Pantaphobia: THAT’S IT!
By Guest | November 14, 2014 |
Robin LaFevers writes: One of the hardest things about being a writer can be the sense of isolation we experience–the sense that we are the only ones to feel a certain way. Especially when those feelings are not happy or joyful ones. That’s why fellow writers’ honesty is such a gift. Today I am honored to share with you such a gift–a guest post by YA author Myra McEntire. It is a raw, honest look at some of the hardships of being a writer, and the unexpected places where we can find healing connections.
Myra is the author of the Hourglass trilogy, which was a RITA nominee as well as a nominee for the YALSA Teen Top Ten. She is also a contributor to MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME, a collection of holiday short stories which has received starred reviews from both Kirkus and Publisher’s Weekly.
For more of Myra’s humor and honesty, connect with her on Twitter, Facebook, or her blog.
Pantaphobia: THAT’S IT!
I was diagnosed with major clinical depression last January. Big time med changes, counseling, the whole churro. With the help of family and friends, including Stephanie Perkins (who held me accountable for daily tasks like eating, showering, and teeth brushing), the extreme low only lasted for a couple of months.
But even the regular low is a real pain in the ass.
I spent a lot of time attempting to escape my pit of despair. I sat in front of my computer, trying to turn words into sentences, and sentences into paragraphs. I tried, and tried, and tried, but never made it to scenes or chapters. There were distractions – we moved, our kids changed schools, and then summer break rolled around. Summer break at our house is like a three-month Coachella Festival. My focus is solely on crowd control and keeping everyone alive. Next year I’m ordering myself a t-shirt that says “SECURITY” in hot pink, sequined letters. I’ve not ruled out a low voltage tazer, but there are some … legality issues I need to look into.
When I wasn’t serving as the family bouncer, I decorated, painted, gardened, and crafted, until there was nothing left to decorate, paint, garden, or craft. (Y’all, I Mod Podged so many things my cats got nervous. I think they thought they were next.) Finally, once school started. I could breathe. I had quiet time to be still and get honest with myself. I evaluated life, and what I wanted from it. I didn’t know if I could write for publication anymore.
I had multiple conversations with my husband – who understands chasing dreams, as he’s a former minor league baseball player. “Should I get a part time job? Finish my masters? Keep the house really clean and serve a home-cooked meal every night? Go to the gym regularly?” (THE GYM. REGULARLY.)
Thankfully, my husband is wise. “You won’t be happy,” he said. “That’s not you or your life.” The man turned down home cooked meals, and I’m a mighty fine cook, so he was not. messing. around. He gave me the courage I needed to keep questioning myself.
I talked to dear writer friends, who assured me they’d still love me if I weren’t “one of them.” That made me feel safe, but sad. I loved being “one of them”
I didn’t seek out online affirmation, so every note or tweet I got from a reader was a boon, a bolster, a blessing. They all reminded me of how it felt to emotionally touch a reader. That’s why I started writing in the first place.
Then, a few weeks ago, I was invited to attend a retreat in Gatlinburg with over 35 writers, largely 2014 debuts. Natalie Parker, organizer extraordinaire, wanted a couple of seasoned authors to help her facilitate small groups. Natalie, the frighteningly brilliant Tessa Gratton, and I asked our groups a different question every night. It was like summer camp (but with booze!).
On the way to Gatlinburg, driving through the mountains where my current project is set, I wondered if I’d made the right decision to participate. What if I opened my mouth and discovered I had nothing to offer? How could I be authentic and keep things light and encouraging?
Could I hide my fear?
I’ve been afraid for a really long time. Afraid to fail, to succeed, to give my current project everything I have. Afraid of disappointing everyone and anyone – my family, my agent, readers. Myself. I’ve been working on this novel for five years. I’ve kept it close to my chest, because when I tell people about it, they either demand to read it immediately, or they scan the area for orderlies (because I am obviously a lunatic on the run).
Before my depression and fear kicked in, I didn’t care what anyone thought. Because I love, love, love this story, no matter how different or strange it is. I recently had a conversation with Maggie Stiefvater. (If you haven’t read The Raven Cycle series, you should treat yourself.) She has a work ethic like few I’ve seen, and a diabolically delicious mind. My project shared an element with The Raven Cycle, and I’d recently decided to remove the element, so I brought her a book I’d purchased for research. After I gave it to her, I attempted to explain my story. As per usual, I talked really fast and made a lot of wild hand gestures, and finally ended with, “It’s just really weird.”
And Maggie said, “Great! I never want to write anything that’s not weird again.”
BINGO.
