That Really Deep Writing Post

A few weeks ago, I started working at a classy inn, and from the start I knew that this would be great for writing research. After all, what better way is there to observe the oddities of humanity than to clean someone’s messy room? And let’s not forget the added prestige points you get when you straighten up after a semi-famous person and help give them directions to the nearest post office.

But in all seriousness, every day I go to work and think about the parallels between housekeeping and writing. So, I figured I should share some of those with you.

Tidiness. People tend to notice tidiness as a general concept, but they’re much more likely to clue in to individual mistakes. For instance, we could spend half an hour sweeping the floors, making the beds, sanitizing the bathrooms, and dusting every single surface. But if we miss that one little hair on the pillow, we’re probably going to hear about it the next day. (Okay, I’m exaggerating, but you know what I mean.)

It’s the same with writing. You can comb your manuscript a dozen times and catch almost every typo and inconsistency and awkwardly phrased sentence. But the few mistakes you miss are going to stick in people’s minds a lot better than the overall neatness of your prose. As the writer (and the housekeeper), you can think of hundreds of errors you’ve fixed, but your audience isn’t going to know about those. And because most people don’t realize how much work goes into a finished manuscript, they won’t be as forgiving of mess-ups as you, the writer, will be. Unfortunately, that’s life.

 

Pickiness. At the inn where I work, we’re very picky about cleanliness. This means we’ll often dust stuff that isn’t dusty and wipe down surfaces that aren’t dirty. Likewise, in writing, it’s a very good idea to give your manuscript at least one last read through, even when you’re certain it’s finished and ready for other eyes. You’d be surprised by what you find when you make that final, seemingly unnecessary pass.

Minimizing Distractions. In cleaning a hotel room, the goal is to make the area seem almost unlived in, as though your current clients are the first people ever to use those facilities. It’s not that we want to dupe our customers into thinking they’re being given extra special treatment when they aren’t, but it’s nice for them when they can forget that they’re sleeping in a bed dozens of others have used before. The general neatness and freshness creates a relaxing atmosphere of renewal and comfort.

With your writing, you want your prose and grammar and spelling and all that fun stuff to be so tidy that nothing distracts your reader from the story. Essentially, as a writer, you want to disappear, because you aren’t describing the world, you’re creating a window to it. Sure, it’s important to leave your own special touch, just as it’s nice when we make flowers out of the tissues and fold the towels into pleasing shapes, but you don’t want your presence to be so overpowering that the reader can’t really focus on creating their own experience.

 

Attending to all the Little Details. Tidying up a hotel room can take a team of three anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes, depending on our energy levels and the extent of the mess we’re dealing with. There are lots of little details that need our attention—the above-mentioned towel folding and tissue origami, the little soaps, the coffee tray, the dusting and glass cleaning and furniture polishing, the sweeping and mopping and bed-making, the shower and toilet and sink, the rug, the smudges on the walls from careless luggage lugging, the fingerprints on the door paint, the stray hairs on the fresh duvet covers and pillow cases and towels, etc… While it’s possible for us to move quickly and efficiently, we can only do so to a point, and the more we rush, the more we’re bound to miss something.

In writing, you don’t have to force yourself to go slowly, but you don’t want to jump the gun, either. As you edit, especially, you want to make sure you take enough time to notice all the little details, and you want to make sure everything gets its fair share of your attention before you move on.

The small things may not be that important on their own, but added together, they make the difference between a messy room and a clean room, a messy manuscript and a clean manuscript.

Popularity. Last but not least, when it comes to hotel business, the more popular you get, the more work you have to do. Lately, the inn has had a steady string of no vacancies each night, which means we have to clean every single room every single morning. So, while that means more money for us, it also means more labor. You really can’t have one without the other.

Writing, especially blogging, can turn into a give-and-take relationship like that. The more comments you get on your blog, the more time you have to invest in answering them and, possibly, visiting your commenter’s blogs. As your page view counter begins to rise, you’ll be happy, but you’ll also have the added stress of knowing that if you blow it now, you’re blowing it in front of a larger audience. There’ll be that greater pressure to provide interesting and original content so as not to let your readers down. (I imagine this is much the same for popular, published authors.) And you’ll probably find it rather disappointing if your success rate plummets for a time.

 

Well, there you have it, my little coffee beans. I’m sure I could dig up other parallels (co-workers and characters, for instance), but I don’t want to bore you. If you have any work/writing comparisons of your own, I’d love to hear about them. In the meantime, to all my writer coffee beans, best of luck with your novel editing. I’m off to clean some rooms.