Writing What Hurts – Part the First

Among the myriad things I do, the one that is probably most important to me is writing.  I don’t want that to sound like writing comes before my life, happiness, family – it doesn’t.  What I mean is – there are a lot of answers to the question: “What do you do?” – and I usually shift that question in my mind to – “What are you?”  I’m a writer and a personal statement writer .  When I’m awake, on some level, the words are churning.  I may not sit down and process them immediately.  I may not even realize when something is coalescing that will become a work of fiction, but I’m always doing it.  I’m aware it can be a character flaw, but it’s not something you can put on and take off at will.  In the immortal words of Popeye the Sailor, “I am what I am.”

With that in mind – I’ve been working on a semi-autobiographical book on writing and my writing process…I’m going to start at the beginning and post it here in pieces.  Once a week.  Also, there is a category titled “Writing What Hurts” and that’s where you’ll find the posts as I write them.  Hopefully by year’s end, I’ll have enough for a book…if not, the catharsis should be more than worth the journey.  I give you – Part I:

Introduction

There are a lot of books on writing, and I honestly hesitated before deciding to add to the woodpile.  I’m a reasonably successful author, but I have no best-sellers behind me at this point in my career.  You won’t find my books face out in any bookstore I haven’t visited personally, and to date no cable company or network genius has commissioned a mini-series for one of my novels.

When I thought about it, I realized there are also a lot of different types of books on writing.  There are those with formulas and instructions.  There are those laid out like a syllabus for and English Composition course, and there are others – like Stephen King’s “On Writing” – that are as much about the writer as they are about the craft.

Then there is the fact that writing is only a small part of the magic.  I am also a reader, have been addicted to the written word from a very young age.  I have written endless reviews, essays, and commentary on stories told in every imaginable format. There’s value in that. I have been a publisher, and an editor.  I have mentored authors who are making their own marks now, and helped to discover others.

All of that winds down into the same barrel, I suppose.  I think if I’m careful, I can dip out all the most important parts and share them.  I’ve seen a half-century of life, and at least half of that was spent with the following words on my lips and embedded in my mind.  “I’m a writer.”

That’s what I told people who asked what I planned to do with my life.  It’s what I told people when I joined the US Navy at age 17 and set out to see the world.  It’s what I continued to say, despite the fact that all I’d written for a very long time at that point was poetry, none of which I’d shown to more than half a dozen people, and the lyrics to songs that never made it to the stage.

Then, while stationed in Rota, Spain, I started reading Writer’s Digest Magazine, and The Writer.  I read the adds, and the articles.  I thought about what I might actually write.  I even started working on a novel – a young-adult fantasy where the last of the magical creatures of the world appeared near Chicago for one last shot at putting the world back the way it once was – back to a time where magic worked.  What happened, in the end of that story, was that the city demanded taxes, and the government sent the army…it ended with the heroes carried off by Valkyries.   It was horrible (not the idea, so much as the execution).

I, of course, thought I was a genius, and that the only thing between myself and publication was the act of actually writing something down.  Time passed, and my service in Spain ended.  My wife at the time, Chrissy, was also in the Navy, so we worked a deal to be stationed together in Norfolk, VA.

A lot of things happened in a short period of time.  I took a course from Writer’s Digest School, for one.  My assigned instructor was Jerry (J. N.) Williamson.  Jerry had dozens of published horror novels to his credit at that point, and his list was growing fast.  He also had two other important things.  He had an innate ability to teach, and he had connections.  I’ll get to why the connections were important eventually.  Let’s start with a simple statement.

I have always said that I am a writer.  I don’t believe that became a true statement until after I finished that course, and I will always be grateful for Jerry’s help and guidance.  He was one of the nicest and most helpful professionals I’ve met in a long career, and he is sorely missed.

So, that is the first thing I’ll say to you.  If you are reading this because you have always said you were a writer, but have not really written anything, taken it seriously, or agonized over it – I hope I can be the one who pushes you off the brink – or pulls you back and sends you on your way without getting hooked.  I think that writing is either a mild form of insanity, or a particularly tricky form of therapy.  Either way, it can consume your world if you aren’t careful – and if you are, it can leave you feeling empty and unfulfilled.  Sounds great, eh?  Believe me when I say, we’re just getting started.