Notes From a Desk (3): Love The Rock You’re Pushing
By Therese Walsh | October 1, 2013 |
” photo by JasonTankA member of our Writer Unboxed Facebook community (hey, Karen Lauria Corum!) posted something last week that caught my attention. She wrote:
“I had my mentor tell me early on to never love one book too much because you would at some point have to let it go off into the world…”
It’s interesting advice. And while I understood the letting go concern–though I think that’s more a product of fear than anything else–I couldn’t get beyond the “love” part of her mentor’s instruction or the idea that there could ever be a “too.”
Love a book too much?
I responded:
“I think you should love the hell out of every work-in-progress, because you’re going to be with it for a long time, and love is the only good antidote I know for the resentment that can otherwise build up in a long-term, intimate relationship.”
Truth is, I’d been there, and not done that. Learned a few lessons, too.
To share this with you, I have to spill some of the Uncomfortable Real that Sarah Callender mentioned in her last post. My debut novel didn’t sell as well as my publisher had hoped following the generous deal I received in 2008. Granted, it isn’t an uncommon situation, and my book sale did come about seven-and-a-half seconds before our economy crashed here in the U.S., but the reality of my numbers left me with a big steaming pot of woe-is-me. On top of that, I had to write a second book because I had a two-book deal, and that second book carried a lot of weight on its embryonic thread-and-glue spine. It needed to, if it could, earn more than my first book. Be as good as if not better than my debut. It seemed then that my career–at least in its current incarnation–might have depended on it.
The one word that would describe my state of mind while writing the first draft of my second book would be disillusioned. Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to be after you’d worked and worked and sold your book in a fabulous deal and had so much support and love, and reviews had been good and expectations high, and…
Life isn’t always fair. Buck up. Carry on, old chap.
Got it.
But the chasm between reality and what I had anticipated (and been told to expect) was wide, and I began to feel bound to the second book against my will. Oftentimes while writing the first draft, I felt an edge of resentment for all of it–the work, my contract, others’ easy confidence that I could get through it when it felt anything but easy. And you know what? It showed. When I submitted that first draft to my editor at the time, she told me what I already knew: It wasn’t great. In fact, it was a long way from finished. [Quick aside: I love both Top Chef and Project Runway, and there are times when the judges critique a plate of food or an outfit and correctly guess that the contestant was in a negative head space while working. I think it’s safe to say that emotions trickle down to our art.]
Things began to turn around for me when I started to love the story. How did this happen?
I stopped playing around with characters on a shallow level and went several layers deeper.
I stopped avoiding the thing I knew how to write but was afraid to face.
I began reading my scenes aloud again, and remembered how much I enjoyed the sound of words, the poetry of a well-made sentence.
I realized that I was really, really lucky to have the chance to write another book for my publisher, and I needed to chuck that pot of woe-is-me already because no one was forcing me to eat from it. (It was moldy at this point, besides.)
And I wrote notes to myself, as you already know, to get through the harder times.
Love the rock you’re pushing. Even if the task feels Sisyphean. Especially if it does.
And be grateful. It took time for me to see it this way, but once I did everything became easier: If I hadn’t had the two-book contract, I wouldn’t have kept going. Meaning, I may have tucked my pencils into a drawer, applied for that banking job I so often joke about, and never tried to write another book.
I’m glad that I did try, because I fiercely love my second book, The Moon Sisters. No, I didn’t feel the fast-sprung love for it that I had for my debut. Rather, the love I feel for it is complex and powerful, reflecting the nature of its journey. I love it in part because it was a rock, and because I pushed it instead of allowing it to roll back over me. I love it because it taught me that I have more in me than I’d realized.
And I truly believe that if I’d loved it any less, it would be less of a story for that withholding.
The lesson, from my perspective? It isn’t that you shouldn’t love your story, or that you should take care not to love it too much. It’s that you shouldn’t let expectations taint the well of your creativity. Because from that well you will draw the water that will fill every steaming pot in your writing world, and it is you who will have to drink from it.
Have you ever not loved your work, and felt it on the pages? Do you think you can love a work too much? Why?
(And p.s. My publisher just started an ARC giveaway for The Moon Sisters on Goodreads. Head on over, and you can see the cover, enter for a chance to win a copy, and add the book to your “want to read” shelf if you’d like!)
(Read the 4th topic in the Notes From a Desk series HERE.)
Therese Walsh (she/her) co-founded Writer Unboxed in 2006 and is the site’s editorial director. She was the editor of WU’s only book, Author in Progress, and runs the Writer Unboxed UnConference.
