Why You Don’t Need to Rush Your Writing
By Meg Rosoff | September 17, 2014 |
The truth can be told at last: I am the world’s worst dilettante.
In my life I have learned to rock-climb, ski, speak French (all badly). I was deputy press secretary for New York State in Dukakis’ bid for the presidency in 1988, a job I got through volunteering in hopes of meeting a nice single guy. I worked at The New York Times back when the presses were still in the basement of the building on 43rd Street, was fired from six ad agencies and spent two years at People Magazine. I went to horse camp, worked on advertising shoots so I know what gaffers and sparks do, how difficult casting is to get right, and how boring most of the time on set is.
I went fox hunting once and jumped a five bar fence. Terrified. With my eyes closed.
I didn’t meet my husband till I was 32 so I know lots about wild disastrous relationships (most of which I couldn’t possibly discuss in public).
I spent a decade racing 30-foot sailboats and flying in tiny Cessna planes with my best friend’s rich husband. I was never much of a sailor, but I could take orders fairly well. OK, slightly-below-average well.
I’ve crossed the Canadian Rockies in a helicopter, paddled a kayak next to a giant sea lion in Desolation Bay, picked oysters and mussels and clams out of the sea and eaten them that day (on an advertising shoot). I’ve been to book festivals in China, New Zealand, Germany, France, Italy, Armenia, Scotland, Wales and Texas.
I survived 18 hours of childbirth and conversations about drugs and sex and body image with my teenager.
I had breast cancer, chemotherapy and radiation, lost all my hair and didn’t know if I was going to die. I wrote most of a book that year. I inherited the family depression gene.
I’ve ridden a horse through the Black Mountains in Wales, seen a moose a few feet away, nearly passed out drunk at a Harvard “final club”, sang Monteverdi in Chartres Cathedral and Beethoven’s Ode to Joy with the Boston Symphony.
I saw Talking Heads and Elvis Costello and the Clash in tiny clubs in NY and London. I played bass guitar at CBGBs in NY and miniature golf with David Letterman in his office.
I met with a Hungarian policeman at 10pm in his tiny bleak office while two teenagers explained in Hungarian that I couldn’t afford the bribe he required.
I watched a black foal born to a pure white horse at the Lipizzaner stud in Szilvásvárad, Hungary. I took up riding again at age 50. Since then, I’ve had five concussions and no longer jump.
I studied steel sculpture with Anthony Caro, but didn’t understand a word he said for the entire time I was on the course. It discouraged me from ever taking art seriously as a profession, which was no bad thing.
I learned to play the piano, badly.
I could go on, but you get the idea.
I’m not very good at most of the things I’ve done in my life. Except for writing. I’m a fairly good writer. I wrote my first book when I was 46.
All my life I despaired at being a jack-of-all-trades and master of none, but guess what? Everything I’d ever done proved fantastically useful when I started writing.
Which is by way of saying that when I tell my students not be in a hurry, I mean it. Because the more you live, the more you’ll know — in your head and in your heart. And the more you know, the more your book will come from a deep place of real resonance — in other words, not Wikipedia.
It’s also nice to have a life to look back on, just in case the book doesn’t work out.
Do you find yourself rushing to write? If you do, what helps you to slow down, to see the living as fuel?
Meg Rosoff was born in Boston, educated at Harvard and worked in NYC for ten years before moving to England permanently in 1989. She wrote her first novel, How I Live Now, (released late 2013 as a feature film starring Saoirse Ronan), at age 46. Her books have won or been shortlisted for 19 international book prizes, including the Carnegie medal and the Michael J Printz award. Picture Me Gone, her sixth novel, was shortlisted for the 2013 National Book Award . She lives in London with her husband and daughter.
Thanks for this.
I also came to writing later, with only a handful of partial manuscripts and short stories gathering dust from two decades of far less exciting professional ventures. But I’d kept my eyes and ears and heart open along the way so was in a better and perhaps wiser place by then.