Two and a half years ago, I read a post on Writer Unboxed by Robin LaFevers, subtitled: Abandon All Despair, Ye Who Enter Here. I do not overstate when I say that the post was life-changing for me. She’d had a respectable career, and then she’d taken a risk, and created a mind-blowing series that she called “an idiosyncratic collection of parts that could only be found in [her] own mental junk drawer.”
The His Fair Assassin series pushes all my buttons. It’s unlike anything I’d ever read, and it gives me hope. Robin says: “ In order to take our writing to the next level we must embrace our strange, unique, and often embarrassing selves and write about the things that really matter to us. We need to be willing to peel our own layers back until we reach that tender, raw, voiceless place—the place where our crunchiest stories come from. We need to get some skin in the game.”
Writers spend our days at our desks. Our life is the sum total of those days. I want my life to count, and that means there’s no room for fear.
This September, I sat down with my story again. It includes all the things I love or am somehow connected to – Appalachian history, multiple cultures, equality, mental illness, addiction, suicide – and my heart beat fast again. I know that all the lessons I’ve learned over the past five years were necessary. Back then wasn’t the right time for my crunchy, weird, book to be born. Life had things it needed to teach me.
About depression. Shame. Insecurity. Fear.
My response had been to isolate myself to try to deal with my shortcomings. I’d tried to fake normal, with MYSELF, when what was required was authenticity.
In Gatlinburg, I listened to newly published writers talk about the same challenges I’d faced. They had questions, and I had truthful, honest answers – or at least examples – because they were talking about a road I’ve been walking on for a long time. The truth was as clear as a really good metaphor.
I might be afraid every day I sit down with my manuscript, every time I open the document. But I’m not alone.
And for this, I am supremely grateful.
What about your writing career has frightened you? Starting at all? Leaving a job? Taking a risk with a book? Do you feel like your efforts have paid off? What would you do differently?
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Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
A very welcomed post, today, Robin. So honest! I’m usually scared to death when I send off my MS to an editor. I’m terrified the story will come back in shreds and I’ll have to start all over or chuck it. I just read an interview with Stephen King, and he said he still fears failure. After so many commercially successful novels in his genre and outside his genre, and crowned the master of modern mystery and horror, he still struggles with this. He said, “I’m afraid of failing at whatever story I’m writing—that it won’t come up for me, or that I won’t be able to finish it.”
I’ve heard other writers say fear is part of the creative process that is organic in writing. Or part of the talent. :)
Paula,
It’s so comforting to hear that about Stephen King! I’d love to see the rest of the interview if you have a link! Be brave!
Link for interview with Stephen King:
https://janefriedman.com/2014/11/11/stephen-king-still-fears-failure/
Thank you for posting!
“We need to be willing to peel our own layers back until we reach that tender, raw, voiceless place–the place where our crunchiest stories come from. We need to get some skin in the game.” Bravo, Robin and Myra. The need to dig deeper into our psyches was a major subject at the recent WU UnConference. Presenter Meg Rosoff challenged us to tap into the dark places in our brain where fear and insecurity reside. Many writers bared their souls during Meg’s session and it was a cathartic experience. The process, while painful, will make us all better writers. It is incredibly brave to face your fears. Thank you for sharing your experiences today and all the best to you.
Thank you, for the comment, CG! Robin’s post lives on my bookmarks bar – although at this point I could probably quote it verbatim. I do so hope I can make the conference next year!
When I first started writing it felt like snuggling into a cocoon. I was getting cozy with my psyche, discovering the passageway from the unconscious to the conscious (as Meg Rosoff described it in the sessions Chris mentions above). I had no idea I was going to have to strip away the cocoon I’d so carefully spun to find my way to the heart of my story. It was buried in layers of fear. They needed to be stripped away before I could even comprehend what I’d brought over from the unconscious side (the – sometimes – dark side).
I wonder if I would’ve left my cocoon if I’d known what I would face. I guess I’m glad I didn’t know. And there’s more unknown to face, but what I’ve unveiled so far lets me know the discomfort will be worth it. I now realize that I don’t want to write anything that’s not weird, either.
Thanks for your honesty, Myra, and thanks for the introduction, Robin!
Vaughn, it’s so heartening to hear from so many people who understand my fear, especially those who are already a few steps ahead of me. It lets me know the fear is worth it. Thank you.
“I’ve been afraid for a really long time.” Thank you so much for your soul-baring honesty, to which I can completely relate.
