Thank God I am not alone — I am keeping company with the great George Saunders! And thank you for sharing so much that is so precious with those of us who do not have the wherewithal to upgrade to PAID. God bless you George, which is a nice thought, even for atheists.
John: Nice to have you here. And I agree--it's wonderful to keep company with George. (I want to add that I know the cost of a subscription is out of reach for many people. So it's really great that those without a paid subscription can hop in here on Thursdays for some great thoughts from George and all those who contribute with comments.) See you in the threads!
I think that what George writes is great but think of George as, well, George.
As to the lack of wherewithal to upgrade to PAID ... can I ask why having set yourself up on 'Writes John's Substack' you haven't, yet, managed a post?
If you were Gifted a Subscription what confidence could a Subscription Gifter have that you would actually take the free ball and run with it?
I chip in a comment here and there, have found being a Paid Subscriber to Story Club brings me the best and biggest bangs for my aspirant writer's bucks that I could ever have imagined ... and, even more amazingly, constantly surprises me and exceeds my, now, high expectations.
Do come back to me on what I've typed into the Reply. What's your 'wherewithal' barrier?
Thanks for replying to my comment and engaging in such detail. I have to say that I haven’t been asked so many leading questions by a total stranger since I filed for bankruptcy. But here goes.
I haven’t “managed a post” because I am currently working on a project that is both mammoth and marathon (at least for my humble attributes) with the help of a couple of beta readers. The short stories which I could post are now over a year old; not in itself a barrier, but I feel they do not represent where I am right now, hence I have decided not to post for the time being.
You mention a “Subscription Gifter” and “confidence.” Well, I’m unfamiliar with the phrase “Subscription Gifter” but I’m sure you know I am certainly not angling for gifts; and I haven’t been accused of lacking confidence since I was 23, which is far too long ago for me to contemplate.
Finally you ask me to define my “wherewithal barrier.” Like most couch surfers I live to an extremely tight budget; that means paid subscriptions to anything which does not include food and accommodation is not in the frame. Much as I love George Saunders this means he isn’t in the frame either.
I was glad to read you’re getting a lot out of being a paid subscriber. George does a great job at communicating. In the final analysis I guess you got it right in your first sentence i.e. “George is, well, George.” Ergo you are, well, Rob; and I am, well, John. Which is my way of saying that we’re all doing the best we can, with wildly varying results. Each to his/her/their own 😊
I'm a Middle Englander not an American, so as well as being in Story Club to enhance my insight into literary short fiction (and gauge whether I may or may not have potential to aspire to write with such intent) I'm also enjoying learning a lot about the American way of supporting learning.
I think 'Subscription Gifter' is simply a phrase coined form George's open invitation, which I think links to a Substack facility, to 'Gift a Subscription'.
Linking (a) your thanks to George for what he is offering to all subscribers (b) your capitalising PAID (c) mention of lack of wherewithal got me to thinking, again, about the nature of the barriers that make it difficult for some (no way could I or would I quantify how many) individuals to make the shift from 'Subscriber' to 'Paid Subscriber'.
Your reply to me highlights the fact that it is very often limitations of time, and the attendant need to focus on personal priorities, that preclude crossing the Subscriber / Paid Subscriber boundary. I have just two Paid Subscriptions to, let's say, 'American George's Substack' and British Tim's Substack'. Keeping tabs on each is time hungry; maybe two is going to prove too much (time-wise); taking a third Paid Substack Subscription might well, frankly and of course for me not others, be a sign of developing 'delusional daftness' 😂.
For any individuals whose barrier to opting to become a Paid Subscriber (on George's or any other Substack) is pecuniary but who has a sense that opening, setting up and writing a Substack was for them then one route to eliding the financial barrier to becoming a Paid Subscriber on, for example, George's Story Club struck me as being to get in the habit of writing posts with the modest hope of attracting Readers, then Subscribers, some of whom might subsequently become Paid Subscribers ... perhaps just enough to fund a year's (actually modest) Paid to Subscription ...
So there's my, thankful for the opportunity, expansion of the thinking behind my post to you John. Have a fine first March weekend yourself.
I'm obviously not John so I can't speak for him, but I don't see an empty Substack as indicative of anything. I've been a writer in one way or another for my 36 years, and it took me months between the creation of my Substack and publication! Life has a way of getting in the way and it also takes awhile to decide what should be made public. And I love what George has said -- can't remember the exact quote -- but something about living/observing being a kind of writing in its own right.
And you're so darling to subscribe to my nonexistent substack. I'm so tempted but soooooooo afraid. Afraid only because it's a time buster, but I have so many published stories I could revive. You inspire me🌷
Do it!! I would love to read them. It can be a time buster, but I also think the idea you need to stick to a certain cadence is misguided. People are happy to read quality writing whenever it shows up. :)
I'd say a gift is for the gift-ee to do with as they want, yes? As for being a paid subscriber I've found Story Club to be my second (cheaper/better) MFA🌷
"we get more comfortable with the notion that what we’re actually good at — what we’ve been practicing all these years — is improvising within a given context."
That's a brilliant way to think about it. I used to say good writers are good problem solvers, but that never quite sounded right. Improvising within a given context is fantastic.
Yes Brian I too was struck by this: "Improvising within a given context" and [getting good at] reacting to the text that’s right in front of us with some degree of confidence and playfulness"--Yes! Writing is improvisation, isn't it--hadn't thought of it that way, and improvisation is freedom. Plus, to remember playfulness, a very George word. Thank you!
I like that idea, Jane: that improvisation is freeing. In my younger years freedom and playfulness were not words I would have associated with "serious" writing. I think only recently have I come to understand the importance of being "playful" in writing. Otherwise why do it, right? Why would I not allow myself to enjoy writing by, effectively, lightening up! It is absolutely freeing and that's what it's all about, for me at least.
At my writing desk, in my "life on earth" this week, it's ALL revision. I like the coincidence of this week's office hours. But the George Saunders take on revising has been part of our conversation many times throughout this year plus of Story Club . And it's done its work on me. How or when it happened, I'm not sure, but the BIG takeaway: I no longer feel the need for revision as a defeat.