What I’m learning now is the ideas to drive a new work take time with me too. Neither good or bad; it is simply that way, at least for now. So I find myself needing to accept I may never be an author who can crank out a new work every year or two. Perhaps that’s frowned upon these days, but you work with what you have.
Fortunately the story is coming together, but at its own pace – an exercise in faith, and another lesson in not rushing.
Thank you again for your well-timed encouragement. Be well.
I too am a consummate amateur, though certainly not to the scale and global reach you have been, so I appreciate this post. :) It’s hard not to feel the rush, but you’re so right that the writing is fuller and richer and truer for all the life experience a writer can put behind it.
A life well lived is a treasure beyond any other.
Simply beautiful, Meg.
Denise Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
What Denise said above! This is a beautiful post. I also came to writing later in life and although I feel my mortality, I love the way my life is unfolding. There is much to reflect upon … and writing has been a wonderful gift. An anchor even as I take flight.
Wow! Truly an incredible breadth and depth of experience. Vibrant and life affirming. Carpe diem indeed!
Wow, Meg. These are the words I need to hear right now. I am one of the (seeming) minority of writers who prize going slow and enjoying the view, believing that the work will add up with rich layers of living.
You studied with Anthony Caro? You rock climb and crew sailboats? You were at CB’s in the early days? Lady, we should talk. We have interests in common.
Mostly, though, we should talk about writing. Will you be at the Un-Conference? Whether or not you are, thanks for this post. I agree. No need to rush.
Selling books has, for five or six years, been a brutally difficult business. Recession weary and price hammered consumers are demanding much for $25 and high volume for $2.99. We’re only now starting to come out of that time and understand the new landscape of book retailing.
Take it slow and use the time to build stronger stories. I’m with you. Now, about setting a spinnaker…
See you there, Donald. x
Love, love, love this piece. I was grinning the whole time, even more so when I realized the point you were making.
Oddly, some reality shows have helped me remember not to be in a rush. I haven’t watched American Idol in many seasons, but I remember after they lowered the age limit, there were all kinds of kids auditioning who were good singers, but who would really have benefited from some seasoning, from some performance and life experience. They should have waited. Same thing with some of the dancers on So You Think You Can Dance. When I feel the panic of “it has to be NOW,” I think of those kids and remember that it is rarely a crime to wait, and is usually a benefit.
Also, being an editor helps me slow down, because it makes me more aware of what a good editor can bring to my own work (because I know what a difference I can make in someone else’s work).
That said, are you just the best party guest ever?
I’m nearly always the first person to leave a party, Natalie. So the answer to that last question is NO! Agree with you totally on all that American Idol stuff. Failures at 15. Or worse, successful at 15. Where do you go from there?
I didn’t mean life of the party, but the best person to sit with and prod you to tell stories of all those many different things. I was thinking more of other people enjoying you, than you enjoying a party (which are often two entirely different things) :-)
My children constantly asked, “So what’s next, Mom. What are you going to do now.?”
So many have already expressed my views and feelings. All I can say is yes, yes, yes. I could never be writing my present book without the life I have led.
My children constantly asked, “So what’s next, Mom. What are you going to do now?”
So many have already expressed my views and feelings. All I can say is yes, yes, yes. I could never be writing my present book without the life I have led.
Love love love this line from your essay: It’s also nice to have a life to look back on, just in case the book doesn’t work out. Terrific advice!!
Absolutely wonderful. A poignant portrayal of a life well-lived and enjoyed. Thank you for sharing this (and your talent) with us.
Bravo Meg.
I really enjoyed your post. It’s encouraging for those of us arriving late at the writing table, with at least a snootful of living to our credit!
Meg, as Mark Twain would say, “This one’s a corker!” Lovely stuff.
As an old man already, I won’t take up horse-jumping (does the horse stand still when you jump over it?), but you have inspired me to buy a submarine.
“But I’m too busy writing about people living to live.”
