writer's block | CW Hawes

Get It Right The First Time

For those who know and read science fiction, you know what a giant Harlan Ellison was and still is in that genre. Even if you’ve never read anything by Ellison, you know the name.

Ellison was born 27 May 1934 in the city I grew up in: Cleveland, Ohio. He died on 27 June 2018 at the age of 84 in Los Angeles, California. His first publishing credits came in 1949 and started a long and prolific career.

Ellison was born too late to be part of the pulp magazine scene, as the pulp mags were dying out about the time he started his writing career. Yet the way in which he worked was very much in the manner of the pulp fiction writers.

I must confess that I haven’t read any of Ellison’s work. By the time I became acquainted with his name, my reading of science fiction was on the wane. However, I was very interested in an article Eric Leif Davin sent out to the members of PulpMags@groups.io on Ellison’s work habits. Because I’m very much interested in why some writers are able to maintain high quality and yet be exceedingly prolific in their output, and how is it they are so prolific in the first place.

One of the things that creative writing teachers teach and the publishing industry itself promotes is the virtue of re-writing. Yet virtually every prolific writer does not re-write. They simply don’t have time. They get it right the first time. Or at least mostly so.

Mr Davin began his article noting two points about Ellison’s writing:

Harlan Ellison produced first drafts quickly, and there was nothing careless or thoughtless about them. If you’d like to read one of his first drafts, just read any of his stories. What you see is what he wrote, first time, last time.

Harlan Ellison was a fast writer and did not re-write. He got the story right the first time. In this, he was no different than such prolific wordsmiths as William Wallace Cook, Edgar Wallace, Hugh B Cave, H Bedford-Jones, Max Brand, or Dean Wesley Smith (although Smith calls himself a three-draft writer).

Mr Davin goes on in his article to say how he watched Harlan Ellison sit in a bookstore window and type a story from start to finish from noon to five each day. Ellison had been doing that for a week. At the end of the day, Ellison would give the typescript to one of the bookstore clerks who would duplicate it and give a copy to whoever wanted one if the person bought $10 worth of books. Davin got a copy and when the story was published, verified not a single word had been changed from the typescript. And Mr Davin was not alone in this assertion. Editor and author Ted White confirmed that this was how Ellison worked.

Five hours, one story. That’s prolific. Five hours, one story, no re-writing. That’s knowing what you want to write about.

It’s my opinion that we writers listen to the advice of people who do not make their living by writing fiction. We accept as sacred shibboleths the words of creative writing teachers who make their money by teaching — but generally have few or no publishing credits of any consequence to their name. As George Bernard Shaw wrote: those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.

For myself, I’d rather listen to those who know the business. They are themselves writers and writers who make money from their writing. People like Dean Wesley Smith, or H Bedford-Jones, or William Wallace Cook, or Erle Stanley Gardner. Or Harlan Ellison.

Mr Davin wrote that after sitting in the bookstore window for five hours typing, Ellison was eager to talk to people and would answer questions.

A female reporter from a local college newspaper asked him the first question: “Why do you write just one draft?”

“Because I get it right the first time,” Harlan answered.

Mr Davin went on to note:

After a few others asked similar questions, I ventured my own: “Are there any circumstances under which you can’t write?”

“Absolutely none,” Harlan replied. “If you’re a true writer, you can write under any conditions…in the middle of a party, riding in a car, in a store window, anywhere.”

That is an amazing statement. A true writer can write anywhere.

As I write this, I’m putting Ellison’s statement to the test. I’m visiting my dad who likes to listen to music and is hard of hearing, even with his hearing aids.

I certainly don’t want to tell the old guy that he can’t listen to his music because I’m writing and like it quiet when I write. And I certainly don’t want to have a non-productive week by not writing. Nor do I want to insult him by putting in my ear plugs and donning my ear muffs to keep out the noise.

So I just write. And you know what? Ellison was right.

Mr Davin complicated his question with a follow up. Outlining an impossible writing situation; at least impossible for most of us. Ellison responded:

“You can write one paragraph, or one sentence, sitting by yourself on the toilet. If you do that every time you go to the bathroom, it adds up. Or you can go into a closet, shut the door, turn on a light, and write. Proust wrote “Remembrance of Things Past” in a small closet. It was cork-lined to keep out the noise, but it was a closet.

A writer writes. And, if you really are a writer, nothing can stop you. You’ll write anywhere, under any conditions, you’ll just do it. It’s that simple.”