Her second novel, The Moon Sisters, received starred reviews and was named one of the best books of the year by Library Journal and Book Riot.
Learn more about Therese on her website, and sign up for her newsletter to be among the first to hear about any new projects.
Great advice. Writing is hard work and sometimes we need to be challenged to bring out the best in us, to make us dig deep and push that rock.
Oh I hear you, and I am soooo glad you got the rock to the mountaintop!
But as a counterpoint, I admit that in every big writing project I’ve taken on, the love starts it, but the hate finishes it. There’s a point where love keeps wanting to make it better, to help it grow, to fix it, to make it perfect. Then there’s the ‘I’m so sick and tired of this same old book’ feeling that brings me to the turning point where I’m either going to give up or get it done. Either it’s gonna get dropped like that sisyphean rock and roll to the abyss never to be seen again, or it’s gonna be tough loved (hated) enough for me to finish it and get the dang thing off my desktop.
I know what you mean, Jeanne. The motivation to finish is definitely a blend of “I want this %&)!%& off my desk already!” and “Man, oh, man, I can’t wait to finish this so I can share it.”
And a public thank you for being someone I could lean on throughout this whole process. You rock. In the best of ways.
Thank you for this post.
If you’ll remember, I loved your first book, and am looking forward to reading your next. I’ve been lucky enough to have an agent who likes to work with clients on helping authors make their books “be all that they can be” and have been working with him on this process for over a year. I find it extremely hard at times to love the rock I’m pushing (damn it) even when I know the suggested revisions will make the book stronger. I get frustrated with him, with my seeming inability to get it where it ought to be, with everything about this stupid %@#*&$@ book. ARG. And yet, I do love it as well. (Kind of like my kids I suppose, a mixture of love and frustration.)
It’s funny how I managed to be grateful and resentful at the same time–in altering breaths I think. I just wrote “Love the Rock You’re Pushing” on a post it and stuck it to my lamp. Thanks!
Melissa, thanks for reading my debut. I appreciate that, and I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
What you’ve described sounds exactly right, meaning normal; you’re not alone. Unless you’re gifted with a story that writes itself, you’re going to be frustrated at times with the process. Here’s something I’ve started to believe, maybe it’ll help you out, too: When you’re frustrated, it’s often because the story is forcing you to grow not only as a writer but as a person who is aware of other layers of self. In this way, I think writing is a lot like therapy. The deeper you go, the more you uncover, the truer and more actualized the end product. So even though it sucks to be frustrated (it really does) and seems at times you’ll never get beyond it (ug, I remember that feeling), you’re doing good hard work that will not only benefit your book but you as a human being who writes. For me, believing that makes the tough stuff a little easier to endure. Good luck!
Beautiful post, Therese.
There’s no loving too much on my end. That love is so so important to make the end goal.
And I agree with you. Expectation and attitude is everything. I try to put my head down and work–my only expectation that there will be more work to do and no one will do it for me. Attitude? You couldn’t have said it better– “Love the Rock You’re Pushing.”
You have the right attitude for the long haul, Heather! Write on.
Therese-
First: Your title alone makes me want to read your second novel. The Moon Sisters! I love it. I’m heading over to Goodreads this morning. (If they let me in. I’m a delinquent.)
Second: Love. Look at how you got there:
“I went deeper.”
“I stopped avoiding the things I…was afraid to face.” “I…remembered how much I enjoyed…”
“I realized that I was very, very lucky.”
“Grateful.”
New writers are falling in love. After Book 1 it’s more like marriage. It’s love, yes, but a love that’s tested and then grows deeper.
It’s commitment on bad mornings, passion on Tuesday nights, walking quietly hand in hand. It’s knowing that sometimes a long dialogue is necessary and at other times words, for a while, aren’t needed.
“I think it’s safe to say that emotions trickle down to our art.”
Therese, I would go further than that. Much further: The person you are is the novel that you will write.
You, clearly, are a person who knows how to love. Can’t wait to read your latest story.
Therese, I’ve seen hundreds of writers go on the journey that you’re on, but none who’ve described it as honestly, and as helpfully, as you have done. You’re called a Founding Mama for a reason and it’s right here in this post.
Thank you.
Thank you, Don. That means a lot, especially coming from you. And I agree with you that the second book was like a marriage–maybe an arranged match because it didn’t start with love but developed into it.
Thank you so much for this post! I always worry that I won’t love the story I’m writing and I get that awful anxiety that just because I like it doesn’t mean anyone else will. Plus, given how hard an industry it is to get in to, it’s always great to have advice like this! Thank you, Therese!
