Be the Encouragement
By Jo Eberhardt | February 4, 2017 |
Photo from flickr user ckubber
I spend far too much time on the internet. Not (just) reading political stories which occasionally make me feel frustrated and/or helpless, either. No, I also spend far too much time in forums and writing groups and the like, which also occasionally make me feel frustrated and/or helpless. So I’d like to take a moment to address a question/problem that I see posed far too often. It goes something like this:
My son/daughter/partner/friend/mother/cat wants to be a writer, but they’re no good at it. How do I tell them that their writing is terrible and they should find a different career?
Now, I’ve heard this question in meat-space as well, at writing groups (or about members of writing groups), and in general conversation — often roughly 3.5 seconds after telling someone I’m a writer. I’ve also heard/read some absolutely atrocious answers. But I very rarely see the simple, two word answer that is most fitting:
You don’t.
Here’s the thing about writing: No one is good at it when they start out.
Let me tell you about the first novel I wrote. It was an epic fantasy saga, set in a world bereft of geographical, political, or social logic. The protagonist was a young man who was chosen by an ancient prophecy to save the world from poorly-defined evil through the tried-and-true method of finding a magical sword, gathering companions (one wizard, one thief with a heart of gold, one grizzled soldier, one paladin, and one token female who started out — obviously — disguised as a boy), and journeying across the incongruous landscape to take part in an epic battle. An epic battle that was fought and won in a single afternoon. Then, of course, the Chosen One got the girl, refused to take the treasure for himself, and was lauded by everyone in the world as a Hero of Epic Proportions.
I’m pretty sure I managed to shoehorn a few more tropes in there, but I’m too embarrassed to elaborate further.
That novel was named “Dark Forest”, and I was absolutely, positively convinced that it was going to be a bestseller to rival Tolkien.
Spoiler alert: It wasn’t. It now lives in an abandoned folder on my computer, a poignant reminder of how far I’ve come.
As if the hackneyed plot and character-free characters wasn’t bad enough, my actual prose was…. Well, let’s just say that if a sentence could possibly include an adverb, it had at least seven shoved in there. And no dialogue was complete unless it was shouted, whimpered, pleaded, murmured, or spat. Adverbily.
In short, my first attempt at writing the Next Great Fantasy Novel was something less than stellar. I was spectacularly bad at writing.
Just like everyone else.
Ira Glass has a fantastic quote about this very thing:
Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit.
— Ira Glass
I highly encourage you to listen to his whole spiel, if you haven’t already.
The point is that everyone approaches writing from a point of not being very good at at least some aspect of it. It takes time and work to improve. It takes a focus on the art and craft of storytelling. It takes honest feedback. And it takes encouragement.
If someone I respected had taken me aside back when I was 17 and had just finished writing Dark Forest, and they told me I was a terrible writer and should do something else with my life, who knows where I’d be now. When someone at the beginning of their writing journey comes to you with something they’ve written, what they really need is encouragement. Honest encouragement, to be sure. But encouragement.
So if your son/daughter/friend/mother/cat wants to be a writer but their work is terrible, tell them you’re really proud of them for working so hard. Tell them you like the story, or that one character, or the way they’ve described the tree in chapter seven. Tell them what they’ve done well. Buy them a book on writing craft. Point them here. Invite them to join the WU Facebook group. Encourage them to keep writing.
Be the encouragement you want to see in the world.
Did someone in your life give you the right encouragement to continue writing at exactly the right time? Did someone accidentally (or purposely) discourage you? What would you say to someone at the beginning of their writing journey who doesn’t know if they have what it takes?
[coffee]
Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbor’s cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her veggie garden.
I’d never ever ever tell someone not to write. Ever. Even when I hear writers “complain” about a book that was published by saying, “That book is crap – I can’t believe it was published!”, I don’t enter that fray–maybe the book doesn’t ever sell, or maybe it’s snapped up by millions – it’s not for me to decide whether that writer did a good or bad job, whether it’s crap or not crap. We all have our journeys. We do this for love, or money, or boredom, or just to say we did it, or out of some curiosity, or hope, or whatever someone’s motivation is. It’s their journey, not mine.
So I encourage and then I let it go.
I agree completely. I try not to get involved in the “this writing is terrible” discussions — although I admit to not always being successful; it’s a work in progress. You’re so right about respecting someone else’s journey.
