me.

Og

 

[bluebell]

one of the main reason's I limit my intake of Zoot's words is because of that stick-em quality he gives them, and I have to have my mind ready for anything.

Clean drawers, so to speak.
The man has a Gift, to be sure. Wordy-superglue.

And we seem to agree that it isn't so much the Whats as the Whens and Hows. Which means we should modify the idea of the way to say that there is never any one way for anyone at any given time. In fact, everyone is offered multiple choice ways every step of the way.

Ooh, I like that. Multiple choice.
And you're so right about that. Heavens, if I could find a way to help people understand that more clearly, I would. I have this thing about those who dispense advice regarding "the best way" to do things with an unspoken current of assurance that they have, to be sure, figured it all out. The fact is, you could run up against some very excellent writing advice that does work for you, or else you could be stuck struggling with a false idea of how you should be approaching writing.

Not to keep dragging the poor thing into this, but the good Dr. M has mentioned in the past that it's a person's lens which makes their viewpoint, and thereby, their writing, different. Attractive. The way they express themselves is dependent on how they see or interpret. If their viewpoints are different, couldn't it be expected that their methods of creation are different as well? And that those methods could change over time?

I've always been a very linear person when it came to my writing. I'm not so much anymore, but it's something I still struggle with: that idea of writing beginning to end. Except, I don't write well that way. And I certainly don't enjoy it. Moving around is better. It gets convoluted, so I tend to write with that constant feeling of having forgotten something. That the rug was stolen from under my feet. I like scurrying here and there, tying up loose ends and paying attention to droopy bits I'd left unattended.

Another sidenote on timing and the presence of healthy apathy: the moment we write something down it becomes history. The time has passed. In that framework, a distance is accruing between your emotions and what you've written, however small it may be. The purpose, then, seems to become the trapping of a moment and all its shades of emotions. You as a person will continue on. You will probably write other things. That instant you captured can bring you back to that place, but you most likely aren't still there when you return to it from the future (if that makes sense). So, re-submission can be freeing. You can still feel the same emotions about it, but you don't necessarily have to feel the self-conscious attachment which surrounds a newly-written work.

Ack! Shutting up now!!

Hey, I like how you think and the way you communicate what you think. Should we be afraid that we understand each other?

I find that most people are afraid when they realize they can interface with my insanity.
Luckily, I don't feel the same about understanding others; I'm always happy to welcome someone into my Kook.

 

[hmmnmm]

Clean drawers, so to speak.
The man has a Gift, to be sure. Wordy-superglue.


Ooh, I like that. Multiple choice.
And you're so right about that. Heavens, if I could find a way to help people understand that more clearly, I would. I have this thing about those who dispense advice regarding "the best way" to do things with an unspoken current of assurance that they have, to be sure, figured it all out. The fact is, you could run up against some very excellent writing advice that does work for you, or else you could be stuck struggling with a false idea of how you should be approaching writing.

Not to keep dragging the poor thing into this, but the good Dr. M has mentioned in the past that it's a person's lens which makes their viewpoint, and thereby, their writing, different. Attractive. The way they express themselves is dependent on how they see or interpret. If their viewpoints are different, couldn't it be expected that their methods of creation are different as well? And that those methods could change over time?

I've always been a very linear person when it came to my writing. I'm not so much anymore, but it's something I still struggle with: that idea of writing beginning to end. Except, I don't write well that way. And I certainly don't enjoy it. Moving around is better. It gets convoluted, so I tend to write with that constant feeling of having forgotten something. That the rug was stolen from under my feet. I like scurrying here and there, tying up loose ends and paying attention to droopy bits I'd left unattended.

Another sidenote on timing and the presence of healthy apathy: the moment we write something down it becomes history. The time has passed. In that framework, a distance is accruing between your emotions and what you've written, however small it may be. The purpose, then, seems to become the trapping of a moment and all its shades of emotions. You as a person will continue on. You will probably write other things. That instant you captured can bring you back to that place, but you most likely aren't still there when you return to it from the future (if that makes sense). So, re-submission can be freeing. You can still feel the same emotions about it, but you don't necessarily have to feel the self-conscious attachment which surrounds a newly-written work.

Ack! Shutting up now!!


I find that most people are afraid when they realize they can interface with my insanity.
Luckily, I don't feel the same about understanding others; I'm always happy to welcome someone into my Kook.

Well, I've often wondered about the connection between how people go about their daily lives and how it corresponds to their work, or the way they work, or their views about work, or their work.

You hear certain maxims repeated and handed down and they aren't bad ones, but they become considered Gospel, because they seem to work for a lot of people, who happen to share similar world views as those who prescribe the maxims and those who happily swallow them without incident.

I have to wonder if those who are finicky about keeping their surroundings super tidy give the same sort of eye to a piece of writing - their own or another's. And same goes with those who are far less finicky about their surroundings. I happen to not mind a little clutter and find a perfectly neat house quite... well, yucky. But I pass no judgement on anyone's personal way that works best for them. Similarly, I don't mind a stretch of prose (or poetry) that may happen to be a bit cluttered or 'messy' or even, sloppy. To a point. So the writer left a tricycle in the path. Just walk around it. Right? Or, a few dirty socks on the couch. What's the big deal? But it is a big deal to some people, and surely, god bless 'em, I ain't quibblin' about what makes another tick. What may motivate them. where they've been, maybe. Where they've not been. Now, if you have ten pairs of dirty socks in the hall, hmmm, yeah, even I might find that a problem. So... remove seven pairs of dirty socks. That leaves three that you can get to later. Problem solved: a hallway that is navigable yet human - imperfectly marvelous, and real.