If it's helpful to the person who asked this question: I used to do the same thing. Only in the past three months have I stopped. What changed? I learned about the "Saturation Point" (a concept popularized by Robert Mackee). The saturation point is essentially an intellectual threshold in which you have learned so much about your world, your characters, what drives them, their mannerisms, their backstories, the plot, etc. that the story seems to start to 'write itself.' The concept is, I believe anyway, most applicable to novels, screen plays, and/or longer works.
Personally, I am on the second draft of a big, honkin' absurdist novel. My first draft was/is a total brain dump and as such is completely unreadable. I had mistakenly thought that since I had a first draft (however messy) it was time to start polishing. But the polishing was glacial because, as I was writing, I was still getting to know the characters and the intricacies of their world.
So my new goal is simply to reach that saturation point. So far, I have noticed that simple change has lead to a greater feeling of play. My output has also quadrupled. Sure my second draft is not pretty but there are large swaths of each scene that feel "complete." And I'm happy with that. For now. Plus I know that things will change.
I also agree whole heartedly with George about the power of printing off and editing your work longhand. I find I am much less precious about each sentence when I print out three or four measly pages and see that oh, the paragraphs I have been beating my head against a wall over are such a small swath of the whole.
I've never heard the term saturation point, but I recognize the experience, and I like the idea of changing the goal to reaching that point. I'm going to try that out. Thanks for your comment about it!
For what it's worth, I found the saturation point experience (ie, working with something long enough and then quite unexpectedly finding the thing writes itself/draws itself) arrived for me when I was working in advertising copywriting and in drawing.
Great idea, this "Saturation Point". It is similar to the goal of the process Rich Hickey, a Saunders's like staggering genius who invented a very clever computer programming, called Clojure, in a talk he gave called "Hammock Driven Development". It is in essence the process he followed to design Clojure.
It touches on the essential aspect of leisure (e.g. having gobs and gobs of "hammock" time) to let things simmer, steep, and percolate within. Leisure (or σχολή )—as I mention elsewhere—was a vital aspect in the creation of ancient Greek culture.
Plato's dialogues are more like historical plays, half fiction and half transcript, they seem, which also emblematize and produce stunning examples of σχολή "at work" [pun intended].
"Hammock driven development, I should note, is a droll and loving dig on the enduring fad in software development known as "test-driven development".
Leisure, huh? What the heck is that. I do need to get better at that one.
Thanks for this video! I can't wait to watch it. I worked in software development for many years and always found software design to be parallel to storytelling/ writing. I'm sure this video will be interesting on more than one front.
"I find I am much less precious about each sentence when I print out three or four measly pages and see that oh, the paragraphs I have been beating my head against a wall over are such a small swath of the whole."
I love this - it's a great reminder to step back and see the bigger picture. Thank you for sharing!
The more I learn about how great writers work, the more it seems that uncertainty is a regular part of the process. It reminds me of something Philip Roth said:
"...you begin every book as an amateur and as a dummy. And in the writing, you discover the book. Of course, you're in charge. But gradually by writing sentence after sentence, the book, as it were, reveals itself through your language..."
You must have a writing place with one of these infinitely expandable mega wall post it with Bluetack spaces, a veritable TARDIS.
A while back Jackie Pascoe and I were comparing reading notes on the short fictions of Claire Keegan. Were you in, or have you happened across that thread of conversation?
I missed that conversation. But i've read both of Keegan's short novellas (Foster is more of a short story, really). Loved both of them. And I see someone's already made a movie out of Foster.
Well, I'll watch the movie and let you know! (Though 99.9% of the time, the book is better.) As far as comparing George's writing to Keegan's: Let me say that George's work is incomparable! His voice is so singular and his vision so unique, it's just not possible to compare him to anyone else. Keegan is a beautiful writer, though--no argument there.
Thank you George, as always. It’s such a gift when a master craftsman reveals that he or she struggles with the process. And by struggle I mean revise, polish, discard, etc. the struggle is constructive. It’s how humans move forward. Your answer made me think of two things: 1) wasn’t it Anne LaMott who coined the term “shitty first draft” for the spirit of getting the ideas out of your head and not obsessing, then going back later to revise and discover where the gems are? And 2) in the field of architecture, where I live mostly, there’s a dangerous tendency to publish the “napkin sketch.” It fosters the illusion that the architect is a natural genius and that the idea for their building popped out of their head fully formed and brilliant, then they just scribbled it down on the first piece of paper they could find, and voila! In truth, there are flashes of brilliance or insight that do happen. Lightning does strike, but it’s rare and it’s incomplete. Mastery is about polishing, revising, testing, and even going backwards, hating it, beating one’s head against the wall. It’s a process and an evolution.
Yay, to "the illusion of natural genius". Reminds me of Edison's "1% inspiration, 99% perspiration" formula. Some authors may be good at their craft but they're often good or even better at creating the illusion.
Jack Kerouac comes to mind. It's been to long since I read "On the Road" but I feel sure the image of him drafting his manuscript in a blinding flash of uninterrupted inspiration on a continuous roll of paper fed into a presumably scorching hot typewriter has done nothing to glorify the plodding Sisyphean nature of perfecting a short-story.
Glancing over at the Wikipedia entry for "On the Road". Contrasting his methods with the on-stage performances of Jazz musicians discounts the vast quantity of hours consecrated in the woodshed. I am not surprised that he has a non-fiction work titled "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose".
(I have to stop to admire at David Brooks commentary on its legacy:
"Reading through the anniversary commemorations, you feel the gravitational pull of the great Boomer Narcissus. All cultural artifacts have to be interpreted through whatever experiences the Baby Boomer generation is going through at that moment. So a book formerly known for its youthful exuberance now becomes a gloomy middle-aged disillusion."
Please tell me that you don't love, "the Great Boomer Narcissus"!)
Kerouac now occurs to me to be a worthy contrast in styles to our beloved George Saunders.
