Upon the subject of writing fiction

Upon the subject of writing fiction.

By Edith Hat

 

   When I first began upon this website, I had visions of displaying my own writing.  ‘My Love Story.’  ‘My Poetry’.  ‘My biting political analysis’.  However, I have discovered, through both the reading of others and discussion with several writers, that I am indeed dreadful.

   I seek no false reassurance, nor entreaties to publish.  It is a bald fact that I am a dreadful writer of fiction.  While in my mind, I create unparalleled worlds of love, devotion, self-sacrifice and passion, in actuality the works read more akin to a knitting pattern.

   Having engaged upon a course of action however, it is not within my nature to disengage from the conflict.  My husband sees this as a strength.  Mine employee, a character flaw.  Obviously I chose to accredit my husband with more astute observation that my lackey.  Therefore I shall continue to practice the process until I achieve an item I deem suitable for publication here.  In betwixt times I shall continue with commentaries, partly to gain a degree of practice in typing for an audience, and partly to annoy mine employee.  The later a suitable rationale enough.

   I have come to notice, during my short time within this website, two notable areas of concentration.  Firstly that for every single talented writer, there are at least ten absolutely dreadful ones.  Some, I would go so far as to say sodomise the English language, whilst claiming a geographical distance from England sufficient reason to misspell a simple word such as ‘colour’.  Surely it cannot be that difficult for supposedly educated people to place an extra vowel into the correct position.

   I have great respect for several writers who have chosen to take risks with style, form and structure.  Things I cannot do myself.  Ladies and Gentlemen who choose not to follow the rules, rather set out to break them.  I have significantly less respect for the rest who seem either to be plagiarising other authors, or engage upon an on line copulation, through alleged erotic that frankly is about as stimulating as weak, milky tea.

    Yet, even the ‘Porno People’, as mine employee insists upon calling them, are able to construct a workable fiction that, be it good or bad, is better than mine own.  It would be delightful however if they refrained from trying to draw me into their little games.  If I want sex, my Husband is only too willing and able to oblige.  In addition, his touch is real, not imagined.

   I have fallen into discussion of late with mine employee.  A most appalling man, who, nevertheless, has some skill with words and story construction.  Putting it bluntly, a story requires some form of beginning, middle and end.  While artistic pretention may allow one to mix these three elements to a degree, they are considered good form.  My issue, it seems, appears to be in the construction of the middle section.  While able to establish a base line for the opening, and a final summation, the mid-section escapes me.   It seems a redundancy. 

   A man and woman meet upon a train.  They talk, and realise they have a lot in common.  They fall head over heels in love with each other.  A year later they marry.  A simple story.  Why should I be compelled to create a fiction where some sort of tension occurs to jeopardise their relationship?  Frankly the only friction I can ascertain may occur is what colour to paint the Hallway.  After all, that is what happened.  My husband and I have not had a single cross word in thirty six years, bar that on the breakfast table and whenever we try to agree upon a colour scheme.  Obviously, during that time, he has learned to defer to myself.

   Why does a relationship require friction to work?  If one reads the ‘work’ of XXXXXXX, one see’s nothing but friction.  A continual stream of foul mouthed aggression.  I feel comfortable in discussing his work as we have become friends of sorts, and he is well aware of my views upon his style.  A perfectly loathsome writer, but a tolerable person.  Where is the humour in the use of profanity?  Where is the humour in physical assault?  I despise slapstick in the cinema.  What is funny about being hit by a custard tart?  A waste of good food.  My Nanny would have been appalled.

   My Husband has not had a single cross word to say to me since I informed him of our engagement.  So again, I ask the question, ‘Why must Fiction rely upon Friction?’  Even Damnable Jane Austen allows it to slink in upon its belly.  Frankly I see more than enough friction in my day to day working life.  I do not require that I experience it upon a daily basis within my reading at home.

   Mine Employee does not agree.  Consequently I have sent him upon a nice little trip to Afghanistan.  The change of scenery will do him good, and teach him that I do not tolerate argument nor disagreement from people I employ solely for a certain skills base.  Not as an editor, nor reviewer.  Sometimes it is important to chastise those who work for you.

   Perhaps one would be better in writing straightforward reality pieces.  However restrictions prohibit.  Consequently one would consider work more in keeping with a social diarist. 

   However, one must have an open mind to all aspects of society to effectively comment upon it.  According to Mine Employee, during his last interview with myself, I am a ‘Closed Minded Xenophobic Harridan.’   He was somewhat taken aback that I viewed this as a compliment. 

