Thinking about writing...

"He started for the kitchen to get a drink, and checked himself. Take a drink because you pity yourself, and then the drink pities you and has a drink, and then two good drinks get together and that calls for drinks all around." - Little Fuzzy 1962, by H. Beam Piper.

Today while wandering through blogland I was reminded of the above quote from Little Fuzzy by H. Beam Piper. When I first read this book some 25 years ago, I enjoyed the story for what it was but was also excited about the way it had come to my attention. The book store I frequented (read haunted) was run by a wonderful repository of background information and he'd suggested the story to me both for the great story as well as the background of the author. I'd recently taken an interest in some old Ace Doubles and Piper's space opera type of writing had an appeal all of its own. The author had not published the third book and the manuscript, long believed either destroyed or otherwise lost had recently been discovered in an old desk. A third book had been written by another author from Piper's notes, with the approval of his estate but here after more than one ending was Piper's.

It was an enjoyable experience, discovering his work and collecting it and now I get to do it all over again. Regardless...

That line had jumped out at me at the first reading and has been something I've thought about many times through the years, often quoting it to people during discussions of various topics.

I'd heard that Piper had not viewed himself as successful and certainly in terms of the genre there were more prolific and well-known writers; Asimov and the like. Writing isn't really about being successful. There's a lot said about the anguish of writing. Of putting that part of yourself out there laid bare for others to read that terrifies many a person into never letting their "scribbles" see the light of day.

I've likened the idea of submitting something to giving birth that once it was out of your hands it acquired a life of its own just like your children and would forever reflect back on you its success or failure.

Somehow, though, in all the talks I've had with fellow writers that doesn't stop one from needing to write. I've chucked everything, more than once sad to say, and scrambled to retrieve it once that passion of the moment had passed. I mourn the loss of ideas that I have been unable to write down because they've come to me while driving, or in those moments between awake and aware. I marvel at the idea that some books see the light of day, too but that's another post :).

But to get back to the quote...

To me, there's something so incredibly truthful and psychologically defining in it. Fanciful as it may seem I can imagine that being a nothing line that Piper wrote that he himself perhaps came back to, to reread and ponder over. I wonder if he suffered from depression, or perhaps even alcoholism when I read that and usually set down the book at that point to muse over the implications there, of how one justifies drinking, of being alone and seeking solace in a bottle, or turning to it rather than addressing the issues at hand lest they unsettle the tiny island of comfort such as it might not really be one that someone could have carved for themselves.

I think writers have to be, by nature, somewhat arrogant or at the least impressed with themselves, if only within their own minds. There are times when something one writes is so ... perfect and profound that you can get lost in it, reading it over and over. I think that the good writers get over that, or learn to cope with it, cause there's a real danger spot there. Not accepting that it could be bettered by a change of word, rewriting of a phrase and the flipside of that, where you edit till your eyes bleed and it's still not perfect... those are the barriers to writing successfully as many would define writing.

That justification of one drink needing the company of another holds true for so many things and not just terrible life destroying vices but good things as well. Joy is never so wonderful as when truly shared with another. A laugh that takes you to your knees, sets your eyes to streaming and steals your breath is only ever better by another joining in on the same level.

Sharing... that's what writing is about. Sharing your ideas, making them larger than they are by giving them to others and having them reflected back to you. People say that writing is a lonely process and good writing only comes from anguish and much gnashing of teeth. I beg to differ. I don't believe that one has to wring every word from their psyche to make it good. I believe that writing can be joyful and happy and exciting and love the idea a published author I once knew put in my head when asked for a synopsis. She'd replied "Well how the hell do I know what happens in the story? I write them to find out the ending..."

Now seeking a writing partner...any takers?