Had our Writer's Group Sunday afternoon. A nice guy has been coming off and on, bringing us pieces of his novel. It's been getting panned, over and over. It turns out that he hasn't been bringing parts of it because he doesn't want anyone to steal his story? his ideas? We don't know because he won't tell us or share any of it with us. What we did see, everyone panned because it wasn't dramatic, it wasn't emotional, it wasn't vested. And it was realistic to the point of not really being a story at all. You could see him getting angry at us for our criticism. Did I mention that he was Christian with a big C? He's decided to self-publish, he says. I offered to tell him my experience, but he does want to hear it. He doesn't want to hear that he doesn't know how to write. His is the only true God, I guess.
I left a group over in the valley because the critique level was just stupid. I didn't have enough emotion in my story. I didn't have enough emotion in my story. I didn't have enough emotion in my story. Everyone that read it through told me something different. So I decided it was a waste of time to listen to idiots.
I hope someone is telling our nice guy something different. And I hope its not God.
Why do these people think that they can just write and it will be brilliant? Why do these people go on American Idol? Why do people paint who have no talent? I think anything you do starts with comparison. Can I do something that can stand on its own, apart from me and sort of look like a similar thing that I admire? That's the question you have to start with. Are my words as good as...? Is my brush strokes similar to ...? Can my music be like ...?
It has always amazed me that a man can lecture on T.S, Elliot and not know the difference between Elliot's poem and his own.
Why do people think it's some kind of magic?
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