   While I have considered poetry as an art form, I quickly dismissed it, having read a percentage of the quantity that exists upon here.  When encouraged to join this site, as a therapeutic measure against mine retirement, I mistakenly thought a wide cross section of writing styles would be evident.  However, poetry infests the place like scabies.  Of the poetry, one may break it down as follows.

Excellent, approximately 1%.

Good, approximately 9%

Tragic, approximately 25%

Masturbatory 65%

   As, at my best, I would fall into a miniscule percentage of the tragic percentile, of which My Husband referred to as excreta (a comment which has led to him spending the last week sleeping in the spare bedroom, with only a flatulent Siamese for companionship).  Therefore, poetry and I shall maintain a respectful distance from each other, and keep our brief dalliances to simple voyeurism of the one percentile.

    I therefore shall content myself with reading, commenting and perhaps attempting more of this form of, well, one could call it ‘commentary’.  Partly because it kills the loathsome hours that were once taken by work, but now endlessly drift ahead as spiteful retirement.  It also serves to irritate mine employee.  This is not an opportunity to be wasted.  Loathsome man that he is.

Reviews

[Baban.A.A]

well to be honest I did not want to read at first, but bit by bit got to figure out there is some author like tone in it that captivated me to go on. well as you don't post writing has a good and bad sides, for you don't get honest replies and for you see your writing read by people. I believe what you shared here in this article is essential to us mini authors to realize where we are. unfortunatley, which I have no right to blame anyone, people all write, but only few has got the talent to write and that is what I awe and dread to find, Am I in? if not somebody just tell me because it is not worthy to worth something to your life while you are not at all good at it. I believe passion for writing isnot in everyone, but it is likiness to write like anyone else. thanks and sorry for being too long

[Distantview123]

Some delightful, dry wit in this entertaining write. Anyone can write poetry (I do, so there's your proof!), but not everyone could write as cleverly and as entertainingly as you do here. Satire walks hand-in-hand with truth, of course, and I enjoyed my little walk in your satirical garden of literature here. Regards, Robert.

[Chris]

"more astute observation that my lackey" - that or than?

I'm glad I paused here. I wish there were more to read.

Take care,
Chris

[Muse]

Addressing the cranky bored old woman...looking to give us all a hard time. Maybe you are just in need of a diaper change?

;)


You wrote:

Firstly that for every single talented writer, there are at least ten absolutely dreadful ones.

Do they call themselves writers? God tell me I'm not on that list....actually yes tell me now so that I may die with some dignity!

At least eliminate me from the 65%. ?

[Leslie Philibert]

Like this a lot, and you write with great wisdom and truth. I hope you not only review but write too as you have proved here you have a great sense of fun, irony and, may I say it...a wicked sense of humour. You are right, not all of the poetry here is great but I have learned to look for the positive and encourage the many young poets I wouldn`t worry too much if our American friends write color instead of colour. The standard of spelling and punctuation here is good compared to other poetry sites.So carry on writing, I look forward to reading more...

[Mrs Edith Hat]

Thank you very much Mr Philbert. From an author of your skill, the kindness is most appreciated

[Dr. Wood ?]

Pretty good report...I like to think that my poetry is a little different..not necessarily better, than most...Check me out...have a laugh

[Mrs Edith Hat]

I have sir, and I did. Most impressed

[Samuel Dickens]

Whatever you think of "Upon the Subject of Writing" , I found it clever, insightful, and quite entertaining. Too bad you're such a "failure". I'm so old, I can't remember if this is something I was told or learned on my own, but it goes like this--"We are our own worst judges".

[Marie]

I looked a long time for your work, believing you would do something special. It was sheerly by accident that I discovered this 'commentary'. You wrote it with excellence. If you can't write fiction or poetry, you can't, and that's all there is to it. Obviously you have another skill, and you have used it here. You are quite right about the poetry on this site. The trite little verses I write don't count. My fiction is very good. I am not into "porno". I fear that happy marriages would be boring, so that is why I've never written about one. Although I did write about an unhappy marriage which became happy...
I don't know how to find your work except accidentally, but I'll certainly look for it.

[Richard Man]

How I love you, oh pale white woman walking through field in gloves. Your diatribe was acerbic, witty and true . Now I am prepared to take it all on the chin ... 1%,9% or 25%?