Kerouac's essay, per this synopsis on Genius (https://genius.com/Jack-kerouac-essentials-of-spontaneous-prose-annotated), is I suspect well worth our while. And the idea that we could someday write at improvisational speed is something we should all aspire towards. What was so terribly wrong about Kerouac's modeling himself off of bee-bop Jazz musicians. Charlie Parker as a role model (minus perhaps the addictions)? C'mon!
A Testimonial: Thirty years ago I took a workshop with a brilliant and famous writer. He gave me thoughtful, detailed criticism and much encouragement. As we parted, he said, "You've got it. Now go do the work." OMG--a mountaintop moment for me! And for thirty years I've been trying with all I've got to "do the work." But I never really knew how; I didn't know what "doing the work" actually was. Until this last year, until Story Club, until George Saunders.
Wouldn't it be interesting if writing stories were more like making an oil painting -- you can't erase, cut, move, or do much to edit what's been done so far. You can paint over, but the original still lingers underneath. You can obliterate with layers of gesso but still, *you* will know what went before. Mainly, you have to make what is to come somehow harmonize with what's already there. What different stories we would write!
actually - painters scraped off paint from canvasses often and redid and reused, not just covered up. Some technologies can discern between the layers, but rarely is it that people want to look at "draft" material. If one were studying the creative process and how to get from manuscript to final draft (think Eliot's "The Waste Land" and the facsimile edition with Ezra Pound's edits on it), then the draft with all the markup on it may be elucidating. But give me a polished story to savor. I trust artists to present their best.
Well, yes, of course they did, and there are plenty of examples of entirely new works by the great masters on recycled canvas. 'Twas intended mainly as an analogy. I could substitute arbitrary rules for writing in indelible ink and confiscate the scissors and Scotch Tape . . .
Still, I've known many contemporary painters who haven't pushed their skills in the direction of massive reworking, and they aren't at all happy to make a mistake on a nearly complete canvas. I've written a few whole books in longhand, using a ballpoint pen on yellow pads, and although I'm free to cross out and scribble tiny interstitial addenda, the main effect of writing that way was to slow me down *drastically*. This approach did foster much more thoughtful style and content. Ultimately, I typed it, edited, and retyped it, multiple times. But the original material was very different from other projects that spooled out of my humming, whirring, flapping Selectric.
I have mixed feelings about the Pounding of Eliot -- I had to adjust my thinking after naively assuming that TS . . . just wrote it, period. No doubt Pound substantially elevated the words into the masterpiece we now know, but it's hard to separate the underlying genius of Eliot. So, as you said, I acknowledge Pound, and then just relish the finished work. And in the end, the collaboration was Eliot's choice, allowing Pound in as one of a thousand influences on the creative process. Not fundamentally that different from an artist studying and copying the masters and then finalizing her own painting.
Whoa, that's interesting. The link went behind a paywall, but it looked like he was typing onto no paper at all. But your description sounds like he types over and over on a single sheet. Either way is, well, definitely Performance Art!
My first gallery show in 1976 was a typewritten (IBM Selectric) one page story. Edited, crossed out written over, margins filled. Coloured inks. The edited copy and original copy underneath existing visibly simultaneously. At the time I thought a very provocative form of art, later that night my imposter syndrome snuck in and took the piece down. Sad.
Thank you so much for the response George. It still amazes and humbles me that you take the time, out of what must be a very hectic schedule, to reply to so many of us.
I must admit I've been away from Story Club for a little while now (family, work, life gets busy). I've still never missed a post but I am back to hide in the shadows and read everyone's comments as well, and I plan to start by going through all of the CommComm posts.
My writing process is slow going, methodical, and potentially tedious in what, sometimes, feels self-sabotaging. It is such a relief to see my process validated here. I honestly feel much better about it now, knowing one our generation's greatest writers takes a similar approach. And the act of "discovering" plot and rhetoric through editing and rewriting (as opposed to planning, I guess?) really suits the way I approach writing. I'm exhilarated and restored and I can't wait to get back to the writing desk. Thanks again, George!
Sensei says, "But, in general, my belief is: "writing is rewriting." Word. I reflect upon the pathological number of writing workshops I've taken since my youth (18-20?), all of them mentored by stalwart artists, possessed of Guggenheims or New Yorker creds and the like, and living the dream, and if anything was discounted, it was revision. Maybe because it seems abstract, or unwieldy and hard to talk about, like it could get off the leash on us. I've taught 20 years worth of composition, peppered with a creative writing here and there, or a remedial when I needed remedy, and all I had for them was "Revision, my friends, which means 'to see again'." And I'd tell them that when I had anything that I could call a preliminary draft I would read each sentence out loud to myself, and tighten, extract, fit and refit, striving for clarity in the hope that if each sentence was clear then the whole thing might be clear. "This is where the magic happens," I'd tell them, and then I would try to avoid eye contact for the rest of the class.
It heartens me to read the words of Sensei, and see, "Yes! That's it exactly. The writing will inform me what it wants to do and be. It helps if I'm paying attention, but yes! That's damned good." So, I will just refer everybody to Mr. Saunders from here on out. His teaching and work resonates.
Hi. I took a workshop with Peter Taylor in 1986, and he told us he used this approach, but any one of us might be tempermentally bent toward another process. But every one of us gave this a shot, because why wouldn’t we. It works, if you like work. Especially if you like writing work.
Yes. A bunch of elegant stuff. And likely some of it will be triggered/recalled by the lovely commentary of this group. I think he also preferred the idea that a sentence can get unstuck sometimes when you think of it as an idea with a topic and a comment, rather than a subject and a predicate. That was liberating, at least to me.
It occurs to me, on the subject of revision, Peter Taylor thought one good reason to write about places and characters you know and care about is to ensure plentitude -- which is what abates the reluctance to revise. Tearing up something you’ve labored over for weeks or months and starting over should be done with a spirit of adventure, even enthusiasm; but that will only be likely if you have plenty more to say.
Thanks for the mention of Peter Taylor. I had the great good fortune to meet him at Sewanee not long before he died. So elegant. And wise. What a pleasure to be in his company--weren't we lucky!
I am so out of my league here with all these brilliant commenters!!
This is a class in itself... fascinating and enlightening!
