A Writer for All Seasons

Like you I’m sure, I was touched last week by Kent’s post on the duty of writing an obituary for a hero among our fellowship. While we’ve explored our pioneer efforts to write fiction, I’m reminded of how central writing is in so many ways besides our dream attempt to write the great novel. Which writer among us hasn’t been asked by a friend to proof a letter, help write a resume, or chip in when pulling together a news article for a church group—all of which are really important?

My project du jour is the task of writing/creating/compiling(?) a yearbook. For a technical writer turned literature and composition instructor, this is a new feat. I’ve discovered a few things along the way that actually applies to our writing discussion at large.

Writing as Art
Who knew I would regret taking 17th Century Lit instead of Document Design in grad school? Sadly I need those skills now and am floundering on my own to guess how the human eye consumes a yearbook page.

How does that compare to our writing discussion? When you’re submitting your novel or short story to a potential publisher, you’ve got to think about it in terms of presentation. While Microsoft Word 2007 is selling us on the look and feel of the web (using that weird spacing between paragraphs as its default), I learned years ago that submitting your manuscript as anything other than a straightforward double spaced document is a cardinal sin.

Whatever your writing project, we’ve got to give special attention to its aesthetics in terms of presenting it to the end reader.

Working with Others
For someone who’s never been near the production of a yearbook, I am quick to tell you that the success of this project is a result of many generous friends and students volunteering their skills in graphic design, writing copy, organizing data, and much more.

Though the writer must create his work as a solitary effort, the editor or producer must work with others. Cue the “I need you; you need me” music. Hard as it is to share our work with others, peer revision is crucial. We also need the exchange of ideas, which is why this Word blog exists.

Deadlines
While the yearbook task has been near the top of my list of priorities for months, I had to reach the one-week-countdown before finally “getting with it” on this project. Why is it so hard to work on things when there is not a deadline hanging over our heads?

Is there anyone who actually turns work in early? Every writer I know is like me: wait until the 23rd hour and then frantically and feverishly pull it together in a crazed composition session. I’ve got story ideas, but it’s not until I have a deadline three days away that I actually sit down and make them come to life on paper. Writers: is there a way to better manage deadlines? Or is the stress of deadlines what we need to make us produce documents we otherwise would never write?

All Things Considered
I’m always amazed at the diversity of writing projects thrown at us. Maybe there’s a writer out there who fits neatly into a specific box, but for most of us, we give our writing abilities to whatever latest project our church, job, family, or friends throw at us. The question is merely how do we churn out quality work, no matter the type of work. Perhaps it’s understanding how to create something artistically presentable with the help of others and still meet that looming deadline.

The Obituary (Sunday, 5/18/2008)

This morning I was asked to write an obituary for a great man, literally the platinum standard for lay ministry. I’ve never written an obituary before. The New York Times is famous for their elaborate obituaries, but they’re actually elaborately detailed features on a significant person of our time. My piece is to be read at the funeral service by someone else, so there are several factors to take into consideration as I write.

Many people think because you can write one type of piece, you can automatically write another. I suppose that’s true enough on one level, but frankly, I’m useless if I don’t have an emotional connection to the subject. The internet is now overwhelmed with sites promising to pay if you’ll crank out short “How To” in a step-by-step process. I can’t do that. If I don’t care at some deep, motivating level, my sentences become wooden and disconnected. Nothing happens on the screen no matter how I clutter it up with letters.

A Refusal to Repeat
I suppose that’s also why I can rarely write well on the same subject—or sometimes more than once. (I would make an atrocious radio talk show host.) Case in point: When Bro. Lonnie Brown retired from Bible Quizzing in 2005, dozens of his former quizzers and associates were asked to write up a memory for a scrapbook. A memory. I wrote a four page joyride through 28 years of overlapping memories. His wife loved it. His kids loved it. When he was eventually given the scrapbook, He loved it.

Two years later, the family hosted a special party for his 60^th birthday and contacted dozens of people to write up a memory for a scrapbook. I couldn’t do it; 30 years of overlapping memories and I felt like I had nothing to say. I started and stopped a couple times. I turned in nothing. I still feel guilty about that, but I had said everything in my heart already. The birthday piece would be a joyless sequel.

The Choices I Make
I finished Bro. Brown’s obituary a few minutes ago. I decided to go The New York Times route, adding commentary and color around the undeniable facts. In the morning, I’ll go over it again to make sure it reads well, then send it off to the family for their approval.

Yet I’m not sure I could write another obituary ever again. I want to say something besides words when I write. Better not to speak otherwise.