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A little bit of meta about music and writing
I've been thinking about music, lately. About how I got to where I am, and if I can take what I learned while mastering my instrument and apply it to other things (signs point to yes).
I started playing piano when I was five. I joined band when I was eleven, starting on flute and moving to clarinet pretty easily – and then picking up saxophone for the hell of it. It was easy for an intelligent kid. I find it hilarious that I got out of a ton of General Ed requirements in college because music majors didn't have to have them. Who needs math if you're playing an instrument? Besides, musicians, they're not too bright, right? Au contraire. The best musicians are extremely bright, and have to be, to be able to do what they do.
By the time I hit high school, I'd already realized that I could never be a professional musician – because I didn't feel anything when I played. That wasn't quite true, but I was too young to understand how my teachers had misled me. You see, what I felt was joy. Just pure and simple love of playing my instrument. But I didn't feel sad when I played a sad song, or happy when I played a happy song, so clearly I was defective. I gave up on the idea of playing professionally and, even though I was well on my way to mastery by the time I hit high school, having practiced thousands of hours already, I decided to teach.
It wasn't a tough decision, as I love to teach, but it stung. I was so much better than everyone I knew (small pond, middle Wisconsin), but I could never play professionally because I didn't have the heart.
When I went to Interlochen, an arts camp for the elite, I was at the bottom of the totem pole. So, not only was I not an artist, I was a sucky technician, too. Since I already knew I wasn't going to be a performer, the artist part wasn't a shocker, but the technician part pissed me off. So, I practiced. And what I learned that summer was that if I practiced hard, I could rise in the ranks. I went from second last clarinetist in the whole camp to middle rank of the top band in eight weeks. Not too shabby for a sixteen-year-old who was never going to be a performer.
I was well on my way to becoming a band director when my dad's heart failed, and we found out he needed a heart transplant. It was awful – I was only a year and a half away from college graduation, but there was no way I could be so far from home. I moved back and transferred to the local college, which had a music program. Not a good music program, mind you, but one that conferred Music Ed degrees, so ostensibly one that would suit my needs.
It was another small pond, after I had been out there in an honest to god competitive environment. I was leaps and bounds ahead of everyone around me, and even as I taught them how to be better (the clarinet teacher was a joke), I immediately recognized I couldn't handle more than a semester of that place. Instead, I jumped ship and transferred to a music conservatory almost as close to home. Not somewhere I ever thought I could get in, much less get a scholarship to, but I did. I got a full ride (thanks to my grades, not my performance ability), and that was when things really started to change for me.
My teacher, Fan Lei, had been a child prodigy in China – as a matter of fact, he was only a couple of years older than me when I got there (and only had a master's degree). He was auditioning for the job at the same time I was auditioning to matriculate. He played a short recital and I was astounded to hear someone play so well that wasn't either a huge recording name or in an orchestra somewhere.
He didn't take it easy on us, either. We started over, all our technique suspect. Being smart and diligent came in handy – I practiced every day (only an hour or two, but it was enough), and I 'got' it. I was the one he'd single out to play for the entire clarinet studio. We had a rocky time, but overall, I got better and better, and he began to try to teach me the illusive musicality (artistry for musicians, don't you know). That was tougher. I didn't always get what he meant; I couldn't just practice and eventually get it. That was where intelligence came in. I started to listen to professional recordings, and there were certain things that every clarinetist did. They slowed down at the end of pivotal phrases, they breathed in particular places, they tongued staccato here, legato there. They played with tempo in a particular way.
Once I realized this, that musicianship was really just another set of rules (albeit a far-ranging and incredibly complex set of rules that could sometimes be broken and really depended on your own personal likes and dislikes), I could now perform. I still felt like I wasn't a musician – I was performing music, but I wasn't living it, imbuing it with my soul – but nobody knew that. Not even my teacher. Not even my audience. No one but me.
