There’s a terrific anecdote in the only self help book that’s ever helped me. “Art and Fear” is by David Bayles and Ted Orland. They describe a pottery class divided into two groups. One group is told they’ll be graded on the quality of one pot which they can remake as many times as they like. The other half is told they’ll be graded on the quantity of pots they make. At the end of the semester, those in the “quantity group” are vastly better potters.
It’s only by permitting myself to make tons of just-okay pots that I seem to make progress! Sometimes you have to make bad work--and lots of it! Somehow things improve that way.
Such a great book. They also write that all of our failed pieces are essential, which i think is inferred by the story you've told here. On some level, we all know that we learn from our mistakes, but it's easy to forget when you're frustrated by a piece you're working on.
I’m really glad to hear from another person who got something from that book. I’ve found a lot of encouragement in it. And I definitely agree that its lessons are hard to remember in the midst of frustration!
My copy is underlined and starred all the way through. So many great lines. here's one I just turned to: "The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars."
Well, and I find the reverse true as well - the less work I'm making, the greater the pressure for whatever I do make to be excellent... Like the work needs to justify itself (or, dare I say it, me)
Messy (or shitty) first drafts are hard for me. I just can't seem to move on, leaving behind something stinking up the page. I am one of those writers ever-compelled to go back, as George says in his post, and fix up a sentence or paragraph till it feels perfect (at least in that moment), before I can move on. It's part of my flow, actually. I'm what Zadie Smith calls a "micro planner."
I had a teacher who worded it differently. What my my teacher told me, was to allow myself times to just have fun on the page, just play, which then allows the subconscious to come out and play, too. Something will appear on the page that totally surprises you. Same concept as "shitty first draft" but I like the idea of playing better. It just sounds more fun! Freeing.
I've gone bought an e-book version of this... I think I'm getting to grips with eliding the fear of writing and going with the perilous roller coaster ride that is actually writing... which, rather to my surprise, have turned lately towards being short pieces written with performative intent... write it, speak it, aloud allowed 🎭
Thanks for signposting Timothy and all for such such fine comments.
Just to follow through. on having said that I bought an e-book of 'Art & Fear', to report that I've read it with great enjoyment. It's the kind of text that has the quality and edge to help any aspirant writer realise that their desire is make artworks of words and that the real reward is making fresh works.
Brilliant and I will be re-reading and making notes and highlights, here and there, as I read: truly insightful and so applicable.
oh, dear Lord, i like to talk about the doing, too....
And of course, I have something to add to George's great and thoughtful response.....
You, dear questioner, write: "How do I get beyond this? Let go of the "preciousness" of my creation?" And I can tell you what works for me, if you want to hear/read it.
I put that ceramic pot of which you speak into a drawer and I absolutely do not look at it for as long as possible. For instance, right now, a story I wrote last year is in the drawer. i'm on the verge of pulling it out--it's been over 6 months since i last looked at it. And I'll tell you what will happen when I finally read it again. I'll say--wait, i wrote this? Because when you step away for a good length of time and you work on other things, you eventually forget what you wrote before. And now, having waited, you can really and truly see it with those fresh eyes everyone's always talking about. You can toss those sentences that you once loved (and maybe find you love again) but which aren't working any more for this piece. You can cut and cut brutally. Or you can read and find out--voila! the little ceramic pot is already perfect!
So that's what i'd add to George's great advice. Give your work a rest. Return to it later when you're a different person.
Mary, thank you for sharing this, it adds a layer of specificity at the example level. And for me, personally, it’s exactly where I am with a story. I just dove back into one I started back in the spring/summer, when I first signed onto this then my seasonal business kicked in and bam. I was forced to step away. But in the interim I’ve also started others, each, I can now set aside after I come back and, as George has so thoughtfully put it:
“I think it’s best to enter into editing with this mindset: we are just playfully trying something, in hopes of extracting, say, 10 percent more light from the piece, and we’re doing it out of love for the piece. We want it to be its best self, so we’re willing to open things up a bit, take a few chances, in service of the story and of our talent.”
And for me, in my example over here, just yesterday, something happened in real life, that I felt a version of it would be the perfect way to tie it all together, will it, I dunno, but I’ll try it, set aside and come back later.
Thank you for always adding something to what’s already the highlight of my day.
Mary G - you never write too much. Plus, great addition to GS's post. I dare say this "using time as an editor" is probably one of the most universally applicable; and not necessarily just in the negative. Every once in awhile I go back to something I've put in the drawer and think, "I wrote that?? Hm . . . not bad". Although mostly it's, "ugh - got to try that again". Anyway, never fear over posting.
yeah. Well, there's a lot of people who follow George here and I'm guessing a lot of them read these threads. i'm self-conscious about how much I comment, but I suppose I should just not make up narratives about what other people are thinking about my posts. It's not like I'm forcing anyone to read what I've written. And it's not like anyone cares. It's all in my monkey brain, right? I pledge to stop being so apologetic about using my voice here. The apologizing is probably more annoying than the posts on writing.... Sheesh, my brain.
I always make sure to read your posts. What I see in them is someone who is paying careful attention to these discussions and contributing significantly -- which is hugely invaluable. You're the kind of person who would be perfect as a critical reader. Again, invaluable.
You know reading this it strikes me that the comments we chip in here and there on the these threads are somewhat like the questioner's ceramic pots. What I'm getting at is that sometimes we do have occasion to go back and look at a post we made way back, possibly because we are reprising the comments made in a conversation about a topic / theme sparked by one of George's Newsletters or because someone has 'liked' or replied to a comment we made way back up stream. "Did I really write that?" we say silently, thinking what's the best of it, what's the less good, what would I write on that now being so much younger (and wiser) than I was then.
So Mary do you have stories maturing in drawers for different time periods... akin to the whiskies and cognacs and calvados and, of course, wines aged to mature towards (hopefully achieving) particular perfections? "Ah yes, try a read of this... its one from Vat19, or this a fine example from my Bin No 7, or this one, fresher but it'll grow on you given time '21 was a of fine vintage for storytellers in my terroir?"
