Blow It Up
By Liz Michalski | May 25, 2018 |
Fireworks by Donald Lee Pardue
Sometimes in life everything goes your way.
And sometimes in life, you need to blow stuff up.
I’m speaking metaphorically, of course. (Ignore the boxes of fireworks stockpiled in the corner for the Fourth of July.) Please don’t go buy explosives. Instead, think about what dramatic change in your writing life — in your writing relationships — would look like. And keep in mind that even metaphorical explosions can change your course.
As a writer, I’m always looking for ways to be better. Better at my craft, better at promoting myself, better at finding just the right niche for my manuscript. But sometimes no matter how hard I work — no matter how many writing workshops I attend, how many books on writing I read, how many readers I connect with — I don’t get the results I want.
In addition, my desire as a writer to improve often comes in conflict with my desire as a person not to rock the boat. To be quiet, to be grateful, to be happy with whatever fate hands me. To remember how lucky I am to be a writer at all, even if it isn’t always on my terms.
When faced with a situation like above, where something — your manuscript, your effort, your professional relationship — isn’t working, I’ve come to believe there are two choices.
We can keep trying. Sometimes that is the right option.
Or,
We can recognize that the desire to be comfortable, to avoid change, to keep the status quo, is holding us back. Like the quote says:
“The definition of insanity is doing the same exact thing and expecting different results.”
For example, have you ever found yourself
- sticking to a writing routine that doesn’t give you the word count you need?
- writing the same type of story (or maybe even the same story) over and over, without moving to the next step of submitting it for publication?
- attending critique sessions where nothing ever gets critiqued?
- promoting yourself through traditional methods without seeing any increase in sales?
If you aren’t getting the results you want, maybe it’s time for a change. Time to make it impossible for yourself to keep on the same path, to keep being comfortable. Because being comfortable? It’s nice, but it doesn’t always get you the results you want. Sometimes you need to blow it up.
A Checklist for Blowing Stuff Up
Trust your gut. You know that little voice in your head that keeps telling you something isn’t working? That’s your gut. Your brain will say “Hey, you invested a lot of time in this manuscript. If you just did X, Y, or Z, it would be a best-seller.” Your gut doesn’t care how much time you invested. It cares about making it right. It cares about the truth.
Likewise, you know that agent/editor/critique partner relationship that makes you crazy? The one where they are perfectly polite, but they never answer your calls or return your emails? Your gut is telling you that it’s not working, but your brain is telling you “Hold onto this with both hands! You don’t know when you’ll ever get another agent/editor/critique partner again?”
Listen to your gut.
But — check your facts. Once your gut tells you something, look to see if you can corroborate what it is saying. If your gut says your manuscript isn’t working, put it away for a while and read it with fresh eyes. Still feel the same way? Ask a trusted beta reader for their opinion. List the ways the manuscript could be improved, and see if those changes would make you feel differently.
Breathe deep and then weigh the consequences. Give yourself a set amount of time to consider your options and make a decision. What’s the worst that will happen if you toss this manuscript in the trash? Remember, we’re writers — not brain surgeons or hostage negotiators. Words are important, yes. But as profound as your words are, it’s unlikely anyone will die if your novel isn’t published. Conversely, it is equally unlikely anyone’s life will be saved if you make the best-seller list.
But dumping your manuscript does mean you will be tossing months, perhaps years, of work. Even if that work made you a better writer, it can be hard to acknowledge it will never find an audience. On the flip side, walking away could open you up to the possibility of newer, better stories. It’s a tradeoff.
In terms of your writing relationships, think about what would happen if you cut the ties you’re unhappy with. Yes, you may never land an agent or editor or critique partner again — that’s always a possibility. But it’s equally possible that you may find a relationship that suits you better. What are you risking? What’s the reward? Which are you willing to live with?
Light the match. Let me be clear — I’m not saying to be rude, to burn bridges, or to trash something you honestly feel is still salvageable. I’m saying if something isn’t working, if you’ve tried as hard as you can and you aren’t making headway, you need to make it impossible for yourself to keep doing things the same way you are comfortable with, because being comfortable isn’t getting results. Force yourself out of that zone. Lock the manuscript away and start from scratch. Ditch your marketing efforts and do something new. Send the email ending your relationship and find one that meets your needs.
Blow it up. And take a moment to enjoy the flames.
Now it’s your turn. Have you ever blown up a routine, a manuscript or a relationship? What happened?
Liz Michalski’s (she/her) second novel, Darling Girl, was published in 2022 by Dutton. Her first novel, Evenfall, was published by Berkley Books (Penguin). Liz has been a reporter, an editor, and a freelance writer. In her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and oversized show dogs. These days she’s downsized to one husband, two children and a medium-sized mutt.
Years ago I tackled a novel that I wasn’t ready to write. I didn’t have the craft. I didn’t have the confidence. I hacked at the opening chapter (on a typewriter) trying it a hundred different ways. I got stuck. I got blocked.
One day I got a call from a book packaging company. They were looking for an editor but I pitched them an idea as a writer, a plot for a series they had about a famous girl detective. They liked it and gave me a contract. The novel flowed. My block was exploded. Thinking like a teenaged girl (detective, mind you) did the trick.
