Probably every writer has put a piece away thinking it's good, read it the next day and thought it garbage. Or the other way around. Are you not afflicted in that way, Emma? |
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a) No, in the sense that I don't think in terms of "good versus garbage", because that gets you nowhere: those sorts of value-judgements come from a place which is all about your general state of mind and mood, and not much, necessarily, to do with the actual quality of the writing. "good" vs "bad" also so easily spills into a self-esteem-focused judgement of yourself, which is irrelevant to the task at hand.
b) Yes, in the sense that I think in terms of "works" and "doesn't work". And then I think about what makes a doesn't-work piece not work. And once you've done
that, you're halfway to making it work, because as Richard Sennet says, a large part of crafsmanship is the process of problem finding; once you've found the problem, solving it is straightforward, if not easy.
Also, I really do have "creativity is mistakes" tattooed on my brain these days. So if, the next day, I read something and think, "Gosh, that
really doesn't work," then I just think "Okay, there's a long way to go still. Bother, I hoped it was nearly there. Now, what the hell am I going to do about it?". I can be extremely fed up, but that doesn't mean I classify the writing as garbage, it just means it was process writing that was inevitable on the road to making it work. It's just work-in-not-quite-as-fast-progress-as-I'd-hoped.
Actually, I rarely think all that differently, in global terms, about a piece the next day from how I thought about it when I was writing it. I'll certainly make a note today, on yesterday's work, that says "Is this really boring?" or "Not convinced she'd do this", but that's not calling it garbage, that's just me being a writer. But it'll probably still file clearly under the same works/doesn't-work heading. Obviously there are a hundred things that I'll change in revising when I do come to revise it weeks or months later: it may not look very much at all as it did yesterday. But essentially I'm still inside the bubble, and my only judgements are about the detail of how well it is or isn't fulfilling my sense of what the bubble is, until I've finished the first draft of the whole project, and slapped it into rough shape.
That's when I start making judgements about whether it works overall - whether this project was worth doing - whether the
project is too lumpy/quiet/melodramatic/trivial/obvious/obscure/badly structured/long(it's never too short!)/meandering/abrupt... And the judgement can still be that I was spectacularly wrong, and it's time for a total rebuild. So be it; you buy Scrivener and get on with it.
But even that happening shouldn't persuade a writer that what they write is garbage: just that they haven't made this piece work yet. That happening persuaded me many years ago that I'm slow and stupid, it's true, but I've learnt to live with that.