Rob, i wish i had a number of stories maturing like fine wine. Instead i've got several stories that are definitely turning, a few that maybe will taste okay one of these days, at least one that i've got a good feeling about, and another one in progress.
You’re fine. You’re human! The words are all love, flowing from the mind and heart, and what you (we) don’t see or hear are the smiles and nods and laughter and wow-me-toos that they evoke. Writing about the love and pain of writing.
Self-consciousness has its upsides and downsides. Mostly down, when we are afraid of being seen or heard for real.
Such a good point, Mary. I’m not one for quoting pop music lyrics but there’s a song that goes “every five years I look back on my life and I have a good laugh” and as an artist, I say every five months I look back on my work and if I don’t “laugh” -- as in if I don’t think I could improve on it -- that means to me that I’m not growing and learning and getting better at what I do. Even superstars spend hours practicing their craft whether it’s hitting baseballs or playing Beethoven. Putting mindful work into any art is not necessarily going to make it better but it will definitely make you the artist better. And for most, the work truly begins after the first draft because all the magic happens in the rewriting and rethinking and editing -- which we know because we've been talking about that for all this time here. :-D
I like this Elizabeth - that putting more mindful work into the art will make the artist better, regardless of what it does for the particular piece of art. Great reminder that this is a process and a path wherein we explore, improve, fall down, get up, dust ourselves off, and learn more. Plus we become better dancers with our subconscious partner. Nice!
Thanks, Kurt. George reminds us often that writing well is about working well - that is editing, rewriting, rethinking and so on. It’s how we get better. One does not vomit out perfect first drafts. Editing, rewriting etc. is part of the process of creating our best work and it’s almost always where the real magic happens. 🥊
Interestingly, I think George's superpower is that he is willing to struggle, sometimes a lot, and keep doing the work until the work satisfies him, AND that he is willing to share that imperfect process with us here. What fabulous confidence, humility and vulnerability.!
Such valuable advice. Also, this feeling of returning to something almost like a stranger reminds me of my favorite part of traveling - that sense of open eyes, of newness, that allows you to see and see.
I'd have to agree with your comment, Mary...though it happens rarely, I will sometimes come upon something I have squirrelled away/lost/given up on (a line or two, an unfinished poem, a story) and do not recognise it as mine. Not because it's brilliant or good or anything, but because I was in a different place when I wrote it and I am not necessarily in that place when I find it again. or it has been a specific response to a mood or set task or stimulus. But because I have let things go which I couldn't verify (fear of continuing because of plagiarism etc!) I tend to sign and date it before I put it away/lose it; that way I can see it's mine and what to do with it (if anything!) The pot-whatever happens to it-has my name on it, at least!
I'm new to Story Club and Substack and don't quite understand how Story Club works, even though I read the About section. I can see here that you're all on the last page of Pastoralia. I know that George Saunders (or should I say "you." The reality that George Saunders might respond to this hasn't quite sunk in yet) will "publish a short piece on Thursday and a longer, meatier essay on Saturday." I can see that free subscribers can interact with the Office Hours posts but can't view the exercices. I'm happy to pay once I have a better understanding of how this works.
I've read A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, so I understand the format of George Saunder's brilliant dissection, and I want to take advantage of the opportunity to join in on the expansion.
I'm also curious if this group will return to the discussion of Russian masterpieces because I'd love to read or hear the opinions of those who read the stories in Russian, not English. I was fortunate enough to read some of the stories with my Ukrainian partner, who knew the stories well and provided me with some additional insight into the translations that were off. For instance, in some stories, the drinks were translated to "Vodka" even though the characters were drinking wine in the original Russian versions. Were the translators giving into stereotypes? If any of you have published anything about the translations, I'd love to read it.
Hi Nolan. I don't know how much of Story Club you can access without paying, but I'd suggest you read through the posts you're able to read and take a look around. On Thursdays, George answers questions. On Sundays, we usually discuss stories. Sometimes, we do exercises, but mostly it's stories. In the past, when we've discussed Russian stories, there have been club members who are fluent in Russian who posted about the translations. Obviously, I don't know your financial situation, but for most of us here, the $50 per year payment is well worth the investment.
One trick I've learned regarding the original question (which may or may not work for you): when you KNOW something needs to change, yet also feel as if its "glazed, fired, and cured" into a solid, irreversible state, sometimes we need to refresh our visual perspective of the story. I do this by separating each sentence of the story into its own line, literally making a list of every sentence. Now that each sentence is in isolation, for some reason, I feel it's often easier to revise. And then once you're done, put all the sentences back together and see how it sits.
By doing this, we're sort of willfully "blowing up" the story into discrete units (sentences). It can help kickstart the revision process by allowing us to see our story in a different way, at the "unit" level.
"literally making a list" of sentences is something I too use, in a different way.
On a day when I need to get over the hump between myself and beginning to write, I write sentences as though writing a list, each a whole thing to me (rather than 'automatic writing') but as you say, "in isolation." It clarifies my mind, and somehow the different visual sense on the page changes my atmosphere.
Great idea! I recently did a little experiment, taking a flash piece I was editing and turning it into a poem. I thought I knew what it was about, but as soon as I started distilling it into poetry, I had to rethink that, and found a more basic theme, one that made it come alive.
Hi, Jody. I got the idea from an excellent book that I often use for ideas: The 3 a.m. Epiphany, by Brian Kiteley. I found it especially useful to use a structured form, pantoum in this case. I wasn't 100% faithful to the form by the time I was done, and in fact didn't finish the poem, but that wasn't the point. I learned from it as I played with it, and ended up incorporating some lines from it into the fiction. Have fun!
Sometimes I feel like the Story Club hive mind is all on the same wavelength. The other night I drafted a version of this very question, intending to email it to you but I never got around to it.
Thanks to whoever sent this in. And thanks in advance to whoever reads my mind and sends in the next question I’ve been secretly pondering.
I have a good friend who's a painter, working mostly in oil. His "editing" process can include "ragging out" (i.e. turpentine + a rag) or physically sanding down the layers of paint he's added to a canvas. That seems like the BASE jumping version of editing -- just say goodbye to what was, and trust for something good to come. But there's no getting those marks you made back once you rag them out.
