The Hairbrainedness of Writing.
And why we need to keep it so.
“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you can see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center.” Kurt Vonnegut
I belong to a few writer’s forums. What I see more often than not is what I call “hope and hairbrainedness.” Don’t get me wrong. I’m not being critical. For most of my writing career — nearly fifty years — I’ve been consistently hairbrained.
I’m hairbrained now.
I might even suggest that our very hairbrainedness is what keeps us writing. We need to be “rash and foolish.” Writing gets absolutely nowhere being completely practical and organized. I’d even go so far as to say it works against you.
We should all be down there with rabbits if we want to write anything interesting.
Writing is essentially going down rabbit holes where nobody else wants to go. Lewis Carroll, by the way, made a mint with this very concept. The whole story is about a rabbit hole and how you see the most amazing stuff below ground. We should all be down there with rabbits if we want to write anything interesting.
Every time I read Kurt Vonnegut or Charles Bukowski, I’m convinced they spent more time in long subterranean tunnels than most. It’s probably why Jack Kerouac called one of his books The Subterraneans. It’s good to lose the sun for a while.
But, if I’m being truly honest here, there’s a time to be hairbrained, and a time not to be. The most common thing I read on writing forums is, “I can’t wait to be published.”
The other day, someone wrote “Sent my submissions to 4 agents. Wish me luck.” Many responses said, “Congratulations!” or “You’re well on your way!” The exclamation marks show true enthusiasm and support, something we all need.
At the same time, thinking those four submissions could result in a publishing contract is the other kind of hairbrainedness. As I’ve mentioned in other articles, I didn’t find an agent until I’d sent out 176 queries. He was 177 and, as it happened, I’d sent it to the wrong place.
In any case, having 176 rejections certainly made me wonder if I’d been going down the wrong rabbit holes.
I’ll admit, like most people, I expected to be published much sooner than I was. I’d written what I thought was a good book. Most agents felt it either wasn’t, or it needed an agent who thought it was. In any case, having 176 rejections certainly made me wonder if I’d been going down the wrong rabbit holes.
It still does.
That’s the unfortunate thing about subterranean places, especially the imaginary ones. We forget the world above. But the world above is full of linear thinkers, complete — or replete — with bottom lines, dollar values and self-preservation.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing. We’re all after profit, too. But it’s how money is made today that mystifies me.
One of the most successful books of 2023 is Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros. It’s full of lazy descriptives like “chest heaving” and “lungs burning.” It also has the heroin climbing a bunch of stone steps, saying, “I’m so fucked.” That’s on the first page.
Yet people flock to this book. In the comments and reviews, almost without exception, they say, “I bought this book because it has dragons and Tik Tok raves about it.”
The internet is so full of influencers, any book can be a best seller if it’s talked about enough. This shouldn’t surprise us.
I don’t know if that’s hairbrained or not. The internet is so full of influencers, any book can be a best seller if it’s talked about enough. This shouldn’t surprise us. People talked a lot about The Bible at one point. It’s still the best-selling book in the world.
I remember Hunter S. Thompson claiming that he often turned to The Gideon Bible — not for religious purposes — but because of the “clean sentence structure.” I wonder how many writers in the past thousand or so years helped their writing along by reading the gospels of Mathew, Mark, Luke and John?
And maybe the most obvious question should be: Can AI create a book like The Bible — or Hunter S. Thompson’s work, for that matter? Perhaps that’s the issue at hand.
But I wonder how many books you have to input into AI to get The Mad Hatter?
It seems to me AI is more likely to replicate books based on the formula of fantasy, dragons and heroines who say “I’m so fucked.” Again, I’m not here to judge. But I wonder how many books you have to input into AI to get The Mad Hatter?
I’m willing to believe it won’t happen. Whether it’s Lewis Carroll or Hunter S. Thompson, they’ve obviously been down too many rabbit holes to be honestly replicated.
My hope is that “hope and hairbrainedness” will continue — even if it does drive me crazy sometimes. If someone believes sending out 4 submissions to agents will result in her being picked up, I’m going to wish her good luck as well.
It’s the sheer rashness of writing that makes it writing. The minute — the second — we stop being rash and foolish, that’s when the whole literary world stops going whoopee.
We can have agents and publishers tell us what sells and what doesn’t, but some of the most successful books never followed formula. Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, for instance, almost wasn’t published. Editors tried repeatedly to make changes. They said it was too mature for children, and too childish for adults.
Finally, legendary editor, Ursula Nordstrom, said, “Print it as is.” The Giving Tree is still one of the most successful children’s books of all time.
As much as we want to give the market what it wants, sometimes the market doesn’t know. It’s waiting for what comes out of those rabbit holes.
That should make everyone believe in hairbrainedness. It works because it doesn’t deal in averages. As much as we want to give the market what it wants, sometimes the market doesn’t know. It’s waiting for what comes out of those rabbit holes.
Hopefully, there are enough of us hairbrained writers willing to go down them. Hopefully, we’ll stay rash and foolish.
It would be a shame if we don’t.
Rash and foolish is such a fun place to be.
