Writing is Hard
By Dave King | December 15, 2015 |
It doesn’t seem that hard at first. When you’re caught up in the thrill of creating people and telling their story, writing feels like the easiest thing in the world. You just go on doing it until you get to the end. Then you put that first work in a drawer for a month and look at it again. It doesn’t look at all like the brilliant story you remember. In fact, it sucks.
But you bear down, start reading about the craft of writing, and join a writer’s group, either online or in person (or both). You learn to spot your worst problems, follow the advice you get on fixing them, and fiddle with your manuscript until it is much, much better than when you started.
Then you collect 114 form-letter rejections.
If you’re not discouraged at this point, you park that first manuscript in a drawer for good and start the next one. You’ve already learned a lot about writing from the first one, so this one is stronger from the outset. Again, you revise it and have it critiqued and generally mess with it until it’s as good as you can get it.
This one does better. It still gets a stack of form rejections, but some of them are slightly personalized, and two agents ask for first chapter and synopsis. So you have tantalizing, month-long waits before . . . rejection.
It’s usually at this point that you lose focus. You might obsess about your technique, as if there were a particular subtlety to writing that you’re not seeing. So you build a library of writing books, read everything you can on the internet, and analyze bestselling authors to the point that pleasure reading becomes work. Eventually, you can rattle off the fourteen different ways to build micro-tension and list the eleven flavors of third-person point of view.
This all might even help. But more likely than not, while you’re refining your technical skills until you can construct a story that’s as precise as a Swiss watch, you’ll lose track of the reasons you were writing the story in the first place. I help people develop their storytelling skills for a living, so I know the value of studying the mechanics of writing. But I also know the limits. Careful study, and even great editing, can only make you competent. It takes something else to become brilliant.
The other big temptation is self-publication. Yes, I know the internet is full of tales of writers who have made a real go of it in the indie market. But I’ve had a number of self-published authors come to me for help after their books have only sold to close friends and relatives. Too many writers go this route before they’re ready to publish at all.
I get the appeal. If you’ve been working hard at your writing for years and getting nowhere, self-publishing can make you feel like you’re finally moving again. You’re making decisions about design and font and cover art. You’re finally proofing your galleys. And in the end, you have a book in your hand – or at least in your e-reader. But self-publishing doesn’t bring you any closer to becoming a real writer.
It’s usually at this point in these articles that I tell you exactly what you need to do in order to grow into the writer you can become. Sadly, I have no idea.
The problem is, what most separates a competent writer from a brilliant one is love, and that’s something that simply can’t be taught. You need to love your characters – that’s actually a requirement of even competent writing. Writers within particular genres also tend to love the hallmarks of the genre – whether it’s the unfolding of an engaging mystery or the thrill of passion in a romance. J. R. R. Tolkien spent 25 years working on his setting — Middle Earth — as a sheer labor of love before his friends persuaded him to start publishing stories about it. Stephen King apparently loves terrifying people.
The most successful writers seem to love . . . humanity, the whole human condition. They’ve come to an understanding of life and are eager to share it with the world. Even the cynicism of the most dark and world-weary writers often springs from a disappointed love for humanity.
While it’s not guaranteed, you can develop that love by continuing to write. Even if you’re not getting any closer to publishing, you are learning to bring characters to life. This makes you more sensitive to the people around you, more aware of how they express themselves and what they may be feeling. As you spend time pondering your plot points, you’ll also start to notice how real stories develop and resolve. Writing deepens your awareness of life.
But it’s not quick. I’ve had a few clients I’ve worked with over a number of years and several novels. The learning curve on the craft end of things is fairly steep – usually one manuscript is enough to get their style and storytelling working well. But as they continue to write, I’ve watched their characters grow more complex, with a deeper, more authentic life. Their stories show more insight into the joys and hardships of living. Their characters develop more moral ambiguity without becoming unsympathetic. And at some point along this journey, they get published.
Writing makes writers wiser, which makes them better writers. So, yeah, it’s hard. But it’s worth it.
