I don’t care… but I do

I don’t care if no one ever reads what I write.  I don’t care if I am never published.

I repeat these types of thoughts in internal monologue regularly, and they fell true, yet it also feels as if it can’t possibly be true.  Everyone else is writing to publish, would self-publish rather than fight for their work to be published by a respectable publishing house.

Same thing with blogs.  If I didn’t care about having readers, why put up a public blog? Why am I not just using a private journal?  I certainly don’t care that I’m not getting comments on this blog or others.

A few years back, I made the transition from writing fragments of stories and scenes on pieces of paper to attempting a first novel.  I’m on the third novel.  I thought, “it’s time to take myself a little more seriously as a writer.”  Does one have to be PUBLISHED to be a writer.  I don’t think so.  Perhaps one has to be published to be an AUTHOR.  I’m not sure that’s even true.

As in a lot of other pursuits, I am so much more interested in the process than in the final product that it’s not clear to me that publishing is the ultimate goal.  Certainly, at this point my focus should really be on learning the craft.  Every time I get into the part of the process that involves getting other people to read what I write and thinking about what other people might think of it — especially whether it is marketable — I get very uncomfortable.  Is it arrogance?  Am I just an arrogant writer not willing to listen to critique?  Or am I just lucky to enjoy the process of writing — putting words on paper — and not worried about the frustrating part of  the task that involves getting it in print and selling it for others to read.

Is the goal to have people read what I write?  Then why not publish on line — it’s essentially free.

Is the goal to make money?  LOL  Certainly the goal isn’t to become a full time writer.

The urge to get other people to read my writing is fulled by the need for acceptance and self-validation.  Secretly, I think what I write is pretty good.  I should rephrase that.  I like what I write because I like writing.  What I remember about what I write is the thought process that goes with it.  I like the thinking process that goes with the writing.  That’s it!

Summarizing:  I don’t care enough yet to make publishing a priority.  I care enough to focus on learning the craft and increasing my sense of self-worth as a writer.  If I were to worry about publishing at this point, I would be focusing on the wrong thing.

Progress

I’m about 3/4 through the first draft of the novel and while I’m becoming more and more aware of the flaws of what is already written, I am also becoming more aware of what the plot is really supposed to be about, therefore how it might end and once I know how it ends, how a good number of scenes need to be rewritten. A lot of work in sight and being 3/4 done through the first draft doesn’t look at all like the end of the tunnel, but as long as I’m not stuck somewhere in the tunnel, I’ll be fine.

Bonjour Tristesse

I don’t think I’ve read a French book in 20 years. I didn’t read Bonjour Tristesse, by Françoise Sagan; I listened to it in audio book format.  It was read by none other than Catherine Deneuve and I’m guessing that the recording I listened to was more than 20 years old because Deneuve’s voice sounded very young and.. well, she’s not that young anymore.

I kept thinking that it was quite impressive for a 17-18 year old Françoise Sagan to write such a gem. I was also struck by the use of the passé simple since it is a past tense essentially used in formal writing. Try it with an irregular verb like “aller”.

Nous allâmes ?
Vous allâtes ?

I wonder if it struck me as so odd because I listened to it. Perhaps I would not even have noticed if I had been reading it.  And I have no interest in watching the movie version.  It could only be a disappointment.