Carole, thank you for your comment, and for understanding. Sharing was scary! ;)
Hi Myra! Thanks for the honest update. As an unpublished writer, it helps to hear that even published authors go through the same cycles of fear and despair. Earlier this year I completed my best work so far and sent it out into the ether where it’s circling the planet somewhere. Eagerly I sat down to start the next project but after writing hot for so long, the cold of the blank white page hit me hard. I struggled with the fears and doubts about my ability and heard that voice pushing me to quit everyday. I found that meditation helped quiet the voice and brought my energy and joy back up to where I could really focus again on my story. I’m also trying something new for me – I’m outlining before I dive into the writing. It’s taken a while, but I believe I will get to the hot writing again soon.
Hi Cat! I’ve read so much about meditating lately, as well as mindfulness training. I’m going to check both out. Hopefully, I can avoid my tendency to over research and just get down to practicing. Good luck!
Myra, this is just what I needed to read this morning. My first book was published 2 1/2 months ago and I’m working on book 2. It has different problems and I can’t seem to stop worrying if I’m going the right direction. It has halted my writing. You have given me the determination to write today and to see where it goes!!
Thanks for posting this!!
Thank you, Sheri! The Second Book Syndrome is a for serious real thing. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar. <3
Fear is so good at stopping us in our tracks, but you can do it! You CAN.
Wow! I feel freed! I spent four hours moving through my pages and added what my heart told me to write! It may not all stay but it was wonderful and powerful to put to paper my ideas. Thanks for your post…
Sheri Levy
Four hours of heartfelt writing is awesome! Congratulations!
Ah, fear. That’s an emotion I can relate to far too well.
I’ve been working on this manuscript for more years that I want to admit. The story is a vise around my heart and yet there have been so many days the mere thought of opening that document sends me running to the kitchen to do dishes instead. (I loathe dishes.)
The more people who told me they couldn’t wait to read this book, the more I avoided working on it. And, no, it wasn’t that I worried they’d say it sucked. Two published authors in my genre have already promised blurbs, and if this manuscript sells it would be my debut.
At the recent WU UnConference, I finally figured out my problem. I believe in this book. I’m fiercely proud of it, in fact, and failure would slay me.
Ironically, the only thing I fear more than failure is success!
I hadn’t realized the crippling truth of that until I saw it written in my own handwriting during one of Donald Maass’ workshops. I hope publicly owning that fear will help me to overcome it. Perhaps a few of my new (or old) friends will remind me of this the next time I spend a week agonizing over the placement of a comma.
Oh, Kim.
PREACH.
It took me so long to connect that I was as equally scared of doing it right as I was of doing it wrong. At the beginning, I was very vocal about my idea, and the more I heard people confirm that it sounded like a great one, the more I thought … maybe I could pay Holly Black to write it?
(And I see two punctuation mistakes in my post, so you aren’t allowed to agonize over commas. I fully support the inclusion of paper plates into your daily life.)
The posts on WU are always welcome, but this one is particularly welcome. I’m at a turning point right now. A lot of things are changing, and not all for the better. It’s a little terrifying to be in such limbo, especially without a really good support system in place. I live in a city I love and 99% of my life is amazing, but sometimes that’s not quite enough to get me through.
Brianna, I encourage you to keep on keeping on. It helps to be self aware when it comes to change, and for me, pursuing the head knowledge of WHY things are different and how I’m supposed to respond often leads to the heart knowledge that tells me what to do next. Good luck. You can do this.
12 years, 9 drafts is a much longer pregnancy than I thought I’d have for my WIP. Why so long? I can list a gazillion reasons/excuses, but here’s the truth: I couldn’t face the darkness I really needed to write about until draft 8. The unhealthiness of my protag was too close to home. I lived it, why was I writing about it, right? Well, that’s exactly why. We write to purge the gunk out of our systems and enter into a different phase of fear and unrest, so the next story will happen. I learned this big time at the UnCon.
My next story holds darker and scarier elements than my first. Just brainstorming about it during Donald Maass Day at the UnCon brought me to tears, and fear gripped every part of me. I want to put on the brakes and find something else, a story that will spin easier with lots of laughter. Now that makes me laugh, because if I’ve learned anything, I know that the lightness that comes out of my stories only happens after I fall deep into the terrifying abyss. This next story may be harder to tell, but this time I’m ready to walk on the edge of terror as I do it—owning and embracing the fear is the only way through.
The upside: As I purge on the page, I’m happier in real life. And as Murakami says, “The healthier you make yourself, the easier it is to bring out the unhealthy stuff inside you.” Writing saves me from myself, each and every day of my life.
Thanks for reminding me to “own it”, Myra. Blessings.
Blessings to you, Jocosa. I’m going to have to figure out a way to get to that conference next year so I can cry and be enlightened with the rest of you!