You’re welcome, Amy! If you can put worries about how others will perceive it aside and just focus on your relationship with your story, maybe that anxiety will disappear. I hope so. Write on.
Thanks, Therese, for this clear frame of support. I will use it –today!
To Don’s love and marriage metaphor, I’ll add kids. We are producing our work from love, years of love; we don’t pick it up in a bar already to go. It is the result of all our experience and passion and effort.
Unlike steelworkers (you pick the trade), we writers find we are pregnant with a story (sometimes, if we have a multiple book deal, we may have to try to get pregnant), but the commitment to raise it properly, to have it be a good steward in the world, is greater than the mind can hold.
I’m waist deep in my second and take every bit of encouragement from the fellow writers here. And maybe this daughter of a book will become a better athlete than my first-born. Maybe she’ll have issues with fear and meeting others. No matter how the journey with her begins, I have to love her the best way I can. And I find the closer I pay attention and find out who she is and all she can do, the more joy she brings me.
Awesome, Tom. You absolutely have the right mindset. Please be in touch down the road; I want to hear more about this second book, and my guess is that others here would like that too.
I have to love my work or else I wouldn’t be willing to let someone else read it. ;o)
Thanks for the reminder to be grateful!
I can relate to things in this post, and have had my own share of “Dang, woe the hell out of me” — and I did what you did with my latest book – I was resentful while writing it. Trying to write a more “commercial” type book versus a “literary” type book, and I was so negative about it — and it showed in the draft I spit out – there was a lot of rage in that book – so much so that the character was at times quite unlikeable -nothing wrong with that, but, it wasn’t her story, because her rage – it was my own. I had to tear that book apart. In doing that, like you, I found that love – became interested in the characters and words and language.
The last couple of books I’ve said “I’m giving up. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m tired.” But then, something happens and next you know . . . .
My father, before he died, said, “Your books will find readers. Cream always rises to the top.” – but really, it doesn’t always, does it? Sometimes the cream just sits there an d curdles :D
Well, I am wishing you great big fat gigantic success with Moon Sisters – the title itself is beautiful and compelling enough for people to check it out! I think you and your words are awesome.
I can relate, too, Kathryn, to what you’ve written here. One of my characters is frustrated/angry at the start of the story. It’s part of her arc to come to terms… No doubt in my mind where all of that came from, but luckily those emotions were appropriate for that character.
Thank you for your well-wishes, Ms. Dang-Nabbit-Awesome. I appreciate them.
Perfect post timing. Not that I’m surprised.
Emotions do trickle down into writing and maybe there’s a way to use that in a way I haven’t realized before. I’m a linear writer and storyteller, but if I use the emotion du jour to write something that could best use them, I may find I’m going underneath the words on the page into a better place in the story.
And love the rock you’re pushing? Pure genius.
I cannot wait to read THE MOON SISTERS.
xo
I’d love to hear how it works for you, Amy, if you try it. And thank you!
So last night I went to my local indy bookshop for an appearance and book signing by fellow WUer Jessica Brockmole, for her beautiful book Letters From Skye (which I can’t wait to read). What I didn’t realize was that the format for these monthly meetings featured the bookshop staff’s top twenty picks, and their descriptions of the books. For an hour. After each staff member’s glowing synopsis, they passed the books through the crowd.
As I sat there, handling each of these beautiful books–so many beautiful books–I can’t remember feeling less of a writer or farther away from my goal. The (quite eloquent and enthusiastic) staff repeatedly used words like: gorgeously written, lush, lyrical, poetic, thoughtful exploration, and beautifully written (did I say that yet? They did–a lot!). Before Jessica came on (she did an awesome job!) I can’t recall hearing the words: characters, world-building, adventure, action, or even story… Or, oddly enough, love (in reference to characters being in love). I sort of tossed and turned all night. I just couldn’t imagine an future version of my book in that room. (Today I realize it wasn’t my room, and it never will be, but my 3 am self would’ve never recognized that.)
My Sisyphean rock has long been the manuscript for book one of my trilogy. Book one is only a part of my story. But it has to be THE story in order to get it to that top. I have three other completed manuscripts depending on it. And I know so much about the fifth one, and possibly two more beyond that. I can clearly see decades of story history, as yet unwritten.