So what can we take away from Mr Davin’s article on Harlan Ellison’s writing?

I think it is this:

- - Writers write. They don’t make excuses. They just write.
  - Writers don’t need to re-write. They just need to get it right the first time.
  - Write fast. By writing quickly, one captures the muse’s inspiration before it evaporates. The work generated from the creative side of the brain is always better than the work from the critical side of the brain.

I know writers, including some who are to me very dear people, who spend more time giving excuses for not writing than they spend in writing. Now I can understand that. Because I was one of them.

But I broke out of that self-defeating dynamic thanks to an article by Lawrence Block in Writer’s Digest. It was the most valuable advice I ever got out of that magazine. We procrastinate, make excuses, for a reason. Find the reason, conquer it, and you will no longer procrastinate.

I no longer procrastinate. I did so because I was afraid of failure and affirming my parents’s opinion of me that I’d never make it as a writer.

I got rid of that fear once I realized that what they thought didn’t matter. I discovered that only what I thought mattered. Since coming to that realization, I’ve been writing like a crazy man. And I’ve discovered that there are people out there who like what I write. The naysayers are rarely right.

Ellison was on the money: writer’s write.

Ellison was also on the money when he said: no writer needs to re-write. Just get it right the first time.

I can say that I am mostly there. My first draft is basically the story. I do some tweaking and minor editing, but nothing major is ever changed. One does not need to re-write to make the story better. Write in the heat of the creative brain. And follow Heinlein: don’t re-write (that is, keep the critical brain out of it), unless an editor tells you to.

I found Mr Davin’s article to be profoundly inspirational. Harlan Ellison was living proof that all those sacred shibboleths are merely words. Follow them if you want. But you don’t have to. And you might end up a better writer if you don’t.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy one-draft writing!

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H Bedford-Jones

H Bedford-Jones was one of the most prolific writers of his era. His only rival was the equally prolific Fredrick Faust (aka Max Brand).

During his 40 year career, HBJ sold 231 novels, 21 novellas, 372 novelettes, and 748 short stories — more, or less. We write “more, or less” because HBJ used so many pen names it is difficult to pin down with exactness everything he wrote and got published.

After his death, however, his name, along with those of many of his fellow pulp fictioneers, faded into oblivion.

Thankfully, the renewed interest in the fiction of the pulp era is restoring the reputations of the many fabulous writers that era produced.

Consequently, we can now find many of H Bedford-Jones’s works back in print.

One of the most enjoyable books I read last year was HBJ’s lost race novel The Buddha’s Elephant, published in 1916 in All Around Magazine, under his Allan Hawkwood byline. The book is a rousing adventure yarn that is thrilling and suspenseful.

HBJ, because of his prolificity, was dubbed “The King of the Pulps”. His prolificity also earned him during the 1920s $60,000 to $100,000 per year. Which in today’s money would be equal to a few million dollars in purchasing power.

What was the key to his prolificity, and the key to his popularity? Let’s take a look at each in turn and see if we can’t find some clues.

Prolificity

What I’ve gleaned from HBJ’s book This Fiction Business and from information in King of the Pulps: the life and writings of H Bedford-Jones by Ruben, Richardson, and Berch, HBJ viewed writing as a job. In fact, it was his job. He had no other source of income. Writing was it. Consequently, if he wanted to eat, he had to write.

HBJ was not a good record keeper. One of the reasons why we aren’t sure what his total output actually was.

The estimate is that HBJ wrote at least 25 million words in his 40 year career. That means he wrote on average 625,000 words or more per year, or about 1712 words per day at a minimum.

On a good day, I can write those 1712 words in an hour and a half. However, HBJ advised writers to work 4 to 5 hours a day at just writing, and the rest of the work day reading or studying. He limited writing to four or five hours, because writing is exhausting work, and he felt we should protect ourselves from exhaustion.

My guess is that HBJ wrote far more than 1712 words in a day, at least up until a heart attack left him in poor health. In fact, he advised writers to write between 5,000 and 10,000 words per day.

Nevertheless, if you start at age 25 writing 1712 words per day — you will have your 25 million words by the time you are 65. The same as HBJ.

Another key to HBJ’s prolificity was that he did not let writer’s block get in his way. He had four typewriters loaded with stories in progress. If he got stuck on one, he just moved over to another machine.

I do the same thing and I can tell you — it works!

HBJ also wrote in series. Doing so speeds production because you don’t need to think about scene or setting. The world of the story is set — just start writing.

