Paul Whybrow
Full Member
I'm currently reading Writers' Vault Of Gold, the free download available on The Bestseller Experiment website. Written by Mark Stay and Mark Desvaux, they interviewed many famous authors about their writing lives, including one of my heroes John Connolly.
He has a pragmatic approach to the writing process, which he thinks comes from his training as a newspaper journalist constantly faced with deadlines. In closing, he recommends the power of having a deep-seated need to prove something to the world as motivation for being a writer:
Never underestimate the power of a chip on your shoulder. I’ve been told by my father that
people like us don’t become writers, we work for the council. When I worked for the Irish
Times I was told I’d be an okay hack in the end. Never underestimate the power of proving
people wrong. I’d like to say something more positive than that, but contented people never
really do anything. In my creative life, contentment is the enemy of all things. Prove people
wrong. Prove that you can be a writer.
I previously posted a thread on the theme of why we write, but, I hadn't really considered anger as an element of what inspires me to be a writer. It's certainly there, if only because I'd have been mad at myself if I hadn't sat down to write all of the stories buzzing around inside my head—giving form to the 'but what ifs?' at the core of many plots. I wouldn't want to be on my deathbed regretting never having written a book.
Also, there's an element of wanting to prove people wrong, to show that I've got the tenacity to see a book project all of the way through from an idea to attracting a readership. I've led the life of a wanderer, drifting through a couple of careers and many, many jobs, but of anything that I've done, I enjoy being a writer the most! I've become myself.
To keep at it—to fuel self-motivation—needs lots of grit/determination/bloody-mindedness/anger. As George Bernard Shaw observed:
The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable man persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.
To make a book exist out of thin air requires a writer being unreasonable about how much time and effort they devote to creating a story. It might not change the world much, but you may influence someone who recognises the truth of your words—you've made a human connection.
You've also validated your own existence.
Are you proving anyone wrong by being a writer?
Have you ever got back at anyone by basing a character on them? The closest I came to doing this, was in describing a murderer, the antagonist in The Perfect Murderer, who was loosely based on a long-dead man I'd known. Or, who I'd thought I'd known, for he kept everyone at an arm's length compartmentalising his life with ruthless efficiency. People encountered different versions of him: the golfers described a man unlike that who rubbed shoulders with the church bell-ringers, and neither of these groups knew of his membership of the Freemasons. His chameleon-like nature inspired me to call my serial killer 'The Lizard.' I wasn't so much angry at him, more totally mystified, which made him an ideal basis for a deceitful killer.
I tackle subjects that anger me—refugees and human trafficking, PTSD among war veterans, violence against the vulnerable, homelessness and 'spin doctors' who manipulate people's thinking. I don't 'write angry', but I do try to make readers think about things in a different way.
Do you tackle subjects that make you angry?
(Not me!)
He has a pragmatic approach to the writing process, which he thinks comes from his training as a newspaper journalist constantly faced with deadlines. In closing, he recommends the power of having a deep-seated need to prove something to the world as motivation for being a writer:
Never underestimate the power of a chip on your shoulder. I’ve been told by my father that
people like us don’t become writers, we work for the council. When I worked for the Irish
Times I was told I’d be an okay hack in the end. Never underestimate the power of proving
people wrong. I’d like to say something more positive than that, but contented people never
really do anything. In my creative life, contentment is the enemy of all things. Prove people
wrong. Prove that you can be a writer.
I previously posted a thread on the theme of why we write, but, I hadn't really considered anger as an element of what inspires me to be a writer. It's certainly there, if only because I'd have been mad at myself if I hadn't sat down to write all of the stories buzzing around inside my head—giving form to the 'but what ifs?' at the core of many plots. I wouldn't want to be on my deathbed regretting never having written a book.
Also, there's an element of wanting to prove people wrong, to show that I've got the tenacity to see a book project all of the way through from an idea to attracting a readership. I've led the life of a wanderer, drifting through a couple of careers and many, many jobs, but of anything that I've done, I enjoy being a writer the most! I've become myself.
To keep at it—to fuel self-motivation—needs lots of grit/determination/bloody-mindedness/anger. As George Bernard Shaw observed:
The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable man persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.
To make a book exist out of thin air requires a writer being unreasonable about how much time and effort they devote to creating a story. It might not change the world much, but you may influence someone who recognises the truth of your words—you've made a human connection.
You've also validated your own existence.
Are you proving anyone wrong by being a writer?
Have you ever got back at anyone by basing a character on them? The closest I came to doing this, was in describing a murderer, the antagonist in The Perfect Murderer, who was loosely based on a long-dead man I'd known. Or, who I'd thought I'd known, for he kept everyone at an arm's length compartmentalising his life with ruthless efficiency. People encountered different versions of him: the golfers described a man unlike that who rubbed shoulders with the church bell-ringers, and neither of these groups knew of his membership of the Freemasons. His chameleon-like nature inspired me to call my serial killer 'The Lizard.' I wasn't so much angry at him, more totally mystified, which made him an ideal basis for a deceitful killer.
I tackle subjects that anger me—refugees and human trafficking, PTSD among war veterans, violence against the vulnerable, homelessness and 'spin doctors' who manipulate people's thinking. I don't 'write angry', but I do try to make readers think about things in a different way.
Do you tackle subjects that make you angry?
(Not me!)