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Thanks Chesterama. That is encouraging.
It's a huge discrepancy.
The "rules," including "show don't tell" serve one primary purpose - to stop new writers inadvertently screwing up things new writers commonly screw up.
Once you realize that's what they're for, you can understand why so many professional authors deviate from the so-called rules and are nevertheless successful. As Gospodin noted, above, they're being deliberate about their choices rather than stumbling blindly into that territory because they don't know better.
There is actually good scientific and anecdotal evidence that the very best creative writing is done immediately after you wake up or just before you go to sleep when you are quite tired, when you brain is in an in between space and your rational mind is not fully running the show yet. I heard several authors talk about that and later say a couple of articles on that. That might be something that works for you. Some people can meditate their way into that state but I am not one of them. Give it a try and see what happens.
Thanks Chesterama. That is encouraging.
Skip that was awesome.
Would this be too much telling?
I went all the way to As’bel with a tomb robber named Handsome to get my soul back from an undead priest I’d never heard of.
Clutching my Anam lamp over the charred mummy at the tomb’s entrance, I suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted it.
I found out in As’bel that the priest who bought my soul was known as the Paper Man. From what I’d seen of him back in Willing Downs his name was apt. Layer upon layer of crumbling paper-thin skin encasing a dusty heart and petrified rib bones. Four thousand years dead does that to a person. It’s probably a bitch buying souls when your body won’t hold up. Someone should invent something for that. A high-end body oil. They would make a mint. I promised myself if I got out of there I would do some serious investigating into the undead cosmetics industry. Abilene would have been great at that, I thought. She used to make the best soap.
Right. Exactly why I didn't end up using it. OK, so I'm feeling better now. I think I'm sort of figuring it out a bit.
Thanks for the feedback. It's exactly what I was looking for!
Clutching my lamp over a charred mummy at the tomb’s entrance, I suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted my soul back.
Twila went to bed early that night. She tossed and turned on the uncomfortable straw bed, wishing she were back in the palace where she belonged. When morning came, her back couldn't have been any stiffer.
I went all the way to As’bel with a tomb robber named Handsome to get my soul back from an undead priest I’d never heard of.
Clutching my Anam lamp over the charred mummy at the tomb’s entrance, I suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted it. I found out in As’bel that the priest who bought my soul was known as the Paper Man. From what I’d seen of him back in Willing Downs his name was apt. Layer upon layer of crumbling paper-thin skin encasing a dusty heart and petrified rib bones. Four thousand years dead does that to a person. It’s probably a bitch buying souls when your body won’t hold up. Someone should invent something for that. A high-end body oil. They would make a mint. I promised myself if I got out of there I would do some serious investigating into the undead cosmetics industry. Abilene would have been great at that, I thought. She used to make the best soap.
Yes, Russ, I have also considered my first draft to be like 'clay'. That's what I always tell myself. Just get the damn clay down onto the page. You can't shape something that doesn't exist. I literally picture myself throwing chunks of sloppy, wet messy clay onto the page, knowing it will dry and I can shape it anyway I like after it is done. Sometimes it is just hard to look at such a slippery mess.
Would this be too much telling?
What's amazing is this: Those new writers have probably also read a lot, but not read well. They've read for enjoyment but not for learning the tools of writing; so, they've missed all the distinctions, the deliberate use of language.
....
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Interesting how this squares with my experience of late. I write first drafts at night, usually during the 2-4 hours just before hitting the sack. I sometimes get a little first-drafting in on weekend days, but I'd guess about 95% or more is at night.
But editing I can seem to do at almost any time of day.
For example, lets take a random bunch of elements and see how they can be stitched together into one scene.
-comic shop owner
-has trouble with his supplier
-has girlfriend troubles
-gremlins are real
-Vampires are not
-hates Superman
-loves Wolverine
-forgot to pay his rent for his shop
-has heart of gold
-after work he's going to play DnD.
So how do you design a scene that shows all that?
We could start the scene with the comic shop owner, let's call him Bob, behind the counter and on the land-line phone with his supplier. He's been on hold for 15 minutes. He knows they're not busy and are just F-ing with him. A goth-kid walks in dress ups as a vampire. Make up to the nines with fake-blood dripping fangs to match.
Bob's iPhone rings. It's his girlfriend. He presses ignore. He's got to save his fight for the supplier, if and when they pick-up his call again. He notices the goth-kid slipping comic books into their trench coat. A second later the goth-kid makes for the door, but Bob doesn't move.
As soon as the goth-kid grabs the door handle, poof, a guard gremlin appears and jumps on his face. Bob says to the goth-kid, "You either leave here with your face or the comics. Your move." The kid stumbles to Bob and dumps a pile of Superman comics onto the counter. Bob tells the kid if you going to steal, at least steal something good. Not books about that big, blue, wussy. Take a real comic, Wolverine. He hands the kid a stack of old Wolverine comics as well as some old Superman ones and tells them they're on the house.
The goth-kid looks at him stunned and says, "You ain't going to call the cops?"
Bob says, "No. But don't do that again. Else the real monster--" Bob points to the guard gremlin "--will eat the boy dressed as a fake one." Bob jerks his thumb at the door. "You can go now. It's closing time, and I got a DnD game to get to."
The goth-kid leaves, but the landlord comes in and hands Bob an eviction notice.