Crafting Your Sword
Advice for Young Writers and a Sneak Prevue of November's Short Story
With November being National Novel Writing Month, I thought it would be topical to give some of my thoughts on the craft of writing itself. Every writer on the internet has probably given their thoughts on writing as a craft on its own, so I wanted to give it in a way that makes sense for the themes of this Substack and my own philosophy.
I mention on this Substack's “About” page that storytelling and poetry was considered a craft by Medieval Gaels, in a similar vein as blacksmithing and carpentry. For today's post, we'll stick with the former craft for comparison with the craft of writing. My knowledge of smithing mostly comes from myths of legendary blacksmiths and marathons of Forged in Fire, so apologies to professional bladesmiths, farriers, and other men and women who sweat and bleed at the forge if any of my anecdotes are not 100% comparable to the actual craft—I admire your works and the effort that goes into shaping the bones of the Earth.
Primordial Stuff
A sword is an almost universal weapon in the Pre-Industrial world, with each culture having their own styles of forging and wielding their blades, much like how they have their own customs of crafting and telling tales. It takes skill to craft a sword and skill to wield it as much as it takes skill to craft and “wield” a story. Sometimes writers or fans of the written word may become lost in the romanticization of the craft, treating it as an ephemeral and often chaotic art that burns brightly and sears stars in the eyes and minds of its observers. While I do not deny the power of artistic inspiration and the joy of discovering masterful works created by exceptional geniuses, the most beautiful creations require tact and skill built up by years of practice, innumerable failures, and the will to try again. Dreams and inspiration are certainly part of the crafting process, and the excitement that they bring should be a tinder in “heating” the “forge” of your drive to create, but as Rudyard Kipling says in his poem “If—”, “If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;/If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim…”, leaving the vision and thoughts of what you wish to create or accomplish in your head does not produce results.
Dreams and inspiration for artistic projects are like the ore nestled in the Earth, but instead are embedded in the minds and hearts of artists. They are elemental, unrefined leftovers from the chaos of the Dawn of Creation. They are often buried in dirt and other worthless obstacles, requiring some mining to actually be drawn out. They can be small nuggets that would yield enough to create a small tool or resource, or be motherlodes that form the foundations of grand artifices. The concept of them is fascinating and exciting, but on their own ideas cannot be successful until they have gone through a crucible and are handled by someone who knows how to shape them. What you find might be beautiful or exciting in your head, but you must be ready to work at it, chipping and smoothing it into something that can be wildly different than what you envisioned as “perfect” in your mind.
Shaping the Iron and Knowing the Tradition
Every craftsman draws some kind of map or blueprint for the new project he begins. To some writers, this can be an outline, a treatment, or a synopsis; others may dive headfirst into the “bad first draft” and work from there. As every writer has their own method of planning or getting their ideas onto paper, there is no single “right way”, but if you are dedicated to seeing a project through it is necessary to get it out of your head and starting to forge its “bones” rather than thinking solely about what the end product looks like.
When forging a blade (and in this case a story), a smith ought to give himself parameters to work within. For years I’ve been writing for open submissions to magazines and anthologies that I know I would be excited to write for; these, I think, are great places for writers to start as they start venturing into a professionalized arena. Guidelines for magazines are specific enough to give writers goals to shoot for while usually being open-ended enough for their ideas and personal outlines or maps to be the guiding force of their stories. Things like word count, general themes, and even submission formatting force writers to shape their idea into something that can fit within the expectations editors and publishers have for projects they wish to develop. While I’ve had mixed success in submissions for hyper-specific, niche projects, general publications in genres I want to establish myself in have yielded greater results in terms of work I am satisfied with even if I did not sell it.
This brings me to my next point of this section, which is knowing what you want to write or craft. As I mentioned in the previous section, every culture has their own tradition of crafting swords and stories. For writers today, it is a matter of knowing the tradition you are writing in; it is important to know the customs of your genre and the customs you adhere to yourself as a storyteller. A writer of sword & sorcery will deal with plots and characters far differently than a writer of romance, and both may have their own methods of plotting, drafting, and stylizing their stories. Understanding how your favorite authors wrote (or still write) and how your favorite stories work can teach you how to craft the kinds of stories you wish to tell. Start viewing yourself as an apprentice in the tradition you are crafting tales in, what do your “masters” say on the craft? Why are their best works so successful?
Once you have your plan, then makes it easier to write. Don’t be beholden to the plan if you find it doesn’t work as well as you originally thought or trick yourself into thinking you can put it off simply because you have a written plan. Neither the plan itself nor inspiration alone is going to guide your story, only your hands can.
Tempering the Blade
After you have written the first draft of your story, there comes the editing process. Although there are plenty of services and digital tools available that can help find and pick out the imperfections of your draft, I think it is as important—if not more important—that a writer knows how to self-edit. This goes for finding all imperfections in a story, from broad sections that need refining to line-by-line errors. A smith who cannot see the imperfections in his own blade will be forced to watch it shatter or bend; he must know how to mend it and refine it after it has come out of the forge.
