Once more unto the breach, dear friends. The raging war
outside our wall persists, and circumstances seemingly beyond our control loom
large.
A sense of agnostic despair tells us to ignore the carnage, to pretend
evil doesn’t exist, and to that end we silently recite the Serenity Prayer,
especially that one liberating line—serenity to accept the things we cannot
change. But those other lines haunt us. We don’t want to remember them, and yet
we do: The courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the
difference.
There sits the keyboard.
An unassuming object, it is neither good nor bad. Once
touched by human hands, it becomes something else entirely. A rabbit hole of
endless sordid distraction and entertainment, or a powerful weapon against dark
forces, against the Goliath many see but cannot acknowledge.
But when the blast of war blows in our ears…We hear the
screams, we see the invisible daemons in our midst, cloaked and deadly. It’s
time to fight. We sense it, deep inside our souls. It’s overwhelming and we
want to hide, we want to close our eyes and cover our ears. The rabbit hole
beckons, offering hours of superficial escape with which to pass the time.
Or close up the wall with our English dead. Will we have the
courage to change the things we can?
There sits the keyboard. Once more.
"Are you up for this? Are you? Look, I just need to know...because the city is flying. We're fighting an army of robots. And I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense. But I'm going back out there because it's my job, okay?" ~ Avengers: Age of Ultron
This is ROBOT. He was a good little android and always very
curious.
Today ROBOT and his friend, The Cyborg in the NextGenSkin,
were at the library.
ROBOT couldn’t believe the number of books on the library
shelves. He’d never seen so much paper in one place before. The books were
covered in a thick layer of dust, and cobwebs stretched across the bookends.
ROBOT and The Cyborg in the NextGenSkin pushed the cobwebs
out of the way as they read the titles, trying to find the right one.
“Wherever could it be?” ROBOT muttered to himself.
They’d gone to the library for a particular book. An
out-of-print book that wasn’t in their memory bank, a book they heard might be
dangerous for NewSociety.
A banned book, purported to exist in only one location.
“I found it,” The Cyborg in the NextGenSkin said. “Over
here, in the back.”
Curious ROBOT made his way to the corner, and took the damaged,
faded book from his friend. ROBOT examined the cover, the insides, the brittle
binding. He held it to his nose, inhaling.
Ick. No wonder NewSociety closed down all the bookstores and
libraries. It was a terrible aroma that reeked of old paper held for too long
by human hands.
“That’s the one,” Curious ROBOT said. “Let’s go.”
“Aren’t you going to read it?” his friend asked.
“I don’t need to,” Curious ROBOT replied. “I read about it.
Same thing, right? Don’t you just love the challenge of finding books that aren’t
in the system? Like a puzzle.”
“Sure. I guess.”
Curious ROBOT and The Cyborg in the NextGenSkin took the
banned book outside, set it on fire, and watched it burn down to ashes on the
concrete.
Warning: I’m feeling subversive today, so this post might raise some eyebrows. But I’m willing to risk it. Why? Because I’m a writer and it’s my job to explore controversial topics. At least this is what I tell myself.
We talk a lot about how writing is a craft, while publishing is a business. And this is true. So true. Neither side is right or wrong. They are just different, with different goals around the same core product. Writers NEED to write. Publishers NEED to sell.
Alright, what about the juicy and subversive parts?
Okay, here we go.
SUBVERSIVE COMPARISON #1.Writing is a drug, and publishing is the cartel.
That’s right. I’m comparing books to street drugs.
Let me explain. For the writer, words on the page are a buzz, a personal high (“YES, I made that word count today! Yay me!”). For the publisher, words on the page mean the bills get paid.
For the writer, connecting with readers about their stories is like smoking out together with friends at the same party (“Dude, I freaking LOVE your protagonist. I could totally live in that world forever and ever and ever. I'm serious, man. If you stop writing this series, I'll literally die. I can’t put it down.”)
But for the publisher, writers who connect frequently with readers on social media will sell more books. This is a crucial difference that I think many writers fail to understand. Which leads me to…
SUBVERSIVE COMPARISON #2. Writers who want to become successful in today’s market must understand both user and dealer, without succumbing to the trappings of either role. So yes...forgive me, but I’m just going to say it…today’s top published authors are like veteran drug lords.
It’s a rough comparison that doesn’t make either side look good, which is exactly my point. Throughout history we’ve glamorized the publishing industry, as if selling books is somehow less prone to the politics found in other types of industries. Here’s the truth: If you want to become a semi-successful published author, you will encounter an industry that’s more Breaking Bad than Jane Austen.
Now wait. In my last post, “How to Sell Your Book Without Selling Your Soul,” I made a big point about using “idea-based marketing” techniques to get your book in front of readers, so that you’re not always having to pimp yourself out to everyone you see. Now I’m saying that you need to be like the hardened leader of an illegal drug cartel. Which is it?
I guess I can understand your confusion. Illegal drug cartels might be a stretch. What about legal ones?
SUBVERSIVE COMPARISON #3.Writing is the cure for cancer, and publishing is the pharmaceutical company that wants to fund the research and secure the patent.
Better now? It’s certainly a more noble comparison. But the pharmaceutical industry has a lot of problems, too. I mean, not everyone out there is trying to cure cancer, right?
Here’s my point: There’s stuff behind the scenes in every industry that most people don’t see. When you take a tablet of Advil, for example, you have no idea what happened to bring that Advil to your home. When a kid parties one night, she probably doesn’t think about how many people were beheaded in Mexico to make it happen.
Business is business.
People who become successful in any industry—be it publishing, the illegal drug trade, or pharmaceutical cancer research—learn the rules of that industry and work to master them.
Violent beheadings aside, I think it’s still fair to say that writing is like a drug. The written word is powerful and dangerous. Always has been, always will be.
And you know what?
I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Certainly not anything involving a Mexican drug cartel. (Though one of my characters might…)
Right away I need to tell you something personal. Not the TMI-kind-of-personal, but personal in the sense that this won’t be the typical “how-to” blog post about book marketing. Why? Because sales and marketing turns me off completely and causes my skin to itch.
I’m fiscally skeptical to my core, the kind of girl who skips commercials and doesn’t care who designed my shoes. This shouldn’t come as a surprise—I write cyberpunk, so a certain level of anti-establishment goes with the territory.
Perhaps this makes me a poor example. After all, experts say if you want to sell your book, view it as a product, and view the readers as customers. Your job as a published author is to move that product, grow your customer base, and write that next book so there’s more product to sell. The more you write, the more you have to sell, the more customers you’ll get, and the more money you’ll make.
Good advice, right? Yes, of course. But personally, I can’t do it that way. Not without selling my soul in the process.
Now here’s something else you need to know about me: despite this deep, dark issue with marketing, I sell books all the time as an associate editor at Henery Press. Even when I’m on break, even on weekends, even after hours...I do it without violating my conscience, and I enjoy it. How? Because I believe in the authors and their books. I think anyone who has the guts to write a novel is pretty darn amazing, and I want to support them.
So here’s my secret to selling books without selling your soul: **BELIEVE IN YOUR IDEAS**
Mr. Robot is a fantastic example of idea-based marketing.
To make it work, you’ll need to separate your identity from the book itself, without breaking away from the ideas behind the book.
Let’s say you write about zombie insects. For whatever reason, creepy-crawly zombies really float your boat. So go forth and find other people who like zombie insects, either in person or online, and strike up a conversation. Just geek out for a while with all those other awesome zombie-insect lovers—people who aren’t going to judge the fact that you think zombie ladybugs are the bomb—your kind of people.
If you view your book as a product, you'll feel like a salesperson every time you talk about it. But with idea-based marketing, talking about your book will come naturally as you engage with others about the ideas that inspired your writing in the first place.
The cool thing about idea-based marketing is that you can do it anytime, in any place, across any platform. In-person signings could become lively discussions about topics you enjoy. Tweets could entertain and inspire. Facebook posts could inform and even raise awareness about important events or causes.
You don’t have to have an active product, just an active idea. My sci-fi thriller OPEN SOURCE doesn’t come out until January, but in a sense, I’ve already started marketing and building my audience around its core concepts. The best part is that most of the time it doesn’t feel like marketing, because these are things that really do matter to me. I fully believe in my ideas, and I want to talk with other people about those ideas. It’s a natural outflow of my interests.