[coffee]
Dave King has been editing for nearly 40 years now. He is co-author of Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, a former contributing editor to Writer’s Digest, and has contributed more than 100 articles over the last 12 years to Writer Unboxed. He lives on 25 acres in rural Massachusetts with his business partner and wife, Ruth Julian, who also edits his work. His other day job, at least on Sundays, is as the organist at a Lutheran church in Greenfield, Mass.
Dave, I needed this today. I need it every day, in fact. The work is hard, so there needs to be something driving it that trumps making money or seeing my name in print. It sometimes sounds pretentious or unrealistic when I say it out loud, but I want to leave something in the world that adds to it somehow. Makes someone laugh, or see things in a new way. The revision I’m working on has me dealing with loss, and in order to go there, I have to revisit my own. Hard, lonely, beautiful and exhausting. And there’s no one standing at the door of my study waving a paycheck. In fact, there are a bunch of relatives I’ll probably see over the holidays who want to know why I’m still “writing that book.” But there’s nothing I would rather be doing. Here’s wishing you a peaceful Holiday Season.
Wow, thanks. And thanks for pointing out another way in which writing makes you wise. You have to enter the heads of a wide variety of other people, often as they suffer through triumph and loss. It’s hard to do that and not become more aware of the human condition.
“But self-publishing doesn’t bring you any closer to becoming a real writer.”
Hmm. Are you trying to offend a good number of “real” writers out there? Writers who have come to understand the human condition and want to share what they’ve learned with others?
Maybe self-published writers won’t sell as many books as their traditionally-published counterparts, but it has nothing to do with whether they can call themselves writers or not.
I came across a wonderful quote from The Limpopo Academy of Private Detection by Alexander McCall Smith (I’ve still not finished reading the wonderful series of books with Precious Ramotswe) but it’s resonated so much, I must share. It’s on the blog of Jenni Enzor: https://jennienzor.blogspot.com/2015/12/iswg-what-i-learned-from-precious.html
I think you’ve misunderstood, Carmel. I’m not saying that self-publishing keeps you from being a writer. I’m saying that, if you’re not yet a writer, self-publishing doesn’t make you one.
As I say, I’m basing this on my experience of self-published books, too many of which were published before the writer was ready.
I see self-publishing as a different route to take, not one that only rejected writers choose. Yes, there are people who publish too soon, but that doesn’t keep it from being a legitimate way to get your truth out there.
If people would take self-publishing seriously — writers putting out their best work and people respecting the process — writers would get the money they deserve for the years of hard work and heart they put into their stories.
As someone who vehemently defends quality self-publishing, I wasn’t offended by it because I understood it to mean that self-publishing ALONE doesn’t make you a “real” writer. I completely agree with that sentiment. Just as going the traditional route doesn’t automatically make someone a “real” writer. Now, there’s a conversation to be had about what constitutes a “real” writer, but in my opinion, mode of publishing shouldn’t be a factor.
I really relate to this post, Dave!
Looking back, I’m gad for all the rejection and resisting the self-publish instinct. I’m currently writing my fourth novel and I’m proud of those three novels that will never see the light of day but which have served (in addition to the book I’m writing now) as a platform for the last nine years to better myself as a writer.
If I’d read this article three years ago, after I’d written my second book and returned to my first to revise and submit to agent, I’d have shuddered at the idea of writing ore than one novel and not getting it published. Fortunately, one day, while walking down the street with a large, coil-bound printout of my manuscript — on my way to UPS to talk about some self-publishing alternatives (WHAT was I THINKING?) — I bumped into a retired New York editor who saw the book and stopped to make conversation. That conversation changed my mind not only about UPS, but about where I was going with that book in general, and, through, getting to know him over the next year, I ended up moving on to new work, realizing that “kill your darlings” doesn’t apply just to certain passages of text. I remember the day I called him, one year in to working on the book, saying, “You know, I’ve just realized, I think I need to 86 this whole book,” (borrowing his screenplay lingo), to which he replied, “I’m so proud of you for realizing that. Now you can begin your real work. Write something new, kid.”
I should dig this out to share. In the introduction to his first collection of short pieces, Garrison Keillor gave a marvelous description of his first novel — his “drawer” novel — and the frustrations of writing it before he really knew how to write.