On the other hand, a smith who spends too much time trying to tinker and refine his blade will never allow it to see battle. Spending too much time working on crafting the perfect story prevents you from sending it to the arena of open submissions. While your stories should be in an acceptable, quality state, it can only hinder you if you spend an eternity revising and redrafting your pieces when that time would be better spent shopping it around. An over-edited story may circle back around to something that is highly flawed from rounds and rounds of drafts, like how a sword that’s sharpened too much will chip and bend once it finally gets used. Even the most famous stories have their flaws, but those are usually only pointed out by people who are overly concerned with finding and criticizing imperfections as if they themselves could change what has already been forged and cooled.
It is more important to get your story to a point where you can confidently submit it, even if it does have flaws perceptible or not to you, so long as you can put your marker’s mark upon it.
Wielding your Sword
Once you have a draft that can be officialized and sent into publishers, it’s time to use it. This story and every other story you write thereafter ought to be “wielded” in a way that is indicative of your “fighting style.” Wielding your story is much about crafting as it is about being able to sell it and tell it to audiences outside of your own head. A sword can only be wielded effectively if its user believes in his own ability to strike with it. This will take years of practice, and failure is inevitable along the way, but it is not something that slows down progress—giving up is the only thing that halts progress. Over the years, you will gain knowledge and tricks on how to more effectively forge and wield your sword. It is a long journey that really has no end, just markers along the road consisting of swords thrust into the earth. You will come to different obstacles set up by life, opposing forces, or even yourself and it is up to you to learn how to overcome them with your craft and skill. It is difficult, but it is something that rewards if you can give yourself over to your craft and ability to handle a story that really leaves a mark in the minds of your readers.
The Endless Battlefield
The world of writing and publishing has changed, is going through changes, and will change evermore. What matters is that you continue to forge blades and navigate this tumultuous battlefield. As I said above, there will be tribulations, setbacks, and outright failures. What is important is finding lessons in each of these. Bibliographies of famous authors only show the corpus of works that they managed to publish, but it doesn’t show the mountain of rejection letters, abandoned drafts, and fizzled out dreams that the successful pieces stand upon. Even if you sell one story, there’s no guarantee the next will get picked up unless you work at it even harder than the one that came before. Not every story I’ve published has been received well, but instead of arguing with critics I just shrug and think about how my next story could do better. The major competition I have is with the last story I wrote; my only enemy is the thought that chides at me, “Give up.” I do get tired and I do rest, but never long enough to let the forge fires cool.
At the very least, you’re not alone as a writer, especially in this age. There are places to convene and workshop online, resources to learn how to improve your craft, and people who can show you how to wield your sword. Amidst all this, however, remember that it is only you who can move forward, and only you who can show your sword to the world.
Now for Our Sneak Prevue
Thanks for reading this week’s post! Be sure to leave a comment using the button below! Do you have any tips for writing that you would add or comparisons of the craft? Share them in the comments!
Keep reading for a sneak peek at this month’s short story, “Greater than Gild”!
“Come!” Aethelmar seized Ealdgyd’s hand, pulling her to depart the clearing. They halted as shades emerged from the cairns, crawling between stone and ground. Their mannish forms, wrought from dim mist, grew clearer in the light. Two stood at each cairn, facing the Saxon and Geat.
“God’s blood!” swore Aethelmar. “The dead have risen!”
He reached for his sword, glancing about the clearing as the mist continued to swirl.
Ealdgyd covered her mouth. “Elder fathers and mothers! The aelfs are come!”
She stepped towards a cairn, but Aethelmar seized her shoulder, drawing her back to his side.
He furrowed his brow. “Has their mist made you mad? The pagan dead surely carry curses upon their forms.”
“There are no curses on these folk.” Ealdgyd shook her head. “Your God might call them such, but I say it is not so.”
Aethelmar scowled. She could not be, he thought, motes of dread filled his heart and drove his fingers closer to his sword.
The aelfs stepped forth; each time their wispy feet brushed the ground, the mist composing them thickened and paled. Leaves crunched louder under each step. They materialized into snow-white men and women in fine graith. White eyes fell upon the interlopers.
Ealdgyd knelt and tugged at Aethelmar. “Kneel, Aethelmar! Kneel for the tribesmen of old!”
Aethelmar furrowed his brow. “Kneel? What is this? Were these folk not heathens in life? If I ken their names and deeds, I will honor our meeting, but I will not give fealty.”
“They were heathen,” answered Ealdgyd, “as I am heathen. And Wotan is our eldest father.”
“Wotan,” echoed the aelfs together. Their voices came like winds blowing through empty moors, and their breaths icy gusts. “Wotan,” they said again, droning into a chant. The aelfs walked sunwise about Aethelmar and Ealdgyd, while the Geat still pulled at the Saxon’s hand. He remained stoic, however, inching one hand closer to his sword.
Thanks for sticking around! “Greater than Gild” will be available for all to read on Friday November 24th!
Also, be sure to refer a friend to Senchas Claideb to receive access to special rewards including a personalized Gaelic phrase and a free, original short story!
Very good advice, Ethan. You’ve obviously learned a lot while working hard at your craft. Much good luck in your future endeavors!
Very beautifully written, Ethan. Thank you. Gives me some hope and inspiration in these Cold Winter months.