The Writer’s Eye and the Writer’s Hand

By John Vorhaus  |  June 25, 2015  | 

IMG_1430Because the universe loves me, I found myself in Paris recently with nothing to do but sight-see and visit great museums. I made my way to the Pompidou, which had a mind-boggling retrospective on the works of Jeff Koons, whose iconic Balloon Dog you see here. Upon investigating Koons’ life and work, I discovered that some of his earliest attempts at visual representation were nothing more than finding magazine ads that piqued his interest, framing them, and calling them art. Clearly he had artistic ambition, and also artistic vision, but his ability to exercise his vision? Not so much. So we can say that at that point in his career, the artist’s “eye” had developed further than his “hand.” But why are we talking of Jeff Koons? He’s an artist, right? And this is WriterUnboxed, not ArtistUnboxed, no? So let’s examine this notion of eye and hand from a writer’s point of view.

For the sake of this discussion, we’ll say that our writer’s eye is our understanding of what we want to express, and that our hand is our ability to capture and convey those ideas. The advancement of these attributes, the development of both the writer’s storytelling interests and the effective exploration of those interests, is the basic arc of a writer’s career. We go from not knowing anything and not knowing how to express it to knowing much and having many strategies and tools for expression. That’s the growth of a writer. That’s something we can chart.

So now what I’d like you to do is make two lists.The first will be a list of the many stages of evolution of your writer’s hand. Here’s my list of “hand,” the different types of writing challenges I could master, and the order in which I mastered them.

Badolescent poetry

“Funny” editorials for student press

Advertising copywriting

Song lyrics

Short stories

Dumb sitcom scripts

Smart sitcom scripts

Hour dramas

Screenplays

How-to books

Novels

Novels with purpose

This, to me, is a common path of development for a serious-minded writer. It’s not that we all start out writing ad copy or bad poetry (though many of us do). Rather, it’s that we’re always trying to better our game. No sooner have we conquered one form of writing than we aspire to conquer something harder, more challenging. The good news is that we’re ambitious in this way. The bad news is that we commonly encounter fear barriers as we advance from stage to stage. Stick a pin in that; we’ll be coming back to it in a moment. For now just please write your list. You don’t have to show it to anybody, but you should be prepared to show it to yourself. In terms of – let’s call it – your writing technology, it’s good to know where you’ve been and where you are.

Next, let’s list the stages of development we’ve gone through in the evolution of our writer’s eye. What topics, subjects, concerns, themes, philosophies or lessons have become key parts of your mental map as your writing life has unfolded? Here’s mine, roughly:

Dumb jokes

Slightly less dumb jokes

Snarky social commentary

Plot-driven action stories

Hot lust romance

Real emotion

Self-exploration

Higher purpose

Those of you who know me know that I never outgrew dumb jokes (nor do I expect to; like intentional tpographical errors, they’re evergreen). Those who follow my work have seen it advance to increasingly deep and philosophical places. Dumb jokes and deep philosophy can thus be described as the alpha and omega of my artist’s eye. What are yours? What lies between? Write that list now, please; I won’t be the only one doing all the work around here.

When we set out to convey something meaningful about, say, real emotion or self-exploration, it’s common to experience some self-doubt – the same sort of doubt that informs our advance through the stages of our writing technology. Every time we try to tackle something we haven’t tackled before, whether in the form or the substance of our writing ambition, it’s natural to feel fear. This fear is specific and articulate. It says, “I’ve reached my limit. I’m trying to write something I don’t know I can write, and I just know that the Fraud Police will soon track me down and haul me away to fake writers’ prison.” [pullquote] “I’m trying to write something I don’t know I can write, and I just know that the Fraud Police will soon track me down and haul me away to fake writers’ prison.”[/pullquote]For some writers, this fear is so overwhelming that they simply stop growing. They get good at what they’re good at, but they never advance beyond.

