If an author wrote a story, polished it to the best of their abilities, and then burned the manuscript, never showing anyone the finished product is that insanity or Zen?
In my thinking the act mixes both. I can see the Zen of it; writing done solely for the sake of writing. No expectations, and no compromises. The process is truly its own reward.
On the other hand, destroying something one slaved over without sharing seems a bit controlling to me, but I could be wrong.
I think it’s a fairly subjective question, with most authors having strong feelings one way or the other.
I don’t go in very much for the Zen thing. I dig the philosophy, but in the terms of the example you described, I can’t see much point in burning said manuscript. I mean, one could simply just put it away if they really didn’t want anyone to read it. Burning it seems to hint at the melodramatic.
Of course, I write primarily to entertainment myself, and to a lesser extent, my girlfriend, but I can’t deny that I take some pleasure in knowing that others will read the story, as well. That’s not why I do it, but it’s certainly present in my mind. Anyone who is trying their hand at publishing can’t say it doesn’t enter their minds, as well. I mean, if they really didn’t care about an audience, they wouldn’t be sending their stories to publishers in the first place. (It’s like people with blogs who get upset when strangers read and/or comment on them. If you don’t want people to read your blog, don’t post it on the internet. Go buy a diary and hide it under your mattress.)
On the other hand, I do some writing just for myself, and there are many stories which will never see the light of day, both completed works and fragments. I’ve debated about posting some of these fragments on my website, just to add a bit of flavor between rejection letters (ha-ha), but even if I don’t I couldn’t see myself destroying them.
Maybe it’s just my packrat nature.
Ian, you make valid points about the melodrama factor. I suppose one could leave a private piece in a drawer, a la Dickinson. That’s not quite the same as letting the story go entirely. Remember they did find Emily’s poems after she died. However, burning the pages — shredding could work, too — returns the idea to the place where ideas come from. Wherever that is.
This notion surfaced because as a habit, I toss relics. The sum of my high school mementos fits in a single box. From college I have a diploma, diploma case, and a cap a gown. That’s why the idea appeals to me, I guess. It is nothing if not tidy. So my mind caught sight of the 10 copies of the manuscript in my office and wandered into the land of what if.
Now exactly what story/manuscript would I burn? Nothing I’ve written in the last few years, for sure.
True enough. I guess I wouldn’t mind so much if people dug up my fragments after I was dead. I think the stuff that isn’t worthy to be published would remain in obscuria. Depends how success I am, I guess.
I think they’d publish Stephen King’s old laundry lists at this point.
This strikes another issue: the writer’s perception of the story vs. the readers. If readers take joy in reading King’s laundry list, then there is merit to the piece. But what King may love personally, his readers might hate or vice versa. In On Writing he recalls tossing Carrie. More than a few people loved that book, yet he never did.
I’ve seen this effect on a very micro-scale with the site. There’s some entries I enjoyed writing a great deal with no feedback. Then there’s other entries I did not think about much that draw many comments.