By the end of conservatory, I was practicing four hours a day, and pretty confident that I could perform anything at all. I still felt like a fraud, though, and even now, I can talk technique with other musicians, but as soon as they talk about musicality, I feel like I'm faking it. I don't know why; I do feel things in music now where I used to feel nothing. I've felt sad or overwhelmed or whimsical when I've performed (and much more often as a listener or audience member), and I know that is the kind of musician I always wanted to be, but it doesn't feel like enough. I think this is why I never continued with music. Even with everything I can do, I feel like I'm faking it.
When a wise friend told me that writing is a craft, everything started to fall into place. I realized that music is a craft too, as much as we think it's some mystical thing that's above and beyond our ken. Music can be taught. I've learned it, I've taught it, I've seen students of mine perform music so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. All it takes is practice. The more you practice, the more all those things you do become second nature, they become part of who you are as a musician, they become so ingrained you don't even realize they're something you did for countless hours in a small room by yourself before the whole world was watching.
And so yes, music is an art, but one based on mastery of a craft. You can't create art until you've put the time in and learned every facet of the craft (and if someone had put it to me that way when I was a kid, I would probably be playing duets with Richard Stoltzman right now).
Writing, I'm finding, is the same. I have moments of transcendence, moments when I feel like something above and beyond is going on – but that's only happened since I mastered some of the basics of the craft.
And now, knowing what I do about the craft of music, I want to apply it to writing. It seems to me if I put some concentrated time into practicing the craft of writing, I should be able to master it. I don't know that I'll ever be able to create art, but I want to give it my best shot, by mastering the craft.
Practice. It's one of those things that's inescapable as a musician. Kids rarely get it, though I've managed to convince one or two with a really good lesson, and adults are hit or miss. Once I started practicing regularly – and by that I mean every day, at least an hour – I saw improvement. And not only did I see marked improvement in the day that I practiced (the difference between the beginning and end of a four hour session was remarkable), I could tell that I was building on it the next day. If I put in the time, even if I was tired, or uninspired, or unhappy, I would get better. There's nothing like improvement to make you just do it.
Music practice involves a few different steps for me. The first two hours are spent on technique. Long tones (to increase breath and get you to listen to yourself), scales and tonguing exercises (to build technique and facility), and études, (to master a specific technique, and be able to perform it within a piece, with musicality, instead of by rote). The next two hours are spent on repertoire. Learning the cornerstones of the repertoire and finding ways to interpret them to make them mine.
This is where I get stuck. I'm not actually planning on writing four hours a day (who has the time?) but I would like to get in an hour or two, and I'd like to make it pay off. Part of that will be the discipline to just do it, which has always been harder for me with writing than with music, probably because wrapped up in my writing instrument is a handy-dandy time-wasting thing known as the internets.
So, long tones. They're a way to see where you are, see if everything's working, and make sure you sound like you want to sound. I'm thinking maybe non-fiction essays. Or maybe just timed writing, like
15_minute_ficlets? They're really just a warm-up to make sure everything is working like it should.
Scales and tonguing are the meat and potatoes of music. They're basis of all classical technique (and, if you do some of the studies I do, more modern technique as well). This is really tough to translate to writing practice. There's so much that goes into good writing. Even just the nuts and bolts are huge: dialogue, description, sentence/paragraph construction, word choice, metaphor… I'm sure I'm forgetting some. I can come up with exercises for each of those, probably, but if practice is an everyday thing, I think I'm well over an hour before I even hit the third one of these. Maybe I'll have to come up with exercises for all of these and do a couple each day, alternating.
Pacing, characterization, tone, plotting, scene turning, packing an emotional punch… those are definitely études. I used to work on two études a week, but I think I can pick two of those and work them into a single story - one I write and perfect each week.
And repertoire. That's the big stuff. That's the easy part; I've got plenty of big stories, fanfic and otherwise, to work on. The only question is if I do a little of each or just work on one until it's finished.
