Writing Podcast Episode 726: Michelle Wright shares her new book, 'Good Boy'

Now, you might not know this about me.

I think, well, regular listeners might, but if you're new, when I'm not at the Australian Writers' Centre, I'm usually in my studio painting.

Oils, as in oil painting, flowers mostly, it's not really a weekend hobby either.

You know, I paint on commission, people buy online, and I take it every bit as seriously as I take writing.

And the more I paint, the more it actually feeds back into my writing and editing, believe it or not, because it keeps reminding me of something that's just easy to forget when you're, you When most people picture painting, say, a big bunch of peonies, they might imagine packing the whole canvas with blooms right up to the edges with like hundreds and hundreds of peonies maybe or whatever.

And that's the exact instinct I have to fight every time I pick up a brush to paint lots and lots of things, right? Lots and lots of flowers, lots and lots of petals.

Because the flowers aren't really the point.

What makes a painting of peonies work... apart from the colours and composition, of course, importantly, it's the space around them.

Like, it's actually the bits of the canvas I leave almost bare.

I mean, except for colour, perhaps.

And because that's what lets those flowers breathe.

You know, if I fill every last corner...

It just, it's almost too busy and the viewer needs to do the work to kind of see which hero, which are the hero flowers.

And it's the same on the page, right? So I've been an editor for a very long time, decades, multiple decades.

And the instinct that writers have, that most writers have, especially new writers, is almost always to add, right? To add sentences, add words.

And they'll send me something that's nearly there and try to strengthen it by piling on more or over explaining.

And sometimes you do need to add more, but often it's actually you need to pare back because I think that's the most valuable thing that I can do for a piece as an editor.

I have a real editor's eye and It's usually the opposite of what they think.

You know, I take things out and I clear away like whatever's crowding the good stuff.

You know, some people write a crack of an ending, like a fantastic last line of a piece, but then they add another paragraph.

And I'm like, no, get rid of that final paragraph because that's your perfect ending there, right? So the thing is, knowing what to cut is a whole skill.

And your reader needs that space as much as my canvas does, right? They need a second to feel something before you march them off to your next point.

But if you... explain

or

over explain the joke and then explain how they're supposed to feel about it and tell them what they're meant to feel about it there's nothing left for them to do and you filled every corner for them and of course readers can always always tell they might not be able to identify why a piece isn't necessarily working but they can feel it right So this week, just try something new for me.

Now, you might not know this about me.

I think, well, regular listeners might, but if you're new, when I'm not at the Australian Writers' Centre, I'm usually in my studio painting.

Oils, as in oil painting, flowers mostly, it's not really a weekend hobby either.

You know, I paint on commission, people buy online, and I take it every bit as seriously as I take writing.

And the more I paint, the more it actually feeds back into my writing and editing, believe it or not, because it keeps reminding me of something that's just easy to forget when you're, you When most people picture painting, say, a big bunch of peonies, they might imagine packing the whole canvas with blooms right up to the edges with like hundreds and hundreds of peonies maybe or whatever.

And that's the exact instinct I have to fight every time I pick up a brush to paint lots and lots of things, right? Lots and lots of flowers, lots and lots of petals.

Because the flowers aren't really the point.

What makes a painting of peonies work... apart from the colours and composition, of course, importantly, it's the space around them.

Like, it's actually the bits of the canvas I leave almost bare.

I mean, except for colour, perhaps.

And because that's what lets those flowers breathe.

You know, if I fill every last corner...

It just, it's almost too busy and the viewer needs to do the work to kind of see which hero, which are the hero flowers.

And it's the same on the page, right? So I've been an editor for a very long time, decades, multiple decades.

And the instinct that writers have, that most writers have, especially new writers, is almost always to add, right? To add sentences, add words.

And they'll send me something that's nearly there and try to strengthen it by piling on more or over explaining.

And sometimes you do need to add more, but often it's actually you need to pare back because I think that's the most valuable thing that I can do for a piece as an editor.

I have a real editor's eye and It's usually the opposite of what they think.

You know, I take things out and I clear away like whatever's crowding the good stuff.

You know, some people write a crack of an ending, like a fantastic last line of a piece, but then they add another paragraph.

And I'm like, no, get rid of that final paragraph because that's your perfect ending there, right? So the thing is, knowing what to cut is a whole skill.

And your reader needs that space as much as my canvas does, right? They need a second to feel something before you march them off to your next point.

But if you... explain

or

over explain the joke and then explain how they're supposed to feel about it and tell them what they're meant to feel about it there's nothing left for them to do and you filled every corner for them and of course readers can always always tell they might not be able to identify why a piece isn't necessarily working but they can feel it right So this week, just try something new for me.