Monday, March 8, 2010

Do you suffer from potential vision?

Hi everyone! Happy Monday! I'll be getting to the blogs late tonight, so don't mind me if I don't respond to everyone, please. I'm actually in New York as you read this...if all has gone according to plan. Rest assured I'll be reading it all when I get home.

Today, I wanted to talk about potential vision. It's something I suffer from. It involves me knowing that I have worked hard at writing for about nine years, and I've picked up the skills to write as well as anyone I can think of, at least some of the time. Okay, maybe not Shakespeare.

But, what I often need to remind myself is that, just because I know how good I am, A. this doesn't mean that I can convince others of my talent, and B. this doesn't actually mean I'm right.

This is where my potential vision becomes a problem.

Knowing how good you are doesn't mean that others will see how good you are. What does this mean for us? It means that if we put out a rough draft into the world, or any piece of writing that isn't our best, a reader/reviewer won't be impressed because they know where we are going to go with it. They'll be disappointed because they think this is all we can do. No matter how much we try to convince them that it's rough or that we aren't done yet, they will likely take our work at face value and respond accordingly.

"Your characters are too flat," they might say. What does this mean? It means that in your current draft, not in your imagination and not in your future plans, the characters might be flat. This doesn't mean you have to change your approach. In fact, it might be that if the reader had kept quiet until seeing the next draft, everything would have been fine.

The second problem is that knowing how good you are ignores the fact that it takes a lot of skill to go from your imagination to the final product. Even if you have the best idea, even if you have the best characters, the best language and best descriptions, none of this matters if you don't put the time and effort into getting this all down. This is a big problem for me because I often get bored once a project feels "finished" in my head. Sometimes, without even writing a story, I'm ready to move on to something more ambitious! It seems like I have to constantly rediscover for myself that the physical creation requires a completely different skill set...one that I'm particular weak at. And, it reminds me that if I read a book that I'm not impressed with, I shouldn't put the writer down until I physically create something that I deem is better.

What does this mean for me? First and foremost, it means that I shouldn't take critiques of my rough drafts too seriously. If I know it's rough, then I already know that things will change in ways that the reader can't imagine. It also makes me less likely to share anything until I feel like it's as good as I can make it. (There are exceptions to that, usually because I just have fun sharing work with my friends.) Second, it reminds me that I have to prove my potential to myself. Being brilliant in my head may be satisfying for awhile, but really it doesn't result in me making the books I want to make. To do that...I actually need to write.

15 comments:

  1. I suffer from potential vision, too. It's the dreamer in me, trying to see a few steps ahead for what can become of my work. I just need to keep focused to make sure that the work is able to meet its potential. It's very easy to leave reality on the wayside in favor of a more comforting dream, but that doesn't always work out well...

    Still, if you don't shoot for the stars, you'll never reach the sky.

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  2. What Rick said!

    Seriously, he said it better than I can, so I'm going with that!

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  3. You've expressed this so very well. I can't help but chuckle when I read the following:

    "...just because I know how good I am, A. this doesn't mean that I can convince others of my talent, and B. this doesn't actually mean I'm right."

    and

    "Sometimes, without even writing a story, I'm ready to move on to something more ambitious! It seems like I have to constantly rediscover for myself that the physical creation requires a completely different skill set."

    I relate so well.


    And I'll say an "Amen" to

    "...none of this matters if you don't put the time and effort into getting this all down."

    I am heading back to do just that right now.

    Thanks for a great post.

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  4. I feel like once the story is told in rough draft form, it is technically "done." Meaning, it has a beginning, middle, and an end (hopefully). So, as an author, you must have that tenacity to fight through that "boredom" that undoubtedly sets in during the revisions because that is usually when some really important little bits begin to show. Authors have a great job -- building worlds and characters -- but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its moments with it is pure skull-duggery. Making it through the editing process SEVERAL TIMES OVER is not fun, but you should want to do that if you really love your story.

    Dream, and dream, and dream during the auth-ing, but then get down and dirty with the practical elements of the work. And don't let yourself say things like "oh, I just am TOO AMBITIOUS to worry about these things!" because moving on before its done is the antithesis of ambition.