Popularity

In his day HBJ was exceedingly popular. What was the key to his success?

It lay in avoiding what HBJ called The Deadly Sin. That is, “The lack of perception as to what must be emphasized…”.

How does this lack of perception manifest itself? By not letting the reader follow and share the emotions of the hero in detail. By skimming over the crucial conflicts — by not sharing the details of the hero’s thoughts and feelings with the reader. To quote HBJ:

The reader wants the situation prolonged in proportion to its bigness, or at least emphasized: even though it passes in a moment’s time.

Let the reader share in the agonies and the ecstasies of the hero. Don’t gloss over them.

I recently read three books by a writer who is very high up on the Amazon charts. I read them because even though they were loaded with PC pandering (which I don’t like), he didn’t commit The Deadly Sin.

And neither did HBJ.

Therefore, I got to experience the ups and downs the main character experienced in both writer’s books.

Lessons Learned

H Bedford-Jones was a giant among the writers of his day. He was prolific and he was popular.

So what can this man who died in 1949 teach us today about This Fiction Business? I think it is two-fold:

- Plant butt in chair and write. Write like your supper depends on it. 5000 to 10,000 words per day needs to be your goal, according to HBJ.
- Don’t cheat your readers. Let them freely and fully experience the main character’s emotions. Give the reader a powerful vicarious experience.

H Bedford-Jones should be on every writer’s reading list. If you want to be a successful writer, he is a fine exemplar to follow.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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The Joy of Creativity

There is nothing more satisfying than being a Creator, or being around Creators. There’s an indescribable electricity when Creatives are together. The experience is exhilarating.

Last week, my wife and I were on Madeline Island. She was enrolled in a plein air oil painting workshop. I tagged along to be pack horse, and encourager, and to do some writing.

If you don’t know, Madeline Island is the largest island in the Apostle Islands chain, off the coast of Wisconsin, in Lake Superior. The island is beautifully wooded and possesses some fabulous views of the largest of the Great Lakes.

Aside from the plein air workshop, there was a workshop for mixed media and another one for quilters.

To be with so many Creatives all in one setting was supremely stimulating. I had a blast interacting with the artists and the tag along spouses.

I got in some extensive walking, worked on a novel (part of a new series I intend to launch next year), sketched out 3 story ideas (which were provided by some of the artists) and wrote a haiku.

The advice is legendary: if you feel stuck in your writing (or any other creative endeavor), go on a trip. The change of scenery stimulates the creative juices. With last week in mind, I’d add: go on a trip with other Creatives who are not in your field of interest.

Seeing the way oil painters view and interpret the world provided me with new insights.

Those new insights ramped up my own creative energy. Those new insights took me back to the time when I experimented with haiga, a Japanese art form that links a picture and a poem together to form a whole creative expression. Hence the haiku, the traditional poetic form used in haiga.

In addition, those new insights and the conversations I had with the artists gave me some new fiction ideas.

I came home from the island with my Creativity supercharged.

Writing is, for me, like breathing. I can’t live without it. Shoot, I love writing the grocery list! Part of the excitement is the tactile experience. Holding the pencil. The feel of the soft lead as it glides across the paper. The texture of the paper. Or the feel of the fountain pen or dip pen holder. The movement of the pen point across the paper. Watching the ink or graphite form my thoughts into words, words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs. It’s an experience that’s better than magic.

Creatives are relatively rare, which is why I think so many people want to be a Creative. Creatives, though, are gifted. They are a breed apart. They cannot ever not create.

In every culture, the deities that are worshipped are Creators. Which is an indication to me that Creators are held in high regard by all cultures. They are special. Divine, as it were.

People may emulate Creators. They may even master a creative medium. But if they are not Creators, heart and soul, they will ultimately lose interest.

Rainer Maria Rilke, in the first letter of Letters to a Young Poet, advised that the one who wants to create must first look deep within and ask the question, “Must I write, paint, sculpt, throw pots, blow glass, etc, etc.”

If the answer is yes, then Rilke says you must structure your entire life so that you can create. If the answer comes back, no, this is not a must — then go and do something else. There is no shame in this. We must all do what we were meant to do. Don’t become frustrated trying to do what was not meant for you to do.

I love writing. I loved it before going to Madeline Island, and I love it even more for having been there.

Many, many thanks to the Madeline Island School of the Arts (MISA) and the beautiful people at the workshop (my wife included!) who reconfirmed what I’ve always wanted to do with my life.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy creating!

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