I hope you can write about the dark places and find safety when you close the document. It’s so hard to separate from our work, isn’t it?
Myra-
There is an established correlation between depression and creativity. Creative types come from families with a history of it and experience it themselves.
Feeling low is normal for novelists so now we feel better, right? Yeah. Well. That’s some small comfort, anyway.
The post of Robin’s that you mention was life changing for many. It brought Zen to this community. It was truly un-boxing. Thanks to her we now know where writing fear comes from and where writing freedom lies.
Thanks to your post today we know that the only thing to feel ashamed about is feeling ashamed. Depression? Feh. Part of the game, a piece of the skin. Embrace your embarrassing self and your readers draw close–because secretly they are embarrassed too.
So now I can’t wait to read Hourglass. Maybe I’ll get a clue to the meaning of the apparitions in my own mind. Is that embarrassing? Only to me, but less so now thanks to you. Great post, thanks!
Donald – Thank you for letting me post!
I’ve been publicly open about my years of struggling with depression, but when I understood how much of it was connected to the darker parts of my heart, I withdrew. I didn’t feel right about showing the world the darkest parts of my heart. I was too fragile to do it in a way that would make me be proud of the choice. Sometimes I still am, but I’ve found quiet conversations and the tiniest human connections to be so uplifting! I believe I was given breath so that I can encourage others, and needing encouragement myself has been a difficult path to walk.
AND YES ROBIN. Robin forever! I finally got to meet her, and she definitely lives up the hype. She’s going to punch me, but not anytime soon, because we live on opposite coasts.
Depression, ugh. It’s hard to describe to people what it’s like when it’s got you around the neck. Lucky for me, my own hasn’t reached the clinical stage. But Myra, I understand you when you speak of not being able to breathe.
I’ll steal from Tolstoy and say, “All happy people are alike; unhappy people are unhappy in their own ways.” But fear is usually a component. Thanks for writing so clearly about it, and suggesting some ways—the joys of weirdness!—out.
Thank you, Tom. How strange is it to find personal joy in sharing another’s sorrow? Sometimes it’s just nice to know we have back up.
A graphic and honest description of the way many of us feel almost daily. But I will add to Sheila’s note–I am never alone when I write: my dog snoozes in the big chair by my desk. I talk to her when I feel the need to talk to someone, and she perks up and listens. I am thankful for her every day.
Judy – My cat Milo sits on my feet when I write. He also brings me presents. Five socks so far today! Pets really are such a blessing!
Yep. Fear. Totally know that one.
When I first self-published I was very afraid no one would like it. That everyone would say “See, another example of self-published crap.” Fortunately, some people do like it, so now that I’m working on book two what I’m most afraid of is that those people who liked book one will be like “Ewww. What is this garbage?” It makes it very hard for me to make any decisions regarding the story and so it’s taking me forever to write the darn thing.
I’ve come to embrace the fear and where I’m at in the process of it all (writing, living, mental status.) I’ve gotten kind of zen and my favorite thought is “Nothing good stays and nothing bad lasts forever.” And, from past experience, I know I’ll handle it, whatever “it”is. I just try to ignore the voice that wants to insist that “it” will be bad. I can’t know until I try, right? :P
Exactly right, Lara. I believe no action at all is way worse than the wrong one! And see other comments about Second Book Syndrome. It is a THING.
Thank you for expressing your emotions in such a raw and funny way. Lonely is a hard state to occupy. I’m saving this and reading it everyday. Fortification, if you will.
Colleen – Loneliness is an occupational hazard, yes? Sites like Writer Unboxed do a lot to foster a sense of community. I can usually identify with at least two or three posts a week. You aren’t alone! <3
You would have been completely at home at the UnCon, Myra. Of that I am certain.
I’m a former family doc who’s experienced depression several times, but I’ve come to believe that descriptor is a catch-all phrase for multiple conditions with multiple causalities. In other words, there are people who suffer from a clear, biologically-engendered form of depression and who tend to respond to medication. Then there are people like *me* who are really having more of a spiritual crisis, though the symptoms look identical.
Like you, I had to learn things to get out of my pit of despair–still do, as a matter of fact–and as such, I’ve come to see the low mood as a gift, a signal something was off in my thinking and how I approached Life. I’d like to believe what I learned will make my writing richer, my parenting more effective, etc., and because of that hope, I don’t worry about a recurrence.
