the Anne Rice wank
Sep. 27th, 2003 11:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rmApparently, Ms. Rice made a recent statement on her website or something to her fans about how she never writes drafts and how after her third book she began to refuse comments from her editor, insisting that her stories be published in their so-called pure form.
I've read the statement (which has been predictably re-posted all over the web since then), and I have to say, I'm somewhat amused by how deeply, deeply irritated I am, in part, of course, because her books were maybe the first thing that made me understand that art can and would change my life for really weird reasons, all the time.
But it's not just that. It's that I can think of two authors who have spoken publicly and at length about the fact that the people/characters/etc they write are outside things that they have relationships with, and Anne Rice is one. (The far more cryptic Steve Erickson and his Sally Hemmings is the other). So for me, who is more often hijacked by a story someone else seems to need to tell, than someone who applies herself diligently to a plan, Ms. Rice was something of an early justification to my own madness.
I read the Vampire Lestat at twelve, on a dare, as vampires were one of my childhood terrors. And I found in it several things that mattered to me -- a) strong emotion as a non-negative trait (I was often accused of "just acting" whenever I was emotional as a child and I was a very emotional and sensative child, b) ambiguous gender and sexuality, c) grace and d) the fine tension in the need for companionship among the solitary. And yes, it was pulp! And so bloody what for that?1
It's hardly why I became a writer, or a performer. Nor did it do much to change me really. But it made me less lonely, and more importantly taught me techniques to always be less lonely.
I work hard at what I do. Damn hard and I still don't even think that's approaching hard enough. Afterall, I'm sitting here typing this instead of something else, instead of repairing a set right now, instead of singing scales, instead of learning a monologue, instead of finding the perfect hair and makeup and wardrobe look for an audition, instead of working out. It's _never_ ever hard enough. And I'm just as serious, and perhaps a lot more reverent about writing.
I am tempted to say I don't use drafts either -- but in this day and age who does? -- you write, you correct, you write, you correct, in one constantly evolving document -- but for the love of god, you're still fucking drafting. If I'm working on something for professional publication, you're damn right I want an editor, and a copy editor (a phrase Anne Rice feels the inexplicable need to always render in quotes), and I certainly draft and redraft my stuff a gazillion times.
I understand, especially when writing emotionally close stuff, wanting to keep it in its so-called pure form. But that's if you're writing for you. And if you're writing to publish, guess what? You're not writing for you. You're writing for the audience. And they come first. And if you don't believe that, you should be doing something else. Save your unedited drafts for your private analysis and make sure you give your audience the best bloody product you can (which granted, occassionally won't need editing, it's happened to everyone once or twice).
Now, for those of us who write as the muse or the ghost or the demon or the "I don't know there was just a thingy there!" speaks through us -- we still need to edit. These things, whether they be real and true or not, are just as falliable, self-agrandizing, grammatically incorrect and haywire as our own selves. Often moreso. They are liars and tricksters, with agendas, peculiar slang, malapropisms and obsessions, and even more than a wayward author, are less prone to give a shit about the audience. It's our job as writers to fix that -- and that means both drafts and editors -- out of respect for the audience, for the so-called voices, and for ourselves.
Anne Rice's assertions on the subject are lazy and mad. And I find the whole thing more than a little pathetic.
I've read the statement (which has been predictably re-posted all over the web since then), and I have to say, I'm somewhat amused by how deeply, deeply irritated I am, in part, of course, because her books were maybe the first thing that made me understand that art can and would change my life for really weird reasons, all the time.
But it's not just that. It's that I can think of two authors who have spoken publicly and at length about the fact that the people/characters/etc they write are outside things that they have relationships with, and Anne Rice is one. (The far more cryptic Steve Erickson and his Sally Hemmings is the other). So for me, who is more often hijacked by a story someone else seems to need to tell, than someone who applies herself diligently to a plan, Ms. Rice was something of an early justification to my own madness.
I read the Vampire Lestat at twelve, on a dare, as vampires were one of my childhood terrors. And I found in it several things that mattered to me -- a) strong emotion as a non-negative trait (I was often accused of "just acting" whenever I was emotional as a child and I was a very emotional and sensative child, b) ambiguous gender and sexuality, c) grace and d) the fine tension in the need for companionship among the solitary. And yes, it was pulp! And so bloody what for that?1
It's hardly why I became a writer, or a performer. Nor did it do much to change me really. But it made me less lonely, and more importantly taught me techniques to always be less lonely.
I work hard at what I do. Damn hard and I still don't even think that's approaching hard enough. Afterall, I'm sitting here typing this instead of something else, instead of repairing a set right now, instead of singing scales, instead of learning a monologue, instead of finding the perfect hair and makeup and wardrobe look for an audition, instead of working out. It's _never_ ever hard enough. And I'm just as serious, and perhaps a lot more reverent about writing.
I am tempted to say I don't use drafts either -- but in this day and age who does? -- you write, you correct, you write, you correct, in one constantly evolving document -- but for the love of god, you're still fucking drafting. If I'm working on something for professional publication, you're damn right I want an editor, and a copy editor (a phrase Anne Rice feels the inexplicable need to always render in quotes), and I certainly draft and redraft my stuff a gazillion times.
I understand, especially when writing emotionally close stuff, wanting to keep it in its so-called pure form. But that's if you're writing for you. And if you're writing to publish, guess what? You're not writing for you. You're writing for the audience. And they come first. And if you don't believe that, you should be doing something else. Save your unedited drafts for your private analysis and make sure you give your audience the best bloody product you can (which granted, occassionally won't need editing, it's happened to everyone once or twice).
Now, for those of us who write as the muse or the ghost or the demon or the "I don't know there was just a thingy there!" speaks through us -- we still need to edit. These things, whether they be real and true or not, are just as falliable, self-agrandizing, grammatically incorrect and haywire as our own selves. Often moreso. They are liars and tricksters, with agendas, peculiar slang, malapropisms and obsessions, and even more than a wayward author, are less prone to give a shit about the audience. It's our job as writers to fix that -- and that means both drafts and editors -- out of respect for the audience, for the so-called voices, and for ourselves.
Anne Rice's assertions on the subject are lazy and mad. And I find the whole thing more than a little pathetic.
