Charles gives advice to a young writer

Hi, Mr. Copeland,

I'm a savage fan of all your work. I'm a new writer, you might say, in that I just started writing less than a year ago. I'm 14 years old. I've tried to mimic your style of writing, coming straight from the heart, so to speak. My problem, however, stems from something much more compelling than WHAT to write. I'm having real trouble with HOW to write.

I've become locked inside a world plagued with problems with style and technique, and this has led me to wishes that my work would write itself, as yours so often does. If you might be so kind as to offer me some solutions to my difficulties, I don't feel I'd have the necessary words to use to repay you with compliments. But I can assure you that you'd earn a lifelong fan and someone who would defend you and your work at every turn.

I'm not naïve enough to assume you're not too busy to accommodate me. But if you should find a few extra minutes in your day, I will be forever in your debt. My questions will follow below, and you have my undying gratitude in advance.

Sincerely,

Donald Bretton

DONALD BRETTON: I've read A Song of Independence so many times I can't begin to count them all. May I ask how you came up with such intense material? I'm aware that you had to write a lot of it "off the cuff" in order to beat a deadline, but is that how the ideas jelled or did it all happen some other way? Given the number of stories comprising ASOI, was it originally intended to be a grouping of shorter works, or was that a last minute decision?

CHARLES COPELAND: Those are some of the questions I get hit with all the time, so they've become somewhat the easier ones to answer, which makes it better for you and me at the same time. ASOI was always meant to be a grouping of shorter pieces which, by themselves, tell stories which might well stand on their own but, when strung together like popcorn on a Christmas tree, link to form a larger work in progress. I wanted the reader to be able to completely focus on a single story at a time, really digest the characters and the overall tone and theme for each story, and then work them all in with the ones immediately following. Once the reader has a solid grasp on the myriad of things happening in one story, the rest act on the ones which came before, almost in a consequential sense. How I came up with the material, however, is another story entirely. After September 11th of 2001, story ideas pretty well sought me out, instead of the other way around. Because there was just so much carnage and devastation that day, so many plots evolved around themselves, both in real life and in my own fictional creation. I suppose I'd have to sum it up by saying that real life situations, having been realized that day, dealing with ancient plans to cause exactly what we saw in all those events, begged to be told in fact-based-fiction. So while I had to beat a deadline, it wasn't one that spurred me into action. The plot for the book grew out of the overall vision shown with the linking together of each story.

DONALD BRETTON: I spend a great deal of time wondering how to get over bouts of self-conscious feelings of doubt in my abilities. I recall you having mentioned the same thing in an interview you did back in 2005. How were you able to overcome your feelings of self-doubt in your writing? Do you suffer from writer's block? When you begin each new writing project, how do you approach it from an inspirational point of view?

CHARLES COPELAND: It's hard for me to believe you're only 14, with such a grasp of the English language. And your thought process, I'm not afraid to say, rivals most of the legends in fiction. The greatest minds in writing history have all suffered from feelings of self-doubt, sprinkled with heavy doses of self-inspired apathy, so it's no wonder it would happen to you as well. Never fear. All these things happen, and while they are not meant to be overcome, there are many ways to "soldier on" in your writing without becoming bogged down in all that self-consciousness. The first thing you've got to realize is this: YOU ARE DONALD BRETTON, and that means you only need to worry about what affects you. What plagues other writers may bounce right off of you, leaving you able to blast past it and focus on other issues. But what makes it so important to realize that you are you is that when you do realize it, and I mean REALLY realize it, you'll lighten up on yourself a bit and come to understand more about yourself and your own writing style. Once you're able to sit back and stare your self-consciousness in the face, you'll realize it's not something that needs to be fed with worry. It's a process that happens to all of us, and it's one that, years from now, you'll almost recognize as being another form of your writing-self. Call it your alter ego. It requires feelings of inadequacy because, without it, your work would devolve into arrogance and grandiose visions of self-worth. Once you cross that line and begin thinking you're the greatest thing to happen to fiction since the invention of the genre itself, you're lost. I know it sounds silly, but you actually NEED to feel somehow unable to live up to your own standards. Once you "understand" your feelings of self-doubt, you'll find your own writing pace and work more closely within parameters you set for yourself. So, shortening a rather long answer, it's not meant for you to overcome. If you get cocky, your writing will show it. And once your Ideal Reader sees it, you're finished. Writing from the heart means just that ... write as if you're telling your story to just your Ideal Reader, hoping to make just enough impact as to leave the reader happy to have read your work. If you can hit that as your target, your job will be complete.