Writing Is Magic
By Kristan Hoffman | August 4, 2013 |
Confession: I kind of hate when people talk about muses, “the zone,” or anything else that makes writing sound like magic. As if what we do is so easy, so inexplicable, so wondrous.
Confession #2: I hate it because I almost never feel that way myself. I don’t have a muse; GPS doesn’t recognize “the zone” as a destination; and my words definitely do not materialize from thin air like fairy dust. Every day is a grind. I have to sit at my desk, place my fingers on the keys, and force myself to try and give shape to the thoughts and stories in my head. Usually they come out quite muddy on the first go-round, so I read the lines over and over and over, tweaking here, deleting there, until they get close, and closer, and finally close enough.
I’ve been writing this way for years, but only recently did I realize: Oh hey, that actually IS magic.
See, what most people forget — or maybe don’t even know — is that magic is really, really hard work. I mean, Houdini didn’t just wake up one day and say, “Quick, lock me in a box! Don’t worry, I’ll escape.” And David Copperfield can’t actually levitate.
As a kid, I took some magic classes, and I still remember learning my first trick. It was a cups-and-balls routine that required quick hands, confident presentation, and perfect timing. Not easy for an 8-year-old to master. First, the teacher showed us the trick. Then, he explained how it was done and helped us go through the motions. Lastly, he made us practice.
And practice.
And practice.
It took well over a week before I was ready to present the trick to anyone, but when I finally did, they clapped their hands in astonishment, impressed by my smooth performance and my skill. I was just like a little Houdini, they said!
Only me (and my teacher) knew about all the behind-the-scenes effort that went into those sixty seconds of “magic.” All the planning, preparation, and practice.
Sounds a lot like writing, don’t you think?
Realizing this has allowed me to come to terms with the previously loathsome comparison. Because magic isn’t easy, inexplicable, or wondrous for magicians. It’s something they do out of love, yes, but it’s also a craft that takes a lot of time and energy and effort.
Heck, even Harry Potter went to school for years.
Am I right? Or does writing come naturally, magically, blissfully to you?
No wait, don’t tell me. Okay, DO. But I might hate you a teensy-weensy bit, even as I sit back and enjoy your work with starry-eyed amazement.
Photo courtesy of Jin Thai.
Originally from Houston, TX, Kristan Hoffman studied creative writing at Carnegie Mellon University and later attended the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop. Now she lives with her husband and two children in Cincinnati, OH, where she writes both fiction and nonfiction with a focus on feminist, multicultural stories. Her words have appeared in the New York Times, Switchback, and the Citron Review, among others. She is currently at work on a Young Adult novel. For more, please visit her website.
I agree–and disagree–with you.
Writing absolutely is hard work, and discipline, and practice, yet it IS magical, and The Zone does exist–at least for me. It takes a lot of thought and effort to get there, but when I am there, the thoughts and ideas and words come much easier than at other times.
Of course, that doesn’t mean that everything I produce when I’m ‘in the zone’ is good–it often needs a heck of a lot of work after that–but ‘the zone’ does exist for me.
If writing were that hard I wouldn’t do it. That’s not to say I don’t find it extremely frustrating at times when the ideas seem to hide and I fall into such a nasty mood that flipping burgers would seem a much more worthwhile life calling and make she that loves me wonder why she does. But when I let the ideas come and hear the voice telling the story the words come so fast I feel like I’m showing off and realize typing fast was the only worthwhile thing I learned in high school.
Kristan, I love your post. When I’m in the Zone and words flow easily from my brain down to my fingertips, it IS so magical!……BUT, I’ve been writing (seriously) for about eight years, and I can count on my five fingers, how often that’s happened! And when it does happen, it’s only for a few paragraphs. The rest is HARD WORK! But, I can’t imagine doing anything else….Now if I can only make some money doing it! Thanks for a great article! :)
Kristan, I am right there with you. Writing is a lot of hard work. I do have an occasional aha! moment when something fits perfectly where it needs to, but the only “zone” I have is early morning when the words seem to come a little easier.
When it’s so hard, why do I keep at it? It’s the deep need to tell the story within me. Maybe the language part of some people’s brains makes this easier for them, but for me it’s put the ugly stuff down, give it time to simmer, and then go back and polish it. (Can something be polished that simmers? :o)
The muse thing always throws me. I don’t want to attribute my writing to anyone but myself! But I can get into a zone where the words just keep coming. That’s not work for me. What’s work is cleaning up that mess! :)
I was just thinking the same thing about The Muse. Really. Like, five minutes before I saw your post. You can count me as another who doesn’t have a Muse. There are times when I’m in the Zone — when after a bout of writing, I’m sweaty and shaky because all of my being was focused on getting the words on paper/screen. But there is something ineffable, something mysterious about writing, something people get at when they talk about their Muse. I like Jennifer Crusie and Barbara O’Neal’s talk of the Girls in the Basement — they work on stuff down in there that we aren’t aware of on the second floor, and send results up that can surprise us and take our writing deeper.
But I love your looking at “magic” from the POV of the musician, when it’s a lot of work, a lot of going through the same piece of work over and over and over, etc. That’s magic I can get behind. Thanks :-)
I love the “girls in the basement” metaphor too! I think that’s an important part of the process for me. It doesn’t make the hard work part any less hard or any less work, but it does add a layer of meaning.
So good to see you back on WU, Kristan.
At 72, my muse/editor/wife urged me to give it a try. I sat down at the keyboard and 23 stories gushed forth. I channeled. Was it easy? Not all the time. Was it work? Not really.
Lol thanks. Have I been gone long??
Great post, Kristan! Writing is hard work. I can attest to that. When you’re in the throes of it, it’s sweat, blood, and tears, and for me, the only magic is the idea that excited me to the point of beginning the work. The magic happens afterwards. When I type “The End” and know the story is finally crafted, when I see how much better a revision makes the sentence or paragraph, when I see my name on a book jacket, and finally, when I see the wonder in a child’s eyes (I’m a children’s author) when I read to them or tell them the story.
Kristan, you are so right that writing is hard work and continues to be hard work no matter how good we get at it. Nothing magical about it for me. But about the “muse” issue. Didn’t Picasso claim that his women were his muses? For me, muses can be dreams or music, poetry, nature, even the gym, a rooftop, a person on the bus, a foreign city. It’s just where we connect to get that creative spark for a story or a character. My favorite muse is a cemetery. So, yes, I do believe in “the muse” but there’s no zone or magic going on. Quite the opposite: I find it grounding and substantial.
“I do believe in “the muse” but there’s no zone or magic going on. Quite the opposite: I find it grounding and substantial.”
I love that perspective. :)
I agree with Alex. Great to see you here again, Kristan. My wife is my muse (inspiration, cheerleader, Ideal Reader). Like Alex, once I started, my work came gushing forth. I channeled. I am still awed by it. It’s as close as I’ve come to magic. Even if it was a function of the complexities of the human brain, a spewing from my cognitive subconscious, I still choose to consider it magic.
I’ve done hard work. Writing isn’t hard work. What comes after (revision, submission, re-revision, etc.) is a bit tougher for me. I’m still feeling pretty darn blessed by the whole journey.
To paraphrase Chuck Wendig: Writers should never whine about how hard their job is. Coalminers can complain about how hard their job is. Writers, not so much.
Oh I certainly hope I didn’t come across as complaining about writing! Far from it, I love writing, and I feel it’s a privilege that I get to do it. But that doesn’t mean that (for me) it’s not hard work — because it is. Not the same kind of hard work as construction or military jobs, or even raising family. But hard work in its own way. And as others have said here, that’s probably part of what makes it so rewarding. :)
Sorry if I came off sounding harsh, Kristan. I was going for wry and yet charming, but I’m evidently no Chuck Wendig. ;-) I totally agree, the things that do make writing difficult also make it more rewarding.
Writing can be a grind, but worth it.
Likening writing to magic is what my husband and I do much of the time, as I sit and do what Roger Rosenblatt’s grandchildren call “nothing.” Even as I finish my memoir, I tell someone, “I just finished my memoir,” and four years vanish in the sentence. Yes, I get inspired sometimes, but it’s because I am sitting in front of a tablet of paper or monitor. I am not complaining, only I wish I had more to show for what I do to the world. Like Elizabeth Gilbert said about our profession…no matter how we spin it, writing is solitary and invisible until something is offered to the public through publishing and even then, our faces don’t go out into the world.
“I tell someone, “I just finished my memoir,” and four years vanish in the sentence.”
Hah, I love that. So true. So much wisdom in your comments here. :)
Writing is work, but enjoyable work. Successful writers would prefer to write than do almost thing else. The proof is that writers who become wealthy from their work do not retire. They just keep writing until that first handful of dirt is thrown on top of them. When someone tells me they find writing agonizing, it is usually followed with comments about a muse or being in the zone or the best writing instruments. If I were brave, I’d suggest they look for a different creative channel.
“If I were brave, I’d suggest they look for a different creative channel.”
I’m glad you don’t. It is so frustrating and disheartening when people say that to me. Just because writing is agonizing doesn’t mean that I don’t love it. You can’t know what another person is going through, and if writing isn’t meant for them, eventually they will probably find that on their own. Telling them they shouldn’t be writing is unhelpful and can even be cruel.
I probably shouldn’t speak for James, but I don’t believe his comment was meant to imply that he would discourage any writer simply because they’re having a tough time. I think he’s speaking more to the types of folks who think that writing should be some sort of easy magical outpour of words and then want to give up when it isn’t.
I didn’t write this out explicitly, but the point of my post was more or less, “Don’t get into the magic business if you aren’t willing to look behind the curtain.” To me, James is talking about the same thing: people who want to make the rabbit “disappear” from the top hat, but at the same time want to keep believing that the rabbit truly disappeared.
Thanks for the response. You are completely right.
“I think he’s speaking more to the types of folks who think that writing should be some sort of easy magical outpour of words and then want to give up when it isn’t.”
I definitely have a muse. He’s a jealous bitch and a tease but when he stops by it is magic. I have no idea where this stuff comes from. The “work” is in the revision and editing. But that first rush of story that unfolds in my mind and the mad rush to type fast enough to get it down, yeah, that is magic. Magic of the highest order.
I like writing when I am inspired to write. That’s when I do my best writing. I also prefer writing with pen and paper, but in this day and age, it makes more sense to use a word processor.
However, whenever I write poetry, I use a pen.
I think that the tone of this article is great. It shows your authentic voice!
Oh come on Hoffman, you know you have those magical moments. Every human who practices a thing has the magic moment. It might be small or big.
You seem like the type of writer that’s been writing since you popped out of the birth canal.
“Oh my gosh, doctor, the baby has a pencil!”
I’ve only been writing for five years, and I’ve had a few magic moments.
Come on, Hoffman, you’re yanking on zee chain.
Of course the magic only comes after the grind. It’s only after years of practice that we finally develop enough brain creases to get into the zone, and there’s never a consistent magical moment
Sometimes, we the people have a tendency to explain situation in part or practice too much persuasiveness, because we want people to think and feel like us. We live in an era of happy seekers and happiness is somewhere wrapped up in a package.
Many people are afraid to talk about hard work for fear it might be a turn off.
You are right.
There is no zoning with the grinding.
People don’t ever think about it, but we are all in the zone when we walk. Look how much we practice walking.
“Every human who practices a thing has the magic moment. It might be small or big.”
“Of course the magic only comes after the grind.”
The first statement I think is quite likely, the second I think is absolutely true — and in fact, the point of my post. :)
“There is no zoning without the grinding”
For me, the magic comes when I read something I wrote and say, “I said that? I understood something deep and wrote it down that way? I might be a writer!”
Cheryl
http://www.lynnettekent books.com
Yeah. No zone over here. Unless you count my being able to tune out my kids, dogs and husband. That’s about the only magic that happens for me. I do feel an incredible sense of accomplishment at the end of the day, though, whether I wrote well or not, because it’s so damn hard.
Have you read Art & Fear? It’s a great read and speaks to this issue.
No, I haven’t, but I’ll look into it. Thanks for the recommendation! And yes, tuning out the world is definitely a magic of sorts. ;D
Hi Kristan,
Good post.
I was once told that success (in work, in life and in writing) all comes down to ‘Luck’.
Strange thing is – the harder I work the luckier I get.
Btw look up ‘practice’ and ‘practise’. I’m an old git but spelling matters for writers – hope you agree?
Good luck!
Tom
“Strange thing is – the harder I work the luckier I get.”
So true! My fiancé’s favorite fortune cookie wisdom is: “Luck is what happens when opportunity meets preparation.”
(Btw, “practice” is correct. It’s the American spelling.)
With you all the way. The only difference with me is that I can’t even place my fingers on the keys until I have a spark of inspiration for an opening to the scene. The struggle for that spark is a silent agony. It too, takes work, the worrying kind that won’t let me off the hook until I finally see it thru the murk amid the tropes that come most easily but which I know would fall flat without any hope of making the cut. When the spark comes it’s exhilarating, and leaves no doubt that it’s the one. Then comes the drudgery of which you speak so well…
Thank you for this post! Sometimes I feel like people (myself included) think that I have no business being a writer because I think it is hard. A lot of times, every word feels like a struggle. But then I manage to put it all together in a way that I mostly like, and letting someone else read it, helping them go to a place that exists only within my mind…that *is* magical. And it is worth it.
And every once in a while, I do get in the zone. But getting there is hard work, and relying on that would be practically useless. It’s the slogging that gets the results!
“A lot of times, every word feels like a struggle. But then I manage to put it all together in a way that I mostly like, and letting someone else read it, helping them go to a place that exists only within my mind…that *is* magical.”
Exactly!
I don’t have a muse, and writing is, more often than not, hard. But I do have writing sessions where I’m in the zone and words flow easily. That doesn’t mean they don’t need a lot of revision, just that I didn’t have to pull teeth out to get them!
Yes, I do have a “zone,” or a feeling of muse, or whatever you want to call it … The “zone” is not, however, a magical place that makes my writing beautiful. It is a feeling within me of the ideas I want to put across and the instinct just below the surface that I am somehow ACTUALLY getting them across. And while I always need to go back and revise my “zone” writing (oftentimes just as much as I do with my non-zone-work!), it feels, at the time, like a lot less work, and seems to come from a deeper place. I agree with you completely, though, the real magic is in the work itself, and the fact that so many people aren’t willing to put hard work into their writing makes the magic that much more special!
My “muse” is what gives me the idea to write a character, scene, or whatever. Never does it influence the actual writing. I’m often visited by this muse.
My “zone” is when the words flow out of me to get the character, scene or whatever into my writing program. I get to do that a lot, also.
Writing is magic to me when I see the interest in someone’s face while reading my work or they call to tell me they want me to finish it, or when I come to the end of the passage and they say, “That’s it? Where’s the rest?”
In spite of all these things, writing is hard MENTAL work. Before I stayed home to care for my momma, I did what’s known as scrapping. You lift, move and otherwise mess with heavy metallic objects. It doesn’t matter if it’s 90 degrees or 40, you still got a job to do and you do it (I worked for myself, not a company). I had to use hand tools, power tools, and operate heavy machinery to get the job done. That’s hard PHYSICAL work, but, while I was doing it, I was writing scenes and characters in my head.
Both made me equally exhausted and ready for sleep, but only one of them made me feel as if I had accomplished something and put a smile on my face. Can you guess which one?
The pathway to peace is hardship. The muse and the zone might get the story onto the page, but it’s the hard work and the struggle that make it worth reading!
“That’s hard PHYSICAL work, but, while I was doing it, I was writing scenes and characters in my head.”
Acclaimed screenwriter John Wells once spoke at my alma mater, and he said he used to work construction and it was the best thing he could have done for his writing. He’d put in a crazy tough day from like 6 am to 2 pm, and then he’d shower, nap, wake up, and write until bedtime. I think there is a lot to be said for the relationship between “mindless” physical activity and the creative process. So many writers talk about exercise (walking, running, swimming, etc.) as being critical times for them to work through their stories.
Washing dishes or mowing the lawn can cleanse my mental palate and refresh the creative palette. I’m afflicted with ADD, which makes meditation difficult unless I’m engaged in some routine that subdues the noise. I remember reading that when Joseph Heller wrote he turned the radio up to mask noise from the street outside his apartment. The street noise, he said, was too real and unpredictable.
Kristen, that may explain the lax in ideas and inspirations I have felt since I have been home with momma. Thanks for the reminder.
Mathew, I do those things and my mind goes ‘numb’, sort of shuts down. :-/ Thanks for the ideas though!
Blanca, I used to get that when I was scrapping. The ideas seemed to come from nowhere and poured through me to the keyboard. Then, editing came and I felt like a tiny tugboat pulling and ocean liner against the tide.
You said it, Christina! I still have some learning to do to get this ‘magic’ to come out more eloquently without dozen edits! I need that for commenting! :-)
I don’t know how to break this to you, Kristan. When I sit down to write, it feels as if someone is pouring the story into the top of my head. I see the pictures and they are, in fact, wondrous. I hear the words (sort of); they do “materialize from thin air like fairy dust.” Maybe it’s because I write fantasy. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so many years in theater that stories come easily.
But if it makes you feel any better, editing is the bane of my existence. I read what I’ve written in the first draft and think I see all the problems. I fix them. I’m happy. Until I read it again and realize the entire book has all sorts of problems I didn’t see the first time. I fix them. I’m happy. Until I read it again … you get the picture (that would be me, banging my head on my laptop). After enough of these cycles, I think the writing process is nothing but hard labor. Until I write, that is. Then I’m happy. The difference is I stay that way until I have to edit.
When my first major article was published, I told people “I don’t know how I did it. It was like some other strange being came into my body and possessed it until this popped out of it.’ (or I should of said “crapped out” as in “crapped out a first draft.) But, like you & some commenters here have said, it only FELT like magic possession when I looked at a finished monumental project and went “huh? What the what? Where did this come from anyway?” Well, where it came from was me — as I missed loads of classes, never saw my family, ran around like a crazy lady looking for sources, barely slept and was more or less chained to my desk until it was done. I mean, I had written some footnotes that were longer than the text (it was an academic article for a law review) and what I had written was somehow clear and easy reading, at least for other lawyers. I did it through loads of grind–hard work–but it did seem like magic when it was done. Yes, those magic moments of brilliance, that even WE think are magic, must be from the muse-zone, right? Yes or no, I must at least hold up the wand —as in sit on my butt until words come out. I still must hold up my magic Hermoine’s wand and say “wah wa woe woe write” then I usually get a bucket of crap that needs tons of editing. Yet it has a kernel, a pea, of a story or a scene or a character . . . MAGICALLY. Then it will be edited or thrown in the trash, magically.
My muse lives in my house, she sits in the same chair I use, and she types on the same computer…we share the same name. Writing is ideas that we call inspiration, it’s work, it’s a labor of love, and, to the non-writer, it’s magic. We all pay to touch the magic, be it any art or craft, for it’s human-generated electricity. “The Zone” is when the distance between my brain and my fingers shrinks and my writing focus takes over. Is it magic? Sometimes I wonder, but always will I call it a gift that I’m forever grateful to possess whether I ever realize a cent, though a few cents make it easier to keep exploring that gift.
“My muse lives in my house, she sits in the same chair I use, and she types on the same computer…we share the same name.”
Haha, I love that!
