Non-advice for Writers
By Kathleen McCleary | August 16, 2017 |
Flickr Creative Commons: Sebastien Wiertz
Shortly after my third novel was published I started work on a fourth. I’m proud of all three of my books but I could see a steady progression of improvement in my writing—I did become a better writer with each book and I wanted this new one to be my best yet.
“Push yourself even more,” my agent said, meaning it in a good way. “Study your craft. Work on your craft. There’s always more you can learn about being a good writer.”
I took her advice to heart. I read books on how to write, from Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life to Stephen King’s On Writing to Carolyn See’s Making a Literary Life. I worked on the beats of my story after reading Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat, and I seven-stepped my story a la John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story. I studied plot, character, metamorphosis, the Hero’s Journey, conflicts, and aha moments. I drew charts and wrote on index cards and white boards.
And I got stuck. Miserably stuck. I set that novel aside and started another. This fifth novel is complicated, and when I struggled I’d turn to my how-to books again and again, and write up more scenes on index cards color-coded for each character. But I got stuck.
I’ve been taking a break from writing fiction for a little while, but I recently read an article that made me realize it’s time to go back. It was a column about “The Perils of Advice,” by Parker J. Palmer (you can read it here: https://onbeing.org/blog/the-gift-of-presence-the-perils-of-advice/). The paragraph that struck me: “Here’s the deal. The human soul doesn’t want to be advised or fixed or saved. It simply wants to be witnessed—to be seen, heard and companioned exactly as it is.”
And that is what the best writing is—a witness to the human experience, a companion that lets readers know you’re not in this alone. You’re not the only one. Love, hate, rage, failure, success, disappointment, despair, elation, fear—we’ve all been there. And sometimes, for me at least, the way forward through writing is to let all that unfold without worrying about beats and steps and aha moments, but through recording—as a witness, as a companion—the story I need to tell.
I’m not saying that writers can write and rules and advice be damned; of course not. All great books are based on a solid foundation of structure and craft even when they appear seamless. But I am saying that sometimes relying too much on advice and how-tos can distract from the main purpose of writing fiction: To tell a story that says something about human experience.
So take a day or two and practice being a witness to your own story. What is the heart of it? What would happen if you didn’t try to “fix” it but just sat with it for a few days?
[coffee]
Kathleen McCleary is the author of three novels—House and Home, A Simple Thing, and Leaving Haven—and has worked as a bookseller, bartender, and barista (all great jobs for gathering material for fiction). A Simple Thing (HarperCollins 2012) was nominated for the Library of Virginia Literary Awards. She was a journalist for many years before turning to fiction, and her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and USA Weekend, as well as HGTV.com, where she was a regular columnist. She taught writing as an adjunct professor at American University in Washington, D.C., and teaches creative writing to kids ages 8-18 as an instructor with Writopia Labs, a non-profit. She also offers college essay coaching (https://thenobleapp.com), because she believes that life is stressful enough and telling stories of any kind should be exciting and fun. When she’s not writing or coaching writing, she looks for any excuse to get out into the woods or mountains or onto a lake. She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two daughters and Jinx the cat.
So on point today. It’s scary how WU seems to have this weird portal to my brain. (and cue The Twilight Zone theme)
My last WIP was full of twists and aha moments and mystical stuff and adventure, BUT it was going nowhere. After reading Donald Maass’ On Purpose essay here a few months back, I realized that my story didn’t have a purpose. Another pretty awesome idea struck me, with loads of purpose, with SO MUCH possibility, I didn’t want to mess this one up. So I’d sit with 5-6 craft books next to me when writing, you know, to make sure I was doing it right. Eight months later, I’ve learned quite a lot about what needs to be done, deep point of view, third level emotion, character sheets, thorough research, organic writing, blueprinting… but my story hasn’t moved forward much since that initial “hey, what if…?”
Following your non-advice, the same esteemed members of the WU community have also given me, I’ll put all those notions on the ice. They’re somewhere inside my head, I won’t “mess up”, I’ll tell my story and then I’ll go back and tweak and polish and fix.
I want readers to feel something when they dig into my story, to be moved. I want my characters to tip the scales, to challenge what the readers might take for granted in their own lives. Thank you very much!
Thanks so much! I’m glad this resonated for you. I love your sense of purpose about your writing and what you hope your readers will get from reading it. Good luck.
Kathleen–Your post today is what I’ll call an important speaking-truth-to-power warning to writers. The power resides with those who command respect as experts, coaches, writers of guides and instruction manuals, etc. Those who produce these instruments, and those who swear by them aren’t the audience in need of your warning. It’s everyone else, all the new, hopeful writers who are most susceptible to advice.