It’s frightening to pump so much effort into a novel, only to essentially throw it away. It’s less frightening if you remember, you weren’t working on a novel. You were working on your skills as a writer.
Thanks for digging this up, Dave! It’s frightening in the beginning, but the love for the craft pushed me to persevere even when I cried and descended into a between-book pity party. I remember meeting an author when I was a child whose advice to me when I asked how I could become an author was: “Work on your alligator skin.” Hah! I thought she was telling me as a writer you should expect to be disappointed. Three “drawer” novels later, though, I get it. She was trying to tell me not to let the bite of disappointment get in the way of the love for the craft. I’m on novel #4 now (actually, next weekend, I will write the final 20-30 pages!), and I’m just LOVING it. There is a publishing deal at the end for me, but it really just feels like a milestone. What’s become front and center to me now is the process of writing and ever going deeper.
I think writing is about the only profession where you build two or three really huge projects only to throw them away at the end. I mean, yes, you toss the first pancake. But builders do not tear down their first couple of houses.
It’s a tough profession, and alligator skin comes in handy.
Dave – There was a former version of writer me that would’ve considered this essay jaded. There was a slightly more recent version that would’ve been depressed by it, but unsure exactly why. An even more recent former version would’ve been slightly more depressed in the full comprehension of why.
The current writer me, however, is heartened. I’ve been through the stages of grief that correspond to the stages of the journey you so aptly describe. And yet I still open the doc most days. I fully understand that I have no way to know how close I am. I better understand that even when I “arrive,” the road will still sprawl ahead of me. Hell, I’ve come far enough that I don’t even bother looking back anymore. There is only one direction worth looking, one step worth taking, and it exists in getting today’s scene right.
So here I stand. The only reason left is the love. Thanks for pointing it out. Here’s to taking today’s step forward.
Vaughn, that is exactly the reason I wrote this. From everything I’ve seen, this is the process all writers go through. If they know what’s coming, it’s a lot easier to weather.
Omg Vaughn, you so nailed it.
“I fully understand that I have no way to know how close I am. I better understand that even when I “arrive,” the road will still sprawl ahead of me. Hell, I’ve come far enough that I don’t even bother looking back anymore. There is only one direction worth looking, one step worth taking, and it exists in getting today’s scene right.”
An excellent comment in addition to an excellent post. Thank you both!
This is most excellent advice. I’m in the querying stage after rewriting and scaling that mountainous learning curve with my first novel. I’ve learned so much in the last few years and will continue learning. I like your point about self-publishing. That’s how I’ve looked at it too. There is tremendous value in someone else wanting to see my books in print.
Coming from an art background, I can relate to your suggestion about studying the human condition. Where an artist conveys the emotion of an single moment through different media, we have the luxury of unlimited words in which to paint the scene. Studying the interaction of myself and others is similar to sketching.
I’ve had setbacks and self-doubt like every writer, but writing is my passion. I can see that peak in the distance and know that if I throw my pick axe into its icy face and continue to climb, I’ll summit some day soon. Corny metaphor, but hey, I’m a Colorado girl.
Thanks for this post, Dave!
You know, I’ve read that visual artists see color differently from the rest of us. Drummers experience time more precisely. Mathematicians see the underlying structure of the world around them.
If you dedicate yourself to doing something well, including writing, it changes you and how you relate to the world. That change is often the best reason and reward for what you do.
Dave, thanks for the reminder that crafting a great story takes a lot of work and dedication. But to have touched even one soul is worth it all the trouble. I’ve been pondering this, since I write letters. Each is written for a particular person but what joy it is to make that connection. You hit the nail on the head: it always boils down to love. How I wish I could do this with my books as well. So far, only half a dozen agents have read the full and a couple of publishers. I hope I touched their hearts even if they ultimately declined.
A nice point about the nearly lost art of letter writing. Though one of the joys of letters is that they can touch the same person again and again.
And keep the faith with your writing. Stay focused on the story and your love of it, and someday publication is likely to follow.
My friend Brad Parks says writing is hard effing work. He’s right. He reminds me that I must write daily, no matter how bad. I can always catch the garbage on the rewrites. I’ve trashed more than one ms that wasn’t working, only to listen to the voices in my head to restart and write something worth publishing.
