Dare to be Both
December 23, 2000
9:15 a.m.
I woke up this morning and came downstairs thinking about doing some work on my novel. I sat down, though, and realized I really didn't have a great desire to work on it. The problem, is Christmas, you see. I'm at the formative point, and I realized that I was worried about pushing an idea today that would have to wait for another four days before I would pick it up again ... and by then it would be stale and I wouldn't know what to do. Writers worry about the stupidest things, don't they? So, I finished a little Christmas stuff, and I sat down and looked at some of my old material, thinking that maybe I could find something I could spiffy up in just a few hours, and actually get something productive done before we got to the holiday chaos. I paged through thirty or forty things I had started and discarded throughout time. I read paragraphs and pages. Let me stop here. Lisa Silverthorne posted what I thought was a fantastic entry the other day (December 19th if you need to search for it) in response to my ruminations on how to Dare to Be Good. When I read them, I nodded my head and thought "Lisa's a pretty smart woman." And I went on, not really thinking a lot more about it. Her point was well made. Daring to be Good is about stretching. It's about letting yourself write stuff that scares you. I like that. "Searching for Ghandi" was a little like that. The story I cleaned up yesterday was similar. I won't say they are any good, of course--that determination is for the audience to decide (assuming they ever get that opportunity). But they are, I think, pieces I needed to write. They meant something to me. It just didn't really soak in that in writing those things I might be Daring to be Good vs. Daring to be Bad. It wasn't until this morning that the other half of Lisa's lesson sank into me, and I started to feel differently. When I looked at this old work--some from as far as four and five years ago--I realized that so much of it was hollow. Yes, some had a few situations that I thought were interesting. Some had plot. Some had a glimmering of character. I even picked at "fixing" a few pieces. But I was surprised to find that they just really aren't worth anything to me internally. They had no message. They were exercises--small gates and hurdles that I had to pass over in order to get to where I am now. If Daring to be Good means stepping out on the thinnest limbs, I wrote these piece while hugging the trunk. They had nothing of me in them--nothing that I really cared about any more. And so, I put these bits and pieces away. I'll not kill them. I'll not delete them from my disk. That would serve no purpose I can see. Who knows, maybe some day I'll need a fresh dose of this medicine that Lisa so thoughtfully doled out. But I put them away, and turned my attention to my book. And I found myself dabbling with the situation I had left off with, and pushing the character around a little. Next thing you know I found a bit more of his personality, and I let him carry me for a page or three. And so it was a pretty good morning.   I can, I think, do both--Dare to be Both Bad and Good. In fact, I think it's valuable for me to do both. Daring to be Bad allows me to produce. Daring to be Good allows me to go out on the more tenuous limbs while I produce. It allows me to make a difference with my words. ... even if that difference is only within my mind. Have a very safe, and a very Merry Christmas. I'll see you in a few days.  Thanks, Lisa Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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Daring to be Good can't be taught. It has to be learned by doing, by Daring to be Bad. It's all in the journey -- from finding your wings to learning to soar. Lisa Silverthorne |
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