It makes me very grateful for the belay version of editing that is open to us as writers - I like to keep my piton in the rock.
That being said, I heard Lauren Groff describe her writing process once -- writing a story (a novel, even) by hand on paper, then... throwing it away (!!!) ... then starting over. Her reasoning is that anything that sticks is worth keeping, anything she forgets, must not've been. So there are BASE jumping writers, too...
Laura, once Lauren was asked about her process and she said she doesn't recommend it. She writes her novel by hand, sets it aside, and writes it over again by hand, a total of five times. Then she knows her story and types it in and begins to revise.
That seems ideal (if one has the time and energy) -- except for the throwing-away part. Would be interesting to read an essay in which she discusses the evolution of the drafts for a particular book: What made it all the way from start to finish? What was in the first draft, but not in the second, third, and fourth, then reappeared in the published novel?
I once got to take a writing class with Matthew Neil Null, a great young short fiction writer. For those of us who were hesitating to make bold revisions to our early drafts, he compared it to having a beautiful car in the garage that we've cleaned and restored and made wonderful and special... But we still have not taken it out on the road and seen how it responds. And the thing is it's not just OK to drive it, a car is *meant* to be taken out on the road and moved around.
A pretty simple metaphor, but it's one I often come back to. Personally I find it freeing - "now let's take this baby [early draft] out and see what it can do!" 😃
These past few office hours posts are issues I've been thinking about so much, so basically what Skylark said, there's a wavelength, perhaps!
I read a draft of someone's book, and it was super cool, exciting, original, a blast to read. The writer then took the draft to a professional place that edits, packages, markets, and helps you sell a self-published book. I read that final product, too, and was surprised to feel that some of the magic and acceleration was much less than it was. I didn't say anything as it was already published, and I still liked it, but I liked it less. All these other editors had taken away some of the writer's original feel and quirky voice. Too many cooks in the kitchen? Or...what? I don't know. It makes me wonder how we can tell when we've "flattened" something fun and quirky and made the story less alive somehow. Still wondering about all this.
That's a really interesting question, Sea. It's something, as a less experienced writer, I've had thoughts about, being that we obviously can't all have incredibly talented editors such as Andy Ward! What if an editor feels something should be redacted or changed and I can't see it? Do I trust or do I go against that advice? I guess with experience it will become clearer. Maybe that's an idea for a week of Story Club: question time with one of George's editors where we can bring up some of these thoughts. There seems to be a lot of discussion around the editing process lately.
I so agree David. I feel it often contains all the magic. I’ll do edits, new drafts, different POVs, but always & often return to the original to compare, what, if anything, has it lost or gained? Is the light still shining within it, has the soul of the piece begun to emerge? That original spark is like an ember kept in moss, able to create any amount of fire if tended properly.
Agreed. I have lost my path in this way many times over. I like how George encourages us to develop our true selves and true voices, and express from those places.
Sea, thank you for mentioning this issue. The author Sterling HolyWhiteMountain speaks about his own work through the editorial process and these types of concerns with language and pacing. Sage advice from George here in his posts about his own writing, waiting to share until he feels it's at that certain point--ready for a first reader. I learned the hard way sharing work too early when you're nearly ready to change anything just to get it to feel complete.
Uh oh! Sea, my apology. I went back into my comment to edit the spelling of his name Sterling HolyWhiteMountain and somehow that edit deleted your replies. The interview with him was excellent. Thank you for posting.
I've shared work too early as well. You have to find the right people, the right "first reader" to read. So many ways to go down the wrong road!
With the manuscript I read, and then read again after it'd been though many rounds with these editors, it made me wonder about how a writer can retain the originality and spark. Maybe what I enjoyed reading––something fresh and quirky, to the professional editor's eye wasn't good form.
George, I just love how self-aware you are about how you go about your own work, and how well you're able to articulate it, and how well you're able to extrapolate what in it is useful to other writers, readers, and editors. Endless gratitude as always!
This also reminds that it's really important to have really good critical readers to rely on for feedback. You don't need to pay for this or get experts. Nor do you want readers who are just critical to be negative or someone who loves everything you do. What you do want is at least one reader who is willing to give you honest feedback. More than one is ideal. There is almost nothing more valuable. This doesn't mean take all the critiques as action items. It's okay to pick and choose as long as you put the work first. To wit: I had an experience recently with a short story that's still in progress. I had this scene in mind when I first sat down to write it. It required a little bit of research and when I wrote it, I was very happy with how it turned out. But when I sent it out to a couple of people for critiques, both of them said the scene wasn't working. One suggested it be axed from the story completely.
I was sure this wasn't good advice.
So, my first inclination was to ignore it. I liked the scene and I put a lot of work into it. To my mind, it was integral to the whole story. But as I tackled the edits, I realized quite organically that it wasn't working. At all.
I ended up cutting all but one sentence of it. Now when I go back to the original I can totally see how extraneous it is and can't believe I didn't see it from the get-go. Removing it didn't feel like a big deal by the way. It actually made me feel good because I was doing the hard thing and it felt right.
Yes. Beta readers you trust are huge. Genuine feedback. People who are willing to hurt your feelings, but kindly, in the name of strengthening your work.
A few years ago I left an incomplete draft of a piece I was writing on the table in my sons apt.
When I realized I had left it I was panic stricken and disturbed that this rough draft would be the standard of my writing that my son and his wife would see and judge my writing and find out that I am a fraud as a writer. I couldn’t breathe.
This was a first draft!
Maybe it would never even be typed up!
Asking after those pages - left in a messy pile I was met with laughter and good will…all positives.. as well as their critique that my “piece” was very David Foster Wallace -like
(Clearly ridiculous)
I was dumbstruck, obviously.
And as a woman of a certain age even a few years ago- and not suicidal- or depressed- or alcoholic ( maybe a touch) , I changed my mind about editing- and do it gently. No need to feel pressed to refine and rethink- sometimes it works the first time.