I’ve been feeling like the whole story of the trilogy’s characters, plus their sires (in my prequel ms), and their progeny (for my next one), are depending on me getting this boulder up that hill. But, as I tossed and turned, thinking I’d picked the wrong gig, I finally came to realize. None of what was bothering me matters. I’m not a literary novelist. I’m a genre writer. So what? I want to share my story with folks who love epic historical fantasy stories, like I do.
Today I can take it a step further, thanks to you. Today I recognize that the things I love are my characters and my world. And, ultimately, my story. I can honestly say I do still love it. That’s all that matters. And I’ve still got my pencil.
Thank you, T, for reminding me to love that rock. Because I do love my story. (Yes, you choked me up… again. Thanks for that, too.) Can not wait to dig into The Moon Sisters!
Stop it, Vaughn, you’re making me get all teary.
V, I absolutely love this story, and I’m so glad you only had one night’s unrest over the matter and honed quickly in on the issue. As for the first book, it takes such a long time because you’re learning from it as you go. Sometimes it feels like it will never be finished. But at some point, it will be. And then we’ll all be lining up for YOUR book signing. (So it shall be written…)
Thank you for writing this. Thank you for being honest. Thank you for your insight.
I’ve lost the love for this book. I must reacquaint myself with these characters and their story and fall in love again.
Thank you for showing me the way.
You, Linda, are the person I wrote this post for today, only I didn’t know it. Thank you.
Therese,
Thank you for this wonderful and honest post. I, for one, loved your debut and pushed copies into the hands of quite a few people. Reading THE MOON SISTERS will be an even bigger treat. First and foremost, it sounds like one I’ll ache to read, review, give dozens of copies away as gifts, and promote the hell out of on social media. Second, it will be special because I’ve been privy to some of your behind-the-scenes feelings of angst and triumph. You are such an inspiration to me.
I’m not sure it is possible to love a story too much, at least not during the actual writing and submitting process. It’s easy to tell when a story has infiltrated a writer’s soul. Those are the books I savor, the ones that haunt me long after I read “The End.”
Writing THE OAK LOVERS was like living the marriage I portrayed within its pages. It was an obsession that teetered on the brink of taboo at times. It took over to the point that my real life faded into the background for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. When I finished, I hardly knew what to do with myself and I feared I’d never write another story again. For way too long I did not even try.
Perhaps this is the pitfall Karen’s mentor warned of. Perhaps you can’t love a story too much during the act of creation, but after that you must convince yourself that it is okay to look at another story and say “I want to fall in love again.” It’s not a betrayal to move on. It’s simply what you must do to be a writer.
Thanks for your amazing support, Kim. I appreciate it so much. (And you know I am so anxious for The Oak Lovers to find an agent who loves it.)
As for your spin on loving a book and being able to move on from it, I think you’re right. Maybe it’s important, at least for some writers, to take a break between books so that you don’t fall into a Rebound situation. I know it’s been important for me to take a break from writing. When I write again, I’ll be ready to love the work again, too.
I actually tried to research for another one, but it was related a bit to the one I had just finished. Same time period, same location, and telling the story of one of the minor characters in T.O.L. I will probably still write it someday, but I quickly realized my heart was still with my prior love.
I needed a clean break and a fresh start. I think I’ve hit on something now. I’m not in love yet, but the new story and I are in the pretending-not-to-glance-longingly-at-each-other stage.
Love the rock you’re pushing. What great advice, Therese. Thank you for sharing your journey with your second book. It will be beautiful because of the heart you’ve put into it. I loved The Last Will of Moira Leahy and I look forward to The Moon Sisters. Congrats, Therese, and thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Jennifer!
Thank you, Therese – after a long day editing this hit the spot. It reminded me of some wise words from Ray Bradbury:
“Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for (…)
and out of it make fine stories. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”
Love this. Thanks for sharing Ray’s wise words, Kate.
This is a beautiful post, Mama Tee. I love it (pun intended).
I’ve been struggling to put into words my own thoughts about Karen’s mentor’s quote, and you’ve more or less done it for me. So thank you.
I’m not good at half-measures. If I’m in, I’m all in. So there’s no such thing in my world as choosing not to love something “too much”. I either love it with all my heart and soul, or I don’t love it at all.
But love is not a cage. I love my husband, but I don’t lock him in a room under the cellar to protect him from the world. (I hear you can get arrested for that.) I love my children with an intensity that sometimes still takes me by surprise, but they aren’t mine to hold captive forever. I love them and nurture them, listen to them and teach them, and prepare them to go out into the world and seek their fortunes.
And that’s how I love my stories as well.
Jo, I’m the same way re: needing to be “all in.” I was not when I wrote the first draft, and because of that it was a sterile and forced effort. Ug.