I always wonder where these characters come from and how the writer cleaves to their signals..,the concept of characters deciding who they are... what they think ..and where they may take the writer...almost as if a cabal of ghosts stops by and hints at this and that and takes your screen or page into their world.
The very fact that you enjoy and appreciate this rambling dialog shows you are very much NOT out of your league! This IS your league. And yes, it's entirely magical, every bit of it. The trick is never to lose sight of the magic.
You made the pick of the draft. Like most folks who having had the temerity to apply (or, more simply subscribe) feel, when they find themselves chosen - or "let in",by by deed of email confirmation, best advice I can give you is know that you have arrived here on merit and just enjoy going with the flow.
So, no, Marcy you are not out of your league. This is not 'Literary Snottsville', rather it is Story Club convened by George Saunders ... which, if you know - basically like I do - one poem by Robert Frost, "makes all the difference."
Spot on. I "discovered" that technique a while back, and it's surprising how many tricky sticking points it's pried me out of. I've taken to writing story breakdowns (on the rare occasion when I can make a breakdown) by writing "couplets." One sentence declaring what's going on at that point in the plot, with a companion sentence that's a kind of commentary on the first one. A bit like a heading and a subheading, although I don't advocate using headings unless they're assertions (complete sentences).
Whoah. To read this before a day in the writing cubby asking what the ##$% am I doing here with this ever morphing creature that may or may not be a story is just the injection I needed. From frown to clown To persist. With trusting the getting there.. there. That last paragraph. I said yes with a Whoosh. Of gratitude. In the belly. From what if to riff. From listening in silence to laying down tracks then rewind and play. Repeat. Here's to writing a garden that sings to a some one. Word seeds - the scatter and sprout. The weeding. The plucking from the f##$% up Ed Ness in the wild raggedy rows of zig zaggedy words blooming until some kind of harvest. To read aloud. To hear. To tear apart gladly with razor sharp teeth yet find hunger not satisfied. Still To dare and to share the feast and the beast of life on this planet . You are not alone you storytelling earthlings! Okay I play waaay too much but these Words shine colours with a re Verb erating clang and cymbal clash. My metaphor brain in overdrive and tangled but yes yes to answer the beautiful profound question of that perfect last paragraph. Here. Hear.To dream anew. The play's the thing. I am biased. A lifetime of finding sense in nonsense. For there to catch a cadence of joy. So many flavors of joy.. Thank you. Yes whole heartedly. Thanks for the natural high that comes from reading truth. My morning wake up energy shake. Drunk on hope. I will not go gently into this bright day. I will stop now. Almost To the Page. Page page in the sighing of delight. And terror. Smiley face. Hiccup. Persist persisters is my takeaway. Be true. Be you. Whoosh.
George, the photo of your piles of drafts from your current story inspired me to order a new printer today. I like my little Canon Pixma, but before I print anything, I question if I can afford the ink. Now I see that I can't afford NOT to print out each draft. The Brothers printer I ordered today should be easier on the pocketbook. Thanks for lighting the way forward!
I think printing the stories out lets you read them in a different context, shakes up the way you look at them enough to see them in a fresh way. Is that how you see it?
My process, usually, is to write in Google docs on a laptop, and then do much of my reading/editing on my phone. That provides at least some of the shaking up that printing out would get me.
But maybe there is a special quality to seeing the words printed on paper. I'll probably never do it though, because the thought of using all that paper sends my inner efficiency freak into conniptions.
Yes, yes, yes. It feels like building a bridge from one side of a river. You need the bridge because you can't get to the other side without it. You build out a section at a time, then go over it carefully, making sure it's as sound as possible before you build out the next section. Even after you've already checked an early section, you'll keep looking it over on each pass. The stakes of getting it wrong are too high. You don't invite anyone to cross it until it's done--and you're as certain as you can be it will hold.
So many metaphors leaping from the action of building a bridge. So many different types of bridges, so many ways to approach construction. And as with most things bridge, the context and terrain will often determine the content. The shorelines; width of the crossing, depth; weight of the vehicles. purpose, budget, etc.
Form following the intent and function of the bridge builder.
Great metaphor Jules! I might add that perhaps it is like building a bridge from both sides, as engineers so often do. You sort of know the the different parts of the story and your characters as they spring to life in your mind. We shift our focus as necessary or inspired. But in the long run these constructions need to reach out into space and connect seamlessly, like the two sides of the bridge meeting in the middle (or even more sides if there is an island in the middle from which multiple bridge leaps begin).
Thanks, Kurt! Yes, I suspect for most of us it's more like the both-sides approach. Meanwhile, George seems to tend more to trying to build out from just one side, keeping himself as in the dark as possible as to the ending. I'm going to try to emulate that more and see how it works for me!
Thank God I am not alone — I am keeping company with the great George Saunders! And thank you for sharing so much that is so precious with those of us who do not have the wherewithal to upgrade to PAID. God bless you George, which is a nice thought, even for atheists.
John: Nice to have you here. And I agree--it's wonderful to keep company with George. (I want to add that I know the cost of a subscription is out of reach for many people. So it's really great that those without a paid subscription can hop in here on Thursdays for some great thoughts from George and all those who contribute with comments.) See you in the threads!
Hi John
I think that what George writes is great but think of George as, well, George.
As to the lack of wherewithal to upgrade to PAID ... can I ask why having set yourself up on 'Writes John's Substack' you haven't, yet, managed a post?
If you were Gifted a Subscription what confidence could a Subscription Gifter have that you would actually take the free ball and run with it?
I chip in a comment here and there, have found being a Paid Subscriber to Story Club brings me the best and biggest bangs for my aspirant writer's bucks that I could ever have imagined ... and, even more amazingly, constantly surprises me and exceeds my, now, high expectations.
Do come back to me on what I've typed into the Reply. What's your 'wherewithal' barrier?
Thanks for replying to my comment and engaging in such detail. I have to say that I haven’t been asked so many leading questions by a total stranger since I filed for bankruptcy. But here goes.
I haven’t “managed a post” because I am currently working on a project that is both mammoth and marathon (at least for my humble attributes) with the help of a couple of beta readers. The short stories which I could post are now over a year old; not in itself a barrier, but I feel they do not represent where I am right now, hence I have decided not to post for the time being.