I love that you think of your writing as ceramic pots. What I personally love about ceramics is that when you put something on the wheel you: spin, cone, press down (everything is the same) and then you shape - if you’re skilled you know what shape it will take, if you’re not you have an aim but you have to follow it. If you’re skilled, you can work with more clay too.
The shape is pulled and then you refine, refine, refine, refine. And perhaps that process is shorter term (while wet, before it dries) you actually are mostly editing what you’ve made. You pull the sides. Pulls the sides. Cave it in or out - to your desire. It can be thicker or thinner. Your choice! You shape it the whole process on the wheel. You control the speed and how thin and how tall and how round and how straight. And each step of the way is an opportunity to make something wonderful or make something just absolutely awful.
For me, in my ceramics class I made 8 items. One I made was a plate and everyone was like, Whoa! You made a plate? That’s actually really hard. I was trying to make a bowl but I put too much speed and it turned into a plate. My teacher told me I had to kiln the plate. That wouldn’t happen for me again. That was lucky!
So I kilned it, and it really is a beautiful plate. But after the kiln, I glazed it. I used a runny pink and a runny green. My plate came out…like vomit. It is ugly. But I of course use it! Because to have made a plate is awesome.
Anyway, I think that you thinking of your art as ceramics is correct but you are thinking that ceramics is much more complete and finished than it is for a ceramicist (unless you are a ceramicist and you know more than me, an amateur). But maybe when you make a first draft, that’s the first pull. Each subsequent pull is a draft. Yeah? If you think of each draft that way, maybe that helps.
If I were to do one pull and then kiln my ceramics, I don’t think I would be as happy. And also they go through more stages. You dry them. You sand them. You carve more. Perhaps you add embellishments (a handle, a cut design, pressed in clay). Then you glaze. And then you kiln it. Then it is done. There are many steps.
Yep, that's what I remember: some items break (are destroyed) in the kiln (or taking them out). I hope that part of the metaphor doesn't translate to fiction. ;)
"I think it’s best to enter into editing with this mindset: we are just playfully trying something, in hopes of extracting, say, 10 percent more light from the piece, and we’re doing it out of love for the piece."
I usually write a wobbly first draft and then "tolerate a high degree of obsessive back-and-forth." I have dozens of copies of some of my pieces, some of them, maybe even over 100.
I rewrite until I can't hear my piece, anymore. I don't know my own voice. I don't know who I am or what I like. Sometimes, I really do make things worse. Sometimes, it was bad to begin with, and after many drafts, it's still bad. My only hope is that I'm subconsciously improving as a writer.
I struggle with the ceramic pot state as well, and the mental model that helps me is the following:
The story I am writing/just wrote is not important. It’s juvenilia, it’s just for fun, it’s a lark, it’s for an assignment, whatever. It is not permanent, any more than a saxophonist’s solo in a practice room. It is one attempt among many, ephemeral, and I can do what I like with it because it’s job is not to be good.
That’s my job. I am the knife that is being whetted, the baseball glove that’s being broken in, the I don’t know, the sauerkraut that is being fermented. I’m sitting in this Starbucks, honing myself, and everyone is cool with it. What I am writing is me, the factory of stories, and the story is an incidental part of that.
For me, this helps get over a silly but natural focus on the idea of an ouevre, a body of work that represents me in some way. But if I think back to stuff I wrote five years ago, I feel basically no connection with it. Instead, the question is just, can I do this better next time, with a better idea, with better taste.
Of course at the end of that I go and submit a story, but that’s a totally separate process.
I knew about kintsugi, and I hate to admit that I thought about its mention on the latest Ted Lasso episode when I starting reading The "Ceramic Pot" First Draft.
Maybe another way to think about revising and fixing.
. . . from Wikipedia
Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"),[1] is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum; the method is similar to the maki-e technique.
As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.
This is incredible, I just finished a draft on this very idea, about the weirdness and precarity of the first draft. I haven't published it yet but plan to in the next day or two(there have been many, many rounds of revisions) but my takeaway was that we do have a tendency to overestimate our own work. That isn't to say your work is bad, nor mine, but that a form of confirmation bias is actually at play. However, I love George's point that if the first draft makes the writer happy, and is well received by the read, then who cares!!!
There’s a terrific anecdote in the only self help book that’s ever helped me. “Art and Fear” is by David Bayles and Ted Orland. They describe a pottery class divided into two groups. One group is told they’ll be graded on the quality of one pot which they can remake as many times as they like. The other half is told they’ll be graded on the quantity of pots they make. At the end of the semester, those in the “quantity group” are vastly better potters.
It’s only by permitting myself to make tons of just-okay pots that I seem to make progress! Sometimes you have to make bad work--and lots of it! Somehow things improve that way.
Such a great book. They also write that all of our failed pieces are essential, which i think is inferred by the story you've told here. On some level, we all know that we learn from our mistakes, but it's easy to forget when you're frustrated by a piece you're working on.
I’m really glad to hear from another person who got something from that book. I’ve found a lot of encouragement in it. And I definitely agree that its lessons are hard to remember in the midst of frustration!
My copy is underlined and starred all the way through. So many great lines. here's one I just turned to: "The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars."
Golden eagle time^^
The rolling ball that is our imagination was bouncing around until it took me down the channel lead to launching off a flight of a condor 🦅
Ooh, I’ve never heard of this book! The title alone.
I like that. Inspiring. I've noticed the more pressure I feel to be "excellent" the less work I do. Must keep your post in mind at all times.
Well, and I find the reverse true as well - the less work I'm making, the greater the pressure for whatever I do make to be excellent... Like the work needs to justify itself (or, dare I say it, me)
Yes. Messy first drafts are key 🔑
Messy (or shitty) first drafts are hard for me. I just can't seem to move on, leaving behind something stinking up the page. I am one of those writers ever-compelled to go back, as George says in his post, and fix up a sentence or paragraph till it feels perfect (at least in that moment), before I can move on. It's part of my flow, actually. I'm what Zadie Smith calls a "micro planner."