I’m glad to hear you’re sticking with it. I’ve seen quite a few promising clients who have assumed the point of writing was to get that first novel published. When that didn’t happen, they gave up and moved on to other things.
They’re the ones I had in mind when I wrote this.
You’re so right, Dave. Not only is the fingers-to-keyboard part hard, but the judgement part. Does the book need more work, or as John said, do I just “86” the whole thing and start afresh? Do I approach another agent or do I self-publish? Do I switch genres? Each decision puts me on another path, takes time. Time is passing, too fast in some ways, too slow in others. But that’s just life, isn’t it?
Something else I forgot to mention — as you write, you also develop the instincts you need in order to know what to do next.
I love it when new ideas bloom during the discussion.
Love your characters? Every author feels that. I don’t always feel it in the read.
The more I work on it myself, the more convinced I am that the love too easily tumbles into the chasm between heart and page. Nowadays I’m working with tools to force that love to show.
It’s like real life relationships. It’s work. Sometimes you have to set down your newspaper, close your laptop and listen–really listen–to your partner. You have to see them as they truly are. You have to let them be their imperfect selves and love them all the more anyway.
Something else I’ve been thinking: Do our characters love *us*? If we give them space to talk to us, will they? Will they engage, argue, consider things? Will they tell us what they want to do next, especially if we don’t want to hear it? Maybe if they are that real then we’ve extended to them that love of which you speak.
Nice post, especially in this holiday season. Shame, guilt, love, hope…it’s been a writers’ feast on WU lately. Is anyone throwing an office party?
Loving your characters is like a real relationship — you love them despite their flaws. A common mistake a lot of beginning writers make is to idolize their characters. They make them more noble and brave than most people actually are, or they make sure that nothing really bad happens to them.
It’s only after you’ve been writing for a while that you learn to enter the head — to love — a character despite their flaws.
This was such a refreshing read. I am so tired of ‘how-to’ posts on writing that are either unrealistic techniques or ones that are just not as useful as they sound. It’s an unanswerable question of how to write something truly dynamic. I am at the stage where my manuscript gets little attention these days. 50,000 words in and I feel like I can’t go on because even though I love my characters in my head, they are bland on the page. Their thoughts all circular and similar. My tortured, volatile protagonist I have come to love over the last 8 or 9 years (she is after all an extension of my consciousness, and has become somewhat of a friend on another plane) is, well, boring once she is in MS Word. Her love interest is boring. Even her overly-sarcastic teenage sister with Stockholm syndrome is boring. And reading doesn’t seem to bring me closer to improving my story. I keep having to remind myself of the basics of writing: show don’t tell, everything must further the story, and so on. But I think I can only hone the craft so much, and what I truly need is to learn more about people, learn more about life again. I had a rough few years where I had so much to say. I’m currently pretty stable and while I much prefer it, it is as if I’ve forgotten what it means to need to write to survive, and what it means to be human. Somehow, maybe I can rediscover it. And then maybe the world I created so lovingly will come to life again. Right now it’s a ghost town.
Taylor, if you have a clear vision of your characters that isn’t making it to the page, it’s possible some of your problem is stylistic. Have you submitted your manuscript for a critique somewhere?
wow, as if you’re following me–everything you’ve said is EXACTLY everything I’ve been going through. Every word. I needed to hear this. Thank you.
Amy
Just this morning I emailed a couple of the members of my critique group the following about my WIP: “I have to say, I LOVE this story and these characters in a way that I hadn’t loved any I’d written before. There are a few things I’m still struggling with about how to wrap up, etc. but I feel like I love these guys like they’re people in my life.” And then I read this and it hits me right in the feels.
When I began writing fiction I had no idea how difficult it would be. Fast forward three years and I am so glad I was clueless. Had I known I probably would have never put together that hastily written story with plot holes the size of meteors, and characters shallower than a kiddie pool. Your first two paragraphs describe my journey almost perfectly. The only difference is I haven’t yet received any rejections because I’m actively pursuing the indie option. What I have learned, though, is that regardless of the route, writing an amazing book requires patience, and time, and lots and lots of love. Thank you so much for the wonderful reminder this morning.