To me that’s an unworthy goal for a writer. I get that it’s great to have a successful series – repeatable iterations of the types of stories you’re good at and the types of points you want to make – but if you never move beyond that, how will you grow? And if you never grow, how will you reach the ultimate iteration of your eye and hand?

To avoid this trap of stagnation, simply recognize and acknowledge the role that fear plays in all of this. Don’t try to kill your fear or make it go away. That’s not realistic, for it naturally emerges every time we try to do something new. Rather, accept your fear as a natural part of your creative process, a part of your growth. And recognize that most of the time your fear is completely unfounded. When you try something new as a writer, either in terms of hand or of eye, you mostly succeed, as can be seen in the two lists you just wrote.

In fact, stop for a moment and marvel at those lists. They concretely demonstrate the growth you’ve already undergone. They reveal you for the writer you are: someone already accomplished in many evolutions of hand and eye; someone determined to accomplish much more. If this sounds like a pep talk, it is. I love giving pep talks, and I love getting them (and find that giving them is getting them, too). I want you to have a joyous and uplifting experience of living the writer’s life. My suspicion is that you already do. And now you have the evidence at hand.

What’s the toughest thing you ever wrote? What was it toughest? Would you find it challenging in the same way now? Discuss! :)

[coffee]

12 Comments

  1. Evelyn Ashley on June 25, 2015 at 11:57 am

    I have always liked your wit and wild ideas. I think you are an artist, rather Dali-an. Behind all that, I believe there is serious, thinking and evolving person. Now, what is all this about asking for money? I have to admit, for me, it detracts from what you are putting on the page. Is it a character role you have taken on or are you truly in need. Hope to eventually understand.



  2. John Vorhaus on June 25, 2015 at 2:07 pm

    Thank you for your feedback, Evelyn. This is something that WU is experimenting with, for the sake of its many gratis contributors, and I’m part of that experiment. It’s important and revealing to me that you had such a strong, clear — negative — reaction. I feel like my exploration has cost me a “hit” in your estimation, and I grieve for that. But, again, thank you for sharing your honest reaction with me and with us. It’s a big help. It will certainly inform my decision as to whether to go forward with this.

    More broadly, though, let me ask you: Does it matter if a writer is truly in need or not? I’m not, but I’m eager to be at the vanguard of anything that helps writers get paid. But I would expect that a reader’s decision to contribute or not contribute would be based on the value s/he places on the content. For instance, I contribute to Dan Carlin’s Hardcore History podcast (which is awesome) because I value the content and want to promote its continued creation.

    I’m not saying that the situation here is analogous, but here at WU, I do think we need to think about, and talk about, the monetization of the written word, and how it impacts us both as producers and consumers of content.

    I don’t know if this correlates, but I notice that my column, which usually generates a fair amount of chat, this time generated none. Is there a causal connection? Was the “coffee” pitch so off-putting that it killed the conversation? Maybe we can all have a conversation about that? -jv

    Best, -jv



  3. David Corbett on June 25, 2015 at 3:08 pm

    Hi, John:

    First, the balloon dog. Way way way — might I add WAY — cool.

    Hardest thing I’ve ever written is the novel I’m writing now. That isn’t to be glib. This really is the most ambitious project I’ve ever tried, combining action thriller with character-driven crime with historical epistolary novel. The last bit has me literally scared to bits. But it’s coming together. It’s a project I’ve been toying with for 20 years. Finally got the gumption to give it a whirl.

    As for early hand-eye coordination, in 4th grade I wrote a script for the Davy Crockett TV series. Maybe I’m in a down-spiral…

    Great piece. And pep talk. Didn’t realize how much I needed one.



  4. Gretchen Stone on June 25, 2015 at 6:31 pm

    John, I did not receive WriterUnboxed in my email newsfeed today. I had to come looking for it on the web. That must be why there are so few comments today! I am not a regular commenter, but want you to know I appreciate your words. You are very right. Readers should remember that writing is work ad should be compensated. If only for the principal of it.



