Writing with Chemistry
I became a fan of the band RUSH while I was a kid in the 1980's. I could never put my finger on what exactly drew me toward Rush’s music. Sure, there were a few things that stood out immediately — Neil Peart’s superhuman drumming — Geddy Lee’s intricate and heavy bass riffs and soaring vocals — Alex Lifeson’s loose and uninhibited guitar playing. But there was something else about Rush’s music which made them one of the greatest rock bands in history. It was the undeniable chemistry between those three unassuming guys from Canada. When playing together, they sounded like a single musical instrument roaring down a hot and empty desert highway to nowhere.
It’s a misconception that writing fiction is a solo task performed by a lonely individual sitting at a gothic wooden desk with a tumbler of Jack on the rocks clutched in one hand and a dirty yellow notepad in the other. Writing fiction requires a good deal of chemistry. In my experience, a single writer is made up of many separate individuals (or entities, as I think of them).
For example, there exists a version of me (let’s call him The Writer) who sits down at the computer and blasts through first drafts of new stories with impressive speed. I don’t feel like I know this person all that well. Maybe I’ve met him a few times at a cocktail party, but his face is not very memorable and the only thing I can truly remember about him is that he talked way too much. He was nervous and bright-eyed and sweaty. He made a couple of wisecracks that made me chuckle under my breath, but for the most part, he was just plain annoying.
The second version of my writer-self is The Editor. The bean counter. The officious and petty man who carries a leather briefcase to the office every morning, wearing a Brooks Brothers suit with a bow tie and brown wing tip shoes sheltering his delicate baby feet. The corner of a white hanky just barely makes an appearance from the top of his front coat pocket. This guy files his tax return no later than March 1 every year. He drives a Saab. The Editor ensures that the finished product is completely free of typos and grammatical errors, and he also sees to it that the final draft of each book is straight and true.
Finally, there is The Publisher. The nail biter. The worry wart. Good old Charlie Killjoy. This person frets and wrings his hands and paces around the room, never sure that his stories are good enough for publication. The Publisher wonders whether anyone will ever read his books once they are released. He fears that he is simply writing for the abyss. But in the end, The Publisher always comes to the rescue as the brave soldier who makes sure my work gets out there.
Taken individually, none of these three versions of my writer-self could ever complete, let alone publish, a single story or book. But when working in tandem, I think we have good chemistry. I’m rather grateful that The Writer is such a rambling loudmouth, because without him, I would be completely lacking in free-flowing ideas which are the foundation for all my stories and books. Without The Publisher, I would never have the courage to share my work with the world. And finally, if it were not for The Editor, my stories would be a mishmash of incoherent thoughts and ideas, chock-full of typos and formatting errors.
So, don’t be afraid to let your writer psyche go full-on Sybil. But just remember that your head can be a mighty small space, so make sure everyone plays nice!
J.S. Lender’s new novella + short story collection for young readers, Emma and the Starry Night, is on sale now!
