galadrielwatson

December 17, 2014

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

A while ago, my stated goal was to be a “prolific author.” Since then, I’ve been considering what “prolific” really means.

Does it mean I’m rushing? Does it mean quantity is more important than quality?

In recent years, I’ve discovered my writing tends to be complicated. There isn’t one main character; there are three. There isn’t a straightforward chronology; there are bounces back and forth in time. There aren’t necessarily reliable characters; there are lies that need to be intricately woven in.

All of which, for me at least, takes time. Time to ponder, time to play with ideas, time to read others’ works to see how they master these tasks and consider how I might do the same.

Which is not to say prolific authors can’t do a great job. There are many who give their readers exactly what they want and enjoy successful—sometimes astronomical—careers.

But when I visit an author’s website and read that he or she has several partially written manuscripts on the go, and more in the planning stage, it makes me pause. How can pumping out so much, all at once, create the best product? I would think something must be lost, somewhere, in the rush against time—in the rush to make a buck.

So rather than “prolific,” I now strive for “excellent.” And if the story happens to develop quickly, so be it. But if it happens to develop at a more moderate pace, I’m fine with that too.

What’s your writing speed?

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About the Author

Posted by Galadriel

Hi, I’m Galadriel: blogger, author, reader and resident of a quaint small town in the breathtaking West Kootenay region of southeastern British Columbia. You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook.

December 13, 2014

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Another Step Toward Becoming a Pie (aka: I Made It!)

So this week’s news is…I was accepted into the University of British Columbia’s Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing optional-residency program (a mouthful, I know). Yay me!—and thanks to everyone who helped me get in. Learn more about the program in this interesting article.

Only about 25 per cent of applicants get accepted, so I do feel being chosen is a success in itself. As an acquaintance put it: “The competition is super stiff so you must have killed it with your application and writing sample. Good for you.” And it’s one fewer thing I’m still waiting (im)patiently for!

So what will I get out of an MFA? Personally, I want to 1) improve my writing and 2) be qualified to teach.

But there’s more than that. Author Miranda Hill, a graduate of the program, sums up her experiences and my hopes beautifully:

Deadlines: Prior to the program, her creative writing commitment got “lost at the bottom of the pile of more insistent demands.” With the program, “my creative pieces would have to be completed, submitted and reworked to a schedule! And they were.”

Peers: “What I wanted were peers. People wrestling through the very things I was, but in their own work. And I didn’t know people like that…. There was also positive pressure from others’ successes. Over and over again, I got a sense of the talents of my classmates and thought, ‘s/he can do that? I better up my game.’”

Phenomenal teaching: Miranda says it was as if one of her teachers “reached inside the pumpkin of your possibility and scooped out all that junk, separating it and showing you what could be made into an excellent pie. It was frustrating and challenging and it showed an incredible respect for what you might be able to accomplish—maybe, just maybe—if you tried hard enough.”

Motivation: “Or should I call it fear? When I applied for the program, it was because I believed it was my last chance to become the kind of writer, and person, that I wanted to be. When I dug deep enough, and worked hard enough, goddamn if there wasn’t something there!”

So happy holidays to me. Now all I need to complete the season is my second wish-list present: a publisher.

What’s on your writing wish list?

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About the Author

Posted by Galadriel

December 10, 2014

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Happily Unhappily Ever After

Mockingjay Part I recently—and relatively, surprisingly timely—passed through the movie theatre of my small town. While I didn’t go, my daughter did, which the next day spurred a conversation about the Hunger Games series of books.

“I didn’t like them,” I affirmed. Never mind the teens-killing-teens phenomenon, which disgusts me thoroughly…I didn’t like how the relationships played out. Although I don’t remember the details exactly—it’s been a while since I read the books—I remember I didn’t feel the conclusion was satisfying, not Katniss-Peeta-come-together-wise, at least.

To which my daughter replied that the two main characters didn’t need to come together, as “life isn’t always fair.”

Touché.

So how important is a happy ending? Why did I expect one? Me, who can’t write a happy ending to save her life?

For happy endings are too contrived. If I wrote a happy ending, I would feel like I was engineering an audience-pandering story. If I write a not-so-happy ending, I’m writing life.

Somehow there needs to be a big BUT. The girl got the guy BUT lost her friends. The girl didn’t get the guy BUT returned to her passion. The girl could get the guy BUT he betrayed her. There can’t be 100 per cent giddy delight.

And yet sometimes you want to savour the candy. Give me the boy and the girl and the hurrah. Give me the together-despite-all-odds.

So which end of the spectrum do I adhere to?

When writing, I stick firmly to the middle. I couldn’t (yet) kill off a main character, but I also couldn’t make everything lollipops and merry-go-rounds.

While reading, I dare say I enjoy both extremes and everywhere in between. Sometimes we need the friend’s-hand-on-our-back catharsis of tragedy. Sometimes we need unbridled joy. Sometimes we want confirmation that life can throw us a curveball—but we get through it anyhow.

Do you believe in happy endings?

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