One last note: idea-based marketing only works if you MAKE IT EASY TO BUY YOUR BOOK. I won’t go into strategies here, but all your social media profiles should clearly identify your author name, your book title, and provide a buy link (when available). If you make it easy to buy your book, you can spend more time talking with people about the ideas that inspired your book, and less time telling them to go buy it.
Maybe book sales will follow, maybe not. But you’ll still have your soul, and that’s a good thing.
Next week is the annual DFW Writers Conference. As Dallas area writers, Anna Davis and I thought we'd tackle pros and cons at the "Con."
Wrong kind of con, but still a great film.
My first professional writer’s conference was the DFW Con last year. I'd just completed the first draft of my first manuscript and made one (yes, one) weak polishing attempt. I had a writer friend to help break the ice. While my friend really helped my comfort level, it's often good to go without knowing anyone, forcing you to make new friends.
I've been to three conferences since, and have made several good friends. But the workshops—listening to other writers talk about what worked and what didn't—can help exponentially.
Generally, there are two tracks at conferences: 1) Classes on craft, publishing, and critiquing; and 2) Networking. Professional conferences are most effective when the writer can "work" both tracks. But for many writers, this is a step—or leap—outside of their comfort zone.
Anna and I have divided up tips for those who master track (1) and those who master track (2).
No, these are not the two tracks we want to master...
PRO TIP #1: Research classes ahead of time and plan accordingly.
While many writers are introverts, you'd be hard-pressed to find any of my friends or acquaintances who would call me shy. But at a conference? I'm all about the classes, the workshops, and the critiques. I'm planning my schedule now for the con that takes place in ten days.
Time spent researching the instructors is beneficial. Specific things I look for: publishing credentials, book sales, and genres. This research will help you decide which classes to attend, and will also help you prepare for each class so that you can get the most out of it.
Don't miss a class! Keep track of the schedule during the con.
PRO TIP #2: Use Twitter for Networking.
Here’s the deal: most of us writers just flat-out don’t like networking. We live in our heads because we like it there. But when you sign up for a conference, you’re paying a lot of money and taking time out of your normal schedule, and you don’t want to miss a huge benefit: MEETING OTHER WRITERS.
So in the interest of all that is good and holy about networking, take advantage of Anna's little-known conference secret: Use Twitter.
If you don’t have a Twitter app on your mobile device, GET ONE. Twitter is the business card of the digital age. It beats Facebook hands-down for speed networking situations like conferences and conventions.
If you have Twitter but don’t know how to use it, LEARN. You don’t have to be a Twitter expert. You just need to know how to follow people and how to look up a hashtag (like #DFWCon, for example).
Knowing how to make lists would help, too. If you create a list for the conference ahead of time, you can easily add new contacts to that list throughout the con. When you go home, completely brain-dead and exhausted, you will have a record of who you met. You will also have a way to get in contact with them again. And you might even have their picture. Twitter is a mysterious and powerful type of networking magic.
Dazzling. Shocking. Twitter can be your best con strategy.
Twitter is a useful tool for all writers, but especially for introverts and others who might struggle with a slew of socially-challenging conditions (anxiety, ADHD, a hatred for small talk, etc.).
Plus, there’s nothing more fun than live-tweeting during a class, seeing someone else’s tweet about the same class (because you both hashtagged the conference and class name), and looking over to see that person with phone in hand, hunkered down, sharing the same experience online but not especially comfortable in social situations. Like you.
Writers: Twitter can be your best #networking tool ever. #GetTwitterNow #IntrovertsUnite #ConTips
Every story needs a troublemaker. Have you ever wondered why the most enduring stories have the worst villains? Ever put down a book because you just didn’t care about the story? Maybe the stakes weren’t high enough. Maybe the bad guy just wasn’t…bad enough.
Several years ago someone gave me this advice: to write a strong plot, start with the antagonist. It sounds backwards, right? But from a storytelling perspective, it makes perfect sense to start with the villain. Here’s why:
The villain is often a twisted version of the hero. Strong villains have a motive that opposes your main character’s goals. If your hero wants to eat ice cream, your villain is blowing up ice cream delivery trucks because of some deep-seated sundae phobia. Both hero and villain have similar interests, but on opposite sides of the issue. They are two sides of the same coin.
