So You're A Hack Writer, Part 2

In talking with my writer friends, and in re-reading some of the many books on writing that I’ve read, I see three areas in which I know I can improve.

First, I have to get past being pleased with my own writing and concentrate more on keeping the story moving and the reader interested. Let’s call that keeping the ball rolling.

Second, I need to make sure I’m clear. I might know what part of my story means, but if I haven’t communicated that to the reader, they’ll come up with meanings of their own which may make other things less clear. Let’s call this being clear.

Third, I need to kill those doubts.

In his book “On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft,” author Stephen King writes “In many cases when a reader puts a story aside because it ‘got boring,’ the boredom arose because the writer grew enchanted with his powers of description and lost sight of his priority which is to keep the ball rolling.” There’s where I stole the phrase.

I’ve been there with books. I recall reading – or at least attempting to read – “Little, Big,” by John Crowley. I gave up by about page 120 of this 800-page novel because by that time, the following had happened: A lady sat in her quiet bedroom looking at pictures and drinking tea. Another character had driven around the property in an old Ford car. I was promised the book was full of fairy magic and wonder. I got tea and road dust. I’d like to say I’m exaggerating. But I’m not.

So I need to read the story from the point of view of the reader, King says, so I can see where I might be stalling the story to the point readers won’t want to continue.

Benwitz advises sending the book on to beta readers – fellow writers or fans of the genre you’re writing in who are willing to read your story and offer you advice on it. They can point out when they’re getting bored, when they’re confused, or what they love and what they’d like more of. That can be risky, leading to re-writing just for the sake of individual readers. “You have to take the ‘take what you need and leave the rest’ approach,” she says (Benwitz).What are the disadvantages of this solution? Knowing when to stop, for one. I know not everything I write is golden. But when you get to the point you're second-guessing everything you do, Benwitz says, you risk losing the story. "Sometimes our first instincts turn out to be our best," she says.

For clarity, I love to look to the writing of Richard Rhodes, who wrote “The Making of the Atomic Bomb,” in a style that’s historically accurate but also reads like a novel. Rhodes, in his book “How to Write,” emphasizes clarity of meaning when he edits.“

A physicist who escaped to the United States from Nazi Germany in the 1930s was disturbed on the train from New York to Princeton [New Jersey] to see all the wooden houses – in Europe, he writes, wooden houses ‘are looked down upon as cheap substitutes which do not, like brick, resist the attack of passing time.’ In Princeton on a Saturday afternoon, the physicist found the streets empty of students. He inquired at his hotel where all the students had gone. Perhaps to see Notre Dame, the clerk told him. ‘Was I crazy?’ the physicist asked himself. ‘Notre Dame is in Paris. Here is Princeton with its empty streets. What does it all mean?’”

The confused physicist, Rhodes goes on to say, needed meaning that the context of his world was not providing. Because he did not have context, he had to fill it in with his own experience. Only later he learned that many houses in the United States are wooden because wood is plentiful, unlike in Europe, and that the Notre Dame referred to was in this case the visiting football team from the University of Notre Dame in Indiana.“If you don’t say what you mean,” he concludes, “your readers will fill in meaning willy-nilly” (Rhodes).Can there be a disadvantage to clarity? Readers unsure of meaning are angry readers. They could be bored readers. They won’t be your readers forever.

I know what my story is about. But are there times I’m confusing my readers? If so, I need to fix that.
Then there’s that doubt.

One of my favorite Disney films is “The Rescuers” from 1977. In the film, two mice named Bernard and Bianca must fly from New York to the Devil’s Bayou on the back of an albatross to rescue a kidnapped girl. Bernard is uncomfortable with most aspects of the journey, and is called on by the albatross Orville to read his pre-flight checklist, which includes the following: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” The joke is that albatrosses, built for long flights, aren't the best at takeoffs and landings, so a little extra effort is needed.

That’s what I need to do with my doubt.

But listening to doubt and doubt only can be self-destructive. "At some point, you have to sit back and stop second-guessing yourself, trust what you've written, and just move ahead," Benwitz says.

Works cited (cumulative)

Benwitz, Lisa, personal interview by the author, October 2, 2019.

King, Stephen, “On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft,” Scribner, 2000.

Parker, Dorothy, “Inventory,” The Complete Poems of Dorothy Parker, Penguin Classics, April 2010.

Rhodes, Richard, “How to Write: Advice and Reflections,” William and Morrow Company, Inc., New York, 1995.

Schultz, Robert, personal interview by the author, September 30, 2019.

The Rescuers, directed by John Lounsbery, Wolfgang Reitherman, and Art Stevens; Buena Vista Distribution, 1977, flim.