It seems like a lot more than an hour. It seems like that'd be three or four hours. *frowns* Well, maybe I'll start and then tweak as I go. Any thoughts or suggestions? Anyone want to join me? Practice (like exercise) seems to be easier for me when I've got someone else theresuffering with me cheering me on.
I started playing piano when I was five. I joined band when I was eleven, starting on flute and moving to clarinet pretty easily – and then picking up saxophone for the hell of it. It was easy for an intelligent kid. I find it hilarious that I got out of a ton of General Ed requirements in college because music majors didn't have to have them. Who needs math if you're playing an instrument? Besides, musicians, they're not too bright, right? Au contraire. The best musicians are extremely bright, and have to be, to be able to do what they do.
By the time I hit high school, I'd already realized that I could never be a professional musician – because I didn't feel anything when I played. That wasn't quite true, but I was too young to understand how my teachers had misled me. You see, what I felt was joy. Just pure and simple love of playing my instrument. But I didn't feel sad when I played a sad song, or happy when I played a happy song, so clearly I was defective. I gave up on the idea of playing professionally and, even though I was well on my way to mastery by the time I hit high school, having practiced thousands of hours already, I decided to teach.
It wasn't a tough decision, as I love to teach, but it stung. I was so much better than everyone I knew (small pond, middle Wisconsin), but I could never play professionally because I didn't have the heart.
When I went to Interlochen, an arts camp for the elite, I was at the bottom of the totem pole. So, not only was I not an artist, I was a sucky technician, too. Since I already knew I wasn't going to be a performer, the artist part wasn't a shocker, but the technician part pissed me off. So, I practiced. And what I learned that summer was that if I practiced hard, I could rise in the ranks. I went from second last clarinetist in the whole camp to middle rank of the top band in eight weeks. Not too shabby for a sixteen-year-old who was never going to be a performer.
I was well on my way to becoming a band director when my dad's heart failed, and we found out he needed a heart transplant. It was awful – I was only a year and a half away from college graduation, but there was no way I could be so far from home. I moved back and transferred to the local college, which had a music program. Not a good music program, mind you, but one that conferred Music Ed degrees, so ostensibly one that would suit my needs.
It was another small pond, after I had been out there in an honest to god competitive environment. I was leaps and bounds ahead of everyone around me, and even as I taught them how to be better (the clarinet teacher was a joke), I immediately recognized I couldn't handle more than a semester of that place. Instead, I jumped ship and transferred to a music conservatory almost as close to home. Not somewhere I ever thought I could get in, much less get a scholarship to, but I did. I got a full ride (thanks to my grades, not my performance ability), and that was when things really started to change for me.
My teacher, Fan Lei, had been a child prodigy in China – as a matter of fact, he was only a couple of years older than me when I got there (and only had a master's degree). He was auditioning for the job at the same time I was auditioning to matriculate. He played a short recital and I was astounded to hear someone play so well that wasn't either a huge recording name or in an orchestra somewhere.
He didn't take it easy on us, either. We started over, all our technique suspect. Being smart and diligent came in handy – I practiced every day (only an hour or two, but it was enough), and I 'got' it. I was the one he'd single out to play for the entire clarinet studio. We had a rocky time, but overall, I got better and better, and he began to try to teach me the illusive musicality (artistry for musicians, don't you know). That was tougher. I didn't always get what he meant; I couldn't just practice and eventually get it. That was where intelligence came in. I started to listen to professional recordings, and there were certain things that every clarinetist did. They slowed down at the end of pivotal phrases, they breathed in particular places, they tongued staccato here, legato there. They played with tempo in a particular way.
Once I realized this, that musicianship was really just another set of rules (albeit a far-ranging and incredibly complex set of rules that could sometimes be broken and really depended on your own personal likes and dislikes), I could now perform. I still felt like I wasn't a musician – I was performing music, but I wasn't living it, imbuing it with my soul – but nobody knew that. Not even my teacher. Not even my audience. No one but me.