The best villains have a tragic backstory. When we learn about these defining events in the villain’s past, we begin to understand why they act that way. Maybe the poor guy hates ice cream sundaes because his psychopathic mother forced him to eat giant sundaes every day until he got sick, while he was locked in the basement staring at decomposing rats. We sympathize. It’s a complicated and yet compelling feeling, to care about the villains even as they do horrific things.
Villains reflect the evil we see in ourselves and others. Let’s face it, there’s a villain in every one of us. Fictional villains just take it to a whole new level of badness, often with cool stage makeup and special effects. Fictional villains offer a safe way to voluntarily process the deep, philosophical horrors that play out in our own communities. Like that dark and terrible day when Blue Bell recalled all the ice cream because of the dread villain Listeria. There is evil in the world, Aurora.
Villains provide creative freedom. As writers, we spend hours developing the character qualities of our protagonists. For those of us who write series fiction, we need to stay within the confines of our main characters because they are the anchors that hold the whole thing together. But introduce a new villain to the mix, or give your existing villain a new toy, and all bets are off. Ice cream trucks explode. Banana splits ooze with poison syrup. Anything can happen.
And finally, the main reason we love a good villain:
Villains are unapologetically selfish. Hell-bent on getting their own way, villains are determined, driven, and will stop at nothing. Killing? No biggie. Blowing things up? Sure. Allowing gallons and gallons of delicious Blue Bell ice cream to go to waste? Whatever it takes. We might not agree with their methods, but if we’re honest with ourselves, we admire a villain’s commitment. Go hard or go home.
Next time you sit down to write, turn the monster loose. Make your villain more evil and powerful, so your hero can get stronger. Up the stakes. Give us drama, make us cringe, incite tears. Back your hero into a corner, give the villain the upper hand, and then see what happens. Can your hero overcome the strongest of villains?
It’s been a while since I set my high-heeled foot in a college
classroom. But from what I remember, the laws of physics provide boundaries to human capabilities, right? That’s why I was so baffled by Lucy, the film in which Scarlett
Johansson's character absorbs a drug that allows her to use a hundred percent
of her brain. Without giving too much away, I’ll say this: Lucy has an interesting
premise and incredible visual effects, but the science is a hot mess. (If you
don’t care about spoilers, read this from Mashable.com).
This is one screenplay that needed more beta readers and a thick red pen.
Lucy
What are beta readers, you ask? Beta readers are volunteer test subjects for your drafts. They
find plot holes, suggest changes in the story, point out things you can’t see
for yourself, and generally let you know when something doesn’t work (and when
it does). They tell the truth about your writing. They see the big picture
because, unlike you as the writer, their minds aren’t overflowing with character
sketches and plot outlines.
Big Hero 6
You cannot do this for your own drafts. It doesn’t matter if
you’ve read a thousand books in your genre or if you’ve memorized every major
style guide in the English language. You’re the writer, NOT THE READER—and these are two very
different roles.
There was a time when I thought I could edit anything, even
my own work. I created my first newsletter at the ripe old age of ten(ish)
after a trip to the Fort Worth Japanese Gardens with my grandparents. In
high school and college I annoyed my peers by editing the heck out of their
articles, and now I do the same thing with novelists as an associate editor for
Henery Press.
When I’m in the zone, my eyes catch missing apostrophes, errant quotation marks, word clutter, main character likeability problems, and plot issues like nobody’s business. Words run in my caffeinated blood.
Blade Runner
Yep, I’m a trained editor—a professional. But here’s the
deal: I STILL CAN’T DO THIS FOR MY OWN WRITING. When it comes to my own stuff,
I’m blind. And stubborn. Sometimes, very VERY stubborn. (Should I delete the vague
adverb, very? Of course I should. But I’m leaving it there.
Twice even. Why? Because I want to. Because I’m the writer, darn it…and you can’t
stop me.)
Ghost in the Shell
Even after the eighth draft or so, I still hold onto
that-which-I-should-delete (backstory, excess character reflection, adverbs) and fail to expound on that-which-I-should-include (worldbuilding, character
emotion, descriptions).
I do things in my own writing that I tell other
writers to avoid, unaware that I’m committing the same literary sin until
someone calls me out on it.
