📝女文青談寫📝不想讓寫作技巧變生疏

寫文章的時候覺得很艱難,手跟心不相應,跟疏於練習有絕對的關係。

在學時,要寫很多文章,有長有短,有中有英。

出社會後從事以口為技的工作,已經很少需要用實在的文字去組織自己的個人想法。

假如因為工作的性質而任由寫作技能變得生疏就太可惜了,畢竟這花了近二十年磨練的能力,日路也幫吾贏得不少掌聲。

於是有了更頻密地更新部落客的想法。

在維持「寫作之流」的同時,為自己的生活留下多少痕跡,給自己的想法拍照,供日後對照與檢討,協助一天比一天進步。

📝女文青談寫📝寫者的疑惑與方案

1. 友人F問吾為甚麼用真名寫作會有所困擾?吾說:「吾不想給人opinionated的印象,影響社交生活。」

[Solution] 先用筆名,到時機成熟再顯示真身份。

2. 我怕定立一個theme後會局限我的成長。

[Solution] 那就定立一種態度。像Melissa Alexandria在她的YouTube channel談minimalism、veganism、fashion and beauty,看似雜亂,但她的主旨是positivity。

下標題的困難 📝女文青談寫📝

大概是南洋咖啡太濃烈了,睡不著。本來計劃11點就睡了,多番掙扎後12點爬起來上廁所喝點水看本書。

今晚啟發我的是wasabi的散文集。讀內文,再望他選的題目,解開了一直以來有關發表散文的「苦惱」。通常,當我在生活中冒起一些看法,會馬上記下,但很少發表。懶惰是其中一個原因,更大的障礙,是完美主義。總為會如此零碎想法配一個甚麼樣的標題而琢磨大半天。有時從直覺跑出一個選擇,但又怕自己幼嫩的看法未夠成熟,招架不起成熟的標題。要是今天像wasabi一樣,採用「佔有慾」和「心理準備」之類的標題,到未來對這些題目有更深入的看法,該用甚麼標題呢?還是留待日後用吧。因為有這種想法,我的很多文字都沒有衣服穿,只好待在draft匣裡。

[solution] 學學wasabi,隨心下標題吧!又沒人規定不能重用別人或自己的標題。對吧?

後記:松蒲彌太郎喜歡用引人入勝的(略嫌冗長的)標題或書名,如《喜歡史坦貝克短篇小說『早餐』的理由》、《口哨目錄》、《嶄新的理所當然》、《生活中的巧思與發現筆記三部曲》,連「生活美好」這麼廣闊的題材也敢採用。

[solution] 雖然內容可能超出標題的範疇,但松蒲彌太郎在這方面不追求完美。這一點也值得吾學習的。

 📝女文青談寫📝怕寫散文

一直很怕寫散文。不是沒有寫作技巧,而是好像怎樣的起承轉合,都有更好的組合,永遠都有更好似的,怎樣看也像未完成的作品。

最怕結尾。常有頭沒尾,因為我覺得,我只是對觀察到的某個有趣現象並記下一些感想,但那些感想不至於引導我立下一個肯定的結論。我不想太魯莽地對愛情、友情、世情定下一個立場。所以,最後只是開頭,寫不下去。

現在,我想,只要把題目定窄一點,一件小事,便行。那麼我就不會因為未準備好為大範疇下定論而退縮。那麼我就可以為小事記下小感觸。到某天,小感觸積少成多,自然會培育出一套我獨有的想法。

 📝女文青談寫📝寫blog VS 寫寫blog心得

眾多書類當中,self-help曾經是我的最愛。近年讀過的self-help類中英文紙版或電子書,總數應該超越由小學計起的流行小說和文學作品。

看心靈勵志書,主要是看那些有所經歷,或閱人無數的作者歸納出來的成功要素,遇上文筆好的,甚至在還未落實書中提案之前,就令人有一種光榮蛻變的感覺。

可惜,這種感覺不會時刻與我常在。書才放下半天,精神狀態又悄悄地回復原本的憂鬱、惰怠、無助。畢竟,道理是人家悟出來的,我只是知道而沒又行動。(按心理學的說法,這是因為我的大腦還沒有輸入「成功完成一件事」的經驗資料,因此無法複製相同的結果。)


 

去年我在香港書展以$30的清貨價買入一本非常切合我需要的工具書,叫《部落客也可以賺大錢》。(書是2008年出版,當時social media還未當紅。作者于文強早前寫一篇鼓勵愛寫的人不要放棄blogging的文章,強力推薦!) 在我如常地邊讀邊畫重點的時候,忽然停在139頁,教寫「有吸引力的標題」那一章。我的心,有很多很多疑問:

作者是透過marketing的知識而寫出懾住網路訪客的題目嗎?

