Dear J-
It feels like it’s been a solid week since I wrote in the mornings, but of course that’s not true; if you’re supposed to practice one thing and do it well, that means getting used to a routine, or, more succinctly, write every day, write something new, write consistently. I dunno; that strikes me as being counterintuitive: as Gurney Halleck, one of Paul Atriedes’s mentors from Dune would have it, there are some skills you can’t turn off (like fighting) just because you’re not in the mood. I like to think that writing is one of them, but you have to have a topic.
Inspiration is serendipity; skills and tools, on the other hand, need regular sharpening. I suppose that’s what I’m doing with homework out of the book for the exam, whether or not it has anything to do with actual test questions. If you’re supposed to be practicing as part of simulating actual exam conditions, well, I’m going to have to drag the cat along to sit on my feet and pipe in recordings of figgy yelling for us to come into her room and find something she dropped under the bed. Oh, and start the exam at 10PM, when my eyes can hardly stay open, let alone reason out a path to the solution. There’s a lot happening now compared to the last time I was preparing for a test, but some things are oddly familiar — the darkness, the hours spent honing skills.
People say you have to develop an eye for photography, which is nothing more than visualizing a scene before you take it. I suppose the equivalent writing skill is knowing where you’ll be by the end (and for as much as I write, I can’t seem to make that click) and removing everything else that doesn’t contribute to the story. Both may be iterative, creative processes, and both definitely demand feedback, which I’ve been demonstrably remiss in sending; I subscribe to several Leica digests* but haven’t been brave enough to submit any pictures for fear of getting ripped to shreds — there’s one guy on there, Dr. Ted Grant, who’s got a keen eye and a teacher’s heart, tempering praise with liberal amounts of suggestions**. It’s the only way to get better, I suppose.
Mike
* You’d think that the Leica digests would be full of insecure dentists both proud that they’ve gotten the jewel-like lenses and bodies and worried that their skills aren’t up to the task. Being a recovering Nikon guy, I used to see them that same way, after all. I’m happy to say that I was wrong, as the Leica folks are full of lively discussion and an un-smug certainty that they’ve got the best equipment in the business; from my limited exposure to the magic glass, I have to agree.
** This is the assertion that practice doesn’t make perfect, but perfect practice does make perfect. Alternatively, think of it in hockey terms: keep your head up and stop admiring your passes.