Thank you for sharing your method. It sounds a lot like mine. The only time I’m in a zone is when the voices speak in my head. This is why my first draft is mostly dialogue. Everything else is hard. But the magic? Ah, for me the magic strikes when the girls in the basement quit slacking off and send up a story solution like a plot point or character motivation I’ve been struggling to find. If they’re muses, they definitely work banker’s hours.
Thanks for this post, Kristan! On occasion I do find myself in the “zone,” and often, the zone-written bits are what I come to love best about the story. (But sometimes not. And other times the zone-bit turns out to be a darling I have to murder. It sucks.)
But I love your analogy, that magic is hard for the magician. It’s a bit of comfort as I’m coming to terms that I had many plot events out of order, which means I have to go back to the near-beginning to fix things yet again. Magic seems effortless on the outside. Producing it is another matter.
Thanks again!
I would never use the term “easy” when talking about writing. There are days when I have to just back-off and let the brain mull over my characters and what they should do next. Then again, sometimes I sit down and force myself to write and after a couple of pages it starts to flow. Anything worthwhile requires work. The great thing about the work of writing is that it is what I love to do.
I agree. I’m one of those who don’t completely buy it when I hear other writers say that the characters just spoke to them and came out of thin air. Even those moments when it FEELS like the muse has struck you with a magic spark of inspiration, those moments usually come as a result of a lot of hard work, a lot of butt in chair moments and edits and rewrites or even walks in the park where your mind is still working on the story subconsciously.
All that being said, I have experienced one character suddenly pop up out of nowhere and take me completely by surprise. She’s one of my favorites in my book now. And she did come to me by your definition of magic—it was on the third or fourth draft, when I was doing a major rewrite, that she suddenly appeared.
100% Agree. The “magic” may lie within the stories sometimes, but you have to climb a mountain to find it usually.
Writing for me is hacking through a jungle with a machete, trying to reach the sparkle in the distance which you hope is a jewel. And it isn’t always. But even when it is, it can be exhausting to get there.
I love this analogy. A lot of people don’t realize how even the simplest card trick requires hours of practice and the truly great tricks are the ones that seem so simple because the magician has spent years making it look so.
I started writing seriously in 2910 with NaNoWriMo. I had a rough outline of plot and scenes, and discovered that – other than having to sit down and apply myself for a couple of hours each day – writing was easy. Then I read about structure and character arcs and scene types and plot points- plus started to edit my story for a publisher. I discovered that writing WELL is not easy. It takes not only knowledge of the technique behind the trick, but hours of practice. Practice I got via almost 100 Flash Fiction stories and two more novels.
Thanks for saying that Kristan! Man, it burns me up when I hear writers talk about the muse and how the characters take over and write their own stories. I’m with you, it’s work. And while the outcome can feel magical, the work is anything but. I wouldn’t do anything else and I’m certainly not complaining but it is work and hard work at that.
Unlike most, I do have an ever present muse. She floats around in a cup of dark hot coffee at 2 AM. For inspiration, I drink my muse down in short sips and the occasional gulp. This fuels me for an hour more of the magic I effortlessly create. Some of have muses that hide in scotch bottles. So you nay-sayers just back off with your no muse protestations. Got to go now, time to brew up some more inspiration.
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Kristan~I’m also suspicious of talk about magic and muses (despite the sub-title of one of my books with “muse” in it). My whole approach to writing & consulting about creativity relates to deliberate practice, skill, and work. That said, like others here have said, that aspect is not mutually exclusive to experiencing magic. To extend your analogy, Houdini and other magicians get in their zone while on stage. Something happens to them while they’re performing their magic for others. That’s another level of magic. The best magicians also probably get in a zone as they’re trying out – behind the scenes – their own magic tricks and practicing their craft.
One take: All magic and muse, and writing can become the fluff of a hobbyist. All work and no flow, and writing can become dried-out hackery.
What do you think?
Jeffrey
I agree, Jeffrey. There needs to be a balance. As with everything in life, hehe. :)
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