You’re welcome. And that growing love for your characters is exactly what I was talking about.
Dave, I think that the trajectory for writers that you outline here is right on. I am in the midst of it. And I do LOVE my characters. Research recently indicated that readers of books are more empathetic. Of course that means that writers are too. If for no other reason, I am plumbing the depths (wow big words, sorry) of human experience and becoming more empathetic, then my writing has some level of success. Great post. Now what? I’m off to hang out with my characters. Thanks.
BAH! HUMBUG!!!
Interesting time of year for such an inspirational post, good sir.
I think the love you’re describing, and the wisdom that results, leads to a kind of self-acceptance that writers need to persist in the face of the inevitable struggles of this peculiar calling
In a recent Q&A for Jane Friedman’s blog, I put it this way:
“You can’t write somebody else’s book. You are, due to circumstances beyond your control, obliged to write your own. This is why I often compare reading to dating: you can’t make someone fall in love with you. Trying to be what someone else wants seldom ends well, and if by some quirk of fate it doesn’t end badly, whatever good does emerge seldom lasts.”
I believe that. Profoundly. But a writer friend wrote back that he couldn’t disagree more, and suggested we get roaring drunk and argue about it. (This is a warmer invitation than I’m making it sound.)
I imagine a writer might be able to craft a story without this self-acceptance or wisdom or love and sell a bazillion books regardless, giving people what they claim they want and laughing all the way to the bank. Craft may trump art more than we care to realize, certainly in the free-for-all commonly referred to as the market.
I have my doubts, however. Even Lee Child, who admits he writes “to make a lot of money,” crafts his books from a well of insatiable curiosity and rough experience that informs every word. And I know for a fact he loves Reacher. Lee’s hero is just a re-imagined version of himself.
Wonderful post. Have a perfectly merry holiday.
“Craft may trump art more than we care to realize, certainly in the free-for-all commonly referred to as the market.”
It’s an interesting question just how much craft contributes to success. I do think there are carefully-crafted books that have published to some success, but that the real successes depend on something else — the craft is secondary. You can see this from the fact that so many immensely successful books (Dan Brown comes to mind, offhand) are rather poorly crafted. There has to be something else drawing readers in.
Dave, writing IS hard. But sometimes it tastes of hot biscuits.
May Santa fill your keyboard with sugarplum poems.
Dave– a fine poet by the name of Dan Hughes once said to me that he thought the difference between poets and novelists was that poets wrote poems as a kind of alternative to being involved in the world, whereas novelists embraced the world. He said that, because of the sheer demand for detail in extended narratives, novelists had no choice. I think he was saying something close to what you are, about love being at the heart of good or great novels and novelists.
But I am a little surprised that you say nothing about a love of reading–I mean novels, not craft books. Perhaps that seems too obvious to you to mention, but if so, I can’t agree. A great many people who aspire to be writers take most if not all of their cues from visual media–films. The truth of this can be seen in the heavy reliance in craft books on illustrations taken from movies: the writers can’t assume readers will be familiar with novels. I don’t think it works that way, even if the aspiring writer loves the world.
As for what you say about the pitfall represented by self-publishing, you know where I stand. At some point, editors’ concerns are seen to be different from those of writers. The writer who hears admonishments to keep on truckin’ in search of an agent eventually understands that editors have no dog in this fight.
Well, as someone who wrote two articles on what writers can learn from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I can’t complain too much about writers using film and television as illustrations.
But your larger point is absolutely true. One of the ways in which writers become wiser is by reading other, wise writers. It was a point that deserved mention.
As to self-publishing, understand I didn’t say it was always a mistake. Only that it was often an understandable distraction for writers who should be focusing on their writing rather than working social media to drum up sales for a book that wasn’t ready to see print.
By the way, I’m not sure I agree about the poetry. Most of the poets I’m familiar with seem very much in touch with life.
This is an excellent article. I have a novel that I’ve been working on and off for several years. I really want to get it published and I’ve realized that my writing isn’t where it needs to be right now to meet that goal. Now I’ve set other goals for myself and I’ve started a blog to post short stories that I’ve written.
