I may be the last fiction writer in the world to crack open Steven King’s On Writing. It’s not that I’ve been snubbing it. I like Steven King. He seems like a nice guy, and he can tell a powerful story with the simplest of means–which is not by any stretch as easy as it looks. Let’s just say that every time I intended to get down to it, life got in the way.
But this past weekend promised to be relatively free, so I decided to take advantage of it–until I read the following, in the “Second Foreword”:
“This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit. Fiction writers, present company included, don’t understand very much about what they do–not why it works when it’s good, not why it doesn’t when it’s bad. I figured the shorter the book, the less the bullshit.”
Bullshit? Gosh, I haven’t written a book on writing, but this blog, young as it is, has already piled up quite a bit of verbiage…
Does that mean it’s bullshit? I thought I’d been helping folks by actually giving them ways to think about what they were trying to do, conceptual tools, techniques, and measures to boost their skill and confidence.
Would my students who have gone on to publish their own novels claim they don’t know what they’re doing and that that’s a good thing? Or, as King implies, would there be something shady if the reverse were true? Would they be frauds, bullshit artists?
Yo, Steven King: do you really think I’ve been pulling everybody’s string all these years? What’s with you, man? You’re productive, you’re rich. Why celebrate ignorance?
By the way, lest anyone think I’ve got a personal thing going here about Steven King, let me end on a note of praise. Whether or not he claims knowledge, the guy can write. Listen to this brushstroke of description–what it felt like to be stung by a bee (at age 2):
“The pain was brilliant, like a poisonous inspiration.” I cannot tell you how many ways I like that little sentence.
But what about this notion that you shouldn’t KNOW? That somehow understanding why what you just did works (or doesn’t) is off base? Is writing the only art or craft that’s mired in reverence for this sacred cow notion of strategic ignorance? You certainly don’t see it in homerun hitters, 3-pointer specialists, tennis pros, solo musicians. Why is it writing, that cloaks itself in robes of mystification?
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