Hack writers: RU12?

Remember a few weeks ago when I said I wasn’t going to do NaNoWriMo this year? Yeah, I’m doing it again this year.

And doing well so far. I’m on track, even slightly ahead of schedule. I have no delusions that I’ll make the 50,000 word target. It’s still early and I’m finding time to write but there will be plenty of days when I can’t write, not to mention the five days I’ll be traveling… But 50k or not, I’m forcing myself to “find” the time to write and that’s all I want out of this.

Priorities. Do I want to finish this story or do I want to play Modern Warfare3? If I want both then I have to cut something out like television, or bathing…

I’ve been writing forever. It started out as paper-wasting angst and journals full of self-righteous tirades. Most kids go through it, I just never grew out of that phase. Many of the writers I talk with started out the same way but I’m seeing a new breed enter the stream and I’m not sure what’s going on.

Every element of every story you’ve read came from something inside the author’s brain. Something they read, something they saw or something they felt inside… A work of speculative fiction is an illustration of the inside of the author’s mind. The writer is relaying a distorted experience to you the reader.

One of the worst kinds of writing I’ve ever seen is when someone writes a thinly veiled autobiographical fantasy piece. If the phrase “Everyone has at least one novel in them” is true, it’s because it allows people to write a story that is about how they wish their lives had turned out or to spill out on the page a fantasy of what they’d like to do now that life hasn’t turned out the way they wished. You’ll often recognize this when the author’s first name rhymes with (or is just one letter off from) the hero of the story…

I’m not sure if it’s the nature of NaNoWriMo to attract noobs or if we’re just getting a bumper crop this year but WOW, I’m seeing a lot more hack writing than usual.  I know I’m a hack. I’ve always said that. But now I’m starting to wonder if the evidence is piling up against me…

The word count is coming easier to me. I’m 10k+ in to this story and I’m not reorganizing major plot points yet so I’m actually spending my time writing instead of worrying about ideas.

They say (“they” being everyone) that your first million words as an author are crap. There’s no way around it. Write them out, clean them up and then forget about them. I’m figuring I’m clocking in at just over 1.5 million words… Does this mean I’m through the “lame, poorly disguised angst, autobiographical dreck” phase? Is the reason I’m now seeing more hack writing related to the old poker adage, “Look around the room and try to spot the fish. If you can’t find him, it’s you.”? The crap-writing noobs aren’t new, they were always there. Did I just not see them because I was one of them? And now that I see them, does it mean I’ve graduated to a higher plane?

So off I go on my newfound path with a little spring in my step, happy that maybe I deserve a little credit, maybe I need to stop being so hard on myself. I sit down at the keyboard and…

Nothing comes out. I write a paragraph and suddenly I’m second-guessing every word on the page. I’m afraid to write anything for fear that someone will read it and know the inspiration behind it and accuse me of writing autobiographical noob crap!

Rowling never flew on a broomstick, King never owned a haunted car but something in their lives drove them to write those stories. If I relate to my hero, am I a hack? If I turn one of my experiences into a plot device, will someone recognize it and call me out on it?

Ah, who cares? I need to get back to writing (If I fall short on word count, can I include these last few 900 word blog posts?) I just needed to vent about all these sickeningly sweet transparent hacks who are writing shit like:

“Kris was a tall and handsome man. He went to the store and bought a soda. Then he drove his Lamborghini to the yacht club where he worked as a security guard because he was actually an undercover private detective with a beautiful girlfriend and he made lots of money. Kris caught the bad guys because he was wicked smart and better than all the bad guys. He is also very strong and handsome. Then he went home to his mansion and had dinner with James Bond who said Kris was cooler than he was. The end”

You know what the fucked-up part about that blurb is? As I typed it and tried to make it unbearably crappy, I heard the voice of a small child in my head and I actually began to type differently. My fingers hit the keys more pronounced and in an even cadence. It was weird, like I was possessed or something…

I like to think that writing is just the same as being a “psychic medium”. I have screaming voices in my head and the best way to shut them up is to write everything down.

(First person to say I’m more of a “psychic extra-large” is getting kicked in the neck…)