I had a teacher who worded it differently. What my my teacher told me, was to allow myself times to just have fun on the page, just play, which then allows the subconscious to come out and play, too. Something will appear on the page that totally surprises you. Same concept as "shitty first draft" but I like the idea of playing better. It just sounds more fun! Freeing.
I've gone bought an e-book version of this... I think I'm getting to grips with eliding the fear of writing and going with the perilous roller coaster ride that is actually writing... which, rather to my surprise, have turned lately towards being short pieces written with performative intent... write it, speak it, aloud allowed 🎭
Thanks for signposting Timothy and all for such such fine comments.
I love this. Thank you for sharing!
Just to follow through. on having said that I bought an e-book of 'Art & Fear', to report that I've read it with great enjoyment. It's the kind of text that has the quality and edge to help any aspirant writer realise that their desire is make artworks of words and that the real reward is making fresh works.
Brilliant and I will be re-reading and making notes and highlights, here and there, as I read: truly insightful and so applicable.
This is nice to hear. I can’t keep a copy of it because I keep giving them away.
Yes! Ditto writing: I allow myself to produce a messy first rough draft
Exactly.
Completely potty^^
My four-year-old likes this comment, as do I! Interesting to think that quantity can create quality after all.
oh, dear Lord, i like to talk about the doing, too....
And of course, I have something to add to George's great and thoughtful response.....
You, dear questioner, write: "How do I get beyond this? Let go of the "preciousness" of my creation?" And I can tell you what works for me, if you want to hear/read it.
I put that ceramic pot of which you speak into a drawer and I absolutely do not look at it for as long as possible. For instance, right now, a story I wrote last year is in the drawer. i'm on the verge of pulling it out--it's been over 6 months since i last looked at it. And I'll tell you what will happen when I finally read it again. I'll say--wait, i wrote this? Because when you step away for a good length of time and you work on other things, you eventually forget what you wrote before. And now, having waited, you can really and truly see it with those fresh eyes everyone's always talking about. You can toss those sentences that you once loved (and maybe find you love again) but which aren't working any more for this piece. You can cut and cut brutally. Or you can read and find out--voila! the little ceramic pot is already perfect!
So that's what i'd add to George's great advice. Give your work a rest. Return to it later when you're a different person.
After six months sentences will sentence themselves......some of them will even be dead sentences walking^^
Mary, thank you for sharing this, it adds a layer of specificity at the example level. And for me, personally, it’s exactly where I am with a story. I just dove back into one I started back in the spring/summer, when I first signed onto this then my seasonal business kicked in and bam. I was forced to step away. But in the interim I’ve also started others, each, I can now set aside after I come back and, as George has so thoughtfully put it:
“I think it’s best to enter into editing with this mindset: we are just playfully trying something, in hopes of extracting, say, 10 percent more light from the piece, and we’re doing it out of love for the piece. We want it to be its best self, so we’re willing to open things up a bit, take a few chances, in service of the story and of our talent.”
And for me, in my example over here, just yesterday, something happened in real life, that I felt a version of it would be the perfect way to tie it all together, will it, I dunno, but I’ll try it, set aside and come back later.
Thank you for always adding something to what’s already the highlight of my day.
Thank you, Wayne! At times I worry I write too much in these threads, so I appreciate your words very much.
Mary G - you never write too much. Plus, great addition to GS's post. I dare say this "using time as an editor" is probably one of the most universally applicable; and not necessarily just in the negative. Every once in awhile I go back to something I've put in the drawer and think, "I wrote that?? Hm . . . not bad". Although mostly it's, "ugh - got to try that again". Anyway, never fear over posting.
mary, please don't stop! What you write is always greatly appreciated by all, witness all those likeys and the discussions that follow your posts.
Worry, schmurry.
Me too! I’m a renowned ‘wordy’ guy. Renowned in my small circle. Ex. A
Still worrying about that, are you? I get it. It’s hard to turn our mindsets inside out. I am working on doing that every day, with mixed results!
yeah. Well, there's a lot of people who follow George here and I'm guessing a lot of them read these threads. i'm self-conscious about how much I comment, but I suppose I should just not make up narratives about what other people are thinking about my posts. It's not like I'm forcing anyone to read what I've written. And it's not like anyone cares. It's all in my monkey brain, right? I pledge to stop being so apologetic about using my voice here. The apologizing is probably more annoying than the posts on writing.... Sheesh, my brain.
I always make sure to read your posts. What I see in them is someone who is paying careful attention to these discussions and contributing significantly -- which is hugely invaluable. You're the kind of person who would be perfect as a critical reader. Again, invaluable.
You know reading this it strikes me that the comments we chip in here and there on the these threads are somewhat like the questioner's ceramic pots. What I'm getting at is that sometimes we do have occasion to go back and look at a post we made way back, possibly because we are reprising the comments made in a conversation about a topic / theme sparked by one of George's Newsletters or because someone has 'liked' or replied to a comment we made way back up stream. "Did I really write that?" we say silently, thinking what's the best of it, what's the less good, what would I write on that now being so much younger (and wiser) than I was then.
So Mary do you have stories maturing in drawers for different time periods... akin to the whiskies and cognacs and calvados and, of course, wines aged to mature towards (hopefully achieving) particular perfections? "Ah yes, try a read of this... its one from Vat19, or this a fine example from my Bin No 7, or this one, fresher but it'll grow on you given time '21 was a of fine vintage for storytellers in my terroir?"
Rob, i wish i had a number of stories maturing like fine wine. Instead i've got several stories that are definitely turning, a few that maybe will taste okay one of these days, at least one that i've got a good feeling about, and another one in progress.
You’re fine. You’re human! The words are all love, flowing from the mind and heart, and what you (we) don’t see or hear are the smiles and nods and laughter and wow-me-toos that they evoke. Writing about the love and pain of writing.
Self-consciousness has its upsides and downsides. Mostly down, when we are afraid of being seen or heard for real.
Mary nobody thinks that because you always have something interesting to say.
Thank you, Elizabeth.
