So, regarding the infodump and worldbuilding—I finally understand Stephen King’s advice about killing your darlings. I was too attached to those paragraphs. A part of me was already warning that I might be bloating the story, burdening the reader. But like the parent of a spoiled child, I said to myself, “Oh, my baby is perfect as it is.…
So, regarding the infodump and worldbuilding—I finally understand Stephen King’s advice about killing your darlings. I was too attached to those paragraphs. A part of me was already warning that I might be bloating the story, burdening the reader. But like the parent of a spoiled child, I said to myself, “Oh, my baby is perfect as it is.” I’m starting to realize that passages like these often serve me more than they do the reader. They help me step into the world. I thank the muses for them, but maybe this wasn’t their place here. Or anywhere.
As for the Cormac McCarthy reminiscence, thank you. When I was writing "The Padahar", I had just come off a McCarthy binge. I love him deeply. But in these past few months of writing seriously and consistently, I’ve realized that I don’t write naturally in that register. Or maybe I just haven’t mastered it yet. Right now, I’m going back to the basics. My style is shaped by the Romanian school system, and I had some very fierce teachers. Teachers who encouraged me, yes—but also gutted my stories far worse than you did.
I tried to fold "The Padahar", which had been lying dormant for months, into The Cosmonaut. It felt natural. And when you warned me about the potential pain of critique, my first thought was: “Gee, Fane, maybe you should’ve let that idea simmer a bit longer.” But after reading your eloquent and entertaining review, I know I made the right call. I can admit I didn’t yet have the tools to pull off the integration. Not in this decade, at least.
But I also learned I did some things right. The most important being: I listened to my gut. The dialogue between Mr. Zaharia and Mara is still my favorite part of the whole piece. I felt the “writing grace” descend when I was working on it. It’s hard to explain, but it feels like someone is dictating the story straight into my heart. That’s when the Nether speaks. That’s when the work is true. I don’t know how to summon it at will—but I have a few systems, a few rituals, to help it find me. But it's also tricky, because the infodump was also a product of that grace, so maybe the lesson is write with your heart but edit with your mind?
So, regarding the infodump and worldbuilding—I finally understand Stephen King’s advice about killing your darlings. I was too attached to those paragraphs. A part of me was already warning that I might be bloating the story, burdening the reader. But like the parent of a spoiled child, I said to myself, “Oh, my baby is perfect as it is.” I’m starting to realize that passages like these often serve me more than they do the reader. They help me step into the world. I thank the muses for them, but maybe this wasn’t their place here. Or anywhere.
As for the Cormac McCarthy reminiscence, thank you. When I was writing "The Padahar", I had just come off a McCarthy binge. I love him deeply. But in these past few months of writing seriously and consistently, I’ve realized that I don’t write naturally in that register. Or maybe I just haven’t mastered it yet. Right now, I’m going back to the basics. My style is shaped by the Romanian school system, and I had some very fierce teachers. Teachers who encouraged me, yes—but also gutted my stories far worse than you did.
I tried to fold "The Padahar", which had been lying dormant for months, into The Cosmonaut. It felt natural. And when you warned me about the potential pain of critique, my first thought was: “Gee, Fane, maybe you should’ve let that idea simmer a bit longer.” But after reading your eloquent and entertaining review, I know I made the right call. I can admit I didn’t yet have the tools to pull off the integration. Not in this decade, at least.
But I also learned I did some things right. The most important being: I listened to my gut. The dialogue between Mr. Zaharia and Mara is still my favorite part of the whole piece. I felt the “writing grace” descend when I was working on it. It’s hard to explain, but it feels like someone is dictating the story straight into my heart. That’s when the Nether speaks. That’s when the work is true. I don’t know how to summon it at will—but I have a few systems, a few rituals, to help it find me. But it's also tricky, because the infodump was also a product of that grace, so maybe the lesson is write with your heart but edit with your mind?