Persistence is what makes the impossible possible, the possible likely, and the likely definite. – Robert Half
I’ve had several conversations in the last week with other writers that surrounded the subject of doubt demons, dealing with stress, and career paths. I’m sure part of it is that January was fast coming to a close, and if they’re anything like me they’re thinking… “Damn, time is just whipping by…again.” and if others are like me they’re thinking maybe they need to revise their goals for the year. But I think the other part of it, the bigger part, is that we’re writers, and no matter how much you write, how many sales you have, or how well your last book did, we still have doubts.
It’s funny because I know me and my friends fight these demons off to somewhat regular intervals, and I often hope that someday I’ll get to that point where I don’t doubt my skill/talent/or drive anymore, but I doubt it. Yes, there’s another doubt.
Because it seemed to be such a prominent topic of conversation I figured I’d share some thoughts of my own, as well as some that I’ve seen elsewhere that have stuck with me.
Carrie Vaughn’s post a while back called A NYT Bestseller has a meltdown really hit home with me, not just because of what she said, but because of who she is. I’ve been a fan of Carrie’s for years, and think she does a fabulous job on every Kitty novel, as well as her other stand alone’s.
The truth of it is, we all have doubts, and it’s not always a bad thing. Doubts are very bad, when you let them cripple you, or worse yet, stall you altogether. Doubts are bad when you give in to them and let them take over. But I believe if you acknowledge them, and consciously work to run right over them on your way to the finish line (whatever that is in your case) that they can be a both of a good thing because doubts mean we care about what we’re doing. That we’re not just churning out the same thing again and again in some sort of formula that once worked and we think will work again.
Like most things in this often crazy business, doubts are all about how you use them.
If you want more reinforcement that you’re not alone in having self doubt…check out this articles, that quote’s some pretty well-known authors voicing their doubts, and gives some great advice for dealing with doubts.
I’m going to leave you today with a couple of steps from a post I found on romance writer Kelly Wolf’s blog
1. Keep writing. You won’t want to, but you can. It’s all in your head. Really. Just do it.
2. Read a book on your craft.
3. Write some more.
4. Check out blogs by your favorite author or other writers with information on your craft.
5. Write again.
6. Read. And then read some more. Remember why you love books.
That it’s all about me. Yes, Seriously it is.
Let me explain. When I first started out writing I had no support system, and had taken no writing classes, or workshops. Despite that I only had one rejection before I was published, and after that, everything I sent out was accepted, and published. In the 9 years that I’ve been writing I’ve had 4 rejections. The first 2 were within the first year of my starting, (and one was a revise and resubmit) the other 2 were in this past year.
There were no rejections in the 8 years in between. What does that tell me? That I need to go back to the beginning, when I didn’t worry about what was happening in the rest of the industry, or where I would submit something or what readers would think. I just wrote what I wanted, the way I wanted to. So what did I learn with all this thinking and planning I’ve been doing this past year? That it doesn’t really matter, what really matters is the writing, and in order for me to get motivated and be productive again, I need to trust myself. So, yes, it’s al about me…at least until after the story is finished, then there will be time to think, worry, edit and stress. *g*
This clip is 7 minutes long, but the first 2 minutes of it isn’t what I want you to see., the last minute is nothing special either. It’s the 4 minutes in the middle that are gold.
Enjoy, and remember.
“The first key to writing is to write… not to think.”
“You are a better writer today than you were yesterday. ” - J.A. Pitts
On Saturday J.A. Pitts did a guest blog and I highly recommend everyone go read it. Go now, I’ll wait. Okay, you back? feeling refreshed, confident, perhaps ready to tackle a new project? I am.
It’s funny how J.A’s post was geared toward new writers, yet, his advice is very much what I got out of my week in Florida at the 2011 Novelist Inc. conference. Sure, I got a boatload of information on all the changes going on in the publishing industry right now. I also gained some more knowledge about copyright laws, marketing strategies, and promotions. But even more important than any marketing/legal, promotional tips I could’ve gained from this conference was the overall message…the best way to find success in this business is still to write a damn good story.
Myself, and two of the authors I really connected with last year decided to do a two day writing retreat at the end if this years conference. While we planned to do a ton of writing, what we ended up getting done was even better, for me. We talked.
To set this up a bit I’ll tell you that Jordan is a paranormal/urban fantasy/YA author, and JoAnn is used to be an inspirational author who is venturing into paranormal. Then there’s me, the erotica author. So as you can imagine, we have various POV’s here when we talk writing. After discussing everything covered during the conference, we each spent time talking about various plans we had and brainstorming ideas and story lines. This was the most valuable thing for me. I can only hope that Jordan and JoAnn got as much out of these talks as I did.
You see, the thing I got out of these talks is a solid multi-pronged plan that I hope will help me continue to build the career I want. And in this fast-changing industry that’s harder to do than you’d think. It’s also easier, because I really do think what J.A. said is solid advice for writers of all levels. What I write tomorrow will be better than what I wrote yesterday, because I am learning, and I’m always striving to be better. The fact is, that as a reader I do get bored, even with my favorite authors, if they don’t continue to push the limits with their storytelling, so as a writer I need to never forget to do that, and brainstorming ideas with people I trust, who also happen to want to push their own limits, reminded me of that.
