Finding the Lines
By Jael McHenry | January 2, 2012 |
In these posts I usually try to provide straightforward, common-sense advice, the kind of guidelines and principles that could be applied by writers at any stage of their careers. This month, let’s do something a little different.
Instead of a how-to, I’d like to present a how-in-the-world? — a type of knotty problem that can’t really be attacked by logic or solved by reason.
We all need to find the lines.
The line between confidence and arrogance. The line between thoughtful analysis and over-the-top obsessing. The line between listening to critique and reworking your MS to please others and not yourself. The line between persistence and pestering. The line between caution and fear. All of these are essential lines for writers to find for themselves. When you find them, it’s like turning on a light bulb. But they’re so hard to explain or define, and I can’t tell you where or how to find them. I can only tell you: they’re important.
An example. Finding the line between analysis and obsession is important if and when you get rejections back from agents on a partial or full manuscript. Looking at patterns is important, but spending hours or days or weeks parsing the sentence “I just didn’t connect with the material” isn’t a great use of your time. But I can’t give you a rule or guideline for how much is too much, nor do I really know what was going through the agent’s head when she wrote those words. She might have made it through five pages or 50. She might have spent three minutes or three hours wondering what to say to you. I can tell you that you’ll never know the answer and I can tell you you shouldn’t write back to ask for more detail, but I can tell you that you’ll be happier and healthier when you figure out where the line is, for you, beyond which you put those words out of your mind and turn your attention to something else entirely.
I can tell you what. I can’t tell you how.
The line between confidence and arrogance is also essential to find. Because you need confidence. Absolutely need it. You won’t get by, either before publication or after, if you can’t find some core of confidence within yourself that enables you to say I am a good writer and my book is worth reading. But there is so little space between the confidence of I’m a great writer with a great book and the arrogance of Anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool, and arrogance is both unappealing and not really useful. One side of the line will raise you up, and the other side of the line will rip you up. And it’s so hard to explain what the difference is.
So, WU’ers, how do you do it? How do you find the lines for yourselves?
(Photo by cogdogblog via Flickr)
Jael McHenry is the debut author of The Kitchen Daughter (Simon & Schuster/Gallery Books, April 12, 2011). Her work has appeared in publications such as the North American Review, Indiana Review, and the Graduate Review at American University, where she earned her MFA in Creative Writing. You can read more about Jael and her book at jaelmchenry.com or follow her on Twitter at @jaelmchenry.
Jael, thanks for this post. The line I like to keep in mind is that there is always room for improvement and writers should be able to recognize their flaws. Otherwise they will agonize over vague criticism such as the exams you gave. Thanks again.
I think that finding the line is easy if you just keep in mind to be modest. Yes, believing in yourself and having confidence is good, but we all need to know our place.
I agree with what CG Blake said in his comment; that there’s always room for improvement and writers should be able to recognize their flaws. It’s a good thing to keep in mind when trying to avoid arrogance while keeping confident!
This is such a great post! Back when I was querying, a good friend to me that the only important part of a rejection letter is the fact that it’s a no. The agent replying didn’t want to represent the book, and may have come up with a reason in the letter, but it’s entirely possible that their feeling of no was way more vague and amorphous, and it wasn’t something to obsess over. His advice was so helpful. Every time I’d catch myself getting crazy over a reject letter, I’d remind myself that it was just a no and move on.
Balance is a key issue in life. Thanks, Jael, for applying it to our writing lives. Even without writing, there are constant and ongoing family issues. How to protect a child without stifling independence. How to work hard without it becoming obsession. How to love your mate without smothering.
Your thoughts on the confidence/arrogance issue and the others are further complicated by the fact that the magic line is a moving target and highly situation dependent.
Our lives are about balance. We’re on a tightwire and have variable wind with which to cope. But, our route from nothing to something wonderful and joyous is by moving across that rope. Go for it…alertly.
Oh Jael, this post is so perfect.
Unfortunately I don’t think there’s an easy answer. Because everyone’s lines are in different places, based on their circumstances and personality, there is no how. There’s only a constant trial and error, until we learn where the lines are and can teach ourselves how to stay balanced while walking them. (In a way they’re more like tightropes than plain old lines…)
But as you said, they are important, and this post is a wonderful reminder of that for the new year.