還是他寫了超過100+個有好有壞的標題後,從中發現共同點而整理出來的心得?

沒有經過練習,單憑作者提供的現成方法,就能寫出好東西嗎?

打個比喻:未下過廚的人能寫出食譜嗎?煮過多少次才寫得出食譜?看食譜的人比寫食譜的人更快煮出一道成功的菜?那為甚麼有說後無來者?

徐徐記下這些問題,答案雖未成形,但隱若地曉得,一切學問貴以「用」,就像理科要做lab、商科要present proposal、文科也有field trip一樣。邊學邊做、邊做邊紀錄、邊紀錄邊反省…… 事事能力強的人未必表達能力強,表達能力強的人未必有真材實學。不要只看書,還要試試看,因為寫理論的人未必靠譜,就算靠譜,理論終究要落實呀。

Reading My First Novel

I wrote my novel throughout the summer of 2008 and completed the first draft the day before my birthday. Not knowing what kind of a crap it was, (and actually thinking that it was a gem) I even dare to call a publisher, where the editor was merciful enough to read through it, asked me to come up to her office and offered to publish it for me, on the condition that I had to make a few changes. I thought my dream as a writer would be realized, that I was different from others who had to struggle a lot before they were “successful” because I am gifted. I swear I had not less than 50% of nasty feeling towards my editor who confiscated my almost-reality dream besides my not more than 50% of gratitude towards her. She didn’t know what she was missing, I thought.

But tonight as I looked at the buried document in my computer, well I just skimmed through it, but it was enough to let me, the present me, the sane me, know the truth. I was the most foolish person in the world, almost like the big bully in the Japanese animation Doraemon who forced people to listen to his horrid singing, dreaming to be a star when he doesn’t even get the right tune of any song. Yes, I was like him. Just to name one example, the dialogues, the tune to be specific, don’t match with the age of the characters. It’s more like a thirty years old woman reflecting upon her silly childhood. Well I didn’t want that. I meant to create one innocent and angelic character. My editor told me that. I was just too proud to admit that there is still a lot I have to work on regarding my writing skills.

There is a tiny voice telling me to write it all over again, which is plausible, as I am a freelancer who have nothing but time. And I am quite confident that I can make it a lot more presentable and perhaps able to be published for real three years later with all my nourishment on words and life. But there is just one thing that I cannot fake–my passion. My goal was to be a successful writer, which by my old definition was to be praised by reviewers. But now I have different opinions about the so-called experts. I am sorry if I sound too proud (again) here, but those experts, those literary critics, not to mention common people, common readers, are only humans. What’s so special, and is it worth yearning for, about humans’ admiration and adoration? They are the sheep who don’t know what they are doing. They are walking and talking, sleeping soundly calling their dreams realities. I just don’t have the energy and cannot afford to cater to their appetite of constructing the wonderland of fairy tales.

When I walked into a bookstore, I used to imagine my name printed on one of those books on the shelves. This fantasy is long forgotten. In fact, I can’t even remember when I last walked into a bookstore. There was few an occasion that I pick up an actual fiction either. I am no longer the avid reader who carries a book wherever and whenever she goes. If I ever read, it is to cultivate my spirit, to remind me of utilizing my life as a human to go to the pure land, or to be prepared for tutorial classes with my students.

To succeed is to covet. To copy the pattern of the icons that one wants to be. But the icon that I am after wasn’t a writer, so I really have no interest in writing anymore. But I want to challenge myself. I have never really achieved anything marvellous in my life. I started numerous projects but most of them were miscarried or underdeveloped. I just wish to prove to myself that I am capable of starting something and finishing it beautifully, and perhaps, I think, it can be my novel? Well, I am not sure. I just feel agitated when I read my old words. And to write is the biggest investment I have made second to the boys that I have loved. I have written so much, after all. Perhaps I can try a little bit harder, take a few steps further and achieve mastery someday?

I really am not sure. But I feel better that I have written this all down.