Such a good point, Mary. I’m not one for quoting pop music lyrics but there’s a song that goes “every five years I look back on my life and I have a good laugh” and as an artist, I say every five months I look back on my work and if I don’t “laugh” -- as in if I don’t think I could improve on it -- that means to me that I’m not growing and learning and getting better at what I do. Even superstars spend hours practicing their craft whether it’s hitting baseballs or playing Beethoven. Putting mindful work into any art is not necessarily going to make it better but it will definitely make you the artist better. And for most, the work truly begins after the first draft because all the magic happens in the rewriting and rethinking and editing -- which we know because we've been talking about that for all this time here. :-D
I like this Elizabeth - that putting more mindful work into the art will make the artist better, regardless of what it does for the particular piece of art. Great reminder that this is a process and a path wherein we explore, improve, fall down, get up, dust ourselves off, and learn more. Plus we become better dancers with our subconscious partner. Nice!
Thanks, Kurt. George reminds us often that writing well is about working well - that is editing, rewriting, rethinking and so on. It’s how we get better. One does not vomit out perfect first drafts. Editing, rewriting etc. is part of the process of creating our best work and it’s almost always where the real magic happens. 🥊
George's superpower is that he seems to be able to get those fresh eyes so quickly. I think I'm more like you, Mary. I need more time.
Interestingly, I think George's superpower is that he is willing to struggle, sometimes a lot, and keep doing the work until the work satisfies him, AND that he is willing to share that imperfect process with us here. What fabulous confidence, humility and vulnerability.!
Although, George has told us that some of his stories have taken him years to write. So maybe the fresh eyes don't always come so quickly to him.
Such valuable advice. Also, this feeling of returning to something almost like a stranger reminds me of my favorite part of traveling - that sense of open eyes, of newness, that allows you to see and see.
I'd have to agree with your comment, Mary...though it happens rarely, I will sometimes come upon something I have squirrelled away/lost/given up on (a line or two, an unfinished poem, a story) and do not recognise it as mine. Not because it's brilliant or good or anything, but because I was in a different place when I wrote it and I am not necessarily in that place when I find it again. or it has been a specific response to a mood or set task or stimulus. But because I have let things go which I couldn't verify (fear of continuing because of plagiarism etc!) I tend to sign and date it before I put it away/lose it; that way I can see it's mine and what to do with it (if anything!) The pot-whatever happens to it-has my name on it, at least!
Hello Story Club Community,
I'm new to Story Club and Substack and don't quite understand how Story Club works, even though I read the About section. I can see here that you're all on the last page of Pastoralia. I know that George Saunders (or should I say "you." The reality that George Saunders might respond to this hasn't quite sunk in yet) will "publish a short piece on Thursday and a longer, meatier essay on Saturday." I can see that free subscribers can interact with the Office Hours posts but can't view the exercices. I'm happy to pay once I have a better understanding of how this works.
I've read A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, so I understand the format of George Saunder's brilliant dissection, and I want to take advantage of the opportunity to join in on the expansion.
I'm also curious if this group will return to the discussion of Russian masterpieces because I'd love to read or hear the opinions of those who read the stories in Russian, not English. I was fortunate enough to read some of the stories with my Ukrainian partner, who knew the stories well and provided me with some additional insight into the translations that were off. For instance, in some stories, the drinks were translated to "Vodka" even though the characters were drinking wine in the original Russian versions. Were the translators giving into stereotypes? If any of you have published anything about the translations, I'd love to read it.
Hi Nolan. I don't know how much of Story Club you can access without paying, but I'd suggest you read through the posts you're able to read and take a look around. On Thursdays, George answers questions. On Sundays, we usually discuss stories. Sometimes, we do exercises, but mostly it's stories. In the past, when we've discussed Russian stories, there have been club members who are fluent in Russian who posted about the translations. Obviously, I don't know your financial situation, but for most of us here, the $50 per year payment is well worth the investment.
Thank you, Mary!
One trick I've learned regarding the original question (which may or may not work for you): when you KNOW something needs to change, yet also feel as if its "glazed, fired, and cured" into a solid, irreversible state, sometimes we need to refresh our visual perspective of the story. I do this by separating each sentence of the story into its own line, literally making a list of every sentence. Now that each sentence is in isolation, for some reason, I feel it's often easier to revise. And then once you're done, put all the sentences back together and see how it sits.
By doing this, we're sort of willfully "blowing up" the story into discrete units (sentences). It can help kickstart the revision process by allowing us to see our story in a different way, at the "unit" level.
Great idea, separating the sentences. Thank you!
What a cool idea, will have to try this!
I do this too! I also find it helps me have a good variety of sentence lengths and improves pacing.
"literally making a list" of sentences is something I too use, in a different way.
On a day when I need to get over the hump between myself and beginning to write, I write sentences as though writing a list, each a whole thing to me (rather than 'automatic writing') but as you say, "in isolation." It clarifies my mind, and somehow the different visual sense on the page changes my atmosphere.
That's super interesting. I've never tried that, but will have to soon and see how it goes.
Love this idea. Am going to try it. Thanks!
Thank you for sharing this I think I’ll try it with a story that’s giving me heck
Great idea! I recently did a little experiment, taking a flash piece I was editing and turning it into a poem. I thought I knew what it was about, but as soon as I started distilling it into poetry, I had to rethink that, and found a more basic theme, one that made it come alive.
I’ve thought about turning a short story into a poem too! Glad it worked out for you. Makes me want to go ahead and experiment. :)
Hi, Jody. I got the idea from an excellent book that I often use for ideas: The 3 a.m. Epiphany, by Brian Kiteley. I found it especially useful to use a structured form, pantoum in this case. I wasn't 100% faithful to the form by the time I was done, and in fact didn't finish the poem, but that wasn't the point. I learned from it as I played with it, and ended up incorporating some lines from it into the fiction. Have fun!
I've heard of that book but haven't read it. Putting it on my list now. Thanks!
That's great. I'll have to try that. Probably helpful, too, for restructuring paragraphs, etc.
Sometimes I feel like the Story Club hive mind is all on the same wavelength. The other night I drafted a version of this very question, intending to email it to you but I never got around to it.