By the end of conservatory, I was practicing four hours a day, and pretty confident that I could perform anything at all. I still felt like a fraud, though, and even now, I can talk technique with other musicians, but as soon as they talk about musicality, I feel like I'm faking it. I don't know why; I do feel things in music now where I used to feel nothing. I've felt sad or overwhelmed or whimsical when I've performed (and much more often as a listener or audience member), and I know that is the kind of musician I always wanted to be, but it doesn't feel like enough. I think this is why I never continued with music. Even with everything I can do, I feel like I'm faking it.
When a wise friend told me that writing is a craft, everything started to fall into place. I realized that music is a craft too, as much as we think it's some mystical thing that's above and beyond our ken. Music can be taught. I've learned it, I've taught it, I've seen students of mine perform music so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. All it takes is practice. The more you practice, the more all those things you do become second nature, they become part of who you are as a musician, they become so ingrained you don't even realize they're something you did for countless hours in a small room by yourself before the whole world was watching.
And so yes, music is an art, but one based on mastery of a craft. You can't create art until you've put the time in and learned every facet of the craft (and if someone had put it to me that way when I was a kid, I would probably be playing duets with Richard Stoltzman right now).
Writing, I'm finding, is the same. I have moments of transcendence, moments when I feel like something above and beyond is going on – but that's only happened since I mastered some of the basics of the craft.
And now, knowing what I do about the craft of music, I want to apply it to writing. It seems to me if I put some concentrated time into practicing the craft of writing, I should be able to master it. I don't know that I'll ever be able to create art, but I want to give it my best shot, by mastering the craft.
Practice. It's one of those things that's inescapable as a musician. Kids rarely get it, though I've managed to convince one or two with a really good lesson, and adults are hit or miss. Once I started practicing regularly – and by that I mean every day, at least an hour – I saw improvement. And not only did I see marked improvement in the day that I practiced (the difference between the beginning and end of a four hour session was remarkable), I could tell that I was building on it the next day. If I put in the time, even if I was tired, or uninspired, or unhappy, I would get better. There's nothing like improvement to make you just do it.
Music practice involves a few different steps for me. The first two hours are spent on technique. Long tones (to increase breath and get you to listen to yourself), scales and tonguing exercises (to build technique and facility), and études, (to master a specific technique, and be able to perform it within a piece, with musicality, instead of by rote). The next two hours are spent on repertoire. Learning the cornerstones of the repertoire and finding ways to interpret them to make them mine.
This is where I get stuck. I'm not actually planning on writing four hours a day (who has the time?) but I would like to get in an hour or two, and I'd like to make it pay off. Part of that will be the discipline to just do it, which has always been harder for me with writing than with music, probably because wrapped up in my writing instrument is a handy-dandy time-wasting thing known as the internets.
So, long tones. They're a way to see where you are, see if everything's working, and make sure you sound like you want to sound. I'm thinking maybe non-fiction essays. Or maybe just timed writing, like
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Scales and tonguing are the meat and potatoes of music. They're basis of all classical technique (and, if you do some of the studies I do, more modern technique as well). This is really tough to translate to writing practice. There's so much that goes into good writing. Even just the nuts and bolts are huge: dialogue, description, sentence/paragraph construction, word choice, metaphor… I'm sure I'm forgetting some. I can come up with exercises for each of those, probably, but if practice is an everyday thing, I think I'm well over an hour before I even hit the third one of these. Maybe I'll have to come up with exercises for all of these and do a couple each day, alternating.
Pacing, characterization, tone, plotting, scene turning, packing an emotional punch… those are definitely études. I used to work on two études a week, but I think I can pick two of those and work them into a single story - one I write and perfect each week.
And repertoire. That's the big stuff. That's the easy part; I've got plenty of big stories, fanfic and otherwise, to work on. The only question is if I do a little of each or just work on one until it's finished.
