Pieces of Useless Paper
On the wall of my office hangs a piece of parchment. It's a Phi Beta Kappa certificate. It's framed. Why? because it was stuck in a drawer and getting dirty, and someone thought it would be a good idea to get it framed, along with my college diploma (an even BIGGER piece of parchment), and took them to a frame shop and gave me them for a birthday present. I then felt obligated to hang them on the wall. To do otherwise would feel a little rude, because it was a gift. But frankly, I was content to have them gathering dust in my underwear drawer.
It's not that I don't think education is valuable. I do. I loved learning what I did, and getting to go to college. I'd been raised by parents who thought a good education meant everything--and since then, I have seen how the body of knowledge I have is very broad and useful. I am glad I can discuss topics from Camus to relativity. How hard I worked in high school got me a scholarship to college. It bought me a ticket to the wider world.
BUT . . . when it comes to writing, I really knew nothing until long after I graduated.
I really didn't understand about passive voice--not fully. I didn't understand the golden rule about show don't tell. I mostly wrote autobiographical or semi-autobiographical pieces working through the things in my life that left me sad or grieving or lonely at night. I didn't or couldn't see past my window--I took write what you know a little too seriously. I didn't write about anything I didn't know. Or I imagined romance or relationship stories that had no air of reality about them. The dialogue was "grand," not natural. I just didn't get it.
And I am not sure when it was I started to put it all together. Things fell into place. I tried and failed by writing crap for so long, and I finally started to see the crap for crap. And then I started getting better. I got some more living under my belt. I got my heart smashed to bits a few times, I faced death, I was betrayed, I had children, I lived and I learned and I gained--more than anything--perspective. I was able to see, really see, life from more than my own tiny autobiographical corner.
I realize now, as I look at my parchment, that it wasn't any of my professors' faults. They tried to teach me what I needed to know to be a writer. But heartbreak taught me a lot more than parchment.
How about you?
It's not that I don't think education is valuable. I do. I loved learning what I did, and getting to go to college. I'd been raised by parents who thought a good education meant everything--and since then, I have seen how the body of knowledge I have is very broad and useful. I am glad I can discuss topics from Camus to relativity. How hard I worked in high school got me a scholarship to college. It bought me a ticket to the wider world.
BUT . . . when it comes to writing, I really knew nothing until long after I graduated.
I really didn't understand about passive voice--not fully. I didn't understand the golden rule about show don't tell. I mostly wrote autobiographical or semi-autobiographical pieces working through the things in my life that left me sad or grieving or lonely at night. I didn't or couldn't see past my window--I took write what you know a little too seriously. I didn't write about anything I didn't know. Or I imagined romance or relationship stories that had no air of reality about them. The dialogue was "grand," not natural. I just didn't get it.
And I am not sure when it was I started to put it all together. Things fell into place. I tried and failed by writing crap for so long, and I finally started to see the crap for crap. And then I started getting better. I got some more living under my belt. I got my heart smashed to bits a few times, I faced death, I was betrayed, I had children, I lived and I learned and I gained--more than anything--perspective. I was able to see, really see, life from more than my own tiny autobiographical corner.
I realize now, as I look at my parchment, that it wasn't any of my professors' faults. They tried to teach me what I needed to know to be a writer. But heartbreak taught me a lot more than parchment.
How about you?
posted by Erica Orloff at 10:14 AM
11 Comments:
I do think that if I didn't go through depression for 4 years, I wouldn't be writing today. I wouldn't have a 'well' to draw from.
I wrote during my childhood, but not during the teenage years.
I think, someday, when the well runs dry, I'll put down the pen. It'll be years yet, but I think that day will come.
I have read books where the formula appears to be there, but the story falls flat. I have also read books that play--sometimes grievously-- with formula, yet they are enjoyable because the writer manages to make it real. Whether it actually is REAL to them or simply something they feel REALLY passionate about, I don't know.
Maybe these stories speak to me because I am far more a student of life than a student of formal education. It remains to be seen if that translates successfully into my writing, or if I need to go back and paper my walls with a few more parchment type objects du art.
milady:
Funny . . . I have never, ever thought of what i would do if the well runs dry. I guess I always presumed I'd one day die at my keyboard!
E
Erica:
Whoever betrayed you or broke your heart was an idiot, IMO.
But you're right. It's our times in Heartbreak Hotel (where some of us dwell to this day) that often make for good grist in our stories.
I read somewhere that the average age of authors who make the bestseller list for the first time is fifty. That says a lot.
lianey:
Excellent point. You can get past some writing that's so-so if you really care about the characters.
E
Jude:
Well, there are more than a few male idiots running around then. LOL!
E
Maybe they're hooking up with all the female idiots I've known.
Hope they have WONDERFUL lives together.
Heartbreak:
When I discovered that my dad was very human and could make mistakes.
When I realized that some college instructors don't give a crap.
When love devolved into obsession, and I learned way too much about the legal system and mental illness.
When the senior dog I fostered had to be put to sleep.
When family turned out to be more impassioned by causing harm and hurt than total strangers.
______
For a very long time, because of childhood issues, I didn't feel much at all, not rage or anger, or happiness and joy.
I recall the wonder I experienced when I was able to shed tears as an adult...each tear then and since has been a precious jewel.
Yeah, I can relate to possessing those pieces of useless paper.
Great post, Erica!
Kate:
All so poignant. Thanks for sharing. And yes, sometimes tears are special that way.
E
P.S. Sometimes I wonder what will be a good post and what not. I felt so-so on this one and got some great responses here and some offline. Amazing what connects us all.
Everyone goes through "things" in their life.
It is what you do with it that makes a difference.
If you let it control and command your life and your outlook you will come to a much different place than if you don't examine the feelings at all.
On the other hand, if you allow yourself the freedom to be with the feelings, but not to let them be in control, then you have a great place to examine them from, as well as to write from.
I've often thought about this. When I first started writing romance for publication, I was only about 22. I was told no one had gotten published before 30, except Rebecca Brandywine, who was 28, they thought. It made sense to me, because I figured life lessons made for a richer, more compelling writer.
Nowadays, though, especially with chick lit and YA romance (and I'm talking only about romance because that's what I write and therefore what I study, though it's happening in other genres, too), people in their 20s are selling all the time.
My theory is that our worlds are so much more open than they were 13 years ago, even, and of course before that. We have so much to connect us to each other and to other people's experiences and even to other countries and the lives their citizens lead, that we can absorb those experiences without having to actually live them.
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