  5. Natalie Hart on June 25, 2015 at 7:37 pm

    Thank you for this, John. I’m far more likely to focus on what isn’t working right now than to look back and realize how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown as a writer. And, as always, your writing about fear is always so deeply encouraging.



  6. Reg on June 25, 2015 at 8:19 pm

    Thanks John – your post has supplied a missing link for the protagonist in my wip. Not the first help you’ve given me – your Comic Toolbox is on my desk shelf of helpful books.



  7. Jan O'Hara on June 25, 2015 at 8:20 pm

    At present I feel like I’m trying to write a novel with purpose with the skill-set of a badolescent poetry writer. Ah, good old fear, huh?

    I love the idea of breaking the writer’s journey into smaller steps, John. Thanks for that. You always have a fresh take on Resistance.



  8. Barry Knister on June 26, 2015 at 8:47 am

    John–
    Like Gretchen Stone, I didn’t get your WU post in Thursday’s mail. If someone can explain that, I’d appreciate it. But I’m glad to see it today, because it’s on a par with those you’ve written before: witty and thoughtful, as well as well-written.
    Two issues figure in your post–what writers fear most, and how readers of WU feel about being solicited to contribute to those who post to the site.
    As for the first, I share David Corbett’s fear. Like him, I’ve chosen to ignore conventional wisdom, and write a hybrid genre suspense novel that emphasizes character over plot. To bring this off, I need to develop characters with enough nuance and individuality to be interesting in and of themselves. Yes, there’s plot, and yes, crime figures. But ultimately Deep North is a novel about friendship. In fact, an early title was Affinity. The story examines how four women become friends, and influence each other.
    About the second issue: I have mixed feelings. I am very grateful for this site, and usually start my day with it. I also think writers deserve to be paid,. But I admit to being a little put off by the idea that, all of a sudden, the posts have been “monetized.”
    In my view, those who contribute regularly to WU don’t actually work for free. Their compensation takes the form of barter: they write copy, WU pays them in terms of exposure–their names, bios and published titles are included with each post. Maybe that’s payment enough. I will go on commenting on posts, but will probably not be good for the coffee tab.



  9. Donald Maass on June 26, 2015 at 11:12 am

    John-

    “For some writers, this fear is so overwhelming that they simply stop growing….to avoid this trap of stagnation, simply recognize and acknowledge the role that fear plays in all of this.”

    Yes, exactly.

    In Writing 21st Century Fiction I proposed that fear actually is a positive. It points toward the things we most need to work on. It’s true in life and it’s true in writing fiction.

    The higher the resistance, the more we ought to go there. And, hey, coffee helps. You’re having one on me.



    • Gretchen Stone on June 26, 2015 at 11:51 am

      Don, you make me feel like a piker. If you can buy John a coffee, so can I! You’re always a class act. Only thing, here in MI you can get a great cup for $2. We may not have the ambience of Brooklyn, but we have atmosphere and good coffee.



  10. Mike Swift on June 28, 2015 at 3:41 pm

    By George, this deserves a cup of Joe, John.

    — Mike



  11. Cheri Vause, Author on August 23, 2015 at 10:13 am

    Your evolution is interesting, but I have to say that I never wrote dumb or smart jokes. I really do I wish I could have that ability. A sense of humour is critical to making it through life as unscathed as possible. Needless to say, I married a man who has both dumb and smart humour. It’s deliciously wicked sometimes, and I laugh through a great deal of my day (I’m his best audience). I believe that’s your most valuable skill. Like Dostoevsky, I don’t like to write without my story conveying a meaning, even if its subtle. Using your cup of Joe as an analogy, I suppose it could be from bean to espresso. So, here’s that cup of Joe, that black, nutty drink that gets me through my final editings without tearing my hair out because everything still sounds stupid.

    Bean
    Ground Bean
    Coffee
    Latte
    Capucino
    Espresso