In lieu of a long, drawn-out post today, I thought I’d just write down five things that I’m thinking lately when it comes to writing. I’ve had a ton of revisions and re-drafts this past two weeks, and my brain feels just like a wrung-out sponge. I’m going to throw caution to the wind and work on the YA today, actually creating instead of revising. I know it will put me slightly behind, but dammit, I’m feeling the itch to make something new rather than fine-tune something I wrote a month or a year ago. And if one can’t make that sort of decision when one works from home on one’s own schedule, well then I don’t know one should bother to work at home.

So. Five things I’m thinking lately about the craft and art of writing.

* I just saw Into The Wild last night. There’s a particular point where the main character writes, Happiness is only real when shared. Writing is an exceedingly solitary and private art, meant paradoxically to communicate to an audience. Write for yourself, certainly–write what you love, write what your Muse compels. But you must also write for that reflection of the other, the eye that’s going to read your work. You have to write as clearly and well as possible, so the eye of the reader will have the least trouble understanding you. Stunt-writing and trick-writing are all very fine, but they must be readable.

* Always give yourself time for incidentals. The incidental piece (i.e., the novel you write for yourself in between the work you’re getting paid for) is important. It might not ever get sold and it might not be a particularly good piece of work, but you still need time to work on it. Always, always schedule in time to do so. It will remind you of why you’re doing this in the first place.

* Your art will bring you face-to-face with truths and not-so-much-truths about yourself. Writing is a time-honored way to process a number of experiences and themes. It will also show–like a mirror–the assumptions you hold about yourself, true or false. Be gentle with yourself, dear fellow writer. It can occasionally be a spur, but it should not be a whip to use on yourself. Please, please, use the spur with care, and use care with yourself. You should not let fear of the whip or the spur stop you from looking, seeing, and writing. They are, after all, yours–whip and spur both–and you can choose how to use them. Use them to be honest, but not rigid; firm, not abusive.

* Alternatively, if your writing unearths a Nasty Truth about yourself, look it in the face. Your art and your life is not served by prettifying what Jungians might call the shadow. You must only look steadily at what it is, no matter how gruesome. It is necessary to see clearly to perform a writer’s function–to communicate clearly. Burying the Shadow (or the Nasty Truth) only makes it bigger, deeper, and nastier, and it robs you of the energy to see it for what it is, and hence, illuminate it.

* You don’t have to like your characters to be compassionate toward them. Your compassion is what will show you their complexity. Compassion does not mean that you advocate anything they do. It means merely that you understand. Understanding and respecting the rattlesnake gives it less of a chance to bite you; understanding and respecting your characters gives them less of a chance to be two-dimensional or nasty toward their humble creator.

Any one of these subjects could be a huge honkin’ blog post, but I just don’t have the energy today. I’m off to create. I’ve got a love triangle, a few vampires, and a half-werewolf to mess with, as well as themes of Identity and Virginity. (Heh. I love this job.) Catch you on the flip side, m’dears.