I occasionally make references to the time I almost quit writing. Or at least, quit trying to get published. In hindsight, I don’t know how serious I really was, but I definitely remember it as the lowest moment in my career. It’s still vivid. Surprisingly, this came after I’d been published. I’d sold maybe a dozen short stories to some respectable magazines. I was on my way. So what happened that would make me think about quitting?
A big part of the problem was expectation. I thought things would get easier, and they didn’t. After selling those dozen stories, I went for a year without selling anything. I got an agent, then left the agent, who hadn’t done anything for me in eight months. I felt like I’d wasted so much time. I was writing my fifth novel in something of a fog of despair, assuming it would go the way of the previous four. (I figured that #4 wouldn’t sell any more than the first three had. But it did, less than a year later — #4 was Kitty and The Midnight Hour. #5 became Discord’s Apple.)
Before I’d sold any stories, I had that one blazing, shining goal ahead of me: get published. That was it. Once I accomplished that, what was my goal? Get published again? And again? While collecting just as many rejection slips as before? I felt like I’d gotten on a hamster wheel and was running as hard as I could, not getting anywhere, with no end in sight.
One day through this, I was talking with my mother on the phone, and I can’t remember what set me off, but I started crying and I said, “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too hard.” I don’t remember anymore exactly what “it” and “this” were. The preponderance of rejection? The endless cycle of writing stories and sending them out, over and over again? This still mostly involved stuffing envelopes and trips to the post office — a physical act that I think gave the whole process a sense of weight that electronic submissions don’t quite match. I pictured myself stuffing envelopes and making trips to the post office for the rest of my life, with nothing to show for it. I felt like all the forward momentum I’d accumulated over the three years since making my first short story sale had vanished. Progress in this business isn’t measured in a linear, constantly ascending graph, but in fits and starts, leaps and setbacks. If I really wanted to be a professional writer I was going to have to keep doing this, and experiencing this, for the rest of my life. I didn’t know if I could handle it.
You know what my mom’s response to me was? “What else are you going to do?” Spoken in a very remonstrating and frustrated tone of voice. She was right — I didn’t have anything else. If I didn’t write, I was going to be an administrative assistant wage slave for the rest of my life, and no doubt miserable. Even more miserable, that is.
I talk about this point in my career as a warning, and I hope as an example for others: you are not alone. Even after the first few blushes of success, you’ll experience setbacks, and you’ll feel horrible. After you’ve made the first sale, you still have make the second, and it may be just as difficult. Things may get easier for awhile — but then they’ll get tough again, and you’ll feel lost. Like you failed, somehow. But all these feelings are normal. What gets you through it? Good work habits — and a love of the work. I still had stories I needed to tell. That phone call I had with my mom happened after I had sent out yet another round of query letters. And it was just a week or two after the call that I heard back from what became (and is still) my agency. My habits, and my goals of sending out stories and queries every month, saved me from following through on my threat to quit. Thank goodness.
I did something last week I haven’t done in a while, writing wise.
I’m in the messy middle of Kitty 11, and it’s really messy this time. (I say that every time, I have to remind myself.) I finally got to where I couldn’t move forward anymore. I had to go back and fix the broken bits. I knew how I wanted to fix them, I’ve got a new outline for how everything fits together. I just had to buckle down and do it, however much I dreaded it. Boy, did I dread it. I worked on another project that isn’t due until November rather than tackle this one.
Finally, I pulled out an old trick: I saved the file under a new name (or a new number version, at least). Then, I started hacking with impunity. Scenes I thought I needed but turned out to be red herrings — gone. Superfluous information that had to make way for new, more tightly written transitions — chopped. It’s frustrating, working for several hours and ending up with the same word count I started with. But I can see that the story’s getting better, coming together in a way it wasn’t before.
I’ve always gone through this stage of pre-rough draft revision, but it’s been awhile since I did it with a new file, preserving the old version. For the last few books, I think I was under tight enough deadlines that I didn’t have time to dither. I didn’t wait around to start cutting, and wasn’t as attached to the earlier drafts. I knew what needed to be fixed and just did it. This time, I have a looser deadline, more time to ponder, and I didn’t look at the manuscript much at all through the last month of traveling. I dreaded what I would find when I got back to it. So I pulled out the old “save as” trick, and it seems to work. I’ve got some of that forward momentum back.
It’s a purely psychological trick — by working on a new file, I can tell myself that if the new scenes and revisions don’t work, I can always go back to the old version. I’m not really deleting anything, I’m just trying something new. Giving myself permission to play around, rather than telling myself I have to rewrite. That seems to free up some creative muscle. It’s important to note: after saving the manuscript as a new file, I’ve never, ever gone back to the old one. I might double check a line or detail. But the new file always becomes the working draft. As usual, my subconscious knows what it’s doing.
So there it is, another trick for the tool box. If you’re having trouble seriously revising a manuscript, try saving it as a new file and see if that shakes things up.