Thanks to whoever sent this in. And thanks in advance to whoever reads my mind and sends in the next question I’ve been secretly pondering.
A.I. is spooky!^^
❤️❤️👌
I have a good friend who's a painter, working mostly in oil. His "editing" process can include "ragging out" (i.e. turpentine + a rag) or physically sanding down the layers of paint he's added to a canvas. That seems like the BASE jumping version of editing -- just say goodbye to what was, and trust for something good to come. But there's no getting those marks you made back once you rag them out.
It makes me very grateful for the belay version of editing that is open to us as writers - I like to keep my piton in the rock.
That being said, I heard Lauren Groff describe her writing process once -- writing a story (a novel, even) by hand on paper, then... throwing it away (!!!) ... then starting over. Her reasoning is that anything that sticks is worth keeping, anything she forgets, must not've been. So there are BASE jumping writers, too...
Laura, once Lauren was asked about her process and she said she doesn't recommend it. She writes her novel by hand, sets it aside, and writes it over again by hand, a total of five times. Then she knows her story and types it in and begins to revise.
That seems ideal (if one has the time and energy) -- except for the throwing-away part. Would be interesting to read an essay in which she discusses the evolution of the drafts for a particular book: What made it all the way from start to finish? What was in the first draft, but not in the second, third, and fourth, then reappeared in the published novel?
Chute better open^^
Just finished a biography on George Orwell: He rewrote completely all his books three times
Without referring to the previous drafts?
Whoa! I don't trust my memory enough at this time to do the same, but that's really interesting.
Oh wow! That is fascinating! Thank you for sharing it.
I once got to take a writing class with Matthew Neil Null, a great young short fiction writer. For those of us who were hesitating to make bold revisions to our early drafts, he compared it to having a beautiful car in the garage that we've cleaned and restored and made wonderful and special... But we still have not taken it out on the road and seen how it responds. And the thing is it's not just OK to drive it, a car is *meant* to be taken out on the road and moved around.
A pretty simple metaphor, but it's one I often come back to. Personally I find it freeing - "now let's take this baby [early draft] out and see what it can do!" 😃
Exactly
These past few office hours posts are issues I've been thinking about so much, so basically what Skylark said, there's a wavelength, perhaps!
I read a draft of someone's book, and it was super cool, exciting, original, a blast to read. The writer then took the draft to a professional place that edits, packages, markets, and helps you sell a self-published book. I read that final product, too, and was surprised to feel that some of the magic and acceleration was much less than it was. I didn't say anything as it was already published, and I still liked it, but I liked it less. All these other editors had taken away some of the writer's original feel and quirky voice. Too many cooks in the kitchen? Or...what? I don't know. It makes me wonder how we can tell when we've "flattened" something fun and quirky and made the story less alive somehow. Still wondering about all this.
That's a really interesting question, Sea. It's something, as a less experienced writer, I've had thoughts about, being that we obviously can't all have incredibly talented editors such as Andy Ward! What if an editor feels something should be redacted or changed and I can't see it? Do I trust or do I go against that advice? I guess with experience it will become clearer. Maybe that's an idea for a week of Story Club: question time with one of George's editors where we can bring up some of these thoughts. There seems to be a lot of discussion around the editing process lately.
That would be a great Story Club topic, Matt. I hope we do get to hear from an editor sometime this year.
I keep thinking that keeping the original soaring energy of a piece intact, is paramount.
I so agree David. I feel it often contains all the magic. I’ll do edits, new drafts, different POVs, but always & often return to the original to compare, what, if anything, has it lost or gained? Is the light still shining within it, has the soul of the piece begun to emerge? That original spark is like an ember kept in moss, able to create any amount of fire if tended properly.
As a new writer, it's hard to know when that's being lost in the process.
Agreed. I have lost my path in this way many times over. I like how George encourages us to develop our true selves and true voices, and express from those places.
Strengthen the micro decisions.
Sea, thank you for mentioning this issue. The author Sterling HolyWhiteMountain speaks about his own work through the editorial process and these types of concerns with language and pacing. Sage advice from George here in his posts about his own writing, waiting to share until he feels it's at that certain point--ready for a first reader. I learned the hard way sharing work too early when you're nearly ready to change anything just to get it to feel complete.
Uh oh! Sea, my apology. I went back into my comment to edit the spelling of his name Sterling HolyWhiteMountain and somehow that edit deleted your replies. The interview with him was excellent. Thank you for posting.
Just read this, thanks for mentioning him! https://www.newyorker.com/books/this-week-in-fiction/sterling-holywhitemountain-04-05-21
I've shared work too early as well. You have to find the right people, the right "first reader" to read. So many ways to go down the wrong road!
With the manuscript I read, and then read again after it'd been though many rounds with these editors, it made me wonder about how a writer can retain the originality and spark. Maybe what I enjoyed reading––something fresh and quirky, to the professional editor's eye wasn't good form.
I agree completely--to retain the originality and spark! This is funny & heartening: https://margaretatwood.substack.com/p/the-editorial-process
Funny, and so much good stuff! Thank you, Nan.
George, I just love how self-aware you are about how you go about your own work, and how well you're able to articulate it, and how well you're able to extrapolate what in it is useful to other writers, readers, and editors. Endless gratitude as always!
Yes, endless gratitude.
Well said. Same. Thank you, George.
This also reminds that it's really important to have really good critical readers to rely on for feedback. You don't need to pay for this or get experts. Nor do you want readers who are just critical to be negative or someone who loves everything you do. What you do want is at least one reader who is willing to give you honest feedback. More than one is ideal. There is almost nothing more valuable. This doesn't mean take all the critiques as action items. It's okay to pick and choose as long as you put the work first. To wit: I had an experience recently with a short story that's still in progress. I had this scene in mind when I first sat down to write it. It required a little bit of research and when I wrote it, I was very happy with how it turned out. But when I sent it out to a couple of people for critiques, both of them said the scene wasn't working. One suggested it be axed from the story completely.
I was sure this wasn't good advice.
