Re: how to get published

Camille Scaysbrook (verona_beach@hotpop.com)
Tue, 28 Sep 1999 14:04:58 +1000 

A perfect circle, eh? It's interesting that you mention this as my last
novel had this as its unifying theme - the idea of the unbroken whole of
equality or perfection. If and when my novel gets published (six figure
deal or otherwise), naturally you're all getting a copy (but Scottie I
shall demand one of yours in return. I will resist the temptation to
auction it to bananafish although I'm sure it would earn me a tidy profit
(: ).

I used to go to a writer's forum at a small theatre where some of my plays
have been performed. There was a man there who had enthusiasm, time and
inclination in absolute barrel loads; even connections were forthcoming.
But he had not a single jot of talent. Not a bit. And that was so
dreadfully heartbreaking to me, because talent is one of those rare
intangibles like love, that have to seep up out of the ether of their own
accord, you can't earn it or work towards it. As far as I can see talent is
like a small wayward child you have to feed and groom and keep in good
order because there's little else you can do to control it. So I guess what
you're saying is that you're lucky to have custody of the little blighter
in the first place and that should be enough. No one learns to draw a
perfect circle, one is born with the ability. 

But what I am trying to battle now is the tendency to *try* to draw a
perfect circle rather than just closing my eyes and letting it rip. I'm
trying not to let the doubts, calculations and delusions push my pencil
this way and that. I am trying to pretend that each piece of writing will
not determine my future career, trying not to think `I need a one act play
up by this time next year, I need to write a novel and get my name out by
the age of 22'. I think the best thing for me now would be to write a whole
novel and then burn it; to know that I will not be assessed on my
performance every step of the way. I'm sure Salinger would be the first to
say how tragic and paradoxical it is that the one system that has been put
in place to facilitate your writing can also be the one that warps what
made it so virtuous in the first place. I think I have to get myself into a
nice sunny secluded room and draw circles to my heart's content for a
while.

Ah what a whingey lot us writers are (:

Camille
verona_beach@hotpop.com

>     Dear Camille, 
> 
>     One or two others of the crew have been moaning about 
>     the number of days at sea.  But not, thank God, you.  
>     (Incidentally, what kind of a boat do they think 
>     this galley is?  H.M.Y. Brittania?)
> 
>     So I shan't offer you any comfort - which is, after all, 
>     the most undermining thing you can ever do to anyone.  
>     Perhaps I could remind you, though, what a lucky little 
>     koala you are.  None of the other saps can even imagine 
>     doing what you & I do every day of our lives.  Most of 
>     them don't even know what you're talking about.  
>     'Seven?' they say. 'She's not writing children's stories, is she?'
> 
>     Remember Giotto?  He could draw the perfect circle, 
>     just like that, without even concentrating.  The rest of 
>     the town used to come round & they'd say: 'Go on Giotto, 
>     do it again.'  And he would oblige.  And they'd say: 
>     'Gee, Giotto, how do you do it?'  And Giotto would say: 
>     'It's easy.' 
> 
>     That session in the A&E sounds a little dispiriting.  
>     Don't let it get you down, baby.  All shall be well.  
>     And never forget Winston: Let us so brace ourselves 
>     to our duty ...
> 
>     Scottie 
>