You mention a “Subscription Gifter” and “confidence.” Well, I’m unfamiliar with the phrase “Subscription Gifter” but I’m sure you know I am certainly not angling for gifts; and I haven’t been accused of lacking confidence since I was 23, which is far too long ago for me to contemplate.
Finally you ask me to define my “wherewithal barrier.” Like most couch surfers I live to an extremely tight budget; that means paid subscriptions to anything which does not include food and accommodation is not in the frame. Much as I love George Saunders this means he isn’t in the frame either.
I was glad to read you’re getting a lot out of being a paid subscriber. George does a great job at communicating. In the final analysis I guess you got it right in your first sentence i.e. “George is, well, George.” Ergo you are, well, Rob; and I am, well, John. Which is my way of saying that we’re all doing the best we can, with wildly varying results. Each to his/her/their own 😊
Have a great weekend
John
And thank you for such an engaged response John.
I'm a Middle Englander not an American, so as well as being in Story Club to enhance my insight into literary short fiction (and gauge whether I may or may not have potential to aspire to write with such intent) I'm also enjoying learning a lot about the American way of supporting learning.
I think 'Subscription Gifter' is simply a phrase coined form George's open invitation, which I think links to a Substack facility, to 'Gift a Subscription'.
Linking (a) your thanks to George for what he is offering to all subscribers (b) your capitalising PAID (c) mention of lack of wherewithal got me to thinking, again, about the nature of the barriers that make it difficult for some (no way could I or would I quantify how many) individuals to make the shift from 'Subscriber' to 'Paid Subscriber'.
Your reply to me highlights the fact that it is very often limitations of time, and the attendant need to focus on personal priorities, that preclude crossing the Subscriber / Paid Subscriber boundary. I have just two Paid Subscriptions to, let's say, 'American George's Substack' and British Tim's Substack'. Keeping tabs on each is time hungry; maybe two is going to prove too much (time-wise); taking a third Paid Substack Subscription might well, frankly and of course for me not others, be a sign of developing 'delusional daftness' 😂.
For any individuals whose barrier to opting to become a Paid Subscriber (on George's or any other Substack) is pecuniary but who has a sense that opening, setting up and writing a Substack was for them then one route to eliding the financial barrier to becoming a Paid Subscriber on, for example, George's Story Club struck me as being to get in the habit of writing posts with the modest hope of attracting Readers, then Subscribers, some of whom might subsequently become Paid Subscribers ... perhaps just enough to fund a year's (actually modest) Paid to Subscription ...
So there's my, thankful for the opportunity, expansion of the thinking behind my post to you John. Have a fine first March weekend yourself.
Rob
I'm obviously not John so I can't speak for him, but I don't see an empty Substack as indicative of anything. I've been a writer in one way or another for my 36 years, and it took me months between the creation of my Substack and publication! Life has a way of getting in the way and it also takes awhile to decide what should be made public. And I love what George has said -- can't remember the exact quote -- but something about living/observing being a kind of writing in its own right.
Very witty and funny Substack. I'd say you're writing stories just fine. Who cares if you're the N. Amy Hempel does it all the time.
Oh thank you so much Lucinda!
And you're so darling to subscribe to my nonexistent substack. I'm so tempted but soooooooo afraid. Afraid only because it's a time buster, but I have so many published stories I could revive. You inspire me🌷
Do it!! I would love to read them. It can be a time buster, but I also think the idea you need to stick to a certain cadence is misguided. People are happy to read quality writing whenever it shows up. :)
I'd say a gift is for the gift-ee to do with as they want, yes? As for being a paid subscriber I've found Story Club to be my second (cheaper/better) MFA🌷
"we get more comfortable with the notion that what we’re actually good at — what we’ve been practicing all these years — is improvising within a given context."
That's a brilliant way to think about it. I used to say good writers are good problem solvers, but that never quite sounded right. Improvising within a given context is fantastic.
Yes Brian I too was struck by this: "Improvising within a given context" and [getting good at] reacting to the text that’s right in front of us with some degree of confidence and playfulness"--Yes! Writing is improvisation, isn't it--hadn't thought of it that way, and improvisation is freedom. Plus, to remember playfulness, a very George word. Thank you!
I like that idea, Jane: that improvisation is freeing. In my younger years freedom and playfulness were not words I would have associated with "serious" writing. I think only recently have I come to understand the importance of being "playful" in writing. Otherwise why do it, right? Why would I not allow myself to enjoy writing by, effectively, lightening up! It is absolutely freeing and that's what it's all about, for me at least.
Just ask Charlie Parker and Miles Davis! Serious playfulness, punctuated with lightning.
At my writing desk, in my "life on earth" this week, it's ALL revision. I like the coincidence of this week's office hours. But the George Saunders take on revising has been part of our conversation many times throughout this year plus of Story Club . And it's done its work on me. How or when it happened, I'm not sure, but the BIG takeaway: I no longer feel the need for revision as a defeat.
Open the champagne.
Love this - it's NOT a defeat - part of the larger victory. ;)
It’s a game changer. And thank YOU for being so generous in sharing your process.
If it's helpful to the person who asked this question: I used to do the same thing. Only in the past three months have I stopped. What changed? I learned about the "Saturation Point" (a concept popularized by Robert Mackee). The saturation point is essentially an intellectual threshold in which you have learned so much about your world, your characters, what drives them, their mannerisms, their backstories, the plot, etc. that the story seems to start to 'write itself.' The concept is, I believe anyway, most applicable to novels, screen plays, and/or longer works.
Personally, I am on the second draft of a big, honkin' absurdist novel. My first draft was/is a total brain dump and as such is completely unreadable. I had mistakenly thought that since I had a first draft (however messy) it was time to start polishing. But the polishing was glacial because, as I was writing, I was still getting to know the characters and the intricacies of their world.
So my new goal is simply to reach that saturation point. So far, I have noticed that simple change has lead to a greater feeling of play. My output has also quadrupled. Sure my second draft is not pretty but there are large swaths of each scene that feel "complete." And I'm happy with that. For now. Plus I know that things will change.