The Matrix
Fortunately, I have some amazing beta readers. These brave souls provide informed ideas to make my imaginary biotech believable, tell me I'm writing like a girl (when it should be a guy's POV), and mediate for characters I'm tempted to kill. (I'm no George R.R. Martin, but I like a high body count. Just sayin'.) A big thank you for my beta readers—I couldn't do it without you!
Okay, writers: Go find yourself some beta readers. And bonus
points if you decide to watch this short scene from Lucy, which includes—of all
things—A RED PEN. No joke.
Are writers supposed to live on the fringes of society? I mean, as writers and artists, we regularly ponder horrific existential truths that would scare the pants off regular people. We’ve tapped into something huge, man. Something beyond everyday reality, an existence in the margins. Just makes sense we'd be outsiders, right?
Reality Bites (1994)
I’ve been percolating on this sentiment for weeks, but couldn’t really put words to it until I read poet Tony Hoagland’s recent column in The Writer. “I was living a vagabond life, encountering a lot of people who were living outside of all the systems,” writes Tony of his younger days. “That’s very important for writers, because we really are the outsiders, and we have to maintain our outside perspective…We really can’t speak truthfully or with that renegade precision that turns over rocks unless we know how to navigate between the systems and not to be co-opted by any of their resident vocabularies.”
Poet Tony Hoagland
I read Tony’s column while on a roadtrip with family and friends to New Mexico for Spring Break. It could’ve been my altitude sickness or the peculiar Native American landmarks, but his words resonated with me. A vagabond life…Renegade precision that turns over rocks…I don’t know about you, but something about that description gets me all fired up.
Almost every writer I’ve met views the world differently from the mainstream. For some of us it takes years to claim the role—pretending we fit in, trying to be normal, yet seeing things that others don’t (then shutting up about it, so as not to disturb the status quo). But somewhere along the line we'll sit down over a keyboard with reverence, take a deep breath, and start writing. When that happens, watch out. We’ll turn over rocks with renegade precision like warriors—word warriors—armed with smoking-hot vocab and deadly syntax.
Which leads me to my next point: is there something more substantial than gratuitous self-identification to this concept of writers as outsiders? Is there a purpose?
Yes and yes.
As writers, we put words to emotions and sensations that others feel but can’t articulate, so that when someone reads it, they think, “Yes—that’s exactly it. That’s how I feel.” This can happen in millions of ways in every genre. Stephen King once said that fiction is the truth inside the lie. When writers wrap a story around real emotions, readers identify with that story because they’ve also felt those same core emotions. It can be cathartic for both writer and reader.
Besides serving as emotional conduits, writers are also in the unique position of pointing out societal failings. Most people learn quickly in life not to speak of those little things (and sometimes really big things) in our culture that don’t ring true. Writers and artists have the ability to expose these discrepancies. Why? Because we’re outsiders. We know the lay of the land, but we see it from a different perspective.
So raise your coffee mugs and take up your keyboards, because right now someone out there might need you to flip over a rock or two. You’re a writer, baby. Get to work.
If you’ve been in the publishing industry for any length of
time, you’ve probably heard that publishing is slow. Sometimes
we say “publishing is glacial,” or even “publishing moves at a glacial pace.” If
you Google any variation of this phrase, you’ll find hundreds of examples where
someone used it to explain the mind-boggling amount of time that
goes into querying, revising, pitching, editing, and publishing.
In full disclosure, you should know that I’ve even said it
(scroll down into the comments of this blog post if you want to catch me
red-handed).I’m not sure where I first heard this phrase, but obviously it stuck. I’ve been
in the publishing industry for almost two decades as a writer, a self-pubbed
author, a freelance editor, and an editorial assistant at a publishing company,
and it just flew out of my mouth like the parental “because I said so.”
Fellow publishing professionals, we’re shooting ourselves in
the foot with this phrase. We’re hanging on to old-school platitudes that don’t
make sense anymore.
Here’s the truth: In this digital age, publishing moves at
different speeds for different writers, and the key is finding the best fit for
you.
Some publishing paths are slow. If writers won’t settle for
anything less than the top agents and the Big Five publishers…well, they might
as well grab an icepick and make an igloo, because they’ll be camped out on
that glacier a long time. Eventually they’ll sell a lot of books. Maybe.