For right now, my goal is to just start writing regularly and to start to look for places to submit my work so I can start to get just a little feedback.
That sounds like a reasonable approach, Kayla.
Kayla, I can only say that, based on my experience with self-published writers, a lot of writers are taking that route before they’re ready. As a result, they spend time designing and a lot of time marketing when they should be working on their writing.
I write non-fiction (aside from a successful parable that I penned). I believe that fiction is much harder than non-fiction. Here are a few of my favorite quotations that highlight the writing life.
“Nobody ever committed suicide while reading a good book, but many have while trying to write one.”
— Robert Byrne
“Writers may be disreputable, incorrigible, early to decay or late to bloom, but they dare to go it alone.”
— John Updike
“There is probably no hell for authors in the next world — they suffer so much from critics and publishers in this.”
— C. N. Bovee
“Writing is a profession in which you have to keep proving your talent to people who have none.”
— Jules Renard
“Only amateurs say that they write for their own amusement. Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth. Writing may be interesting, absorbing, exhilarating, racking, relieving. But amusing? Never!”
— Edna Ferber
“There are three rules of writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”
— W. Somerset Maugham
“Write without pay until somebody offers pay. If nobody offers within three years, the candidate may look upon this circumstance with the most implicit confidence as the sign that sawing wood is what he was intended for.”
— Mark Twain
“Writing is the hardest way to earn a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators.”
— Olin Miller
“When I had got my notes all written out I thought I’d polish it off in two summers, but it took me twenty-seven years.”
— Arnold Toynbee
“The profession of book writing makes horseracing seem like a solid, stable business.”
— John Steinbeck
“Writing books is certainly a most unpleasant occupation. It is lonesome, unsanitary, and maddening. Many authors go crazy.”
— H. L. Mencken
“But self-publishing doesn’t bring you any closer to becoming a real writer.”
I see you already responded to this, but I think you need to clarify. You’ve probably offend a lot of us. Writer Unboxed has never seemed unfriendly to self published writers until today. There are lots of writing blogs. I won’t read ones that widen the divide between indie and traditional published authors.
Now that this has been out there for a day or two, I’d like to add a couple of things.
I’m pleased that people are finding this encouraging. I wrote it with a number of clients in mind. They’ve worked with me to polish their first novel, then found that no matter how much work we did, it wouldn’t be more than competent. They concluded that the problem was with them — they just didn’t have what it took to become a writer. What I’m saying here is that nobody has what it takes to become a writer when they first start out. You get what it takes by continuing to write. So relax, be patient, and keep going.
A few of you have brought up self-publishing. While I don’t think that it’s always a mistake, I will admit I am probably more skeptical of self-publishing than many here. I’ve seen too many clients turn to it before they were ready — most of whom had self-published before they became clients. As I say, it’s a perfectly understandable distraction, but it is a distraction. Not just the prep for publishing — most self-publishing houses and e-publishers make this easy. But trying to market a book that isn’t quite ready for the marketplace can eat up an immense amount of your life. And in the end, it can leave you discouraged and unwilling to keep writing.
And that’s a real shame. Because many self published books fail, not for lack of talent on the writer’s part, but just for lack of maturity.
Wonderful article, Dave. Full of heart and hope.
I had an argument with a loved-one recently about what makes a good nurse. I said that clinical competence was necessary, but that it constituted the bare minimum. I’ve never seen an excellent nurse who wasn’t invested in their patients’ well-being, and who didn’t treat their profession like a calling. He felt that was an unfair expectation on my part.
We will see what happens as he progresses through his training, because he begins nursing school in a few weeks. As with your advice to keep writing so as to rediscover the magic contained within writing, I have a hunch that study and exposure and time will allow him to experience the emotional investment he finds scary and unreasonable at present. Any bets on how long the detachment will last? ;)
Merry Christmas, Dave.
I hadn’t thought of it when I wrote this, but I think you’re right — this is true of most professions. I think of child prodigies in music, whose performances are technically perfect and essentially soulless. The singers who succeed most on The Voice aren’t the ones who are note perfect but the ones who really sell a song.
