I decided formally to be a writer at age 34 in San Francisco where i was driving a cab at that time. My basis for this decision was ART AND ARTIST by Otto Rank, The fundamental points I drew from this book was that becoming an artist (as a writer was, I believed) required a self-selection and a commitment having the force of a vow. This led to a self-contained process that I have persevered in as such throughout my life.
“Project” has been a core concept in how I have conducted my efforts in writing. Projects occur one at a time (except for poems). Each is done until completed. Each project begins with a project plan and ends with a self-evaluation. This is not writ in the sky, but simply how I do it. In my life I have done about 20 projects, a dozen of which are included in this website. (The five individual symbolic stories were separate projects.). One reason I like projects for a writer is because, when considered in retrospect, they provide an intellectual history such as completed paintings provide for a painter.
My longest project, AGAINST THE WAR, took me 22 years, My early projects were as short as six months. My belief is I should do each project to the utmost of my ability, should strive to promote it, and should defend it strongly after it is done. For years, while involved ln various projects, I was working full time at some kind of support job. If a project was delayed because of that, I would take it up again when I was able, resuming my work where I had left off. I would never abandon a project not yet completed. As a corollary to this approach, if I discovered mid-stream (as was the case several times) that a project had a fundamental flaw, I would not turn away from that project, but would, rather, try desperately to save it, and, as a result, some of my completed projects have these in-built structural flaws.
My attitude toward writing is that it should be direct and precise. I tell myself often in my journal, “just state the case plainly.” I try to always use the most common exact word. For example, if for some reason, I am referring to the pole running along the ridge of a barn roof that holds the rafters on either side, I look that up and call it the ridge beam, which is the most common exact word. Likewise, if I am writing about something like a tractor, I refer to an exploded view to ascertain an exact term such as a PTO being used to drive a band for sawing wood.. If I am writing about a physical place, I look it up on a map and search for photos showing that place so as to describe what actually exists not some imagined scene.
This approach of looking for the exact common word played a great part during composition of AGAINST THE WAR. For example. when writing about a particular military base, I would always look up the websites, photos, and anecdotes available for that base to research its buildings, military units, and people. In writing about combat pilots in Southeast Asia, as another example, I was careful to use the radio jargon they used, the instrument panel they referred to, the arms they had on the planes, and so on.
When structuring a section such as a chapter, a paragraph, or an individual sentence, I am conscious of the rule that form should follow function. though I am aware also that part of the function might be to convey information in a non-academic manner. All else being equal, I strive to write in a style using the complete syntactical range of the language, being conscious also of the history of past language structures (for example, the fairy tale line “be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread” illustrates an old form I would have an interest in preserving).
In keeping with my practice of doing one project at a time until completion, I also never go back to revise a completed project even when aware of some imperfection or error called to my attention. For example, when David Willson observed in his review of AGAINST THE WAR that Barbara Carpenter as an Army nurse would have been an officer not a specialist as I had made her, I didn’t go back to change that though I easily could have.
Since I don’t back to revise a project, my completed projects are also a record of my progression in use of language. When I was driving cab and just starting out as a writer, I was very much into street language and romanticized it. My attitude then was that the baseball manager was the best example of how I wanted to write because the baseball manager (usually) is intelligent but also speaks in a rough, streetwise manner (I was thinking of Casey Stengel at that time). Over the years I have migrated to the idea that the best language is whatever most efficiently conveys what needs to be said, despite use of complex syntax at times and despite seeming erudite, which is a put off, I know, for many people.
My progression in use of language can be seen in the successive 331 chapters of AGAINST THE WAR, also, since I did not often go back to revise chapters already completed in the 20 plus years I was working on that novel.
Another concept that has been very important to me in all of my projects is what I would call “flow.” I want the words to flow out in a continuous sequence with never a stumble. When I was writing SEVEN CITY STORIES, for example, and still working on an electric typewriter at that time (with no easy electronic means, as in word processing, to back up), I had a rule that once I sat down at the desk and put a blank page in the typewriter, I had to sit there until that page was full of single-spaced type (about 500 words). I would then record in a notebook that I had completed that page and would allow myself the option of either re-typing that same page or going on to a new page. If I did retype the same page, it was usually because of stumbling somewhere. Often I did the same page multiple times.
As for my philosophy of what it means to be a writer, I regard it as a vocation. I think a writer should write from best sympathies and compassion and never from bitterness or meanness. I strive to be a voice of the people in the old tradition.
Roland Menge (2025)