Writing for the web, particularly writing blogs, has always frustrated me. The writing needs to be fast, glib, entertaining; an easy read and, if possible, say something of value. As writers go, I am a relatively fast wordsmith. That is to say I can get a gush of words on to paper or computer screen pretty quickly. But after the flood, as the waters recede, and once again the river is gurgling and water spiders have returned pumping their tendril legs, the real work begins.
Each line will be looked at for flow and flavor. Every paragraph demands investigation in terms of consistency and theme. Each adjective will be questioned, every verb reflected upon; even conjunctions are examined. I sand, oil and polish and polish and polish. Then I push the work to the side, like yeast-full bread dough and let it rise, for a day, or a week. When I finally return to it, I punch it down, reshape it, and then let it rise again for as long as it takes for me to see the holes, however tiny, and note the sharp edges and discordant phrases.
But keeping up with regular postings does not afford that kind of time. “Write it now” is the rule. Publish daily if you can, something newer, something better, something with a good tag-line and provocative title. Write five hundred words full of zingers and titillation. Where then is the place for the careful, plodding writer? Do we want fast writing like so many crave fast food, fast cars, fast relationships? What has happened to the thoughtful seduction of the word?
In a rush to put up my page I sent my second post out without giving it that needed time. On looking at it my husband had punctuation questions, and looked at one stanza and took me to task on its vagueness. “This isn’t you,” he insisted. “You can do better.”
Now you need to know that I take criticism well, very well. Well, not at the moment it is given, unless it is sheathed in the gentlest of hands; but days later I take it well. When I am alone I pull out the conversation, whether it is about my work or my handling of a particular situation, and I look at it closely and really give weight to the person’s comments, especially if I know that he or she has no hidden agendas.
In the immediacy of that moment however, I scowled. “Fine, I’ll fix it.” Translation: “Leave me alone. Yes you do write quite well, but who is the ‘professional’ writer in the family?” But, as it happens, he was right. It wasn’t me. It was rushed, it was incomplete, it was “web write.”
Writing is always very personal, not just the subject or the style, but how we get to it, the slow climb, the fast dive, the elegant sashay. All of this is just to say, be your own writer. Do not get swept up in the go, go, go of 21st century society that can take you away from the beauty of the well-crafted poem, the power of the dynamic piece of prose, which may well take more than thirty minutes or an hour to complete, edit, copy, cut and paste. Write in your own rhythm and savor every beat.
Writing Prompt
What have you done too quickly or too slowly? When have you dawdled when you should have strode, jogged when you should have sauntered? Was it getting into or out of a new relationship? Was it cooking a particular meal? If you are talking about being too slow, write without lifting your fingers from the keyboard, or your pen from the page. If it is about going too quickly, force yourself to slow down as you examine your process.