Jo, thanks for this. I’ve been blessed with wonderful teachers and mentors throughout my life and perhaps that is why teaching is in my very bones.
I’ve taught a number of beginning writers and just like Gusteau (in the movie Ratatouille) believes that anyone can cook, so it is with writing. Anyone can write. It doesn’t mean they can write well but we are all hardwired for listening to and telling stories. Even little children embellish the truth for dramatic effect. And this is what I return to when teaching writing. Write the stories only you can tell. Write a lot. Read a lot. Study the craft. And I practice what I preach :)
The other thing to remember is that people write for different reasons. Some want commercial success, others are writing for their grandchildren, for still others, it’s therapy.
Oh! I so hear you on the Ratatouille reference! I’ve watched that movie many times (I have small children), and every time I do, it reminds me of writing. Anyone can write, and anyone can get better at writing. While not everyone has the same natural potential, storytelling is a learned art.
I also agree about being aware of the different reasons people write. I’ve been involved in a number of writing groups where the majority of members are interested in writing purely for themselves and their families. It’s an entirely different perspective and progression than for those who write for publication and/or commercial success. But that doesn’t make it “wrong” or “lesser”. Just different.
I encourage wherever I can – because I remember starting out, insisting on taking some time for myself to learn to write properly, back in 1995 as a chronically ill mother of three small children when I took a course at the local community college eight Monday nights on ‘Writing the Mystery,’ and Mary Elizabeth Allen encouraged all her adult students, and told us we didn’t have to do any work to take her class, but we would learn a lot more if we did. And she was right.
Even though the difference between the scenes in my head and the flat awkward words on the page was large back then, she made us realize it was fixable – if you did the work.
I’ve been ‘doing the work’ ever since.
Encourage all you want – it’s free, and it’s good karma, and no one knows at the beginning who will turn out to be good.
Kudos to you for taking time out to do that writing class! I know from experience how hard it is to carve out “me time” with young children, let alone on top of a chronic illness. Keep on doing the work!
(I think I might write that on a post-it and stick it on my wall.)
I told this story about the friend I let read my first finished novel, my first encourager, after she died almost exactly four years ago:
It was at one of those sunny Fuller Park play dates. We were gathered at the upper part of the park, since our normal meeting time often coincided with the mowing schedule. Tash came striding up the hill with her daughter, the sun bouncing off her pretty-well-grown-in, spiky blond hair, and then slowed down when she saw me. She sauntered towards me on those long legs, her smile both beatific and mischievous, and said something about reading such a [great] book. (In an ideal world, I’d remember the exact adjective she used, but I didn’t know yet that I needed to hoard memories of her.) Clueless, I asked what book. And then she began to describe my manuscript, even quoting some of my own words back to me.
Validation. Encouragement. Relief.
She was the first non-family person to read my earliest noveling attempt. It was the summer of 2004 and Book Club had a weekly play date at Fuller Park. I’d written a romance novel during my son’s year of preschool. I can’t remember now whether Tash offered or I asked her, but she wound up as the person I trusted to read it and tell me whether it was good enough for anyone else to see. I truly believed that she would tell me, kindly, if it sucked, but looking back now, she was such a big-hearted friend, I’m not sure.
But it meant the world to me at the time.
That’s a beautiful story, Natalie. Thank you so much for sharing. <3
Jo,
The Ira Glass quote is worth its weight in gold. Thanks for sharing a piece of it here. Encouragement, too, is gold. I had a High School English teacher who encouraged me to discover what I had to say to the world. Also, a college proff who told me I had what it took, and a group of friends who encouraged me to keep writing. I still invoke their voices when I feel stuck or frustrated, and I want to be that voice for someone else. Thanks for the beautiful reminder. We never do know what the trajectory of our encouragement will be!
I love the Ira Glass quote — I’m so glad to hear you do, too. I was tempted to include the whole thing here, but then I wouldn’t have had space for my own thoughts. Hopefully people who haven’t read/heard it will click through and listen to the whole thing.
I think the motive to be that voice of encouragement for someone else is a noble and brave one. The world is a better place for your encouragement.
Jo,
Gosh. I don’t know up from down, right from left, Friday from Saturday anymore. Seems like everything is sneaking up on me. If I hadn’t seen your post in my email, I’d have forgotten today was your day.
And I never like to miss a Jo Eberhardt essay.