But some are fast. Self-publishing
is by far the fastest option out there. HOWEVER, writer beware: with speed
comes error. Across the board, quality control is an issue for self-pubbed
authors. At the next level we have new agents and small presses, who can move
more quickly than larger institutions. Take it from me, there are many small
presses out there in your genre, waiting (and hoping, with fingers crossed!) to
read a well-written and compelling manuscript. They might even be able to edit
and publish your book within less than a year from your submission date. No
lie.
There are shortcuts. Regardless of
which publishing method you choose, a savvy writer/editor/agent can maneuver
the system. While writing is a form of art, publishing is a business and therefore follows
the basic rules of business practice. Networking, negotiation, and commitment
go a long way to making your dreams come true.
Anything is possible. At this pivotal time in history, the
publishing industry is literally up for grabs. Writers, listen up: WE HAVE
OPTIONS. Want to self-publish but afraid of sacrificing quality? There are
numerous professional freelance editors and proofreaders out there. Maybe they just got
laid off or want to supplement their income. Maybe they’re at home with a baby.
But they are trained and ready, and probably charge much less than a
proofreading service. Same goes for cover artists and publicists. Think outside
the box and use your social media skills.
I shared this fascinating experience with a group of
wonderful writers, many of whom contribute to this awesome blog. We would post
daily our accomplishments, struggles, frustrations, and/or tears. NaNoWriMo is
not a task to be undertaken lightly. In fact, I’d sat on the sidelines for
several years, watching other braver souls set forth on the perilous journey of
writing 50,000 words in one month. I’d pants around with them in spirit, adding
a few words here a sentence or two there to my work in progress, but I did it
comfortably from my uncommitted couch. This year, I jumped in with both feet,
all the while kicking and screaming, and discovered a great deal about myself
and the writing process in general.
The biggest gem of insight this insane challenge gleaned
was that as writers, and human beings in general, we are ridiculously hard on
ourselves. In order to reach 50,000 words in 30 days, one had to commit to
setting down on the page 1,667 words daily. That, by the way, is my extent at
math skills, which is why I stick with writing.
At the end of each day we would post our word counts.
Some would wallow in defeat and self-torture, others would prance with victory.
On days I didn’t make the word count, I felt like I had failed. Days I made the
minimum or exceeded it I was ecstatic but felt guilty posting my success
because I knew there were others in the group beating themselves up for not
meeting the daily requirements. I knew how frustrating that felt.NaNoWriMo was supposed to be a brilliant kick
start to creativity, instead it turned into a mad dash to crunch the numbers, and
each day I fell behind left me with a bitter taste of inadequacy and failure.
Why? Because the expectation with NaNoWriMo is that you commit to achieving the
goal. In order to win, in order to get that shiny NaNoWriMo badge you can
proudly display as your profile picture, you had to make the cut.
But here’s the thing. Make the cut for what? We were
battling with ourselves and our uniquely creative process (for more insight, check out Anna Davis's post Want More Creative Energy? Pace Yourself). NaNoWriMo forces us to create in a surreal,
unnatural environment and then measure ourselves against that ideal.
NaNoWriMo is not bad, in and of itself, the problem is
how we approach it. Setting goals is a wonderful pursuit, but expecting things
to turn out a specific way only sets us up for disappointment and
disillusionment if things turn sour. Instead of patting ourselves on the back
for 500 words in one day, for many participants (myself included) negative
self-talk undermined the process of creating and turned writing into something
unpleasant, or at very least a chore, and a tough one at that.
We write because we love to, because our passion
compels us to create worlds, people them with a host of quirky characters, and
live out our fanciful days in a realm of make believe so captivating that we
lose ourselves in our own delightful creations. When we get caught up in the
semantics of process and output rather than the experience of joyfully,
blissfully adding fresh, compelling, sexy words to the page, in my humble opinion,
it defeats the purpose: why we got into this crazy gig to begin with.