Anyway, I’m so glad you’re feeling better, less alone, less afraid, and as though you’ve recovered your purpose. Hope you’ll find a community which allows you to be authentic and vulnerable in your weirdness. ;)
Jan – For me, wrong thinking and depression are most definitely connected. There’ve been three times in my life when I’ve not been able to right it on my own. So much rumination! Now that the worst of it is behind me (I hope), I’ve been vigilant about keeping those negative thoughts at bay. I believe the studies that claim talk therapy is as or more effective than meds, and the writing community has been wonderful!
Thank you for this honest post, and the equally honest responses. It is easier to write the things that aren’t wound around my heart. I scoffed at having to open a vein to write, but after a dozen years, I’m discovering that the things I’m afraid of, the things that I can barely acknowledge, let alone articulate, are the very things that burn inside me … I’ve taken a few baby steps (pinpricks?) and fear is still present, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready to open that vein. Courage, right?
Yes, Vijaya, courage! (That’s so easy to say.) I understand that feeling – when a story burns inside you. I had to turn mine down to a simmer for a while to spare my own emotional health. Take care of yourself, work towards tiny victories, and you’ll know when it’s time fan the flames. Best of luck to you.
Myra your post is so brave and so true. This week back from Un Con I’ve written myself a small poster for my cork board which reads Self- doubt is part of the journey. (Ie the writer’s journey)
Sounds like this book will be your best one yet- it will have more of your truth in it. Thank you for a great post. Our job as writers is to tell the truth…
Neroli, I have notes like that all over my office! From all the thoughtful responses to this post, I think fear might be the best thing that ever happened to my writing career. I hope I can balance owning the story and finally letting it go. The letting go part is still scary!
“and the more I heard people confirm that it sounded like a great one, the more I thought … maybe I could pay Holly Black to write it?”
Oh my gosh. I love you so. <3
But you feel me, right? I get to meet her in a few weeks and I am going to be SO. AWKWARD. More than usual. Which is REALLY AWKWARD.
I love you, too. <3
Wow, amazing post. You wrote: “I’ve been afraid for a really long time. Afraid to fail, to succeed, to give my current project everything I have.” I am right there with you. It is hard to believe that I could be afraid to fail and to succeed, but that is what happens. I have not published my first novel yet, but I teach, and every time I start the school year (I am still looking for a full time gig) I come down with some type of cold that gets stuck in my throat, so that my voice is not as strong. Afraid to fail (I can blame failure on my illness, if I do fail) and afraid to succeed (people will expect more of me that I believe I can give). Working through the fear is like building muscle strength. Start with a light weight and work my way up. I am glad I am not the only one!
Laura – I’ve learned from all these responses that fear might be more of a benefit than a detractor. I’m rethinking it, but for now, hand me those three pound fear dumbbells …
“I’d tried to fake normal, with MYSELF, when what was required was authenticity.” I know you didn’t write those words just for me, but when I read them it felt as though you had. Thank you.
I pride myself on being honest, especially when it comes to my feelings, but pride obviously went before the fall in this case. Keep on keeping on!
I’m not sure if you could call it fear. Just not enough space, to be quite honest. It’s not you guys, it’s me. It’s like I can’t even function on Twitter anymore, because it’s like there is way to much information out there about people. Or people talking about their politics, even though I’m wanting to write.
I’ve had to make an author page, and limit those who can post, but I can’t handle everything coming at me in like a millisecond. This is an INFJ speaking, that care about people and their feelings. But at some point I just need to say enough.
I understand, totally. Caring about people and their feelings makes it harder, because you have to keep the emotional well full to write books. <3
In case no one else has noted it yet, amidst all the eminently wise and quotable and truth affirming things you’ve written, I must tell you how just much I enjoyed this line: “The truth was as clear as a really good metaphor.”
Well-played, madam.
I’m so glad you appreciated that. Usually, those are in my drafts in brackets to come up with later, but I actually meant it that way this time. <3
Love this SO DAMN MUCH <3
Thank you for being you, wonderful you. Because the authentic you is SUCH a beautiful thing to behold.
You are so precious, friend. Thank you for holding my hand when I cried!
Perfectly said, perfectly felt deep in my gut. Thank you, Myra.
Thank you thank you thank you for sharing your trials between writing and depression. I always find myself inadequate when going to twitter or talking with my writing friends. No one understands me or what I’m going through. It’s so so hard. This whole year has been rather difficult for me in my recovery. I hope to get back to writing one day; but right now I am focusing on the healing part. There is writing involved, but not the fiction writing. This is writing to heal. And I hope that by my taking ownership of my feelings and exposing myself to the world, I can help someone realize they are not alone! I will return to fiction, as I am sure you will too. Keep positive. I know it’s the hardest thing to do, but it’s the ONLY thing to do!
Jamie Dement (LadyJai)
Caring for My Veteran