I also agree whole heartedly with George about the power of printing off and editing your work longhand. I find I am much less precious about each sentence when I print out three or four measly pages and see that oh, the paragraphs I have been beating my head against a wall over are such a small swath of the whole.
I've never heard the term saturation point, but I recognize the experience, and I like the idea of changing the goal to reaching that point. I'm going to try that out. Thanks for your comment about it!
For what it's worth, I found the saturation point experience (ie, working with something long enough and then quite unexpectedly finding the thing writes itself/draws itself) arrived for me when I was working in advertising copywriting and in drawing.
I had a similar experience with design as well! Sort of a "no, no, no, no, YES" feeling.
Great idea, this "Saturation Point". It is similar to the goal of the process Rich Hickey, a Saunders's like staggering genius who invented a very clever computer programming, called Clojure, in a talk he gave called "Hammock Driven Development". It is in essence the process he followed to design Clojure.
Here is the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f84n5oFoZBc. Though presented by a computer science, it is profitably viewed by writers as a lecture on creativity.
It touches on the essential aspect of leisure (e.g. having gobs and gobs of "hammock" time) to let things simmer, steep, and percolate within. Leisure (or σχολή )—as I mention elsewhere—was a vital aspect in the creation of ancient Greek culture.
Plato's dialogues are more like historical plays, half fiction and half transcript, they seem, which also emblematize and produce stunning examples of σχολή "at work" [pun intended].
"Hammock driven development, I should note, is a droll and loving dig on the enduring fad in software development known as "test-driven development".
Leisure, huh? What the heck is that. I do need to get better at that one.
Thanks for this video! I can't wait to watch it. I worked in software development for many years and always found software design to be parallel to storytelling/ writing. I'm sure this video will be interesting on more than one front.
"I find I am much less precious about each sentence when I print out three or four measly pages and see that oh, the paragraphs I have been beating my head against a wall over are such a small swath of the whole."
I love this - it's a great reminder to step back and see the bigger picture. Thank you for sharing!
Interesting comment. Thank you for sharing!
Skylark, Thanks for the tip on Robert Mackee.
Here's one of his vids more than obliquely (it seems) related to Saturation Points.
https://youtu.be/CDFXs_G9tOI
Thank you!! <3
Here's the key takeaway: "Honestly, for me, it’s a different approach with every story."
The more I learn about how great writers work, the more it seems that uncertainty is a regular part of the process. It reminds me of something Philip Roth said:
"...you begin every book as an amateur and as a dummy. And in the writing, you discover the book. Of course, you're in charge. But gradually by writing sentence after sentence, the book, as it were, reveals itself through your language..."
https://www.npr.org/2018/05/25/614398904/fresh-air-remembers-novelist-philip-roth
Beautiful quote, thank you!
lovely thank you
Uncertainty. Yes. For sure. Love Roth.
It sure is for me.
Amazing Mary: you mean that you have still wall enough to stick 'Story Club Takeaways' to with Bluetack?
Ha! Well, this latest is a short one, so i was able to squeeze it into a corner.
I'm drowning Mary.
You must have a writing place with one of these infinitely expandable mega wall post it with Bluetack spaces, a veritable TARDIS.
A while back Jackie Pascoe and I were comparing reading notes on the short fictions of Claire Keegan. Were you in, or have you happened across that thread of conversation?
I missed that conversation. But i've read both of Keegan's short novellas (Foster is more of a short story, really). Loved both of them. And I see someone's already made a movie out of Foster.
Foster is a classic now in Irish literature. It was made into a film called An Cailin Ciuin (The Quiet Girl) which is really beautiful.
I'm going to be seeing it soon! Very much looking forward.
The writing?
Exquisite? Dare I suggest it may be at least an echelon notch above George's? In the notional Pantheon of Great Writers?
Fuck the movie adaptation, I say. It is the original story words that will last. At least that is my POV Mary.
Rob
Well, I'll watch the movie and let you know! (Though 99.9% of the time, the book is better.) As far as comparing George's writing to Keegan's: Let me say that George's work is incomparable! His voice is so singular and his vision so unique, it's just not possible to compare him to anyone else. Keegan is a beautiful writer, though--no argument there.
Thank you George, as always. It’s such a gift when a master craftsman reveals that he or she struggles with the process. And by struggle I mean revise, polish, discard, etc. the struggle is constructive. It’s how humans move forward. Your answer made me think of two things: 1) wasn’t it Anne LaMott who coined the term “shitty first draft” for the spirit of getting the ideas out of your head and not obsessing, then going back later to revise and discover where the gems are? And 2) in the field of architecture, where I live mostly, there’s a dangerous tendency to publish the “napkin sketch.” It fosters the illusion that the architect is a natural genius and that the idea for their building popped out of their head fully formed and brilliant, then they just scribbled it down on the first piece of paper they could find, and voila! In truth, there are flashes of brilliance or insight that do happen. Lightning does strike, but it’s rare and it’s incomplete. Mastery is about polishing, revising, testing, and even going backwards, hating it, beating one’s head against the wall. It’s a process and an evolution.
Yay, to "the illusion of natural genius". Reminds me of Edison's "1% inspiration, 99% perspiration" formula. Some authors may be good at their craft but they're often good or even better at creating the illusion.
Jack Kerouac comes to mind. It's been to long since I read "On the Road" but I feel sure the image of him drafting his manuscript in a blinding flash of uninterrupted inspiration on a continuous roll of paper fed into a presumably scorching hot typewriter has done nothing to glorify the plodding Sisyphean nature of perfecting a short-story.
Glancing over at the Wikipedia entry for "On the Road". Contrasting his methods with the on-stage performances of Jazz musicians discounts the vast quantity of hours consecrated in the woodshed. I am not surprised that he has a non-fiction work titled "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose".
(I have to stop to admire at David Brooks commentary on its legacy:
"Reading through the anniversary commemorations, you feel the gravitational pull of the great Boomer Narcissus. All cultural artifacts have to be interpreted through whatever experiences the Baby Boomer generation is going through at that moment. So a book formerly known for its youthful exuberance now becomes a gloomy middle-aged disillusion."
