Writing On (2)

My blog posts are generally between 500 and 100 words long. When V.S. Naipaul says he is grateful to write 500 good words a day, or Orhan Pamuk speaks of producing his daily half-page, they are not talking about the same thing as a 500-word blog post, both because those 500 words have not been written and rewritten as intensively, and because they are not written as part of a larger whole. A book requires sustained effort in one direction; it is not a sprint, or a series of heats to be run in quick succession, but a matter of endurance, both mental and emotional. It also requires the creation of a vision and a structure that is large and complex, which you nevertheless know, at the beginning, will probably have to be torn down and rebuilt several times.

When you are not retired or rich or crazy enough to do nothing but write, you have to stretch a book-sized project around the relationships and responsibilities of a normal life, and it ends up squeezing you and those around you in previously unimaginable ways. Pamuk writes: “For thirty years I’ve spent an average of ten hours a day alone in a room, sitting at my desk.” I have been writing for the past fifteen years, an average of one to two hours per day, except for the final six months I was working on the book more or less constantly. Still, it is inconceivable to me to be able to write ten hours a day. I’m not even sure I’d want to, or what that would mean about the rest of my life. But it is true that the artists I have known who are wholly dedicated to their work have a spouse or companion who meets their needs so they don’t have to think about anything else, if in fact they are capable of thinking about anything else. It is a different sort of personality, to put it mildly. These are not the easiest people to live with, but they are often the great artists. It comes at a price, both to the artist and to those around them.

This used to be an excuse, but I woke up one day and realized how fortunate I was to be working for myself, not to have children in the house while I was still young enough to have energy and drive, and to have the gift of some discretionary time. “Use the time you have,” I told myself. I told my husband I wanted to write every morning for an hour, and that I would try not to let it cut into our business work. He agreed. It was, then, up to me to do it or not.

Now I have more time to write, and I still have the same problem of deciding how to use it. Blogging takes time – my posts take at least an hour to write and illustrate, often more. I read and comment, when I can, on many blogs, because I can’t hope for feedback on my own blog if it isn’t mutual. As you know, this can end up consuming a great deal of time indeed.

A larger, contained project like a book requires solitude and single-minded focus with no instant gratification such a blogging provides. I’ve been fortunate that I’ve received quite a lot of commentary on my book, and that I can see that it is doing some good, out in the world. Because it is also a historical work, it will have a life beyond current politics in religion and society, and that’s comforting to know. I’m also realistic, and know that the reward for writing it is not going to be money or fame, even though I imagined both at one time or another, as I dreamt my author-dreams...

(to be continued tomorrow)

Comments

[Teju]

"A larger, contained project like a book requires solitude and single-minded focus with no instant gratification such a blogging provides."

I don't see why you can't eat that particularly cake and have it too, Beth. You just have to be willing to push your readers a bit. Probably lose some of them in the process, when their eyes glaze over from the steady stream of words.

But why, exactly, can't "The Right Thing" (your recent long series) be part of a book project. I simply don't think the binary division between "blogging" and "writing literature" exists anymore. I know it doesn't for me. And I wouldn't even say Pamuk's 500 words cost him more than mine cost me. It's the one who wears the shoes that knows where they pinch.

[beth]

You're an exception, Teju, along with some others who put a great deal of effort into their words, regardless of the medium. I certainly do. Agree about Pamuk - I certainly don't mean that all bloggers are tossing off their posts without sweating as much as any serious writer. All I'm saying here is that even with that large effort, the work I write here isn't what I consider to be "finished," and I need to find a way to push myself to go that extra mile or ten. Maybe it can be for my blog - I'm just not sure if I want to expend that effort for something that has a two-minute lifetime. It's the torrential blog-stream that increasingly discourages me; the churning, the swept-downstream aspect of it, too fast to stop and see what's on the shore. But I am definitely going to do what you're suggesting, and what you do on your own blog: challenge the readers and myself more.

[loren]

I've never attempted a book before, so I'm not able to compare the effort that goes into both.

However, I tend to devote two or three hours to every entry I make, whether it be merely photographs or discussions of poems or books I've read.

The result has been nearly a 1,000 visitors a day, often people looking up entries I wrote so long ago that I'm surprised by them when I happen to re-read them. As an ex-highschool teacher who taught research writing, I always felt that there ought to be more substantial work on the net so that students or self-learners have access to quality ideas on a variety of subjects.

[beth]

Loren, I really appreciate this comment, especially what you say about the need for substantive work on the internet. Thank you.

[Teju]

Beth, I agree with you about the torrential aspect of this blog-life. Posts and posts and posts, in a steady stream, but who's paying attention? I often wonder that myself.

But, on the flip-side, I think it is possible to command the attention of a few people. You certainly do so here, on this blog. The attentiveness of your readers comes from a series of decisions you're made as a blogger--the language (i.e. the tone of voice), the design, the photos, the length of posts or sentences, the frequency of posting, yea, even unto the very font size--decisions that all add up to a particular environment in which (some) people feel at home. That's the only way, after all, to slow down the torrent: by providing respose.

And it's a constant struggle not to give in and become like the instapundits.

[Jean]

I believe Orhan Pamuk is divorced. There's no easy way. And no way to give up if it's what you need to do. Your writing about this is very helpful and inspiring and thought-provoking. I've always wanted to write and not done it. Don't think it's ever too late. But certainly the later it gets the fewer illusions it is possible to have about the price.