It seems like a lot more than an hour. It seems like that'd be three or four hours. *frowns* Well, maybe I'll start and then tweak as I go. Any thoughts or suggestions? Anyone want to join me? Practice (like exercise) seems to be easier for me when I've got someone else there
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A story for another night... I'm just resurfacing after a week offline.
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Yay, practice! I have some ideas about how to 'practice' dialogue, description, sentence/paragraph construction, word choice, and metaphor, but it might take some time to pull together. I'm thinking mostly lists of things to use as jumping off points for any of those things, and for construction, maybe adding structure - say a drabble format - to force myself to think about every word that gets put in there.
Etudes are tougher. I'm thinking a 1000-2000 word piece per week, concentrating on whatever is the theme that week.
I have a TON of 'repertoire' in my WIP folder, so I'm not worried about that yet, except I can't decide if I should force myself to write one piece at a time or if I should let myself wander between pieces based on my mood.
Thoughts? What do you feel about a community for this sort of thing, something to try and keep us responsible?
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My initial reaction to a community is positive, I think. And I'll share my music story with you sometime.
Maybe I should go eat something before I try and think anymore.
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Yay! I am working on a community, I'll try and get it up and running sometime next week.
I hope you are feeding yourself, lovely. <3
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No need to start a new community if we can expand on one that already exists, imo. :)
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And the more you love something, the easier it is to keep practicing, mindfully. I liked folk dancing and kept on with it, despite my general lack of coordination. My girlchild keeps on with dance classes and is practicing recorder (because her cast won't let her play her flute). She's got some talent for both and they make her happy. It's a positive feedback loop.
So, I guess playing and writing are not so different from any other kind of craft. (I don't know what makes something ART, though it clearly involves culture and presentation as much as anything.)
You have the talent and the pleasure in writing, I am sure that your practice will help with the craft.
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That sounds like 'talent' but what it really was was sitting with my instrument for four hours a night, every night, for that first week I had it. Had any of my peers done the same thing, I would guess they'd be in the same boat.
I get what you're saying with basketball (boy do I, as I suck at basketball), but it's another things that is more about practice than we think. How long have those kids who are amazing been playing and practicing? By the time they're walking they've put more hours in with a ball than I have in my entire life.
There are things we are more inclined to do naturally, I believe, but as you say, it's the things we love that inspire the practice (and yeah, sometimes you love things you're not inclined to do naturally) - which then inspires the competency. I didn't really learn this lesson until I was a teacher. I had students that were all over the map in their playing, but I took them all and told them all to practice, taught them how to practice, and I found that the most talented ones - the ones who could 'slide by' on the practice they had already done, stayed at the same level. They never improved. Some of the ones I had absolutely no hope for, they practiced diligently, and in a few short weeks I could see massive improvement.
As for art, well. My guess is that it's also a craft - because otherwise there would not be art schools where they force you to learn all these techniques - but then after a certain point, if you've mastered the craft, you create art. Art is even more in the eye of the beholder than music, but there's enough similarities that I feel like it's probably a pretty good parallel.
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lol :(
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Dude, did you start out, in the hour or two in the beginning, going through long tones, scales, tonguing, études, and repertoire? And if you did, did you spend less time on it than at the end of conservatory? (THE ONLY POSSIBLE ANSWER TO THAT LAST QUESTION IS YES, JUST SO YOU KNOW)
Do you see the point I am trying to make here, because I am tired and going to bed and don't want to try to explain it. :(
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I'd like to have the later, proper, practice, but in not so much time. Maybe it's just not possible. We'll see. Since I don't have the four hours a night to practice, I'm just going to have to be as diligent as I can be and do what I can to work on all my skills regularly during the week.
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I look back at stories I've written in the past and think they were written better than what I've come up with over the past year or two. I'm not sure why that happened but I think if I did this practicing thing with you (you ALWAYS make me a better writer) it would be good for me.