What you wrote about how to love completely while retaining the ability to let go? Yes. That. Brilliant. (And there’s a cage metaphor in The Moon Sisters. Just sayin’.)
Thank you, Jo!
I’m not trying to be difficult, but I don’t associate the word love with my work, so I’m going to use the word passionate.
The more passion I have for a story the better. My work is lifeless without it. Can I be too passionate about a story? No. Can I be stubborn, selfish, and egotistical about a project? Yes. Is that a good thing? No. When that happens, I just stop by Mama Tee and Kay’s place and gobble up some tasty advice from the WU contributors, guest, and members.
Om num num num
ARC giveaway, I guess I can participate, but DAMMIT, I’m buying Mama Tee’s book TOO! DAMMIT!
Then I’m going to tell her how superb it is, and then, she’s going to feel compelled to write another book, and then, she’s going to go through the process all over again, and then, she’ll have more deep psychological posts, and then …………. we do it all over again.
Bahahahahaha!!!!!!!
You, difficult? I could never believe it. I am 100% fine with the swap of “love” for “passion.” It might even be a better choice of word.
Om num num um. You make me laugh, every time, BB. Thanks for that, and for your support!
” . . . love is the only good antidote I know for the resentment that can otherwise build up in a long-term, intimate relationship.” Oh! So true.
Though your post comes from the perspective of a published author and I’m not there yet, I know your experience well. My first attempt at writing was a large draft that, though I dearly loved it, needed serious revision (it was more than one book). The proper fix was to tear it apart and divide it up. Proper epic plotting meant writing a prequel that wasn’t the story I love. The new book was a necessary tool that I wanted to hurry up and write.
The new MCs (a prior generation) were not the well-developed characters that will continue the rest of the epic. I hated plotting this “second” draft; saw it as the usurper clamoring to be first. I just wanted to get it done and over with and it was, as you said, like pushing a rock. Then with the help of my tribe and posts like this, I began to make the connections. My new MCs lacked the necessary depth to carry the weight of their new status (well, of course! Their original development was not intended for an MC). This novel couldn’t be rushed. Once I deepened their character I began to fall in love again, and the book and my experience were enriched by it.
I love that you used the word poetry when referring to what you love about writing, because your style is very haunting in a poetic way and one of things I loved best about TLWOMF
Every rock when conquered is potential stardust. <3
Your journey reminds me of that of a friend; she’s also trying to create a set of books where there was once a single epic story.
Some revisions are harder than others, for sure, and writing is work–plain and anything but simple. For what it’s worth, I’ve spoken with many authors who say the same thing: The amount of time it takes to create a book from start to finish is usually underestimated. By a lot. Please know you’re not alone, and keep on keeping on, Denise. I want to read your story.
And thank you for your kind words about Last Will!
Thank you so much, Therese. It definitely helps to know I’m in good company. :)
Thank you for such a heart-felt post. I’m so glad that I’m not the only one who feels like she’s pushing a rock!
I’m still working on my first book and the shiny new honeymoon glow has faded. It has morning breath and belches, but I force myself to work on it because that’s what writers do. I like to think I’m tough, that I can face whatever Life throws at me, but this is hard! So many people have no idea how tough it is.
It is a labor of love, like taking care of a child. It stinks sometimes and cries and moans, but I’m sticking with it. I would feel sick in the pit of my stomach if I never finished it. If I go more than a few days without working on it, I start to have bad dreams. :P
So even if it never gets published, at least I can say that I wrote a book! How many people can say that? Ha!
I remember feeling that ache to get back to the book. That’s a good sign, Val. Write on!
I love posts and articles that speak to my writer’s heart, and this was it. When we lose the focus of writing–the love of words and how they sound, the weaving to tell a story or teach or encourage– it just becomes another chore. I realize the emotions aren’t always in place as we’d like when we write, but if our “head space” is off, you’re spot on, it trickles down into our art.
Getting our ego out of our writing, (relationships, work, etc etc) is never easy but, for me at least, it is the only way to write. Well said and well written. And now my heart sighs.
Great post, Therese. When Amy said, ” I get that awful anxiety that just because I like it doesn’t mean anyone else will,” my jaw dropped because that really is how I feel when I’m editing my books. I love them so much and yet when I’m querying agents and getting rejection on top of rejection, that feeling comes down on my head with each rejection letter. Maybe I AM the only one who likes this book and no one will ever read it but me. It’s a Catch-22 that I fight with every day.
