… once I’ve walked it.
That’s perhaps the single most important truth I know about my writing. Because of my perfectionist tendencies it’s been the hardest one for me to learn to live by.
Learning to do so is probably the most important way I need to overcome my perfectionism.
I was reminded of this today. I’m well into the rewrite of my epic fantasy novel, The Dinosaur Lords. I’m getting very near the point of – at last! – sending it forth to conquer the world.
And today I thought of a way to improve a significant secondary character.
Currently I call him Conde de la Montaña Azul, the Count of Blue Mountain. While he’s nominally on the side of the good guys, he’s an asshole. A fairly capable asshole. But definitely a legend in his own mind type.
So today it struck me: why not change his county to Montañadora, the Mountain of Gold? Have him be even vainer than he is, and obsessed with gilding everything?
It would only be more awesome. So guess what I’m gonna do?
His chief flunky is a count of lesser precedence, Estrella del Hierro: Count Ironstar. Yeah, we got a lot of metals-related fiefs going on here. Deal.
Besides, it strikes me there’s a cool metals-symbolism play here.
(Just by the by: don’t write me if the names, or anything else I quote from the novel, aren’t correct Spanish. It isn’t Spanish. It’s Spañol. Which is a dialect of Spanish, certainly. One whose correct spelling, grammar and usage is what I freaking say it is. And yes, there’s “Anglish,” too. Guess how it plays?)
And all of the above is only a roundabout route back to the Path I spoke of in the title.
What I mean when I say “I only know the path once I’ve walked it,” is that I don’t really know my characters, my background, and even my story until I’ve already written it. At least once.
One of my most lethal tendencies in writing is to get caught up in loops trying to get something right – a detail, a sequence of events, hell, even a sentence or a single word. And I get frustrated because I can’t see all possible ramifications of what I’m about to write.
Which in the past I’ve allowed to make me quit, out of sheer fear I couldn’t possibly get it right.
That old devil, perfectionism. Ably aided and abetted by my consuming vice, a lack of sense of self-worth. Except I suspect it’s the other way around, isn’t it?
In turn process has caused me an even greater problem: blowing deadlines. I stop myself up so much I get hopelessly behind. Then I have to rush ahead and finish. Now, ironically, my writing tends to get better when I do that. Because, of course, I’m no longer getting in my own way.
I’m too desperate to.
But the cost, along with the attendant woes such unprofessional behavior brings, is that, while it usually is good, it’s not as good as it could be. As I ram through the drafts I keep seeing ways the book could be vastly improved. But guess what? Can’t do ‘em. Got no time.
The flip of all this is, when I just put down any old thing and cruise ahead – and, yes, let go, let Leo – the right way, the beautiful and cool, way to do it, always comes to me.
Always.
So: Leo came through for me again today. Yay! And thanks, Personified Subconscious! Your rock!
And also: once again this vindicates my decision to write all of The Dinosaur Lords into presentable form before shopping it around. First, it avoided any unhappy deadline issues. And second – it was intended to enable me to get it right.
And I am. To the best of my knowledge and belief.
Get excited, people. I am.
And I am grateful for the lesson about the path, and following it to its end – and staying true to it.
===
In other tidings, today I got back in the swing of things.
Kettlebells, I mean.
I’m, slowly but I hope surely, getting into shape – walking as much as I can, doing various joint-mobilization and stretching exercises. Also trying to increase strength, especially core and upper-body strength. Which has its tricky aspects, because exerting force with my right arm still tends to cause nasty surgery-residue chest pains.
When I was in the hospital, I daydreamed about using my 36-pound kettlebell to get back into shape – get into shape, I should say. I have used it some, for deadlifts – and yes, 36 pounds is a mighty light deadlift, even for somebody as not-terribly-muscular as I. But it was … what I could do. Therefore what I needed.
I’ve been putting off doing the exercise called the swing. It’s risky to the old lower back if you don’t keep proper form. It’s also one of the most effective core exercises you can do.
Today I just said fuck it, went out in back, grabbed the kettlebell, and swung that sumbitch. Did about three reps. Then I noticed my form was slipping, and I was starting to lose control.
So I – let go. (That phrase again!) And once again – that’s the right thing to do. It’s why you do kettlebell exercises in the backyard, people, or elsewhere the floor isn’t easily breakable. And also, as with shooting, you need to be careful of your backstop. Because if you start to lose it, you just head that bad boy away from you and let it go.
Result: got a start. Very important. Hard to get anywhere without starting. And I was able to tell when things went pear-shaped, and react accordingly. So I got (hopefully) a little bit fitter. And I didn’t injure myself.
Things progress. I progress. This is good.
Life is good, actually. Especially considering the alternative. And, Brother, I have.
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