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I totally think this can work! I'm working on organizing it (ever the organizer, that's me), and I will post when I get something together. <333
Also *blush*, Rodney? I don't think I've ever been more complimented in my life.
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So in writing, I tend to think that reading well written stories is underrated. I also think a lot of writing problems are caused by anxiety and fear of failure or criticism, which can cripple even very talented writers. I'm not sure how much practice helps in writing, I mean obviously it helps some, but it's harder to know how or what to practice than it is in music. Or at least for me it is.
That said, I might be interested in a writing practice community or group.
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On the other hand, I find your note about fear of failure, anxiety, and criticism absolutely dead on. If you read through the comments, they're full of fabulously talented people who ran into roadblocks, self-imposed or otherwise, that kept them from realizing their talent.
I think practice can help with that. One of the things that my teacher said to me is that we need to practice correctly - play it absolutely perfectly, every time. If you need to play it slow at first, that's okay, just play it RIGHT every time, and then you're practicing how to do it right. If you just play it, you're practicing how to do it WRONG as much as you're practicing how to do it right, and then it's a matter of statistics, you know? (It's late - I'm not sure that I'm making sense here.)
Yay writing practice! I'm working on a community - I'll definitely post something when I get it together.
YAY MUSIC
Who needs math if you're playing an instrument?
I took music theory and I took calculus in college, and in the difficulty rankings, music theory wins every time, hands down. It's like math and science and art all rolled into one fearsome beast.
Re: YAY MUSIC
Ah, music theory. I LOVE music theory, and let my tell you, my math friends were absolutely LOST.
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I'd love to exercise with you. Lord knows I need the work and I won't do it if I don't answer to anyone but me. I don't do well with the internal motivation.
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But if you liken writing to any other skill, it becomes much more obvious why nobody really jumps into writing a brilliant novel the first go round. I agree with your comment that having talent can be a hindrance in that it can cause writers to grow complacent with their writing, and to stick with writing what feels comfortable as opposed to what will challenge them and force them to grow. I'm sure we can all think of authors who write the same story over and over again--and each story may be well written, but it's akin to playing the same piece of music over and over again instead of moving onto a different, more challenging piece. I think new challenges is key to growth here--mindless repetition may make you very good at writing a particular type of story but eventually you're going to plateau. That's why I try to participate in many different challenges, write in different genres, and experiment with different subject matter.
I've been writing for over ten years and man, I started out the worst badfic writer you could ever imagine. Not a spark of talent in me--I was starting from square one. But I kept chugging at it and I can track the growth of my writing over the years; during my prolific periods the improvement was incredible, while during the periods where I barely wrote at all, I simply stagnated. And the first 8 years were rough--I would look at the more talented writers (both pro and in fandom) and wonder, why could they do it so much better than me? What separates them from me? My ideas are just as good (and in some cases better). The answer is usually simple: practice. They'd written millions of words to my piddling hundreds of thousands.
As a slight side note: I think writing is also one of those skills that is greatly improved by more life experience and maturity. The years that I've been alive had provided me with a wealth of information and emotion and humor to infuse my writing with, and has allowed me to understand more of life's complexities. To some extent, that kind of experience can't be researched or imagined or feigned--you just need to live it before you can feel it, know it, and write it.
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Ugh, yeah, I started writing fic eight or nine years ago and those first ones were utter dreck. Time and practice. And while I agree that for some of us, age equals emotional maturity, I also think some people just seem to have that bent, that ability to get certain things across, emotionally, be sympathetic to characters they can't possibly understand. It's the only thing I can think of for some of the young writers out there who seem to capture some of that so beautifully. I assume they've also been writing since the cradle, considering how well they write. I have to remind myself I was off practicing other things in those years, and I can't be awesome at everything all the time. Yet.
Dissent!
I absolutely agree that to improve, practice and maturity are required. It's just that it's not my highest priority. And I think that's okay, too.
Re: Dissent!