One of these days I’m going to count up the number of rejections I’ve received, over all. I’m sure I have over fifty. Hang in there, Patricia! I hope you’re writing the next book.
Therese, you always go where only the brave dare. Thank you.
Your made me remember that although Sisyphus had to push a rock, rumor has it he is also the real father of Odysseus…
Really? Love that, Bernadette! Thank you!
Thank you, thank you, thank you for going deep and being vulnerable about your journey through book two! Not a lot of authors talk about how difficult this particular journey is, the stress, the pressure, the expectations, but we need to hear it. It’s only been in the last few months, when I ask the question of other authors and editors I’ve met at conferences, that they whisper of their struggle with book two. It’s normal! Learning this has been freeing. I only wish I had known it sooner, before I spent six months wrestling with a book I didn’t yet understand, resenting characters that I knew but who no longer whispered in my ear, and racing toward what seemed an impossible deadline in the midst of international moves and other major life events. No doubt our headspace trickles down into our art. Book two was written from a brain in complete chaos and fear, and that chaos shows on the page like a mess of tangled weeds strangling the story, stifling the voice, killing my love of writing. I’ve already been warned by my editor, half the book is being cut. Where my debut had few developmental edits, book two is going under the knife for major surgery, the publication date is being pushed back, and I’m going to be deep in my writer’s cave between now and Christmas working with my editor to untangle the chaos and find the story. It’s there, I’ve seen glimpses of it. This post couldn’t have come at a better time for me. Thank you for taking the time to show there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that we can love our work again. It’s time to take a deep breath, dig deeper, and fall in love with writing again. So today, as I dig into editing, I’m going to follow your lead and:
Go Deeper
Stop avoiding things I’m afraid to face
Remember how much I love these characters and enjoy writing about their world
Be grateful
And write the story that’s in my heart
Thank you!
Heather, you’ve hit on something new with this comment that’s well worth exploring. The pressure that comes with this sort of situation can fuel chaos in the mind, and that’s exactly the opposite of what you need to push through a project as vast as a novel. It’s something I’ve struggled with, especially in this era of social media, which I think can foster inattention. Maybe we need to very actively consider how we can reduce the mind clutter or at least better manage it so we can focus on our work and hear our characters.
As for your second book, it sounds like we’ve shared a trajectory. Just know that there is an end point, and that’s it’s possible to find the fuel you’ll need through the characters even when it seems impossible for the exhaustion. It’s great that you have an editor who’s willing to work with you and that your deadline has been pushed back (same, and same). Here for you, and sending you the best of vibes as you tackle the hard edit.
Mama Tee, why did you want to write a novel in the first place?
Because I thought I could, and I wanted to try. It was that simple at first.
Oh, Therese.
Thank you for sharing the story of your first book and the fact that you had to write a second novel to fulfill your contract. I read your first book, such an engrossing and deeply felt story.
When it comes to my own rock (or rocks) so often I lose the strength to push them the next day. Luckily my best friend is also my reader and waits eagerly for new pages, chapters and short fiction. For my friend, and friends I push the rock of stories, again and again.
One of my short fiction pieces got published recently in Redwood Writers anthology, Beyond Boundaries, and I found that reading it aloud at the launch set my heart on fire to write a cycle of stories based on young girls innocence (not respected nor protected in our times) sparked by the Greek myths of Daphne. Now that has me working to figure out what the story is asking of me.
My rock needs to ask something of me, each day.
Deborah, you made me smile. “For my friend, and friends I push the rock of stories, again and again.” A completely unrelated side story: I have a pastry-lined chocolate-and-raspberry cheesecake that I make, and it is a time-consuming endeavor. Every time I make one I sigh over the lost minutes. And then people taste it and roll their eyes and groan happy groans, and I decide right then and there that I’ll do it again.
Positive reinforcement is a charm. I’m glad that you have friends to help you along.
Congrats on your publication! Very cool that it’s sparked a new idea. Write on.
Thank you for your honest and inspiring post, Therese. I can’t wait to read The Moon Sisters!
Thank you, Cindy!
Great piece, Therese. I feel your pain! I didn’t have a contract for a second book and had to find a way to keep pushing. (Fortunately, I had a small advance on the first one and so sales exceeded everyone’s expectations!) When you think about it, if we don’t love our books, how can we expect anyone else to? Getting deeper into the characters, as you said, seems to be the best way. That and the fear of having to go into banking…
Thanks! Katharine
“Getting deeper into the characters, as you said, seems to be the best way. That and the fear of having to go into banking…”
Amen, sister. And you are so right about the love trickle-down. We can’t expect reader to love characters we couldn’t properly create.
