Emile Barrios

Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s when I was a TV news producer in Baton Rouge, my job called for me to write a complete show script in the space of about 20 minutes, twice a day. I vividly remember shoveling paper into and out of my typewriter and pounding out the words as fast as I could think them. It was a sprint to the finish line, driven by a looming and unmoveable deadline. It was also great training, forcing me to organize my thoughts into short, punchy sentences that together formed a cohesive whole.

These days I do a lot of technical writing in the form of white papers and other formal documents, in addition to the advertising and PR writing I’ve always done. My TV news training serves me well for these jobs, because the same basic needs must be met: organized thoughts, short sentences, cohesive whole, looming deadline.

But I’m discovering that this is not the best way to approach the writing of fiction. In my case, at least, this kind of writing is more like a marathon than a sprint. But it’s hard for me to adopt that mindset because I’m so used to my traditional work method - which has been pretty successful for me over the years. Richard Ford described this marathon idea as “having enough empathy with my characters to make me patient with the details.” Looking at the story I’m working on now, I can see where I’ve been hurrying those details in order to get to the finish line faster - with obvious consequences to the end result.

If I’m serious about improving my craft to the greatest possible extent, then I need to change the way I think about the act of writing. Forget the finish line and concentrate on having empathy with my characters. Get the details right. This, of course, requires what Flannery O’Connor called “going deeper” - reaching inside myself and unlocking those doors I’ve kept closed because I chose to concentrate on more “practical” forms of writing.

So we’re talking about the dreaded “D” word (discipline). And the equally dreaded “C” word (commitment). Writing can’t be a hobby - it has to be a job. Am I willing to do whatever it takes? You bet.