Kender’s read more Salvatore than I have; he was recently interviewed by the Willamette Week. I read the interview and really liked what he had to say about writer’s block and writing (click “read more” to see the passage I liked best). These are things I should try and remember when I’m in my own writing funks.
Kender’s snowboarding on Mt. Hood today. Which means I get a nice day to myself. Slept in late, thanks to the new curtains that block out all the light. On awaking, I decided to plunge in and finish Inkdeath, the last book in a trilogy by Cornelia Funke. Imagine the ability to read things in and out of books and then figuring out how to read yourself into the story. That’s the premise to this series. Indeath wraps up the stories and gives all the characters a fitting end. (Although I get the impression that maybe… just maybe… more can be written about this world.)
I have a new article up on DIYPlanner.com that talks about all the fun I’ve been having with collaborative editing. You should go check it out.
There are times, like today, when I write and feel like the pen doesn’t capture exactly what is coming out of my mind. It’s like the language and words betray that perfect image I have in my head. It frustrates me and I get down on myself and think that I am not worthy of being a wordsmith, a writer.
Then, I read something like this quote from Neil Gaiman (in an interview he did on Goodreads.com):
And I’m glad I waited. I think it’s a better book than I set out to write 23 years ago, and I feel like the gods smiled on me, and I got very lucky. Normally, in anything I do, I’m fairly miserable. I do it, and I get grumpy because there is a huge, vast gulf, this aching disparity, between the platonic ideal of the project that was living in my head, and the small, sad, wizened, shaking, squeaking thing that I actually produce. And then there is The Graveyard Book, which is, I think, the first time I’ve felt really satisfied.
And suddenly, I don’t feel so bad about what I have written.