Please tell me that you don't love, "the Great Boomer Narcissus"!)
Kerouac now occurs to me to be a worthy contrast in styles to our beloved George Saunders.
Kerouac's essay, per this synopsis on Genius (https://genius.com/Jack-kerouac-essentials-of-spontaneous-prose-annotated), is I suspect well worth our while. And the idea that we could someday write at improvisational speed is something we should all aspire towards. What was so terribly wrong about Kerouac's modeling himself off of bee-bop Jazz musicians. Charlie Parker as a role model (minus perhaps the addictions)? C'mon!
Meanwhile, back to the woodshed...
A Testimonial: Thirty years ago I took a workshop with a brilliant and famous writer. He gave me thoughtful, detailed criticism and much encouragement. As we parted, he said, "You've got it. Now go do the work." OMG--a mountaintop moment for me! And for thirty years I've been trying with all I've got to "do the work." But I never really knew how; I didn't know what "doing the work" actually was. Until this last year, until Story Club, until George Saunders.
As Edith Ann says, "And that's the truth."
Amazing 😻
Wouldn't it be interesting if writing stories were more like making an oil painting -- you can't erase, cut, move, or do much to edit what's been done so far. You can paint over, but the original still lingers underneath. You can obliterate with layers of gesso but still, *you* will know what went before. Mainly, you have to make what is to come somehow harmonize with what's already there. What different stories we would write!
actually - painters scraped off paint from canvasses often and redid and reused, not just covered up. Some technologies can discern between the layers, but rarely is it that people want to look at "draft" material. If one were studying the creative process and how to get from manuscript to final draft (think Eliot's "The Waste Land" and the facsimile edition with Ezra Pound's edits on it), then the draft with all the markup on it may be elucidating. But give me a polished story to savor. I trust artists to present their best.
Well, yes, of course they did, and there are plenty of examples of entirely new works by the great masters on recycled canvas. 'Twas intended mainly as an analogy. I could substitute arbitrary rules for writing in indelible ink and confiscate the scissors and Scotch Tape . . .
Still, I've known many contemporary painters who haven't pushed their skills in the direction of massive reworking, and they aren't at all happy to make a mistake on a nearly complete canvas. I've written a few whole books in longhand, using a ballpoint pen on yellow pads, and although I'm free to cross out and scribble tiny interstitial addenda, the main effect of writing that way was to slow me down *drastically*. This approach did foster much more thoughtful style and content. Ultimately, I typed it, edited, and retyped it, multiple times. But the original material was very different from other projects that spooled out of my humming, whirring, flapping Selectric.
I have mixed feelings about the Pounding of Eliot -- I had to adjust my thinking after naively assuming that TS . . . just wrote it, period. No doubt Pound substantially elevated the words into the masterpiece we now know, but it's hard to separate the underlying genius of Eliot. So, as you said, I acknowledge Pound, and then just relish the finished work. And in the end, the collaboration was Eliot's choice, allowing Pound in as one of a thousand influences on the creative process. Not fundamentally that different from an artist studying and copying the masters and then finalizing her own painting.
Well said, Allen. I appreciate your comments very much.
That made me think of this performance artist who types up novels on a single sheet of paper, often with the typewriter the original author used. The end product is mystifying. https://lit.newcity.com/2022/06/09/the-retypist-tim-youd-travels-the-world-turning-classic-novels-into-works-of-performance-art/
Whoa, that's interesting. The link went behind a paywall, but it looked like he was typing onto no paper at all. But your description sounds like he types over and over on a single sheet. Either way is, well, definitely Performance Art!
Interesting 🧐
My first gallery show in 1976 was a typewritten (IBM Selectric) one page story. Edited, crossed out written over, margins filled. Coloured inks. The edited copy and original copy underneath existing visibly simultaneously. At the time I thought a very provocative form of art, later that night my imposter syndrome snuck in and took the piece down. Sad.
Thank you so much for the response George. It still amazes and humbles me that you take the time, out of what must be a very hectic schedule, to reply to so many of us.
I must admit I've been away from Story Club for a little while now (family, work, life gets busy). I've still never missed a post but I am back to hide in the shadows and read everyone's comments as well, and I plan to start by going through all of the CommComm posts.
My writing process is slow going, methodical, and potentially tedious in what, sometimes, feels self-sabotaging. It is such a relief to see my process validated here. I honestly feel much better about it now, knowing one our generation's greatest writers takes a similar approach. And the act of "discovering" plot and rhetoric through editing and rewriting (as opposed to planning, I guess?) really suits the way I approach writing. I'm exhilarated and restored and I can't wait to get back to the writing desk. Thanks again, George!
Welcome back, Matt, to SC and to your writing desk. :)
Sensei says, "But, in general, my belief is: "writing is rewriting." Word. I reflect upon the pathological number of writing workshops I've taken since my youth (18-20?), all of them mentored by stalwart artists, possessed of Guggenheims or New Yorker creds and the like, and living the dream, and if anything was discounted, it was revision. Maybe because it seems abstract, or unwieldy and hard to talk about, like it could get off the leash on us. I've taught 20 years worth of composition, peppered with a creative writing here and there, or a remedial when I needed remedy, and all I had for them was "Revision, my friends, which means 'to see again'." And I'd tell them that when I had anything that I could call a preliminary draft I would read each sentence out loud to myself, and tighten, extract, fit and refit, striving for clarity in the hope that if each sentence was clear then the whole thing might be clear. "This is where the magic happens," I'd tell them, and then I would try to avoid eye contact for the rest of the class.
It heartens me to read the words of Sensei, and see, "Yes! That's it exactly. The writing will inform me what it wants to do and be. It helps if I'm paying attention, but yes! That's damned good." So, I will just refer everybody to Mr. Saunders from here on out. His teaching and work resonates.
Hi. I took a workshop with Peter Taylor in 1986, and he told us he used this approach, but any one of us might be tempermentally bent toward another process. But every one of us gave this a shot, because why wouldn’t we. It works, if you like work. Especially if you like writing work.
What a great writer Taylor was. Anything else you remember him saying?