Therese, this is *such* a beautiful post. I couldn’t love it any more than I do, and I couldn’t agree more. Well said.
Thank you, Annie!
I was thinking along these lines the other day listening to music; Heart’s Crazy on You rotated on my playlist. I started to calculate, not just how many times I’ve heard it, but how many thousands of times the Wilson sisters have PLAYED it, in concert, heard it on the radio, seen and heard tribute bands perform it. I thought about JK Rowling and Harry Potter, and Star Trek. I thought, you had damn well BETTER love your work: love each song, each book, each role, not just phone ’em in.
Maybe you’ll have moderate success with a song, or a book, or a TV role; maybe it’ll be a total flop, or maybe THAT will be the thing you become ridiculously famous for, no matter how many other great songs or books or roles you do next. That thing could be THE thing that people will be talking about for the rest of your life. If you don’t LOVE it, if you can’t think of a way to make your readings and signings and performances fresh, then it’s going to suck being you.
I loved Moira Leahy and have recommended it to many other people. Don’t know why it didn’t catch fire, but Therese, you’re an incredible writer. That was an amazing book, and I’m looking forward to The Moon Sisters.
Beverly, first of all, thanks so much for reading and loving Last Will, not to mention recommending it to others. People like you who go above and beyond to support a novel are an author’s best friend. You are appreciated!
Secondly, your Crazy On You example is absolutely true. Love it, because you never know how you’ll be identified with it for years to come. I wonder who wrote “The Chicken Dance”?
I was born near Monroeville, AL where Harper Lee still lives. The locals who know her and sometimes bump into her know never to ask her about To Kill A Mockingbird. She gets angry and refuses to ever discuss it again. I guess you can get sick of anything.
That does prove it. Thanks, Cal!
I loved reading this post. It’s great to get insight about life on the other side. Often when someone has a hit debut book, or song, art show – anything creative – there is massive expectation about their follow-up, but I’d never considered the effects on someone who was disappointed with their first sales (which must be the majority). Totally makes sense to feel resentment and anger. I really liked how you dealt with it; digging deeper, confronting what you feared. I’ll store those tips in the back of my head in case I’m ever in a book two position.
Donald Maass mentioned in one of his books that he doesn’t encourage big advances for his clients because of the pressure and expectation it heaps on writers. I can see why now, but it sure would be hard to knock it back!
Looking forward to reading Moon Sisters. Just the name sounds great!
Thank you, MA! (I can imagine the pressure going the other way as well.)
I swear, starting with Dan Blank’s post last week, the line up of blog posts have been written solely for me. :)
I know I sound like everyone else, but I really do appreciate your willingness to share the tough emotions related to disappointment of expectations. Having self-published, I don’t have a contract to keep me writing, all I have is myself finding the reason to keep going. It’s been a six month bout of introspection that I’m (quite frankly) getting tired of. Reading about your experiences with disappointment and frustration does help me crawl higher onto stable ground and continue on. Thank you so much for your transparency and bravery. And dang it, I just got all teary, too.
Lara, I can identify with being tired of internal musings. I hit that place, too. Maybe you have to knock up against rock bottom in that regard before you either find the will to push through or just give up. (I mean this globally. You, I’m sure, will not give up!)
Write on!
Thank you, Therese. For always leading the way, and lighting a torch so that the rest of us may follow. Your honesty, your sincerity, your passion shine though. I loved LAST WILL and I have no doubt that I will love MOON SISTERS too. But to your point, what really matters is that *you* found a way to love it. I’m so glad that you did. :)
I so needed to hear this, Therese. Thank you for giving all of us hope! Congratulations on The Moon Sisters. Wishing you all the best!
I love you, you brave woman!
“Love the rock you’re pushing” – I love that, Therese! Thank you for a great post and can’t wait to read your book.
It’s advice like this that keeps me going. I write for a small, but growing blog, but I don’t see a dime for any of my hard work. I do this in addition to working full-time and going to school. I’m waiting for that day when things finally break, whether that becomes positive or negative.
Until then, I’ll keep pressing on, pushing that rock up that hill, always writing.
Thank for sharing your journey with this second book so honestly with us. I’ve read other posts of yours talking about working on this book, but this particular post really hit me– especially this: “you shouldn’t let expectations taint the well of your creativity. Because from that well you will draw the water that will fill every steaming pot in your writing world, and it is you who will have to drink from it.”
Very powerful stuff.
