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Saturday, June 16, 2007

Responding

Whenever I thought about people responding to my book, I always imagined things in a very negative way. I imagined people pointing out inaccuracies, perhaps criticising some aspect of it. And with these imagined critics in mind I worked out ways to defend the book. Tried to think of things that I could say that would make them change their mind, clever retorts to whatever criticisms they may make. I never really thought about what to say if people liked the book, if they responded positively to it.

I don’t think this tendency is exclusive to writers. You can see it everywhere. The man who has some complaint with his neighbour and goes through the argument dozens of times in his mind before he even approaches the neighbour. So that when it comes time to talk it is no longer a simple conversation to resolve some problem, it has become a showdown. How could it be any different? In the scenarios his mind has played out for him the man has heard the neighbour respond angrily, aggressively, slyly. He has seen himself fight with the neighbour, scream at each other, trade kicks and blows.

It is a phenomenally negative way to approach things. Of the dozens of scenarios that play out in his head, how many are positive? How many feature the neighbour apologising, agreeing with the complaint and the two men walking away perfectly content with the resolution? You might say this is not realistic, but how realistic are all the other scenarios that have contributed to this massive defensiveness, this burden on the exchange before it has even begun?

Which brings me back to the book. Why expect only bad things? Why expect that people will react in the most negative terms? If they do react badly, then fair enough, but why spend so much time anticipating that? Does it make you any more prepared? Or does it simply make you anxious, stressed, fearful? The constant planning of your response an attempt to control something over which you have no real power: the opinion of other people.

In my entire life I have never been persuaded that a book I didn’t enjoy was actually very good. I will be able to see the other person’s perspective, but I could never be converted by someone explaining to me why a book that I have not enjoyed is actually very good. So why should I expect that I can do the same if someone doesn’t enjoy my book? Why waste all this time trying to figure out how best to respond to a negative response when you really have very little chance of changing it. Why sacrifice all these precious moments of now worrying about something you have absolutely no control over?

Saturday, June 2, 2007

The Blank Page

Anyone who has seen The Shining can get a fairly clear idea of the horror which a blank page seems to strike into the heart of almost every writer. That is why writers will tell you that when it comes time to start writing everything else seems suddenly incredibly important. Checking emails, watering plants, tidying socks. Those things which you are normally trying to escape are transformed into opportunities to hide from the blank page that is waiting for you.

Why does the blank page scare us so much? If we think about it rationally then the blank page is actually something wonderful. Shakespeare, Dickens, Wilde. Each of them transformed the blank page into something beautiful. And when each of us sits down to write the same possibility is there. The chance to create, give life to something that has never existed before. Whole worlds are waiting to be described, countless people waiting to be given a voice.

Perhaps what scares us about the blank page is the possibilities? How many people prefer to sit inside watching TV all day rather than go out and make real the millions of possibilities waiting for them. There is something scary about the limitless, the infinite, and something comforting about the limited. That is why so many people give up on their lives so easily, passing up the chance to be something wonderful. For the writer there is the same temptation. To hide from the blank page or else to cover it up with something they are comfortable with, something they have written many times before. But perhaps there a different way to approach the blank page?