I can tell you about the benefits of encouragement and I can tell you about the damages of discouragement — I’ve felt the joy and sting of both. I won’t elaborate, but I will say that it takes a thousand “attaboys” to reverse one “that’sa POS.”
Be the encouragement. Love it. Thanks, Jo.
That’s it! “it takes a thousand “attaboys” to reverse one “that’sa POS.”
I takes so long to build, such a short time to destroy. So much work to do something positive, and such a tiny explosion to take it down.
Mature writers say they don’t read their reviews, for example – but I have 28, and I haven’t achieved that state of zen calm about them yet. Because the tiny piece of encouragement is so necessary, we risk the casual malice (or deliberate – got one of those) of the reviewer.
Well put, sir. Well put.
I’m always surprised when people say they don’t read their reviews. I can’t imagine being able to resist. It’s probably healthier all round to avoid them, but curiosity and all that….
I think you have a great point, though, about the nuggets of encouragement being a driving factor in delving into a potentially toxic environment.
So true, Mike. Let me add another “attaboy” to your encouragement-count.
I love reading everything you write. Your voice shines through and brings a touch of humour to even the deepest, darkest moments. Keep doing the work, my friend. You’re doing great.
Echoing Mike and Alicia, I marvel at the staying power of a cutting judgment—I wish I had the Zen balance to have nodded at and then ignored some of the slung arrows I’ve received on my own writing over time, but we flesh-based beings are soft stuff.
And that informs me that I’ve undoubtedly delivered some “that will never fly” message to people inspired by an idea, and it probably bleeds still. So much better to be kind, to say “Yes, try that!” or “Why not?” Kindness never goes out of fashion, even in times like today, when you might think it’s in retreat. Thanks Jo.
Thanks, Jo. With you and other members of the tribe (including Tom, above, whose first paragraph is a literary wonder to behold — befitting of a Hamlet soliloquy) serving as my guides, I’m on the right path, at least.
Thank you for such kind words. Ditto back to you.
So much truth and wisdom in your words, Jo.
My Grade 11 English teacher gave me my worst mark ever in English and convinced me I had no ability. I didn’t start writing until I retired and even now, despite winning awards in several fiction contests, I still fight that little voice that says “Give it up. Who are you kidding?”
I once read some of Bob Dylan’s early poems, stuff he wrote when he was 18 or 19. They were terrible, nothing like the Nobel Prize winning lyrics of the mature Dylan.
The message? Keep writing. Never quit!
Oh, I’m so sorry you went through that experience, Rita. Teachers in particular have so much impact on our mindsets. They really need to remember that “With great power comes great responsibility”.
Congrats for being brave and stepping back up to the writing plate. Never give up. Never surrender.
The only grade I ever argued was in high school and my English teacher gave me a B+ on a research paper I had written and included pictures. She said I needed to take a project like this more seriously in the future. Seriously? I took my allowance money and PAID for those photocopies! That was a big deal in the 70s. Sheesh. And I poured myself into that project.
Guess what? I’m a published picture book author! I sure wish I could take my books and show her. :) But I have no idea where she is now. I do, however, still have that research paper. And I’m still proud of it. Heh.
Thanks, Jo. Given all the turbulence around us, it’s often helpful to remember to be patient and kind.
That gap between taste and accomplishment, talent and execution, can feel so utterly vast. My wife loves music but can’t hold a tune in a bucket — and yet no one sings with greater exuberance and joy. That may not be the most apt analogy, but I try to keep it in mind when I’m teaching those whose taste outpaces their skill.
Also, through sheer hard work, I’ve seen students whom I thought had a real challenge ahead of them meet that challenge and surprise me.
Or, as I sometimes say: Before the empty page, we’re all the hero. Don’t let it swell your head. There’s a lot to be done. And anything can happen.
Have a lovely weekend.
Love that last quote and I’m going to use it. Thank you, David!
Thanks, David. I love that statement.
And I think your wife and I may be kindred spirits. “Can’t hold a tune in a bucket” is generally the way I describe my own singing, but goodness I love to do it. Here’s to passion and exuberance and working hard at creative pursuits, regardless of how much seemingly natural talent we lack at the beginning.
Thanks, Jo, for this hopeful and encouraging post.
I remember one creative writing teacher who gave me a backhanded compliment when he told me that one story I’d written was “freer” than anything else I’d ever done. This was a teacher who used to hold up his own fiction as model to the students, and it was all highly self-aggrandizing and cynical sort of stuff, if you know what I mean. Well, this was not me at that time at all. I suppose my work was too “traditional” for him.
