Tuesday’s Tip: Fast is Fun, but Slow is Steady

Easy as A, B, C . . . from BB

I finally got around to reading an article called “Fast Times” by Kristen Andresen in last August’s The Writer. ( Guess I’m just slow . . . no, wait! It got stuck in a 2‑foot‑ high pile of papers, newspapers, magazines and . . . maybe I’m just messy!)

Kristen talked about making a little extra $$$ on the side by “editing” (but actually re‑writing) her sorority sister’s papers before they were due. Her friend was amazed by how fast Kristen was, but she says “fast” was the thing that got her through college, majoring in journalism and both writing and editing for the school paper ‑ often until the very early hours of morning.

“Fast” also stood her in good stead when she transitioned into writing features and columns. Later she was able to handle several freelance gigs” to supplement her low‑paying day job, then astonished her bosses with speed when she went into PR and marketing. Much of this while blogging every morning before work, writing front‑of‑book columns for a magazine clients in the evenings.

She came to a screeching, nine‑month‑long halt — baby time! — and gave it up for a three year hiatus.

For the first time, when she returned to write, she was faced with the dreaded blank screen. And realized she was at a complete loss for words. She wrote three sentences over and over, catalogued all the ways in which she could fail, lost her edge, became acquainted with paralysis‑by‑fear, had re‑invented her rituals — and not in a good way.

Her new rituals needed to become fearlessness in front of the screen, adapting to feeling good about turning out 250 words at a time, writing whenever she had the time — if only for 5 minutes. Now it is sometimes painfully slow. But worth it: worth the beautifully rewritten sentence, the five‑minute brain dump, the partial paragraphs waiting for a finish.

I need to stop panicking too: I used to work fast, and it was with more than my writing: I finished my four‑year Bachelor’s Degree in three years; my two‑year M.A. in a year‑and‑half; the equivalent of a second degree in nine months, while teaching full time; and two certifications (in math, then ESL ‑ like picking up extra minors), each in eight weeks.

I’m slower now. I’m taking time to make my story right. My BOOK right. I only used to write short stuff: short stories, poems, plays. Now I’m writing books.

My books, YOUR books, deserve to be done by the tortoise, not the hare!

P.S. I loved the quote from Dave Barry, humor columnist, in the same page: “Panicky despair is un underrated element of writing.” And that can happen whether you’re fast or slow!

See you next for Thinkin’ on Thursday!

Saturday’s Softcover: You Will Believe a Boy Can Fly

As easy as A, B, C . . . from HA

Peter and the Starcatchers—Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson

At the beginning of this book, toward the end of the Acknowledgement section, is the following statement: And above all we thank Paige Pearson, for asking her daddy one night, after her bedtime story, exactly how a flying boy met a certain pirate.

We all owe a “Thank you!” to Paige. Without that question, this book may have never been written.

I was introduced to this concept while watching last year’s Tony award program. Peter walked home with five awards including Best Actor.

The Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City was the only regional theater in the US to be able to show Peter. It was one of the funniest productions I have ever had the pleasure of seeing; everything about it was AWESOME! Which, of course, lead me to read the book.

As I have ranted before, movies made from books don’t always translate well. The same holds true with transferring any media into any other media. That being said: note the difference in the titles—Peter and the Starcatchers (book) and Peter and the Starcatcher (play). Note the subtlety?

While the two venues share a common thread—that of Peter, an orphan boy, becoming Peter Pan and how he met Captain Hook—the play is much more comedic and broader in presentation. The book is more detailed with more backstory and character details.

It is also much more dramatic in its presentation.

The basic story line in both versions (and this is one of the few times where I absolutely recommend both venues—Peter is playing at Shakespeare through the summer and early fall—has two ships, The Never Land and The Wasp, each carrying a secret cargo: one of two trunks. One is full of “star stuff” and one is a decoy.

But which is which?

Star stuff is the remains of falling stars containing magical properties. It seems they’ve been collected throughout the millennia by opposing forces: the basic good vs. evil.

I’m going to keep this relatively short. Read the book—see the stage production.

You’ll be thanking me when you do—and Paige as well.

See you day-after-tomorrow for Monday Moans.