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There are always people who just sort of gravitate toward working on what they need to work on without the sort of rigorous practice schedule I'm setting here - I know people who practiced as much as I did but didn't work on a stitch of scales (unless it was time for juries). It's the time, I find, that's most important, and the concentration. And clearly you are putting in your time.
I find, like anything involving an art, there are always a million ways to approach it - however, I also find that practice like this (in music anyway) improved every one of my students and studio-mates, and obviously myself, so there's probably something to it.
I also love that you write longhand in notebooks. I do that on occasion, when I don't have a computer (like last night at the concert), but I've gotten so spoiled by the speed of typing that it's frustrating to me to write on a notebook. Also, I research stuff all the time while I'm writing - stupid little things, from the name of a particular product to canon details - so the internets are actually useful, if I don't use them to distract myself.
I think, with writing, it takes some distance to see if what we wrote is good. Even with music, you tend to be overly harsh about a performance you just gave, but it's over, then, you know? With writing, you're hanging on to a piece for a long time (a really long time for things like big bangs etc.) and you can edit yourself to death with stuff like that. I honestly think a bit of distance is the only way to see if what you've done is any good (or a trusted and objective beta).
And so, this is TOTALLY not the place for it (ah, getting on metafandom), but since you're here, I'm going to ask anyway... I've been tapped to be a captain on
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It's true - I do know there are other advantages to notebooks (I edit as I type them in, and that's a handy rough-to-first-draft process), and lack of distractions is definitely one of them. I'll give it a try - maybe I'll switch off, notebook one day and computer the next, and see if I find one or the other works better for me. I was already leaning toward notebooks for the long tones/scales/etudes part of practice anyway, as I find to practice you need to get rid of distractions. Once I'm in the zone, though, I could practice forever (I've gone on eight hour binges without going to the bathroom or eating!). It's neat, too, because when you leave that small room, the outside world seems so strange - I love that feeling.
Yay! Team Work! \o/ And if time zones don't work out, I'll be HAPPY to find someone to sign you up. I'm honestly planning to take the day off work. I'd just be watching the sign-up posts from my desk, anyway, so no point in going in!
We're working on our intro posts right now, so I'm trying to find ways to be clever about work. Mostly I think it's tough to justify because it seems so obvious to me - everything worthwhile is worth working at, right? And I like to play as much as the next gal, but I feel more satisfied when I've worked hard at something and brought it to fruition.
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Your music analogy works for me in ways I didn't think were possible. I haven't touched the flute for at least a decade, but comparing writing practice to music practice somehow made all of those lectures about just writing to perfect the craft make sense. It's one of those things I knew (you have to write to improve, and to improve, you just write write write!) but it never really sank in.
I majored in writing; one of the requirements was naturally a class on craft, and while we never had a full story assignment in that class - it was all snips, scenes, and revisions of those scenes - the structure worked out okay. The class met once a week, and it went something like this:
1. Read the assigned short story.
2. Answer four questions about the craft element assigned for that week (i.e. one week would be detailed description, another would be dialogue...), based on your reading. I don't recall the exact questions, but it involved four steps in which you had to analyze the text and pick out examples, then explain why it works - typical.
3. Write a snippet or scene of your own, focusing on the thing we're studying that week, with a strict one page word limit.
4. Post this on the class message board, read the entries from the rest of your group members.
5. Meet in group, discuss everyone's work. We were allowed to comment on how they used the craft concept correctly, but technically not allowed to criticize. Everyone learned how to get around this rule.
Rinse, repeat. It worked for me, but it's not for everyone - and it can be slow. But I also think it can be tweaked to fit a different model, maybe a daily one if you're ambitious. Personally, I think choosing a craft element to work on every day, with a prompt from Fifteen Minute ficlets maybe, would make a great warm-up. I'll have to try it.
So anyway, that's one suggestion. I wish I were better at this, but the same applies to writing, really.
no subject
Thank you!