Richard Walter
7 min ago
Yes. A bunch of elegant stuff. And likely some of it will be triggered/recalled by the lovely commentary of this group. I think he also preferred the idea that a sentence can get unstuck sometimes when you think of it as an idea with a topic and a comment, rather than a subject and a predicate. That was liberating, at least to me.
Oh, that's really nice - I've never heard it put that way before. Thank you.
It was a pleasure to recall.
It occurs to me, on the subject of revision, Peter Taylor thought one good reason to write about places and characters you know and care about is to ensure plentitude -- which is what abates the reluctance to revise. Tearing up something you’ve labored over for weeks or months and starting over should be done with a spirit of adventure, even enthusiasm; but that will only be likely if you have plenty more to say.
Thanks for the mention of Peter Taylor. I had the great good fortune to meet him at Sewanee not long before he died. So elegant. And wise. What a pleasure to be in his company--weren't we lucky!
I am so out of my league here with all these brilliant commenters!!
This is a class in itself... fascinating and enlightening!
I always wonder where these characters come from and how the writer cleaves to their signals..,the concept of characters deciding who they are... what they think ..and where they may take the writer...almost as if a cabal of ghosts stops by and hints at this and that and takes your screen or page into their world.
Magical
The very fact that you enjoy and appreciate this rambling dialog shows you are very much NOT out of your league! This IS your league. And yes, it's entirely magical, every bit of it. The trick is never to lose sight of the magic.
Wow, Allen. That's a wonderful welcome. Welcome, Marcy Taback!
No Marcy.
You made the pick of the draft. Like most folks who having had the temerity to apply (or, more simply subscribe) feel, when they find themselves chosen - or "let in",by by deed of email confirmation, best advice I can give you is know that you have arrived here on merit and just enjoy going with the flow.
So, no, Marcy you are not out of your league. This is not 'Literary Snottsville', rather it is Story Club convened by George Saunders ... which, if you know - basically like I do - one poem by Robert Frost, "makes all the difference."
Spot on. I "discovered" that technique a while back, and it's surprising how many tricky sticking points it's pried me out of. I've taken to writing story breakdowns (on the rare occasion when I can make a breakdown) by writing "couplets." One sentence declaring what's going on at that point in the plot, with a companion sentence that's a kind of commentary on the first one. A bit like a heading and a subheading, although I don't advocate using headings unless they're assertions (complete sentences).
Brilliant
I love verbs myself^^
Whoah. To read this before a day in the writing cubby asking what the ##$% am I doing here with this ever morphing creature that may or may not be a story is just the injection I needed. From frown to clown To persist. With trusting the getting there.. there. That last paragraph. I said yes with a Whoosh. Of gratitude. In the belly. From what if to riff. From listening in silence to laying down tracks then rewind and play. Repeat. Here's to writing a garden that sings to a some one. Word seeds - the scatter and sprout. The weeding. The plucking from the f##$% up Ed Ness in the wild raggedy rows of zig zaggedy words blooming until some kind of harvest. To read aloud. To hear. To tear apart gladly with razor sharp teeth yet find hunger not satisfied. Still To dare and to share the feast and the beast of life on this planet . You are not alone you storytelling earthlings! Okay I play waaay too much but these Words shine colours with a re Verb erating clang and cymbal clash. My metaphor brain in overdrive and tangled but yes yes to answer the beautiful profound question of that perfect last paragraph. Here. Hear.To dream anew. The play's the thing. I am biased. A lifetime of finding sense in nonsense. For there to catch a cadence of joy. So many flavors of joy.. Thank you. Yes whole heartedly. Thanks for the natural high that comes from reading truth. My morning wake up energy shake. Drunk on hope. I will not go gently into this bright day. I will stop now. Almost To the Page. Page page in the sighing of delight. And terror. Smiley face. Hiccup. Persist persisters is my takeaway. Be true. Be you. Whoosh.
All that paper!
Thanks for that explanation! Do you work on more than one story at a time?
I try to, yes. Not always the case but I like the idea of being able to gravitate to whatever feels most alive at the moment.
George, the photo of your piles of drafts from your current story inspired me to order a new printer today. I like my little Canon Pixma, but before I print anything, I question if I can afford the ink. Now I see that I can't afford NOT to print out each draft. The Brothers printer I ordered today should be easier on the pocketbook. Thanks for lighting the way forward!
I bought three reams of paper today.
Oh, jayzus.
I think printing the stories out lets you read them in a different context, shakes up the way you look at them enough to see them in a fresh way. Is that how you see it?
My process, usually, is to write in Google docs on a laptop, and then do much of my reading/editing on my phone. That provides at least some of the shaking up that printing out would get me.
But maybe there is a special quality to seeing the words printed on paper. I'll probably never do it though, because the thought of using all that paper sends my inner efficiency freak into conniptions.
Yes, yes, yes. It feels like building a bridge from one side of a river. You need the bridge because you can't get to the other side without it. You build out a section at a time, then go over it carefully, making sure it's as sound as possible before you build out the next section. Even after you've already checked an early section, you'll keep looking it over on each pass. The stakes of getting it wrong are too high. You don't invite anyone to cross it until it's done--and you're as certain as you can be it will hold.
So many metaphors leaping from the action of building a bridge. So many different types of bridges, so many ways to approach construction. And as with most things bridge, the context and terrain will often determine the content. The shorelines; width of the crossing, depth; weight of the vehicles. purpose, budget, etc.
Form following the intent and function of the bridge builder.
❤️
Great metaphor Jules! I might add that perhaps it is like building a bridge from both sides, as engineers so often do. You sort of know the the different parts of the story and your characters as they spring to life in your mind. We shift our focus as necessary or inspired. But in the long run these constructions need to reach out into space and connect seamlessly, like the two sides of the bridge meeting in the middle (or even more sides if there is an island in the middle from which multiple bridge leaps begin).
Thanks, Kurt! Yes, I suspect for most of us it's more like the both-sides approach. Meanwhile, George seems to tend more to trying to build out from just one side, keeping himself as in the dark as possible as to the ending. I'm going to try to emulate that more and see how it works for me!