Heart matters in just about everything.
Dave, you’re one of authors I recommended to the writers I coach. I enjoy your columns here, too. But I’ve got to disagree with “self-publishing doesn’t bring you any closer to becoming a real writer.”
In fact, if a book has been languishing in mid-development hell, unfinished or just lacking enough polish to consider it complete, the drive of getting it self-published has merits to a writing practice. You get to experience the super-fuel of completing a work of creativity. If you pay close enough attention, you can move toward that resource of completion with the next creation.
Plus, some books are destined only for the self-pub route. No knock on them, but the path to getting an agent to understand the market for a story gets more inscrutable every year. A story that’s edgy is going to net those 34 rejection notices, if it gets replies at all. Self-pub and move on to the next book, if you’re writing and learning by doing so.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the reaction to the point I made about self-publishing, and I’m still a bit skeptical. If I understand you rightly, you’re saying that self-publishing may give you the impetus to finish a book. It seems to me that, if the story isn’t inspiration enough for you to finish the work, then there is some deeper problem that self-publication isn’t going to solve.
Also, most writers can’t simply self-publish and move on. My experience is that they self-publish, then start self-promoting. Then get panicked when their sales remain in double digits and learn more about self-promotion. There’s an almost irresistible — and perfectly understandable — urge to try to find a readership once your book is out there. This is why I referred to self-publishing before your book is ready as a distraction.
I have personal as well as client experience that’s different than your examples. One client self-published his book — I did the copy edit, and light development work — and is now working on his first novel. For myself, I self-published my novel and am now working on a second one, as well as a memoir. But I can see how self-promotion and the tough sledding of sales could discourage someone. For me, getting the first book off my desk was liberating. It has its problems, but at least the world can see my learning novel. We cannot be sure when a book is ready, can we? We get help through workshopping and development editing and copy editing. But there’s not much there to salvage an idea that may not find an audience. I pitched my novel to an agent this year, a story of a priest in 1890s Michigan who falls in love with a housekeeper and fathers a child. The agent replied, “Why a priest?” She didn’t connect with the story. Not unexpected when they can only read 10 pages and a synopsis at the Writer’s League of Texas MS Contest. I still placed as a finalist. Thanks for the reply!
Hey, Ron.
Good points. As I said, self-publishing does work for some. And it is tough to be sure when your book is ready for the market. But I suspect that many writers overestimate how ready their book is.
I do think I’ll tackle the topic in more depth next month. So stay tuned . . .
Thanks for this article. I try to tell people how hard writing truly is. With the technology we work with today, people expect faster turnaround with your craft, with response, with success. It just doesn’t happen like that. Sharing! :D
It’s true. Love (or passion, or obsession, or how ever else you frame it) is the difference between the good and the great.
When I first started (and I’m far from an expert – still a beginner really) I studied all kinds of mechanics and techniques. I could probably list fourteen ways of building micro-tension ha!
Now I try to remember why I decided to do this crazy thing called writing: to make people feel something, and because I love telling stories…
Thanks for an excellent post!
Hi Dave,
I laughed when I read your title! GREAT! I saw a T-shirt once that I keep close to my heart: “You might have the talent, but I’ve got the time.” It speaks of that dedication which is 99 percent failure. Your article shows that time that any writer needs to dedicate to become “talented.”
Thanks for this post! Writing is my first love but second career. I elected to change majors in school (from “unmarketable” Enlish to “marketable” accounting) for practical reasons. My then-new husband wanted to go to law school, so I made that possible for him by working as a CPA until he got established. Now, he returns the favor and supports my dream. Here is what drives me crazy-people keep saying that I have “stopped working”. Anyone who has ever tried to write seriously knows that a writer’s work is never done!
Amen.
Writing is like dancing — no one realizes how much effort it takes to make it look effortless.
As a professional freelance writer, I can vouch for the fact that writing isn’t for the faint of heart! But I believe as long as a writer is doing it from the heart, without much concern for grammar rules or industry expectations, they can expect readers to comprehend and even appreciate the honesty and passion!
Good thought.
And freelancing may be the hardest writing gig of all. All the pressure of deadlines with none of the job security.