As writers, there are a plethora of misguided expectations
we may place on ourselves. We might have an unrealistic idea of how long it
actually takes to write a novel, screen play, instructional manual, or memoir
(months, years, even decades). We might not realize how many drafts it takes to
turn a lumpy piece of creative clay into a smooth and polished masterpiece
(think double digits here). What about the end result of your blood, sweat, and
tears? Do you want to be published? Are you hinging your happiness and sense of
accomplishment on whether or not you get picked up by an agent or publishing
house? What happens if you don’t sign that contract? Do you throw in the towel,
hang up your laptop, and call it a career? Or do you acknowledge that there are
other streams, other opportunities to get your work out there? Are you open to
new experiences, wild and crazy unconventional options?
If we are constantly hung up on the end result,
whether we get there, and the way we envision ourselves arriving (standing on a
podium with fireworks and streamer cannons, thank you very much) we’ve lost
touch with the passion that drives us to create.
By all means, set goals, have objectives, but don’t
hinge your happiness on whether they end up looking like the vision you created
in your mind. Instead, go with the flow, take the lessons you learn in the
process and attempt something new in the future, try a new tack. No effort is
wasted.
Being a writer isn’t easy. There are plenty of
challenges both external and internal that we continually battle against, but the
journey is definitely worth it if we keep in mind our reasons for starting in
the first place. Writing invigorates us. It makes us excited to wake up in the
morning, our fingers itch to put those words on the page, to flesh out that
story, to sculpt and hone that brilliant idea.
If writing’s your passion live it, breathe it, but let
go of the handlebars, loosen the grip, lose the expectations and let the words
percolate one letter at a time.
Writing a novel is a game of endurance, and every writer
must find their own pace. I learned this the hard way. I’m currently working on
my third novel, the second in a series. Yes, you heard me right: my third novel is the second in the series. That’s because my first attempt at a novel
needs a complete rewrite. Currently it’s occupying space on my hard drive until
I develop the courage to tackle it.
"So, my old foe, we meet on the battlefield once again."
That first novel taught me something huge and valuable:
never underestimate the power of a creative endeavor.
Creating something of value—whether a novel, painting,
screenplay, piece of music, or the life of a child—demands reverence and care. Creative
energy comes from the Creator, a being whose image we bear in our frail and broken
bodies. It is a power…a force, both spiritual and emotional. It is life and
love and pain. We can only handle small pieces of this power, and yet we crave it
in massive doses. That’s why pacing ourselves is so important: we want the
whole thing but can only digest a few bites at a time.
But pacing is more than knowing when to rest. There also comes
a time for getting down to business. BICHOK: Butt in chair, hands on keyboard. This
is when pacing becomes extremely important because this is the point at which creative
power becomes the most intense. Writers often call this part of the process “the
writing cave,” because it is deep and dark and consuming. It is also necessary
for anyone who wants to finish a novel.
During these stretches of focused writing—months of concentrated
plotting and words and dialogue—I learned that I can’t skimp on the basics.
What are the basics? They’re probably different for
everyone. For me, I stock my writer’s cave with regular sleep, strong coffee
(daily), red wine (occasionally), good friends (as much as possible), and time
with family (daily).
For hardcore writing months, I also carry around at least
three books in my backpack. Yes, actual books made with paper and ink. I don’t even
have to worry about recharging the batteries. When I get discouraged—or feel
like nobody else on earth has ever experienced the angst and sheer misery of
writing a novel because obviously it is a special form of torture reserved for
abnormal people like me who have an unhealthy obsession with words—then I pull
out one of these books and read until I feel sane again.
1. Stephen King, ON WRITING. Love this book. The guy knows how to write, how to make a career out of it, and how to enjoy every moment. Good stuff.
2. Anne Lamott, BIRD BY BIRD. Anne Lamott has a true gift for expressing deep truth in relatable ways. My copy of Bird by Bird is crinkled and warped because I accidentally dropped it into the bathtub during a long bubble bath, and Lamott writes in such a way that makes me think she'd be okay with that.
3. Steven Pressfield, THE WAR OF ART. A friend lent this to me when I was writing my second novel (the first in the series). I was so impressed that I immediately bought my own copy and refer to it when I need a quick burst of motivation.
There are lots of terrific books for writers, but these are my tattered and torn titles that I come back to again and again when I need to focus that creative energy.
As a disclaimer, I still crash and burn sometimes. But
pacing myself keeps that kind of craziness to a minimum. (For the most part.)
Now your turn. What works for you? Any favorite tricks for
harnessing creative energy in your writing?
