Reseracher's Hell

Now and then I sit back and contemplate the difference between myself and a few of the other writers I know. More often, I sit back and consider the differences between successful writers and those who haven’t yet reached published status. I need to clarify something here. When I say “published,” what I mean is legitimately published by a real publishing house that actually offers money and then pays it (albeit in many cases later than they should.). In an era of fly by night small presses, vanity presses, et al, I feel the need to make that clarification. I wish I didn’t feel the necessity, but there it is.

As I’ve already stated numerous times, I work a day job. I feel the need to be insured and for that reason alone I would have a day job, forget all the other benefits, like actually meeting people now and then. While I do not wear a shirt that proclaims my occupation as a writer, it sometimes comes up. When that occurs, I often run across people who tell me that they’re getting ready to write something.

And inevitably, I respond with “What’s stopping you?” Some of them brush it off and explain that life keeps getting in the way. They don’t often use that exact phrasing, but that’s what it comes down to. Life and all of the myriad distractions it offers, like living, working, having relationships, going to the movies, getting together with friends for a monthly bridge club meeting, trying to claim as many experience points as they can for Final Fantasy before they have to get back to work, looking for Waldo in another hundred pictures. You know, life. It gets in the way.

When I hear that particular explanation I nod, smile and acknowledge that I’m dealing with someone who will very likely never write a book. It’s not a crime; it just means they’d like to be writers in the same way that I’d like to learn the fine art of prestidigitation: looks good on paper and maybe someday if I suddenly find myself with a few thousand spare hours to practice. Not likely to happen, but gosh, it would be nice. If they bring up writing again, we might have a pleasant conversation but otherwise, not much is going to happen.

There are also those who tell me they are writers, and insist that it’s true until I ask them what they’ve written. They fall into two categories. The first of those are the people who love the idea of being writers, even if they never write a thing. I don’t much consider the claim by itself to mean much. You cannot, in my heartfelt opinion, be a writer until such time as you have written something. You cannot be a successful writer until you have completed the writing assignment you gave yourself and you cannot, by my personal definitions, be a professional writer until you have sold something for professional rates. Oh, you might be a damned talented amateur writer, but that’s not the same thing.

I have a friend of mine who went to college and got an education in grammar, journalism and English in an effort to become a writer. That was twenty odd years ago. Since then he has started several novels and never finished a one of them. He is not, to my way of thinking, a writer. He could only earn that title if he ever finished any of the myriad projects he’s started. I say that while remaining fully aware that he’s sold several things professionally. Just, you know, never on his own. If all of your credits require a co-writer, you aren’t quite getting things done on your own, if you see my point. There are a few exceptions to that particular rule, but only a few. I have collaborated on several projects and will likely continue to do so, but I wouldn’t be doing any of those collaborations with people I don’t consider professionals.

See? Now I’ve gone off on another tangent. Let’s get back to the matter at hand. We have the would-be writers who never actually write because the effort required is too much work. I’ve seen a few of them at the local coffee shop, plugging away. Mind you, I’ve been known to do some writing at a Starbucks myself. In my defense, I also work at said Starbucks, so I suspect you can see the difference. They’re mostly sort of amusing to me, because I can almost smell the pretentiousness coming off them like cheap cologne.

Then we have the others. The ones who will write someday, once they are prepared. Once they have carefully laid out the foundations for the world they’re creating, even if that world happens to be the one we live in. First, they have to design each character. There could be character sketches, but most likely there are instead copious notes and possibly even a journal entry or two in each character’s voice to make sure they understand the inflections and minutiae of each of their creations. Okay. Fair enough. Some people need a little more preparation. I can accept that. But then we get to the plot of the book (often times the first in a trilogy, because that seems to be the goal of a lot of writers. Don’t write one book when you can write three.). Said plot must be carefully written out, then diagrammed, possibly with smaller diagrams carefully depicting the inside of each building and the exact layout of the park behind the apartments where that tertiary character lives. The small maps of their world must be meticulously set to the same scale and then placed on a few walls in the living room to better get an idea of how to map out the town they have created.

Once that’s finished, there’s the long list of likes and dislikes for each character, to go into the same folder as covers the complete physical description of the characters, their full chronology and family trees for each major character.

Sound a little preposterous? For me it is. For a lot of writers, that’s basically the bare minimum they seem to need to get started. Now, here’s the part that I often have to ponder: Shouldn’t that be enough? It surely smacks of overkill to me, but again, I barely even bother with a plot in most cases. I certainly don’t like to write them down. It seems too much like work to me.

And yet it’s these careful, meticulous biographers who I normally find sitting down and working diligently at never getting published.

Wait, what? Never getting published?

Yep. That’s what I said. Can you guess why?

Probably, but I’ll spell it out anyway.

All the preparation in the world means nothing if you never actually write the story. Fourteen page dossiers on each character fail to get word number one of a novel written. All the notes in the world mean exactly jack and squat when you never even get done with chapter one. And that is exactly what I’ve seen happen on numerous occasions.

It’s preparation for some people and a good excuse not to go forward for others. And for a long time I didn’t really understand that, but I think I do now. You can’t fail if you don’t try. And while you’re doing research for six months, you can tell yourself that you’re working at it. And if after six months you still don’t quite think you’ve got all you need, you can always brainstorm up new ways to avoid the inevitable, right?

Now I can imagine a few people are currently grinding their teeth and could foresee a future where they hit me with hammers. I’d ask you to refrain while I clarify because, honestly, I don’t much want to get hit by hammers.

There are plenty of people out there who want or need to do a lot of documentation before they write word one of a novel and I’m just fine with that. Whatever it takes to get you to the writing point, it’s just part of the process and it’s acceptable in my book as long as no one else is injured in the creation of your story.

But the people who take all of that time and then fail to follow through merely annoy me. Not because they’ve maybe gone overboard on the whole research thing, but because for them it really is an excuse. There comes a point where all the research in the world is just smoke and mirrors hiding the fact that cowardice is alive and well.

You can’t fail if you never try. That’s absolutely true. You also can’t succeed. Yes, I suppose it’s a platitude, but it’s also a fact. I’ve said before that I love writing. I would write whether or not I ever got published. The difference between writing and daydreaming is basically taking the risk that somewhere down the line someone might read what you’ve written and then they might actually not like it. If you don’t have the chops to deal with that possibility, you might want to look in different directions for your future career choice. By all means, write if it makes you happy. But if you can’t take the risk of rejection and you fall into the category of people who research things to the point of obsessive compulsive lunacy, step away from the research materials before you hurt yourself.

Just one quick side note pertaining to what I already discussed in the past: Pride and Prejudice with Zombies was sort of a cute notion. There have now been numerous rip offs of this notion coming out from a dozen or more publishers. Unless you have a contract already, or unless a publisher is begging you to write one of these parodies and is sending said contract along with a check, don’t waste your time. The trend is already old and bored and even though you only have to write a few thousand words to add to the public domain novel of your choice, I tend to think you’ll be wasting your time.

Happy Holidays, folks!

James A. Moore