I learned from that to listen to the clack of my keyboard. If it’s making noise, I’m good. If it’s not then I may need some dynamite. Exactly as you say. Thanks.
Wish I’d read this post a decade ago, back when I was working on the manuscript for what turned out to be my debut novel. No, you’ve never heard of that novel. Yes, there’s a reason for that.
The good new is, these days whenever I need a refresher on what makes for compelling writing, I just pick up a copy of my debut book … and do the opposite.
Thanks for the “explosive” post, Liz.
Hi Liz – My favorite part of your insightful essay is the part about trusting your gut, and that your gut only cares about truth, in spite of all of the rest of it.
This coming autumn, I will reach the fifteenth anniversary of the spark/idea, and the subsequent acting upon it, that turned into my writing journey. This spark came during a sort of reawakening for me, and shortly after a major life-change. My wife and I had definitely blown up our old lives. It was important, and sort it sort of feels like a new me was born (even though I suspect I was in there somewhere all along).
You’re right – it’s important to trust your gut, to be willing to take a leap. And part of that gut-trusting has to involve a sort of culling of what’s truly a part of ourselves, versus the external stuff (the ego, Resistance, the societal self, or what have you).
In light of my lack of publication success, a lot of people, even other writers and artists, might see my fifteen year exploration of the same world, and a closely-related set of characters, as a bit obsessive, or even a little nuts. Or perhaps clinging and self-deluded. And, at times, I’d agree with them.
Here’s the thing, though: Every time I try to walk away, or consider a complete change, my gut revolts. It’s always my head that comes up with the idea of walking or changing. But that’s usually due to the external stuff. I have to recognize that, even in the absence of “success,” I am meant to finish this series. All I have to do to verify it (again) is to attempt to *not* do it.
Thanks for the explosive reminder. Have a wonderful holiday weekend.
Great post! I’m in the process of a career reinvention after I was orphaned by my publisher last fall, mid-contract. My agent suggested changing genres, trying something bigger. She also said I could possibly continue the cancelled series with a smaller press if I wanted to do so. I was sure then that I did—I decided I could do both at the same time, write the bigger book and finish the romance series critics loved but readers weren’t buying. I tried that for a few months—weekdays writing the series, evenings doing heavy research for my new story, and weekends writing that. All this change came rushing at me during a time of terrible home and family stress. I finally realized that I really wanted to bite the bullet and focus on the bigger book, even if it is more challenging than any project I’ve ever undertaken. If it works, it will be a complete change in my writing career, a new start.. If it doesn’t? I’ll think about Plan B when plan B is required. So, here I am, concentrating on writing that bigger, better book.It’s taking longer than I expected, brings out fears and doubts and good stuff that I never expected. I truly love the story. It feels right, but still I fear I can’t do it justice. That’s the next thing I need to blow up—fear of failing yet again.
A long time ago I read what struck me as profound wisdom. People, the article-writer said, fall into two camps: those who stay too long and those who leave too early. In most situations, I’ve come to know I’m squarely in the first category.
The good news is that, having identified that tendency, and getting clear on what it has cost me, I’m getting better at identifying when I’ve made a commitment to the wrong thing. The process of course correction gets easier as does trusting my gut. And yes, on occasion, I’ve even come to enjoy the flames. ;)
Great article, Liz. Wish I’d been able to heed its wisdom years before I did, but perhaps you will save a few others from endless thrashing.
Now you’re part of a third camp of people. Those who stay just the right amount of time. The Goldilock Campers.
LOL, Tina. I’m trying!
Liz, funny that you should write this post exactly at the time that I’m considering something new, something completely outside my comfort zone but at the same time exciting. It’s as if all what went before was preparation to trust your gut and make the leap. The net will appear, as it’s done before. And I’ve always enjoyed a good fire!!! Thanks for this post.
I forgot to add that this: “The definition of insanity is doing the same exact thing and expecting different results.” made me laugh and is the impetus for trying something new. Thanks again.
I love this post. I think with my head. I trust with my gut. And I’m standing above the chess board write now looking at the patterns for a different view.
Thanks for your insight. This post is some of the best advice about life and writing I’ve read in a long time.
Yes, I had the situation you described with my manuscript about four years ago (maybe more), not sure what direction it should take and asking the question “So what?” Keeping this in mind, a new direction for my manuscript started to flow and I ditched the 12 previous chapters. It was the best thing I did for my fiction novel, going from blah to magical realism. Great post!! Now I need to apply this advice to polishing/editing my novel to get it published. Thanks.
Coincidentally, I’ve just made a major change to the way I work. I always used to first-draft by hand – the ideas flowed better that way, because my hands weren’t out-racing my brain. But it’s a slow process – first the writing and then typing it all up.
So this last week, I tried something new: writing a sketch outline by hand and then writing the first draft directly into the computer.
Then I tested it – was I taking advantage of the increased speed to blether? I went back and wrote a scene the new way, inserted it into the scenes written the old way, and tested it on a reader. He couldn’t tell which scenes were which.
Success! and much increased productivity. Kaboom.
I love that definition of insanity, if things is not going well we should always stop and see if we are doing it right and if we are doing wrongly, see if there is anyway to do it right. If there is no way to do it right, then we should blow it up, and admit defeat.