Inspired by a Dog Groomer
A weekly blog hop where writers come together to talk about whatever inspires them. Join us!
Since I got all serious on you last week, I’m mixing it up a little. Please bear with me (or in the case of Laura O., “bare” with me, inside joke, snort), while I weave a tenuous connection between dog grooming and writing. Yes. Really.
I’m too chicken to clip my dogs’ nails myself. When they were tiny puppies I managed it a couple of times while they slept on my lap. But one day Buster woke up, just as I was squeezing down the blade. That resulted in frantic squirming, loud squeals (both of us), and a bit of blood (his). We were traumatized and I decided to leave nail-clipping to the experts.
Buster & Daisy
There are two kinds of experts. Those who believe in themselves, and those who don’t.
Carrie is a lovely young woman, probably in her early thirties. She always pats my dogs and sweet-talks them before they even see the nail clippers. She’s been grooming dogs a long time and she knows her stuff. But still, every time, it’s a struggle. Daisy has learned to derail the process by shoving her head against Carrie’s arm, or pushing with the hind foot not being clipped. She whirls in my arms like a well-oiled machine part. For a thirteen pound dog she puts up a helluva fight and I have all I can do to hold her. What terriers lack in size, they make up for in determination. Buster is closer to seventeen pounds and because he’s a wimp to begin with, it doesn’t take much to launch him into full-fledged panic mode. There’s always lots of high-pitched sobbing (his, not mine). The nails get done, but it’s not pretty.
Adam is a good deal younger than Carrie-he might still be in his teens. He’s multiply pierced, has a frail build, and is very shy. But he has a quiet authority when it comes to his job. Daisy puts up only token resistance. Buster might let out a pathetic whimper, because that’s what drama queens do. But basically the dogs relax and it’s all over in just a few minutes. Then Adam gets down on the floor and plays with Buster (Daisy’s more interested in the pet store’s resident ferret).
From my point of view, both groomers grab a paw and clip the nails. I can’t tell the difference in what they actually do, but obviously my dogs can. I think it all boils down to self-confidence.
As writers we need to believe in our stories, and our ability to write them. We need to write well and with authority. As a reader, I don’t let myself become immersed in a story which starts off poorly written. By that, I mean grammatical mistakes, florid prose, lamentable word choice, starting the story in the wrong place (so far “in” that I’m confused or so far “out” that I become bored). But I’ll happily take the figurative hand of a good writer and jump right into the world he or she has created.
The extent to which I don’t always believe in myself became clear during an edits discussion with my agent. It was our first talk since I’d accepted her offer. The changes were minor. Intellectually, I recognized that. But inside was that voice whispering, “What if I can’t do them right? Sure, they seem easy, but what if they turn out to be harder than I anticipate? What if I suck at this, and she changes her mind about being my agent?” Then, she said offhandedly, “I’m not going to tell you how to do them obviously. You’re a very deft writer…”
Really?
So, I did the edits, which led to more pangs of doubt. One of her suggestions was a transition chapter between a particular significant scene and another. I wrote the chapter. It was twenty-eight words long. No matter how I tried to spin it out, it didn’t work, adding words just diluted the power of the original twenty-eight. I sent off the edits and braced myself, waiting for her to tell me in the kindest possible way that I sucked. Well, she loved the twenty-eight word chapter.
I really need to trust myself more than I do. That is my current writerly goal. If Adam can clip Buster’s nails and make it look easy (which I know it isn’t), then I can write the story the way I feel it needs to be written. Which isn’t to say I intend to ignore constructive criticism, because that’s important too, just not for this post.
Do you have a hard time telling the critical voices in your head to shut the hell up?
Here’s the Linky Code. Preliminary testing says it works!
Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…
