Why I Write
By Therese Walsh | November 25, 2008 |
I’m crying. Just thought you should know that. (The men click out.)
Now that it’s just us girls, I’ll make like this is a sleepover and spill my guts. I’m two days out from turning Unbounded over to my editor (“over” and “out” both in that sentence). I’m exhausted. I’m dreaming words, scratch marks, corrections. I’ve learned so much, even in this last edit, about what it takes to produce a book at this level. Suffice it to say that it ain’t easy.
But that’s not why I’m crying.
I’m crying because something magical happened this past weekend. A truth about the story emerged, a puzzle piece clicked into place–an unknown fact about a very dear character that’s not only so poignant that it made me cry, but that clarifies another significant event and an abstract concept. I know that’s vague. It’s the best I can do right now. But what has me sobbing in my tea over this is that it’s such a gift. Writing, I mean. Because, for me, these moments are the king of rewards. Not money. Not contracts. Not pleasing other people. These moments are IT. The reason I do this.
It’s so wonderful to be reminded now, in the 11th and 11/12th hour, about that fact. Because when I’m this tired and worn and desperate for a break, this is the very best fuel. I certainly wasn’t looking for ideas, twists for my plot. I’ve been polishing and cutting an overly plump ms. That’s it–head’s down polishing and cutting. Yet, there it was.
I wonder, sometimes, where these gems come from. I have very little desire to claim these “ideas” as mine, because they truly don’t seem to have come from anything within my conscious mind–or even my subconscious or unconscious minds. Rather, they seem to come from someplace outside of me. Like there’s a group of dead writers looking over my shoulder, whispering ideas in my ear at their own pace. Maybe they test their ideas out on me. Did our warm little writer girl cry? Good. Job well done.
Maybe writing is like crayon rubbings. Do you remember those? Stick something textured beneath a piece of paper, then use the flat side of a crayon to reveal its many intricacies. Rub hard enough and long enough and over the entire paper, and you’ll see a very clear likeness of whatever lies beneath. Maybe that’s what happened this past weekend; I found a section I hadn’t rubbed out yet and revealed something that pulled the whole together in a new way. What a surprise.
Or maybe writing is like sculpting. I’ve heard this comparison before. How many shapes can emerge from a cube of marble? A numberless amount. More than enough stories to go around. Take big amorphous chunk of marble and chisel away at it to reveal the crude form that was in there, waiting for you all along. Chisel and chip, chisel and chip, and beautiful details may be revealed. Maybe you surprise yourself. I wonder if Bernini, when he sculpted this statue of Pluto and Persephone, knew that Pluto’s fingers would look so real against her flesh? That he’d be able to see the veins on Pluto’s hands? That others would one day look at his work and wonder if those aren’t two real people, frozen somehow, not marble at all? Regardless, those details have made this particular Roman statue one of the most hailed and well-studied in the entire world.
Okay, tears dried, and my manuscript awaits. Next time you hear from me it will be to say that–after six years–this particular writing journey is over.
I may be crying again.
Why do you write?
Therese Walsh (she/her) co-founded Writer Unboxed in 2006 and is the site’s editorial director. She was the editor of WU’s only book, Author in Progress, and runs the Writer Unboxed UnConference.
Her second novel, The Moon Sisters, received starred reviews and was named one of the best books of the year by Library Journal and Book Riot.
Learn more about Therese on her website, and sign up for her newsletter to be among the first to hear about any new projects.
wow. these moments are rare and don’t always happen at the right time. i’m so happy for you. talk to ya when it’s all over. t
Teri,
It’s not just a “girl thing,” although I’ve managed to avoid crying. Sometimes I go back to a spot in my manuscript and read it as though for the first time–and I see a nugget that God or my subconscious planted there, a nugget that shines so brightly I can’t believe I had anything to do with it.
Congratulations on reaching this milestone in your journey.
You’re absolutely right, Richard; it’s not just a girl thing. But I thought the tears would make the boys throw up their hands and stop reading. I’m glad to be wrong. :-)
Thanks, Thea. Yes, it’s been an amazing ride.
I understand you completely… I think those moments are magical. When they happen to me, they can fill me with happiness, excitement and I my heart seem to explode. Is like if we always knew that was the way the things should happen in the story. Like I say to my friends I didn’t made the story, that’s the way things really happen (but they don’t believe me :) )
Thank you for sharing your special moments so beautifully. I wonder how many of us began writing to express ourselves, only to find that in the process, we receive these unexpected gifts of understanding, clarity, and awe.
I think I write for the exact same reasons. I have experienced sheer giddiness (sp?) when writing becuase I LOVE it so. I love how unexpected gifts emerge from writing.
This was such a wonderful post. Congratulations on your writing journey!
“Maybe writing is like crayon rubbings. Do you remember those? Stick something textured beneath a piece of paper, then use the flat side of a crayon to reveal its many intricacies. Rub hard enough and long enough and over the entire paper, and you’ll see a very clear likeness of whatever lies beneath.”
I LOVE that analogy!
Congrats on all your hard work, and on the reward. You’re almost at the finish line. Go go go!
Awesome post, Therese. Yes, we write for the highs and the lows. It’s the in-betweens that are sometimes hard to slog through. Writing well is crack for the creative soul…I keep coming back for the high as well.
Oooh, that post gave me shivers. There is nothing so magical as finding those beautiful bits. Enjoy.
You made me cry, too. I get those “ah ha” moments right before I fall asleep. I think you’re right about those dead writers.
Congrats on getting that manuscript out.
Claudia, yes, sometimes it seems like things were predestined to unravel just as they do. Weird, huh? And wonderful!
Yat-Yee, I agree, these moments are like unexpected gifts. The very best kind.
Thank you, Melissa and Kristin, Kath and Barbara and Liz!
[…] Therese Walsh has a fun analogy for the writing process: Maybe writing is like crayon rubbings. Do you remember those? Stick something textured beneath a piece of paper, then use the flat side of a crayon to reveal its many intricacies. Rub hard enough and long enough and over the entire paper, and you’ll see a very clear likeness of whatever lies beneath. […]