Doing Write

Steven Brust talks about some of his formative authors -- and how their changes inform something about his own writing. (Emphasis mine.)

One of the most important and significant events that shaped who I am as a writer came in, I think, 1984, when Will Shetterly and Emma Bull loaned me a copy of Looking for Rachel Wallace by Robert B. Parker.

I still read Parker's novels now and then, as I come across them, because he still uses words in a way that pleases me.  And yet, really, he's lost it.  He's turned into self-parody.  MacDonald, in my opinion, never did that--his later works are as engaging as, if not more-so than, his earlier ones.

I've been comparing them in my mind.  I think it is this: In early Parker, one had the feeling that the author was exploring complex issues of maturity, love, responsibility, duty; exploring issues about which he had not made up his mind.  In his more recent books, the reader cannot help but feel that Parker believes he knows all the answers.  MacDonald, by contrast, even when Travis McGee is ranting to the reader about what is wrong with people, and why Florida is screwed up, &c. &c., always seems to be digging away, trying to find answers that are vital to him (the author), but that he doesn't yet have.

It is far more engaging to go for a ride with an author who is exploring than it is to sit back and have the answers handed to you, whether you agree with them or not.

From the standpoint of the writer, then, it is the reverse path to the same result.  If I use my book to try to answer a question to which I don't know the answer, that will help keep me honest.  I might know what I'm exploring before I start the book, or I might discover it partway through the first draft (which usually involves a significant rewrite).  It doesn't matter.

I agree one hundred percent on Parker -- and I say that as, as well, someone who still reads him.  The first dozen or so Spenser books are excellent because Spenser (or Parker) didn't know the answers to the meta-questions he always raised.  Now that he does, they're simply a casual reacquaintance with an old friend, pleasant but not compelling.