Finding Forrester is one of those movies I could devote an entire book to analyzing. There is just so much rich content for a writer to glean advice and inspiration from. Since I covered the main themes in last week's review, I'll use this one to just skim a few of the other bits and bobs that really jumped out at me via the dialog.
“Why are the words we write for ourselves always so
much better than the words we write for others?”
Ain't it the truth? When we intentionally write for a market or to cash in on a trend, why do those tales always seemed so forced, like we're having to literally excavate them from our brains rather than just turn on the faucet and let the words flow? Or maybe it's not that way for you. For me, when I write the kind of story I myself want to read, it tends to almost sprint out of my brain, so much so that the biggest issue is typing or writing fast enough to keep up and not get behind. (For the most part. There are still bouts when I have to fight the words to pin them down on paper for a 3-count.)
“How did it feel having him tell you what you can't
do? ... Then let's show him what you can do.”
There is no greater motivator for me than to have someone tell me I can't do something or write a certain story. That's been my drive from day 1, I just didn't realize it then. I quit a job with a religious organization when they told me I couldn't write a story about a man turning into a woman. After that, I chose a comic book I was told I couldn't do, a dominatrix turned CIA superhero. When the world said you could only write the Klan as the bad guys caught at the end of the story, I told a mystery where an ingenious murderer used them as scapegoats to cover his crime (still acknowledging them as bad guys, of course, just not the murderers).
“I'm writing, like you'll be when you start punching those keys.”
I have to disagree with Forrester here -- but only just a bit. For me writing starts when my brain is pondering the story and the words, not just when the fingers touch the keys. But other than that, I have to agree. As I said in one of the previous reviews, the story in your head doesn't count as a "real" one until it makes it onto the paper (or the digital file, nowadays).
“No thinking; that comes later. You write your first draft with your heart, but you rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is to write, not to think.”
I've heard that thinking is the enemy of writing, but I won't go that far. I will, however, agree that overthinking is the enemy of writing. When you stop to chase stray thoughts (we call them "details" or "research") or to analyze and critique that paragraph we just period'ed and end onto, we break the rhythm, we end flow, we put a stopper in that part of our brains that is telling the story. Sometimes it's impatience -- we just don't want to wait until it's time to edit because that's not nearly as much fun to do. Sometimes it's our minds trying to distract us. (Be careful. That way lies the dreaded "writer's block, I feel.) But the simple truth is this -- writing is writing. Get the words down. Critique 'em later.
“Sometimes the simple rhythm of typing gets us from page one to page
two. And when you begin to feel your own words, start typing them.”
I wonder how many people use throwaway starter sentences just to get their words going. I used to, but now my brain has become conditioned to creating starter sentences that have bearing on my stories. Regardless, having something, some sequence of words, some phrase to start words moving from the mind to the page can often be all that is needed to really start feeling your own words, your own story.
“A lot of writers know the rules about writing, but don't how to write.”
Every time I do an interview with another writer, I always ask the questions, "Where would you rank writing on the 'Is it an art or it is a science continuum?'" While (at least for me) the answer is both, where we put that divide says a lot about us as writers. I've always believed that it's a science, a skill we can learn by repetition and study -- but that approach will only get us so far. That's where art takes over. For every Barishnakov, there are thousands of perfectly good dancers who will never be true masters. And that's okay. So, we all start at the same place -- learning the rules about writing.
Or do we?
For some, we simply begin to write and we start to learn about or thinking about rules later. The rules are simply how to tell the story. They are not the story. The story is key. It's the important part. And until we can move beyond "mere" rules to "story," we won't have mastered storytelling, no matter how many books we've written.