It’s strange how that one comment has lingered with me all these years!
Sometimes the best encouragement can come from someone who you DON’T want to write like telling you they don’t like your work. Keep writing!
Great post. I had a 10th grade teacher who said he thought I could be a professional writer some day. It meant the world to me. Although I followed many other careers until I began writing at 60, it is still the thing I hear over and over in my head, especially when I get a 1* review. It’s like the lifeline I need sometimes when I doubt myself. And I have that doubt every day.
We have so many things that can discourage us and take us off track, but the best way I find my way back is to compliment another author on their work. Oddly enough, and perhaps this is just the Universe supporting me, something good happens that seemingly has no relation.
Except it all is related. Thank you.
It’s so interesting to hear about your 10th grade teacher inspiring you to believe in yourself, especially when compared to Rita’s story (above) about her 11th grade teacher doing the exact opposite. I really think we underestimate how much influence our high school teachers have on us.
I’ve found the same thing, too. If I’m feeling disenchanted with my writing, nothing makes me feel better than encouraging other writers to keep working; keep trying; keep creating. Encouragement is a wonderful thing, that works for everyone involved.
Love this! And oh, can I relate.
My father, trying to protect me, would say, “What if you fail?” It was his standard line to anything I wanted to attempt to do, like write a novel, perform stand-up, whatever. Sometimes it varied to, “What if you bomb?”
So I decided to write a book called “The Big Bomb” and dedicate it to him.
Seriously, though, I finally pointed out this habit of his, and he felt horrible. As I suspected, he was only saying this to protect me, but what surprised me was his reason: he felt like success had eluded him. “But, but, you are a success!” Funny what concepts we carry about what success looks like.
I believe there’s no such thing as a writer who sucks. There are writers, at various stages of progress. I blogged about that very thing in a post titled A Pep Talk for Writers Who Think They Suck. If I may be so bold as to share a link:
https://squirrelsinthedoohickey.com/?p=4321
Wow. There’s so much here in your comment about parents and children, about writing, about courage, and about the definition of success. I think my favourite part of what you’ve said is that you talked to your dad about his habit — and the two of you had a conversation about it.
What an eye opening moment for you, to hear that he’d fallen short of his own measure of success at the same time that you’d always considered him to be successful. It’s a timely reminder that we are our own biggest critics, and also that we should never try to put our own measures of success on to other people.
I agree completely about encouraging new writers. The woman who took me under her wing in 2003 is still my mentor and I would have given up without her encouragement. She still pushes me to better myself, especially as I went from picture book author to trying my hand a speculative novels. The novel I started off writing is in a folder, but it was my learning novel. The novel where I discovered my love and voice in fantasy is right now under consideration by a small, but traditional, publishing house.
And now that I’m a freelance editor of children’s books, I work hard to encourage new writers. I see LOTS of them, too, because people are convinced writing for kids is easy. Most find out how difficult it is and they either quit or they dig in and learn as much as they can from me. I’m so proud of them! And a few tell me where to go and self publish. That’s their choice.
It’s never wrong to encourage someone. You never know what they’re capable of!
Great post, Jo. When I look back at my first attempts in my current WIP I cringe. The sex scenes! Awful. And I let my (24) year old son read it for “authenticity.” God bless him, he didn’t say too much. It’s such a fine line when offering ” constructive criticism.” In the end, everything I have been told has improved my writing, but it doesn’t make me any less frustrated… Mike Swift, you hit it on the head with the attaboys vs. POS. Why DO we obsess this way, and disregard everything positive that may accompany the comment? A good subject for another time, perhaps. Thanks again, Jo!
Great post, Jo. I’m absolutely shocked every time a writer, whether aspiring to be published or someone who has published multiple times, shares that someone told them once that they shouldn’t be writing. That they were untalented, bad, or kidding themselves. Who says that kind of thing?! People can be the worst.
I’ve been very blessed with a positive support system my whole life and I’m certainly my own worst critic. I don’t remember where I first came across the Ira Glass quote you shared, but I do remember that at the time it was one of those epiphanic (not a word) moments. Oh! THAT’S why I hate all my old stuff!
I have an opportunity next month to talk with a group of girls about writing and publishing. And I’ll be sure to share some of the sentiments you’ve shared here as encouragement.