I have no idea whether this applies to anything anyone's said - but me and the missus, we're on the verge of moving to a better place and I've been celebrating with a few millers, so I best prob'ly sign off righ about now.


Fascinating stuff.

oh, and I checked out your blog - made me laugh several times. I think we're on the same page with a lot of stuff, which should be nothing to worry too much about.

Later...

 

[hmmnmm]

It isn't an unusual situation for AH members to find their writing for Literotica becomes less important than it was. The impulse may return or, like me, get temporarily diverted into other writing or even real life.

Og

I think this says a lot.
Funny. And makes sense. At first it's this new thrill - ah! I'm writing dirty stories! Like when you get a girlfriend after a long time of solitude - ah! I'm fucking again! and you can't believe you'll ever see it as just another option in life.

Real Life ain't bad, either...

 

[bluebell]

Well, I've often wondered about the connection between how people go about their daily lives and how it corresponds to their work, or the way they work, or their views about work, or their work...

I have to wonder if those who are finicky about keeping their surroundings super tidy give the same sort of eye to a piece of writing - their own or another's. And same goes with those who are far less finicky about their surroundings. I happen to not mind a little clutter and find a perfectly neat house quite... well, yucky. But I pass no judgement on anyone's personal way that works best for them. Similarly, I don't mind a stretch of prose (or poetry) that may happen to be a bit cluttered or 'messy' or even, sloppy. To a point. So the writer left a tricycle in the path. Just walk around it. Right? Or, a few dirty socks on the couch. What's the big deal? But it is a big deal to some people, and surely, god bless 'em, I ain't quibblin' about what makes another tick. What may motivate them. where they've been, maybe. Where they've not been. Now, if you have ten pairs of dirty socks in the hall, hmmm, yeah, even I might find that a problem. So... remove seven pairs of dirty socks. That leaves three that you can get to later. Problem solved: a hallway that is navigable yet human - imperfectly marvelous, and real.

This is a really interesting way to say it and I feel like I know exactly what you mean. In fact, I like it so much that my mind just went "fooooofofofofofo...dododod...beep beep BEEP mmmmmmmmmmmmBEIAUOHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" *with weird high-pitched noises*, and now it can't decide how to organize what it wants to say in response.

I waver between knowing what's too tolerant and what's too harsh of an expectation [of someone's writing]. I think, I hope, that I approach each person differently, and respond based on what I know of them and their back-catalogue, so that I don't level unrealistic expectations in their direction. Sometimes I see so much potential that I'm afraid I pull out Teacher Voice and wonder why things oughtn't already be There yet. There, being Potential-land, evidently...

Speaking of Teacher Voice, that reminds me of perspective. I will always admit that I have a stern, furrowed-brow little teacher-woman inside of me who could hop out and be quite the busy-body about "grading" work. Which really isn't what I want her to do. I'm not sure I like her very much, but she is there nonetheless, so I attempt to use her as an opposite end of the spectrum. The Severe counterpart to The Droopy and Apathetic schlub at the other end.
All this is to say that I need to find a way to the middle. So that I can look at those three pairs of dirty socks and take them in context, not allow them to make or break an opinion of a work. Keep it in perspective, as it were.

Plus, the fact of the matter is that everyone is going to geek out about different things. You can have two people adore the same book for entirely different reasons. They might like things you'd never have thought of. And vice versa. I suppose the goal is to showcase these viewpoints in the best way possible, and also in a way that works for you as an individual.

I have no idea whether this applies to anything anyone's said - but me and the missus, we're on the verge of moving to a better place and I've been celebrating with a few millers, so I best prob'ly sign off righ about now.

Congratulations! Don't drop the plates.

oh, and I checked out your blog - made me laugh several times. I think we're on the same page with a lot of stuff, which should be nothing to worry too much about.

Wow, thanks so much. That's a big compliment for me. And I'm honored that you'd take the time to read a little about my petty prejudices against oatmeal raisin cookies...
I usually feel like that one lone pair of tie-dyed footsie pajamas left billowing around on the clothesline, so it's nice when I can find another floopy pair to flop around with for a bit.

 

[bluebell]

Not to be super verbose, but I forgot I wanted to comment on this too.

I think this says a lot.
Funny. And makes sense. At first it's this new thrill - ah! I'm writing dirty stories! Like when you get a girlfriend after a long time of solitude - ah! I'm fucking again! and you can't believe you'll ever see it as just another option in life.

Real Life ain't bad, either...

I think it all comes in waves. Like, what music you're in the mood for or what sort of outlet your feel like using for your creativity. And the waves can truly be dictated by the pique you feel when you encounter something new. Eventually things wind down and there's the after-bits.
Sometimes I'd like nothing more than to [attempt to] write, and others I couldn't string a convincing sentence together if my mitochondria depended on it. It really used to frustrate me but now I think the ebb and flow of it are pretty peaceful. I just try to float on it.