Any reader of Writer Unboxed knows how valuable advice can be–witness yesterday’s post by Dave King on dialogue, and the equally valuable comment on it posted by David Corbett.
But the potential for being made timid, for second-guessing every move as a writer is real. And this sense of self-doubt can be made far worse when too much guidance elbows its way in, by causing intrusive worry “about beats and steps and aha moments….”
I personally think the process of accretion, of gradually developing sophistication as a writer is more solidly accomplished by internalizing the lessons learned from reading primary works. Until, say, thirty or forty years ago, that’s pretty much how every book–good or otherwise–got written: the writers learned from those who had gone before.
Maybe it’s analogous to cuisine and fast food. Anyone who knows the difference can distinguish between a unique dish prepared by a talented, experienced chef, and an eatable prefab dish heated up in the microwave. The latter can be tasty and nutritious, but it’s the dietary equivalent of books written-by-number, by template.
Barry: Thank you. I couldn’t agree more with your insightful point about “internalizing the lessons learned from reading primary works.” I wrote my first novel without ever having read a single book or bit of advice on how to write a novel, and I was fortunate enough to get an agent and see it published. BUT I spent the 40+ years before I wrote it as a reader of any and everything. And all that reading—from classic children’s books to great authors to romance novels to mysteries—helped me internalize the rhythms of story. Great comment. Thanks.
In Author in Progress, there is an essay by me called “How Much Craft Do You Need?” In it, I make two points:
1. The most important piece of craft is the one you don’t know.
And on the other hand…
2. The more you plan, the less you improve.
In other words, there’s a time to absorb craft (especially basics) and a time simply to write. Craft books cannot write your unique novel for you, yet writing that novel will go better when you have some grasp of craft.
A striver’s mindset is helpful: always improving, yet never a slave to systems. Every novel has unique challenges. Every novel raises resistance, at some point, in the writer. Count on it: In your current project there is something you won’t know how to do.
So, trust yourself. Craft will ground you, but it won’t solve all problems, because some writing problems–let’s call them challenges–arise from what is personal in a project. You have a relationship to it, and that relationship is as complex as any other.
You solve problems in relationships in life, though, so trust yourself. Or if you have low faith, just write. You’ll discover what you don’t know, and be surprised by what you do.
It’s called process, and it works. I’m not against advice, I give plenty of it, but even more I’m for belief in yourself. Craft is tools and they’re useful, sure, but the storyteller is you.
I love this, Don. Thank you!
Thanks, Don. I love the idea of the “relationship” we have with our work, a relationship that can be straightforward and complex and all the other things relationships tend to be. “Just write” stands as the piece of advice that is ALWAYS worth following.
Bravo. As an editor, author, and writer of one of those craft books, my feeling is that the time to worry about the mechanics of a story is after it’s written. Once it has its heart beating, then you can tweak, restructure, and “aha” all you want because you have a living thing to nurture and guide, a much different critter than an outline, or a concept, or notes, or backstory studies. Yes, have a grounding of craft, but shut the door on whispers of “do this” and “do that” while you engage with the story and give it life. Thanks for this post.
Excellent point that writing first and crafting later can be the best way to bring a story to life. Thanks, Ray.
I was just going to write an article on this very subject! Advice is great. I have read a lot on writing, absorbing all the “knowledge” I can to become a better writer. My craft is getting better…as it should, and needed to be. But…there is always a but. I am not being fanatical about my work. I tried it, like you, and hated what I was producing. I dislike most of the novels coming out today…they bore me. And I am not the only one. I think the publishing industry has gotten so pedestrian and generic with all these “rules” and formulas. Know-it-all professors are pumping out MFA mini mes that encircle each other with praise and accolades, being judge and jury of the publishing world. Writing and books today has become scripted and mundane. I am not saying rules and crafting is a bad thing. I am saying writers have become dogmatic and with that are losing uniqueness in writing. The great writers of our time were not so disciplined, but, was as you say, wanted to be witnessed. Great article! Thank you for this perspective.
Thanks, Elizabeth. There is indeed a risk to TOO much study of craft, and you make a good point about books starting to feel “scripted” when too many writers are reading and following the same rules. (I have to say I love your line about “know-it-all professors pumping out MFA mini-mes…” I like the way you write!)