Ooops! Didn’t mean to steal your tightrope analogy. Brilliant minds think alike. ;)
Love this. And isn’t it amazing how narrow these lines are? Like tightropes, really. Like walking a tightrope with stilletos.
In this industry it’s so easy to feel on top of the world one moment, and then next, to feel like a huge, talentless loser. That’s why it’s so important to know where the line is . . . so we we fall to one side or the other, we know how to hop back on and keep walkin’.
Thanks, Jael!
xo!
‘She might have made it through five pages or 50. She might have spent three minutes or three hours wondering what to say to you.’
It would appear agents wallow in their own way when giving rejections. And somehow, that comforts me. Perhaps because I believe it’d help me find the line between analysis and obsession.
It’s tricky, and I haven’t figured out where the lines are yet. I tend to lean toward Bon’s position, that tending toward humility is a wise course. But Frank Lloyd Wright famously said, “Early in life I had to choose between honest arrogance and hypocritical humility. I chose the former and have seen no reason to change.” There is much evidence that his arrogance was his greatest failing, but who knows if we’d even know his name if he hadn’t chosen the path he did.
Very interesting post. Much to ponder. Thanks, Jael.
I am not a very religious person, but your post about balance made me think of something I read every year in the Yom Kippur liturgy:
“According to Rabbi Bunim of P’shiskha, everyone should have two pockets, each containing a slip of paper. On one should be written: I am but dust and ashes, and on the other: The world was created for me. From time to time we must reach into one pocket, or the other. The secret of living comes from knowing when to reach into each.”
It is very hard to find that place of balance between the lines. It is something I struggle with all the time and will probably keep struggling with all the days of my life.
Thank you for this post.
That’s an amazing quote–very appropriate. The swing from pride to nothingness is inevitable. Being able to live in the middle is a gift, and a productive spot in which to be. Just focusing on the task at hand and the mission instead of “what we are” at the moment. thanks for your post. Really good.
Great post, Jael!
Another wise person said that the difference between heaven and hell is only a hairsbreadth. (Now there’s a line for ya!) One’s perspective/attitude can make all the difference, can’t it?
Like everything in life, find the lines is all about balance.
My lines waver from day to day. Some days I know when to let things go and when to focus and other days I’m more like Dawn of the Dead, except my obsession isn’t with brains, it’s with whatever minutae of the writing world I’ve managed to fixate on at that particular moment.
The line that I try to keep in mind is my Dawn of the Dead days will pass. It’s best not to do anything irrevocable on those days. In fact, sometimes those days are a sign that I need to take a break and gain some fresh perspective.
One of the things I’ve learned from my husband (of 31 years!) is to give other people the benefit of the doubt. Actually, I should say, one of the principles I’m attempting to adopt is… giving people the benefit of the doubt. It’s not always easy but trying to put myself in another person’s shoes goes a long way towards forging healthy relationships. However, even as so many here have already stated, life is about balance and I think the only way to learn is to just do it. Recognize your mistakes and adjust your future responses accordingly. Life is not for wusses. :)
So many great responses here! Thanks, all! I particularly like that Yom Kippur liturgy, LJ, and Johanna’s phrase “Dawn of the Dead days.”
I find it easy to write craft advice when I’m sure of my ground, when I know something with certainty. There’s no thought of a line. It’s not about confidence. It’s not about arrogance. It’s about conviction.
Great post Jael. I can usually tell when I’m wavering far from the line because I start to feel very uncomfortable. Falling “off line” is prickly and itchy. When I’m more in balance, I can feel it. So I think, for me, a key part of finding that balance is learning to be mindful.
Other than that, the most helpful mindset for me is to dive into the process of learning. If I get a negative critique, my first response is “ouch” (or worse), and that’s fine. But then, I try to move to “what can I learn here.”
Recently, I’ve had a slew of rejections. Seriously, everything I send out comes back with a “no thanks”. At this point it’s almost comical, when it’s not extremely depressing. And then, a few days ago, I realized that, damn, I get to be with my kids and write everyday. Everyday. The two things I love most. That’s pretty rich, pretty lucky — a pretty good line