So, my first inclination was to ignore it. I liked the scene and I put a lot of work into it. To my mind, it was integral to the whole story. But as I tackled the edits, I realized quite organically that it wasn't working. At all.
I ended up cutting all but one sentence of it. Now when I go back to the original I can totally see how extraneous it is and can't believe I didn't see it from the get-go. Removing it didn't feel like a big deal by the way. It actually made me feel good because I was doing the hard thing and it felt right.
Yes. Beta readers you trust are huge. Genuine feedback. People who are willing to hurt your feelings, but kindly, in the name of strengthening your work.
A few years ago I left an incomplete draft of a piece I was writing on the table in my sons apt.
When I realized I had left it I was panic stricken and disturbed that this rough draft would be the standard of my writing that my son and his wife would see and judge my writing and find out that I am a fraud as a writer. I couldn’t breathe.
This was a first draft!
Maybe it would never even be typed up!
Asking after those pages - left in a messy pile I was met with laughter and good will…all positives.. as well as their critique that my “piece” was very David Foster Wallace -like
(Clearly ridiculous)
I was dumbstruck, obviously.
And as a woman of a certain age even a few years ago- and not suicidal- or depressed- or alcoholic ( maybe a touch) , I changed my mind about editing- and do it gently. No need to feel pressed to refine and rethink- sometimes it works the first time.
Oh lord that would terrify me 😬
Lol
Right!
I love that you think of your writing as ceramic pots. What I personally love about ceramics is that when you put something on the wheel you: spin, cone, press down (everything is the same) and then you shape - if you’re skilled you know what shape it will take, if you’re not you have an aim but you have to follow it. If you’re skilled, you can work with more clay too.
The shape is pulled and then you refine, refine, refine, refine. And perhaps that process is shorter term (while wet, before it dries) you actually are mostly editing what you’ve made. You pull the sides. Pulls the sides. Cave it in or out - to your desire. It can be thicker or thinner. Your choice! You shape it the whole process on the wheel. You control the speed and how thin and how tall and how round and how straight. And each step of the way is an opportunity to make something wonderful or make something just absolutely awful.
For me, in my ceramics class I made 8 items. One I made was a plate and everyone was like, Whoa! You made a plate? That’s actually really hard. I was trying to make a bowl but I put too much speed and it turned into a plate. My teacher told me I had to kiln the plate. That wouldn’t happen for me again. That was lucky!
So I kilned it, and it really is a beautiful plate. But after the kiln, I glazed it. I used a runny pink and a runny green. My plate came out…like vomit. It is ugly. But I of course use it! Because to have made a plate is awesome.
Anyway, I think that you thinking of your art as ceramics is correct but you are thinking that ceramics is much more complete and finished than it is for a ceramicist (unless you are a ceramicist and you know more than me, an amateur). But maybe when you make a first draft, that’s the first pull. Each subsequent pull is a draft. Yeah? If you think of each draft that way, maybe that helps.
If I were to do one pull and then kiln my ceramics, I don’t think I would be as happy. And also they go through more stages. You dry them. You sand them. You carve more. Perhaps you add embellishments (a handle, a cut design, pressed in clay). Then you glaze. And then you kiln it. Then it is done. There are many steps.
sorry before I kilned the plate, i glaze it. Kilning is final. And sometimes when you kiln, it can crack and you must start over.
Yep, that's what I remember: some items break (are destroyed) in the kiln (or taking them out). I hope that part of the metaphor doesn't translate to fiction. ;)
"I think it’s best to enter into editing with this mindset: we are just playfully trying something, in hopes of extracting, say, 10 percent more light from the piece, and we’re doing it out of love for the piece."
I love this.
I usually write a wobbly first draft and then "tolerate a high degree of obsessive back-and-forth." I have dozens of copies of some of my pieces, some of them, maybe even over 100.
I rewrite until I can't hear my piece, anymore. I don't know my own voice. I don't know who I am or what I like. Sometimes, I really do make things worse. Sometimes, it was bad to begin with, and after many drafts, it's still bad. My only hope is that I'm subconsciously improving as a writer.
Inspiring. Thank you for sharing
I struggle with the ceramic pot state as well, and the mental model that helps me is the following:
The story I am writing/just wrote is not important. It’s juvenilia, it’s just for fun, it’s a lark, it’s for an assignment, whatever. It is not permanent, any more than a saxophonist’s solo in a practice room. It is one attempt among many, ephemeral, and I can do what I like with it because it’s job is not to be good.
That’s my job. I am the knife that is being whetted, the baseball glove that’s being broken in, the I don’t know, the sauerkraut that is being fermented. I’m sitting in this Starbucks, honing myself, and everyone is cool with it. What I am writing is me, the factory of stories, and the story is an incidental part of that.
For me, this helps get over a silly but natural focus on the idea of an ouevre, a body of work that represents me in some way. But if I think back to stuff I wrote five years ago, I feel basically no connection with it. Instead, the question is just, can I do this better next time, with a better idea, with better taste.
Of course at the end of that I go and submit a story, but that’s a totally separate process.
I knew about kintsugi, and I hate to admit that I thought about its mention on the latest Ted Lasso episode when I starting reading The "Ceramic Pot" First Draft.
Maybe another way to think about revising and fixing.
. . . from Wikipedia
Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"),[1] is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum; the method is similar to the maki-e technique.
As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.
Such a beautiful concept and art form.
Real life has golden veins^^
But Hades you have the most beautiful wife.....you are more than improving^^
This is incredible, I just finished a draft on this very idea, about the weirdness and precarity of the first draft. I haven't published it yet but plan to in the next day or two(there have been many, many rounds of revisions) but my takeaway was that we do have a tendency to overestimate our own work. That isn't to say your work is bad, nor mine, but that a form of confirmation bias is actually at play. However, I love George's point that if the first draft makes the writer happy, and is well received by the read, then who cares!!!
Good call bringing up confirmation bias! I think that is very useful for explaining our attachments to existing drafts.
I think so as well, it’s just human nature to generally think that that what “I” have created is good.
This is largely often true. Perspective from non-emotionally invested readers is important.