That is why I love to read sci-fi/fantasy because there is less pretention (and fewer MFAs) but still very interesting stories and characters
Kathleen, this couldn’t come at a better time for me. It’s uncanny how often this happens. You see, a friend gave me a book he’d written. It was a good story but had problems. I asked whether he wanted a critique so that he could apply the lessons to his next book and he did. But your thoughts convinced me I did the wrong thing. He doesn’t want or need advice; he wants and needs readers. So it was time for me to eat humble pie. I hope and pray he will continue to write his stories unselfconsciously and give them to the world.
Thank you for this. Truly, being present is the best gift. God bless you.
Advice isn’t always misplaced, Vijaya. It sounds as though your friend wanted someone to read his book with a critical eye. As some of the comments above have pointed out, the time to take advice is AFTER you’ve gotten your story down, which your friend had done. It’s always a fine line of when to speak and when to hold back. Thanks.
I could so relate to this, Kathleen. When I first started writing, I had no clue what I was doing, but it was so much fun I wrote two-and-a-half books the first year and never wanted to stop. I knew I needed help with craft, so I spent the next year attending writing chapter meetings and workshops, reading every writing book I could get my hands on, taking online courses…
I learned so much, and my writing improved dramatically. But suddenly when I sat down to write there was this internal editor sitting on my shoulder questioning everything I typed, even censoring my ideas before they fully formed. My pace slowed drastically, and I struggled to finish even one book in a year’s time, despite “knowing” so much more.
I’ve spent the last few years trying to get back to that place where I’m doing it for fun, not worrying about how good it is, or what my readers will think (another added “voice” that blocks me), until after the first draft. I’m slowly getting better. Dictating has helped some because I can’t edit until the scene is created.
Even as I strive to improve my craft, I have to remember that all the rules and advice and best practices should be saved for revisions. Thanks!
Thanks for sharing your experiences and process, Gwen. Yes, I think we all aim to get back to that place where we’re writing for fun, with the knowledge that the help we need to turn our writing into something truly outstanding awaits at the end of the road. Cheers.
It’s also the quality of advice. The craft books–and writing message boards–primarily cater to the writer starting the first novel. Plus, many writers of craft books mistake process for craft, and are generally inexperienced. I remember picking up one and looking at the writer’s bio–she’d only done non-fiction and was advising fiction writers.
The really good craft advance steers you in the right direction and allows you to find the way.
Great point, Linda, about the really good advice allowing you to find your own way. The QUALITY of the advice matters enormously. Thanks!
I think this article was just what I needed. I’ve been working on my first novel for a couple of years now. I read all the craft books. Some are really helpful, some, not so much. Some are repetitive, some authors advise to outline, others say no, just write. It seems very overwhelming. So much so, that frankly, I have not written anything. Oh, I’ve started several times and then scrapped it. I think about it constantly. I’ve done tons of research and tried to do some character sketches and that is where I sometimes hit a wall. It seems like I just can’t get going on the actual writing. I often wonder about the classics. Those authors had little advice to follow. They had no internet. They had the same 24 hours that we all do. So, maybe the problem is not how to do things, but realizing that I need to just turn it off for awhile and trust myself. Thank you!
Glad this struck a chord with you at the right time, Rebecca. Good luck with your writing!
Kathleen, I’m late today, was traveling, but always enjoy your take on the writing life. This spoke to me too. Some days I pull one of my craft books out and look to help me confirm an idea or get through a rough spot. But most days it’s me working off my own notes. It’s diving in, it’s one sentence at a time. THANKS.
Thanks, Beth. I always look forward to your comments and the dialogue here. Glad you found this helpful, and I like your approach, diving in one sentence at a time. Have fun!
My favorite source of Writing Advice is Chuck Wendig because he sees it like it is. My favorite piece of advice is , “Writing Advice is BS, but like BS it can be used to fertilize.”
His favorite format for giving advice is in list form and often two consecutive points will give the opposite advice. For example, in a post on plot, one point would be, “You need to a map to know where you are going” and the next point would be, “Sometimes you need to burn the map.”
I love Chuck’s advice and even had one of his statements (“be the goddamn river; not the paper boat”) taped to my computer for a while to remind me to DRIVE the action forward and not let my story drift. He does have a way with words.
This is very much how I work. I love to read about craft, and I have used several books to help me work through specific problems that arise at the time of writing. But when first-drafting, I can’t be tuned into the broader, general how-to world. It creates too much anxiety.
How wise you are to trust your own sense of the story during that all important first draft, Jan. I love reading about craft, too, but sometimes it’s all just too much. Happy writing!