Day: September 14, 2010

Tonight Drew and I finished making his new set of sculpting tools.  One of the many things we learned from Gencon is that one of the reasons he’s been having a hard time turning a corner on his sculpting is that he’s been using amateur tools.  Professional tools, as it turns out, cannot be bought.  They must be made.  With hammers and anvils and blowtorches.  I was less than thrilled to learn this.  We’re not exactly what you might call tool people.

And yet, we are now the proud owners of a hammer, anvil, blowtorch, safety goggles, and these little beauties:

I’m proud of us for these. We made them out of nothing but steel rods and brass tubes.  (And some super-glue.  That tool we were familiar with.)  Drew’s been using the tips sans handle for the last few weeks, and his sculpting has finally turned that corner we’ve been staring at for a year. Happy, happy day.

This photo actually represents two victories. The other thing we rehashed after Gencon was the photography. I knew the game companies got better photos of their minis than we did; I always figured they were using professional photo studio lighting, which = $$$. No. Turns out they’re using ten dollar shop lights, like these:

 

I just fixed a massive problem in my chapter-in-progress by having a character do exactly the opposite of what I had them doing before.  Also by remembering that a chapter should have four or five purposes if I want it to be compelling, not just one.  And also remembering that (as my husband pointed out) several of my characters have complex relationships with each other in addition to their complex relationships with the main character, and should act like it.

I like the changes.  I think they work.

Happy happy happy.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have done something different with my education and my diligence over the last ten years–something besides write.  That’s not frustration or discouragement talking.  It’s more curious self-examination.  I made some pretty extreme choices, what with the never working full time at a day job and writing instead.  That’s not what I would call a common path.  I think it’s reasonable to question whether or not I did the right thing.

And lots of people like to tell you what it takes to be a writer, or what a writer should be, and I don’t often match up to a lot of those standards.  For example, I have heard many people say that if you’re going to be a writer, you should like to write.  Sounds basic enough.  But to tell you the truth, most of the time I dread writing.  Most of the time it scares me too much to be enjoyable.  Most of the time I’m fighting with the words to get the story to come out right.  Most of the time I’m working too hard to be enjoying myself.  And that’s the truth.

Other people say they feel this drive to write that means they could never quit even if they wanted to.  This isn’t me either.  I could totally quit, and if I can’t make a living at it, I will.  Still.  And I will find other things to do with my life that will be just as fulfilling as writing ever was–and maybe more.  And that’s the truth. 

But I thought today about this post on artistic bravery by Sara Zarr.  I thought specifically about her question: "what would I do with the next year if I didn’t have to think about money?"

What would I do indeed? 

I know what I would do.  I would write the book I’m writing now, and then I’d write the next one.  I’d revise them until they were better, painful as that process often is.   I’d send them both to my agent.  I’d try to get them published.   I’d do it just as fast and rigorously as I am doing it now.   I would do it even though it’s not often fun, even though I have to work too hard to enjoy myself, even though I know I could do something else and be just as happy.  I would do it because I like working hard.  I would do it because I like meeting my own deadlines.  I would do it because the satisfaction of completing the difficult task is more important to me than the moment-to-moment enjoyment.  And that’s the truth.

I think that means I’m in the right career.