Aloha, dear reader. It's time for our monthly installment of "What's happening with G" or, as many of you likely know it, "Is this silly sod still cribbing about the same issues?"
Not much has been happening apart from work. The twinge of disappointment I feel writing that is easily assuaged by a cheery factoid - no one else I know has it much better. Isn't that typical folks? We may not be overjoyed with our current lives but at least we're all sailing in the same boat, even if that vessel does happens to be the Mary Celeste.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I did make a valiant attempt to write something in the fiction line and mailed that off to a few trusties for their views, which led to a rather curious if gratifying discovery. Which is that we have all become pretty coy about being critical or calling a spade a spade. Why, whatever do I mean? Well, take that thingummy I wrote; it had something going for it to be sure but it was nowhere near being the finished product. If anything, I blanked out when it came to the critical part, i.e, elements like in-depth character development, adequate plot resolution, tying all ends together and made a right hash of it by depending on surreal cliches just so I could be done with it. Also, I was out of whisky.
My trusties, being thoroughly decent people, let me down gently which is wonderful since I tend to KO myself without a second thought. A couple of people liked it but suggested I try to push myself a little harder, with specific directions on where I could take the story. Some put their feedback in quite creative terms while others hemmed and hawed their way through to the point that the ending was lazy and plainly sucked balls, a remarkable feat of deflection considering it was all over text. One person got straight to the heart of the matter; there may have been something to the dish I served, but it turned into a Hot Pot instead of the two elegant dishes that I could/should have cooked up.
All of the above was fair and I am thankful these people wrote back. What plagues me (apart from why a raven is like a writing desk) is whether any of them wanted to be brutally honest but chose to be diplomatic instead. See, I've known these people for a while and it is only now that I admit out loud that we have all mellowed and become kinder with time. I wager that my friends are the "Won't suffer fools, gladly or otherwise" types. Or perhaps, it is 'were'. When did we start pulling our punches? And, do I deserve this courtesy? After all, I want to write great stories and the only way to do that is to get great, meaningful and truthful feedback, yes? Mayhaps the more interesting point to think about is whether we are more critical of our own work and gentler when it comes to others.
Since I am a champion at being brutally self-critical let me just say right now that I'm damned grateful for the effort and kindness any and all of you show the writing. Sadly, I cannot promise it will get any better, just that I will (given time and enthusiasm) work harder. And, who knows? Maybe some day a good story will come out of it.
Oh, and do watch Blade Runner 2049. Not exactly a mind-blowing, new story but beautifully shot and well-acted. Sure, it goes on for 2:45 hours. But heck, what else have you got going on?
Song for the moment: Waiting on words - The Black Keys
Not much has been happening apart from work. The twinge of disappointment I feel writing that is easily assuaged by a cheery factoid - no one else I know has it much better. Isn't that typical folks? We may not be overjoyed with our current lives but at least we're all sailing in the same boat, even if that vessel does happens to be the Mary Celeste.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I did make a valiant attempt to write something in the fiction line and mailed that off to a few trusties for their views, which led to a rather curious if gratifying discovery. Which is that we have all become pretty coy about being critical or calling a spade a spade. Why, whatever do I mean? Well, take that thingummy I wrote; it had something going for it to be sure but it was nowhere near being the finished product. If anything, I blanked out when it came to the critical part, i.e, elements like in-depth character development, adequate plot resolution, tying all ends together and made a right hash of it by depending on surreal cliches just so I could be done with it. Also, I was out of whisky.
My trusties, being thoroughly decent people, let me down gently which is wonderful since I tend to KO myself without a second thought. A couple of people liked it but suggested I try to push myself a little harder, with specific directions on where I could take the story. Some put their feedback in quite creative terms while others hemmed and hawed their way through to the point that the ending was lazy and plainly sucked balls, a remarkable feat of deflection considering it was all over text. One person got straight to the heart of the matter; there may have been something to the dish I served, but it turned into a Hot Pot instead of the two elegant dishes that I could/should have cooked up.
All of the above was fair and I am thankful these people wrote back. What plagues me (apart from why a raven is like a writing desk) is whether any of them wanted to be brutally honest but chose to be diplomatic instead. See, I've known these people for a while and it is only now that I admit out loud that we have all mellowed and become kinder with time. I wager that my friends are the "Won't suffer fools, gladly or otherwise" types. Or perhaps, it is 'were'. When did we start pulling our punches? And, do I deserve this courtesy? After all, I want to write great stories and the only way to do that is to get great, meaningful and truthful feedback, yes? Mayhaps the more interesting point to think about is whether we are more critical of our own work and gentler when it comes to others.
Since I am a champion at being brutally self-critical let me just say right now that I'm damned grateful for the effort and kindness any and all of you show the writing. Sadly, I cannot promise it will get any better, just that I will (given time and enthusiasm) work harder. And, who knows? Maybe some day a good story will come out of it.
Oh, and do watch Blade Runner 2049. Not exactly a mind-blowing, new story but beautifully shot and well-acted. Sure, it goes on for 2:45 hours. But heck, what else have you got going on?
Song for the moment: Waiting on words - The Black Keys
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