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  5. FP: Don't you think there is a big difference between thinking you are good in something and swelling your head, and or thinking you're the greatest thing since sliced bread? I think it's very natural to wonder where we stand in relation to other engaged in our pursuits. Not saying it's good or helpful even universal, just that it's very common, and not necessarily a sure path to a deteriorating writing skills.

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  6. I don't think Davin was really meaning to discuss arrogance or confidence so much as he's talking about our ability to measure our success in our projects. He can (and no doubt will) feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. But what I think he's getting at are two things:

    1. We have to be careful to make sure that what we have actually put onto the page is what we have imagined in our heads, because readers only have access to what's on the page and the greatness of our story doesn't matter one bit if that greatness is only in the version in our heads. What's on the page is what counts, and we have to learn to see that for what it is, and do the work to get it to match our vision. Some writers don't do all that work, and wonder why nobody responds to their stories even though "it's a great story, full of great ideas." If it's not on the page, it doesn't exist for the reader.

    2. We can't lend too much credence to critiques of first drafts, because they're partial and provisional.

    I share first drafts to show people the sort of ideas I'm working on, and the sort of language I'm using. But it's just my way of saying "hey, I've got something that could be cool if it works out" to others; it's not an attempt to show off my craft. The craft, for me at least, mostly comes in the revisions.

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  7. "You should divorce your ego from your work as much as you can."

    I so agree with that (and I agree with your following sentence as well). I don't know what Davin was trying to say, and I'm not trying to stop you from taking the discussion in the direction in which you're moving it.

    I do think that in some ways, writers comparing themselves to other writers is both meaningless and potentially damaging. On the other hand, I don't believe that any work of art exists in its own space, separate from other works of art. Nor, really, do I think it's a good way to view art. I think art is part of the world, is part of the history of art, and will always stand in relation to other works of art. I think that's actually one reason art is important: the idea of a social and cultural continuum matters to me, and it's impossible for anyone to create art that's not somehow situated within the world.

    Also, I believe that there are certain minimum levels of quality for writing to possess in order for it to be a satisfying experience for me (that is, in order for it to be "good"), and that level is based on the standard set by the other writers I read/have read. I think that's actually a good thing.

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  8. You wrote the post a couple weeks ago on the "busking experience," right Davin? How do you balance to need to share your work with people out there with the need to only put things out there that are at their best? Do they conflict in any way?

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  9. I don't want to get into a contest, but I live with a nonfiction editor who's been doing it for 26 years, and she has objective standards that she applies, and the books she works on are better for it. So everyone's mileage is apparently going to vary there.

    I think the big danger with not comparing works within the same media is that it gives writers a cop-out; they can say, "well, maybe it's not written as finely as other books, nor is it as compelling nor are the characters as believable, but on its own terms, it's a success." This is a poor defense of poorly-written books that I've had people push at me before, and it's a load of bollocks. Everything is perfect on its own terms. But I read on my own terms; I have that right as a reader, as do you, and you claim that right for yourself (though your terms may have more to do with the social meaning of the work than the art/craft/technical meaning of the work). On our own terms, most of us are already geniuses. And to decide if a novel "works" or not, we have to have some kind of a standard of comparison. Where does that come from if not other novels? I think we can judge books the same way as readers and as writers. I think that would likely be a good thing, especially because most writers are first and foremost readers with a love of fiction.

    I also suspect the idea of "accuracy" in making aesthetic judgments; we judge art with our whole selves, just as we make art with our whole selves.

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  10. Wow Davin, you sure stirred up a heated discussion!

    I agree we need to dream big in order to keep up working at it for so long, but yes, we also need to focus on putting our best on the paper.

    Critiques are good for that; letting a writer know when their vision of the concept is falling short on the paper. Its not easy at all to get that perfection down.

    Hope everything is going well in NY.

    ......dhole

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  11. Davin I like your post. I certainly suffer from potential vision. I also suffer from low confidence issues with my writing, as well. That's one of the reasons I send my work to friends - the ones I know will tell me I'm good and to keep going. That's important to me. But I also have to keep a fine balance between my ego inflating and my ego deflating too much. it's definitely a balance beam.