Thank you for showing me the error of my ways, Meg. : )
Quite beautiful… X
It’s difficult to imagine what may still be on your bucket list.
Is your memoir in the making?
The important thing is that you have lived. Lived a rich, full, blessed life – and what a story!
I LOVE this.
Meg, what a glorious, inspirational life you are living. Wonderful post!
Thanks Meg. This post is too fabulous for words and goes directly into my inspiration file—after I print out a copy for my wall!
Wow…you be’d busy!
True it is that the experiences we experience, the more experienced the writing sounds. And that’s the voice of experience.
:D
This reminds me of something a friend once told me years ago. She said that most writers don’t create their best work until they are in their 40’s or 50’s. We were in our twenties at the time and I thought she was just making an excuse to put off her writing, but now I see her wisdom.
A late start as well. But I haven’t had the adventures you have had. Different in their own right. The twists and turns of the mind is great for changing mundane into manic. Loved your post, found out I’m not the only one. Thank you.
Great post. The timing was perfect.
This is one of thew best blogs / articles i ever read on f’book!
Ah, yes. Ditto. Kudos.
I did not rush to write myself – and that’s exactly what you write, isn’t it…yourself.
I’ve just published my debut mystery, THE BUTTERFLY AFFAIR, which is no saccharine title. The ancient Greeks viewed the butterfly as a soul named Psyche, right? At 64…sigh…goes so fast, time. Twilight Zone stuff. But I’ve also lived a life, and the novel holds some of that.
So kudos to both of us. If you’ll send me your mailing address, Meg, I will send you my book.
And the thing is Meg you have very nearly as many years ahead of you as you do behind you ….
Now there’s a terrifying thought…..!
I didn’t discover my desire to write my story until my late fifties. Life’s complexities have cooled me down recently. Your post lit my fire again. My story is quite complex, as am I and has ripened to the point of harvesting.
Thanks Meg
Can you be my new hero? Seriously, you lived an awesome life. I live like a monk just reading and writing. I always could use more inspiration to get out there and live.
Great post – very encouraging, but I must
Ask: what year did you work at People?
I worked there in 1989. Small world.
I’m older than you. It was about 1981-83.
Meg – Reading your great post it hit me: What do you do in your spare time?
Write, I suppose?
Any hobbies . . . not already listed?
Stew
I spend most of my spare time with two active working dogs (lurchers, they’re called) and riding horses. It’s more than a full time job in itself, and for a while I told myself I was going to get a horse for my 60th birthday, but now I’m not so sure if I can take the guilt. So I share other people’s horses, which is fine for now!
What a great post. Jill-of-all-trades and master of none–fit me to a T until I realized I do, like you, have a knack for writing, as well as languages. And now, I like racking up other skills and experiences to keep my life full and my brain humming. You’re right–at least I’ll have something to fall back on!
I need to write this same essay for myself. Sometimes I forget that I have done some amazing things in my life: gone to Alaska, assembled Thighmasters, worked as a ski bum, etc.
I started writing professionally in my 20s as a reporter, getting into it totally by accident. It was only later I started writing more creatively, and I still, in my mid-40s, don’t feel like I’ve hit my stride.
Sometimes I find when a project is just not coming out, it needs to ferment a bit longer. When I give it time, it flows when it is supposed to. It’s hard not to try to force it to be on my schedule, though.
Wonderful article! Couldn’t have said it better myself. And I bet there was a lot more, but you need to wait for a few people to pass on before you can tell. Well, that’s true in my case. LOL. I have had a very complicated life, too, and was 54 when I first published – Indie of course, by the time you reach 54 you don’t let anyone tell you what to do and especially what to write. All three of my books have been in the Amazon top ten at some stage and support me handsomely, so no complaints or regrets here. The point you make is spot on – the more you LIVE, the better you WRITE, and handling complex plots and characters is a breeze after a complex life.
So pleased I found you amongst the zillions of tweets. Cheers!
C. A. Hocking