The Writing Heart Wants
What the Writing Heart Wants
Some of you will disagree, but I believe we don't have as much choice about what we write as we might think.
For years, my father, Al, encouraged me to write about sex because he was convinced that sex sells. He was right, of course—sex does sell—but he was wrong, as all non-writers are when they suggest ideas or subjects for writers to use, in thinking that I could instantly adopt his idea with the enthusiasm necessary to create a book-length work.
Now, I realize that all writers have to be able to get into ideas that aren't wholly their own, but we can usually only do this when there's an outside motivator—like money. Getting paid, whether as a newspaper reporter (which I've been) or as a speechwriter (which I've also been), has a way of making you excited about whatever topics interest the client.
But more than the kind of writing we writers do, I'm really talking about the ideas we find ourselves attracted to, and where this is concerned, I believe we don't have much choice. The writing heart wants what it wants.
An HD still of me from Get Lamp, my friend Jason's upcoming
film about text adventures and interactive fiction. I used it
because my didacticism in the still matches this piece.
In my own case, part of me wishes I were more attracted to non-fiction. As a writer seeking publication, just from an odds standpoint life would be easier; there are far more nonfiction books than fiction published every year.
But again, we don't get much say in what captivates us. I have no idea why I find redheads so damn alluring, but I do. Similarly, I don't get to choose the ideas or characters or voices that grab me by the lapel and either shout or breathe hotly in my ear. Nope, they choose me.
What we write is also determined by something much more prosaic: how our brains work. I have friends who think in data, in facts. Jason, mentioned above, is one of these guys. He and people like him amaze me in their ability to consume vast quantities of information, categorize it, assimilate it, report on it, etc. This may explain why Jason leans toward documentary filmmaking and internet history/archiving. Suffice it to say, I'm not one of these fellows. I like to do what Sherlock Holmes did, which is to keep all but the most essential tools out of my "brain-attic." I have to, in fact.
I am a heavily right-brained, lateral thinker. With the exception of a few subjects that I know a lot about, I don't have a lot of information on file. The best way I can describe my thinking process (and other fiction writers I know have described a similar process) is continuously asking myself, "What if?" A person's quirky mannerism makes me wonder, "What if he did that in a bank and they misunderstood him? What would happen?" Frequently these "what-if's" lead to imagining a character, who routinely manifests as a voice. Each voice has a particular rhythm and diction, and she might be be cunning, shy, unstable, or selfish.
Why this photo? Simple: I love redheads.
The thing is, I don't get to choose the idea. The idea floating around in the ether, the one that insists on being written, chooses me, and that's that.
And as much as I'd like to write a chapter for a nonfiction book and bang out a proposal and have my agent sell the book—often just on the basis of a proposal—I can't because the writing heart wants what the writing heart wants.