Advice From a Bestselling Author

Found these links over at mediabistro.com, in which bestselling author David Baldacci lays out some advice to those who wish to write for a living. Enjoy.

Getting through 15 years of rejections.

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Advice for aspiring writers.

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Have a great Memorial Day, everyone.

Someone Walked Over My Grave

Or at least that's what it felt like.

Any of you out there who create or make things up for a living have probably had a similar experience. It's happened to me a few times, but the most recent occurrence -- a few days ago -- was the spookiest. And I never saw it coming.

I was at my computer when it happened, killing some time while my dinner brewed on the stove. I think. I'm not exactly sure what I as doing, to be honest. The situation blew everything else out of my memory. I could've been skydiving for all I know, and would've been so shocked that it'd be miraculous if I was aware enough to remember to pull the parachute.

What situation am I talking about? I saw a piece of my imagination displayed on the computer screen. In movie trailer form, no less.

It was a wild idea I'd had when I was an undergraduate. I wrote it as a high concept script, made it an ensemble piece with a lot of characters and plot-lines intersecting, and submitted it as a final project for a professor of mine. It was a challenge, and I worked my ass off on it, but in the end was only mildly moved by the result. There were some okay scenes in there, and the class had a fun time reading parts of it, but the end result was lacking. It needed serious work. I knew it, and my professor knew it too.

But the concept, the main clutch of the story, was one I was proud of. I figured I would put it to rest for a few years and rewrite it completely after coming back fresh.

That is, until I saw a movie trailer for it.

This was not an issue of plagiarism. Let's be clear on that. No one stole my idea. It's just an amazing coincidence that happened... and probably will happen again.

Whatever tree we pluck our ideas from, is something that apparently we can all share and visit. I don't understand how it really occurs in the first place, but it does, and is completely unavoidable. In some way, it's kind of cool that there is a connective tissue among all of our imaginations.

My advice if this happens to you? Write often. Create more. If and when such a coincidence happens, there will be other ideas to explore. Have faith in your own imagination, and, if you can, root for the other artist(s) who coincidentally shared a dream with you. If anything, it's a sign that we're all facing the same obstacles.

Invisible

In the drafts of the novel I'm writing, I describe a sort of rift in reality between people with and without homes. A rift which renders those who are homeless nearly invisible to those who are not. There are some fantasy elements to such a description, but sadly it seems that this invisibility actually exists in real life:

http://www.aolnews.com/nation/article/multiple-passersby-ignore-dying-new-york-hero-hugo-alfredo-tale-yax/19452892

This is so sad and awful.

Excellent article on drafts and the studio system.

This was just so good and timely that I had to link it. It's a brilliant examination on first drafts, rewriting, and the journey of a script though a studio system. Read it:

http://livingromcom.typepad.com/my_weblog/2010/04/first-thought-best-or-worst-thought.html

New Website To Check Out

My cousin, whom I've mentioned in previous posts, built a new website that will serve as the home for his art and writing. Check it out:

http://www.onlythecontentmatters.com

If you click through the links, you'll be able to find some of the previous short stories he's written. As an avid short story reader myself, I hope he adds more!

I also laughed when I read the "About" section. His humor always gets to me.

Artwork Update

The Artist kicks an epic amount of ass. I'm not even sure planet Earth contains the sufficient amount of asses to meet her quota of asskickery. She might have to branch off into other solar systems and start kicking alien-life-form-ass, just to satiate and balance the amount of awesomeness she radiates. That's just how it is.

So why am I singing the praises of The Artist again? Well, as of today I have seen two versions of in-progress art for Magic In Dogtown. I'm blown away by them. She's pure talent.

You have to understand, I had a vastly different idea for the artwork when I first approached her with the prospect of creating something for the novel. At that point I'd seen the CD cover she designed, and a series of intricate studies posted on her website. They were very detailed and had an indescribable type of mathematical precision to them that was instantly appealing.

So when I met with her the first time, I handed her a few ideas I had for what the artwork could entail. I envisioned a series of small, quick sketches, (the main one being of a solitary vagrant under a dirty street light) which I described to her the best I could.

That was last year. Since then The Artist has read sections of the story to get a sense of the mood, and has come up with a portrait of a gritty, urban cityscape that, even in her preliminary drafting stages, completely bowled me over. I've stared at them for hours and my eyes still pick up new cool details and secrets. If I could, I would post them up here, but I want them to remain hers and not the property of "The Internet". Thus, their reveal shall have to wait.

In the meantime, I can say this though: The Artist totally kicks ass.

My Moments of Madness Sometimes Amuse Me

So I'm reading through my rough draft for the first time, marking all the things I want to change with pen, when I stumbled upon something towards the end of the book. It was just one word, but it caught my attention:

blarg

Written just like that, in a paragraph entirely of its own. No capitalization or punctuation. It had nothing to do with the story or dialogue or... anything, really. But it's in there, and I definitely wrote it. It's also in the first printed draft that I packaged for the girl the book's dedicated to, who's probably scratching her head over it just like I am.

Thing is, I have no memory of writing it, nor do I have any idea as to what idea I was trying to convey.

You have to understand... by that point, the birthday deadline was looming, and I was up writing around 5,000 words a night on top of a full-time job. I was hip-deep in madness and exhaustion. I was probably seeing leprechauns dance across my computer screen at the time. Playing the bagpipes while dancing naked in the streets were most likely distinct possibilities to my fried brain that night.

Still, when I read it just now in my first read-through of the rough draft, I burst out laughing. It's definite proof that writing and insanity are one and the same. Don't let anyone tell you differently.