Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci represent two outstanding creative minds. Masters, geniuses, prolific renaissance men, they were also famous for abandoning their work, leaving supposed greater masterpieces unfinished. A pair of monumental frescos commissioned for the great hall of Florence’s Palazzo Vecchio are prime examples. Leonardo’s The Battle of Anghiari and Michelangelo’s Battle of Cascina were started in 1504 and abandoned a year later. They never completed the frescos.

Every writer, architect, painter, and entrepreneur experiences failure. Failing teaches us, even if the lesson is how not to create. The title Master implies we finish what we start. Finishing, calling a piece complete, might be more difficult than admitting defeat. Creating masterful art is not for mortals or weaklings. Anything crafted by humans will be flawed. Some critics argue flaws accentuate beauty. Flawless execution, whatever that is, they say leaves the viewer bored.

How do we decide were incomplete ends and masterful imperfection begins? How many drafts do you endure before a story is polished? When do we edit the unique voice and soul from our novel? There is no easy answer and passing time compounds the difficulties. Your best work from years ago, can feel worse than your first draft today.

When is your work done?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Keys fascinate me.  A bolted door piques my curiosity and my imagination creates untold treasures. I don’t understand the logic of hiding them from prying eyes. Shrouded in darkness, sealed tight, the owners ban even themselves from enjoying the beauty of the pieces.

People hold strong feelings and valid reasons for bolting their homes or leaving them unlocked. Ironclad defenses prevent theft some say, while others profess criminals will find an entry, by picking a lock or breaking a window. Locks only deter the honest.

Contrary to popular belief, having wide-open doors is not just a brash phenomenon unique to rural homeowners. One thirty-year New York City resident admitted never locking her apartment. Another individual stated they didn’t have a key. Founded or imagined fear is a great motivator.

I treat security a bit casually. I like when friends stop and let themselves in without knocking or ringing a bell.  It symbolizes home and conveys trust and love. That feeling is more important than the possibility of losing precious possessions. You can replace material items.

I feel the same about concealing talents and passions. It makes me sad when someone says “Oh, I have always wanted to do that, but I can’t.” They have locked away a passion and prevented their authentic, inner gifts from shining. They rob themselves of joy and deny everyone the pleasure of connecting with the charm of their genius.

What dreams have you locked away?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Next item on my schedule is rewriting/editing a piece I hate. I consider it a fail. Surprise, surprise, it has been languishing in my short story draft file. I don’t hate the premise, but the story’s execution is weak. There are words, sentences, ideas I may salvage. It requires me to roll up my shirt sleeves, prepare for construction dust, and do Atlas-style weightlifting.

I considered hitting the delete key, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It is funny. I have burned entire notebooks, filled with handwritten stories, without hesitation. But deleting a file is anathema. From a logic standpoint, the pen, ink, and paper creations should be more difficult to destroy than impersonal electronic I’s and O’s. Perhaps it is the fact those files don’t clutter my desk, occupy real-life space and are easy to move to my “Fix Someday” Folder.

I have several of these files in that folder. A few stories have merit, good ideas, a likable character, conflict, the stuff you want in a story.  But they lack the spit and polish needed to shine, and for me to declare the tale good enough for prime time. While I may like these stories the prospect of dissecting, cutting reworking and rehashing them, is unpleasant. However, I want them finished, which leaves me little choice on what I must do.

Do you rewrite, edit, delete or file for someday?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer