Becoming a writer

I think it was Malcolm Gladwell who paraphrased some scientific research and suggested that if a person wanted to be an expert at something, she or he needed to put in at least 10,000 hours of practice. I looked that idea up, and there's some controversy around it, but let's pretend, for the sake of today's moodling, that it's true. Well then, that means I'm an expert writer, ha!

It's an interesting idea. I've never really thought of myself that way. True, I've always loved to write. It all started in Grade 2, when Mrs. Hansen had my classmates and I publish our own big books. I still have mine, and seeing it reminds me of my earliest dreams of being a writer. Throughout my school years, I saved pieces of art and writing of which I was particularly proud. My best friend and I wrote each other lengthy letters through Junior High School, and I kept fat journals of my thoughts and dreams in High School and university days, and beyond. When my youngest daughter was two, I started a novel, and finished it 5 years later. These moodlings began in 2010. And now I'm writing the history of L'Arche Edmonton in fits and starts, when other, smaller projects don't get in the way.

I'm guessing that I've probably spent well over 100,000 hours on writing, stretched out in bits and spurts throughout my life. Does that mean that I'm an expert? Well, that's debatable. I guess it depends on how a person defines the word "expert." Some folks think that if you publish a book or make the short list for a literary prize, that you qualify as an expert. But my sights aren't set so high. I know I'm a writer, simply because I write. And I think I might almost claim the title "expert" (though the literati would laugh at me) simply because I write so much, have learned so much by doing, and have seen a lot of improvement in my work. And because sometimes, people enjoy reading it.

No, my novel hasn't been published, and I'm struggling along with my history writing, but last week I submitted an article to The Edmonton Journal, the one I mentioned in Sunday’s moodling. It took me a whole day to write it, but when it was finished, I was happy with every word that had been wrestled into place. Though the editor came up with titles to fit printed and web pages, she didn't change a word in the rest of the piece. Here’s a link to it.

Now I'm feeling like maybe my 100,000 hours of writing have paid off. I may not be an expert, but, hey, close enough for the moment... and you can bet I'll keep on writing, and learning as I go, and sharing what I come up with.

That's what life's about -- doing, and learning as we do, and finding satisfaction by sharing what we do with others.

Thanks to all my readers for helping me to become a writer.

Thanks, Laeli!

My friend Laeli over at another blog (now defunct) nominated me for a Very Inspiring Blogger Award, which was really kind of her. I love Laeli because she's just so... Laeli. She's very honest, and her posts at her old blog, Soular Sister, often made me laugh... or think about things in a new way. I'd like to nominate her right back, but I'm kinda clueless as to how to do that.

This whole experience has made me realize that I'm probably not your average blogger. For example, I don't follow many blogs. I have a few that I read out of curiosity or sheer appreciation, but I'm not a big commenter, and don't subscribe to the idea that I need to get me a ton of readers by following and commenting on tons of blogs. I'm writing for the love of writing, and the fact that I've made friends with Laeli (whom I have yet to meet) is an unexpected bonus.

Just for the record, I also enjoy reading/viewing these peoples' thoughts and images:

Iglesia Descalza -- which translates to Barefoot Church, and is often translated commentary from those on the margins of the Catholic Church.

A Gena-a-day Artist's Blog -- an amazing water colour artist I've moodled about before.
Things We Forget -- "Sticky notes left to their fate in public places."
The Queen of Green -- all about ways to live more sustainably, which is right up my alley...

and the blog my eldest daughter keeps. Unfortunately, it -- like some of the others I have enjoyed reading -- seems to be abandoned at the moment. But maybe she'll start it up again when she leaves for Russia, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands and Norway (and maybe some other countries, who knows?) next week. She'll be gone for two months+, and a blog would be a great way for her to keep us all informed of her adventures. 

The blogosphere is a funny place -- I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Over the past month or so, I've seen a huge uptick in views (200+ a day, a lot for me!) because of a Mother's Day story I posted few years back, just because it's the first thing to come up on a particular Google search... but now that Mother's Day has passed, everything is back to normal. If blogging is a normal pastime. Which, I guess it is for some of us who may or may not be a bit behind the times with Twitter and all those other social media websites, but are still friends via our blogs. Like Laeli and me.

Writing like myself

For the last few weeks, since meeting with a writer in residence, I've been giving a lot of thought to my writing style. I borrowed a library copy of Jack Hodgins' A Passion for Narrative: A Guide for Writing Fiction (McLelland & Stewart 2001, ISBN 07710-4198-5) and read through it, just to make sure that the final draft of my novel is as good as I can possibly make it. I suspect professional writers could pick what I've written to pieces, but I don't really care. I've spent nearly ten years honing my manuscript, and it has come a long way in its improvement. If I go any further with revisions, I'll be writing to appease someone else's sense of style rather than my own.

To put it plainly, that won't work.

I found an interesting piece of Jack Hodgins' writing that explains perfectly why I think this is so:

I once complained to a writer friend that every time I start a new story my goal is to write it in fast, tight, clean, clear prose... but that once I get into the job, prose springs up all around me like a jungle: new people get into the act, the story becomes more complex and mysterious than I'd anticipated, all of the world seems to want to be part of the action. Less puzzled by this than I, my friend suggested that things could not be otherwise. "You were born and raised in a temperate rainforest. You have a rainforest brain, fecund and complex as a jungle. Don't fight it... this is not only inevitable but appropriate." (p.77)

Reading that paragraph was an "Aha moment" for me. Not because I was born in a rainforest... no, the exact opposite. I was born and grew up on bald, flat Saskatchewan prairie until we moved to Edmonton when I was nine-and-a-half. I've always been a prairie girl at heart, and perhaps that's why I write plainly, simply, focused on the plot rather than the description of setting or the use of alliteration. I like to read writing that is poetic, metaphorical or full of tricky literary devices sometimes, but that's not my style. I know that my writing will never be considered great Canadian literature because of it, but I have recorded a few stories that came out of nowhere that I really like to read (including my novel), so I won't apologize for not fitting in with the talented Canadian literati. I write like myself, and that's good enough in my books.

If you're looking for encouragement to write, Jack Hodgins' book is a good one, with many ideas and interesting exercises. But if you don't need encouragement, that's even better. Write for the love of writing, and "it's all good," whether literati think so or not.