I’m late chiming in but wanted to say how much I love this post. We are so lucky, blessed to have this writing life … I hope I will remember all this when I have a 2-book deal.
Therese,
72 responses later and Mike finally makes it to the party. I always try to be fashionably late, but this is ridiculous.
My first book, completed almost a year ago, still sits, ready for revision. I dread it. It is a rock I’m pushing simply because it has to be rewritten—the MC aged, archetype changed, plot points changed…a lot of work ahead. Not that I’m lazy, mind you, but with the first draft, I was writing for publication instead of for Mike and I didn’t like the way it turned out. At. All.
So that sits on the back burner.
Meanwhile, for NaNo, I’m writing another one, about my old springer spaniel.
When he died, I mourned deeply. Boy, did I miss him. To lift me out of my depression, my parents thought it would be good if I got another dog, but I didn’t want another…I couldn’t go through the pain of loss again.
We went to the shelter (our family is a big rescue shelter supporter) and walked around the U-shaped kennel, with dogs lined up on three walls pleading for their very lives. But soulful gazes and whines couldn’t dent my armored heart.
I looked at my folks and said, “I don’t see anything I like,” and started out the door, but they stopped me and suggested I take another look, so I did. That’s when I saw the dog I’ve had for the past six years.
He was a pup then, an American bull dog mix, and the complete opposite of my spaniel. That’s one of the reasons I chose him.
Panda (the spaniel) was gentle from the beginning and never—I mean, NEVER—went to the bathroom in the house. It was amazing. The easiest dog I ever house-trained.
Rameses (the bull dog), was rough-and-tumble, and took almost a year before he quit crapping in the house. I had paper carpet for a year.
When first coming home with Rams, I didn’t pay him much attention. I held back my heart. To give in would have felt as if I were betraying the memory of Panda (it had only been a month since he died). I could never be that close to a pet again.
He’d nip at my toes with piercing baby canines. Those were sharp! He’d tear through the house like his tail was on fire, and then stop and bite my toes. I actually swatted him on the nose with a rolled up magazine (and I don’t swat too often).
He loved it. He’d run around, get to my chair, bite my toes and wait for his swat, which made him scrunch his eyes tightly and sneeze. It was a game to him…and it softened my heart.
And the love for him began to flow. He’s always by my side now, and is curled up on the blanket snoring (it’s early!) as I write.
I guess my point, and I do have one, is Panda was a beautiful dog with everything going for him, like your first book. Although from the shelter, he was most likely a purebred, with a long satiny black coat that was almost blue-black and eyes that would melt glaciers. But that precious joy was only with me briefly (seven years).
With Rameses I resisted love, as did you with your latest release. House-training didn’t go well. He snubbed his chew toys and chewed on the furniture. He had seizures as a pup. I almost “returned” him. Bottom line: he wasn’t Panda.
It wasn’t until I gave in to loving him for being him that any bond formed, and now, we’re inseparable (figuratively).
And pardon my incessant babbling. I always ramble before my third cup of coffee.
Thank you, everyone!
Michael, yes, that’s exactly what it’s like. Minus the slobbering.
[…] Therese Walsh wrote about struggling with whatever project you might be working on. She says, “Love the rock you’re pushing. Even if the task feels Sisyphean”. I love this advice because I really feel you have to love that story you’re writing in order to […]
This post is exactly why this site is so great. Sharing real and honest experiences connect all of us, know matter where we are in our processes. It gives hope and a dose of reality all at the same time. I’m so proud of you for pushing through. Here’s to a full — and drinkable –well! xo
“Emotions trickle down to our art.” So true. If not, art would be robotic, and Sisypha would never sweat while she pushed that rock. I myself need to see the sweat of the author or the artist; otherwise, the work may as well have been phoned in. (Think Van Gogh as opposed to Jeff Koons. Guess whom I prefer!) Pushing builds muscle and maturity, connects the author with the reader.
“Fast-sprung love” — a poetic phrase to muse upon. Well done!
Can you love a WIP too much? I suppose as you would a spoiled child, allowing her hissy fits and bad posture, but considering it a given that your WIP is, in fact, yourself, then I would venture to say, no. Indulge yourself throughout the process. Wrap your arms around your characters and include yourself in the group hug and I believe your readers will feel embraced as well. (Of course I’m not condoning the horrors of poor copy-editing! Love is no excuse for sloppiness!)
When you believe that rock you’re pushing is a diamond, you can enjoy its facets as you push.
Lots to ponder here, Therese. Thanks for dragging me — pushing me? — into the 21st century!