    I haven't read all the discussion between Scott and FP, but I'll assume it's quite interesting. I always think back on the first experiment I did over here - with Kate Chopin's piece that everyone edited and decided it needed improvement. When, in reality, that was her best work, and now, I honestly don't think it needs any changes at all.

    So even with first drafts or final drafts (published or unpublished), people will always find things to change. In the end, for me, it only matters if I've reached that vision for me and let others take it as they will. The only problem is my potential vision keeps changing. That's another discussion.

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  12. Being confident in the ability to finish a new written work is what I think a writer should be focused on. Whether that finished work is any good is a separate issue that must be judged later on in the process. But, again, the focus should be on the work, not on the writer, not on the self.

    Amen to that. Well stated, indeed!

    This speaks to the quintessential work in PROGRESS. Finish that sucker, and then make it shine. Many an excellent writer has battled extensive personal demons that have little-to-no bearing on the end-products of their craft.

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  13. I don't think we need to remove our ego, just tame it.

    In my humble opinion the greater vision serves several key physchological functions:

    1. It's a buffer against the critiques, which even when helpful can be demoralizing.

    2. It motivates us to keep going especially when we feel like quitting.

    3. Daydreaming about our vision is a way to work out plot elements. It's writing without writing.

    The key is balancing our need for fantasy versus the reality of the job.

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  14. I’ve subscribed to your blog for a number of reasons; to discover a different point of view when writing, to perhaps find what I might be missing when writing or to obtain unsolicited advice from someone who just might know what the heck they’re doing, as well as take heed to the questions and comments left by others.

    While reading your blogs, I often feel as if I’ve stepped into the well padded office of a therapist; or more so, a “fly on the wall” stance, until I decide to make myself known.

    With that said, I’d like to comment on your post from yesterday (3/8) “Do you suffer from potential vision?” In answer to your literal question, I’d have to say a resounding, “YES!” This is one of my biggest problems, as I do have many, where I tend to envision a completed work and then I'm already working on the next project. I feel as if I just might suffer from some sort of “order disorder”. (…is there a little blue pill for that?...) There are times when my mind is going a hundred miles a minute and my poor fingers can’t keep up; whether I’m writing long hand or on the PC. (…I often wish there were a “gibberish check” on my PC though…) And as you can tell, I tend to deflect towards humor in order to cope with said disorder. But I digress…

    In your blog you stated: This is a big problem for me because I often get bored once a project feels “finished” in my head. Sometimes, without even writing a story, I’m ready to move on to something more ambitious!

    My poor husband and daughter have had to suffer with the fact that I need to make myself “focus” on one project at a time. “FINISH SOMETHING!”, is what they want to scream sometimes I’m sure. And I’ve often thought to myself, why can’t there be jobs where all you’re obligated to do is voice the ideas that come to your mind and have the rest of the team get it all down on paper to sell. Oh wait, is that what they do at ad agencies? Or in “think tanks”.

    And then you also mentioned: Being brilliant in my head may be satisfying for awhile, but really it doesn’t result in me making the books I want to make. To do that…I actually need to write.

    I love it! I love it! This is perhaps the therapy I need. (…the check is in the mail…) I will continue to follow your blog and look forward to the feedback in the comments section.

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  15. Hi everyone,
    I just wanted to say thank you to you all for commenting. I finished reading them now, and there were some great comments. I feel like people had their chance to share their opinions, so I won't respond to all of them, but just the few times when I felt like there were some direct questions.

    As for the discussion between Scott and F. P. and Yat-Yee, I think everyone made their points clear. I'll leave that alone. Scott did a nice job of saying what I meant to say, and I did see F. P. comments as springboarding off of mine. That's cool and got me excited about a bunch of ideas, actually.

    Livia, you asked about a conflict between the busker experience and this restraint I mention. Yes, absolutely I see a conflict. It's very frustrating. I share my work early usually because I'm excited and can't contain myself. It isn't very professional of me. I also think I rarely have works that are ready to be shared because often times pieces are fragmented for a long time before I figure out how to hold them together. So, when I have something shareable, I share it, and often as soon as I do I regret it!

    And terripincha66, welcome!

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