25 Truths About the Work of Writing
By Greer Macallister | September 3, 2018 |
image by Anthony Auston
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a writer whose latest post is scheduled to publish on Labor Day must, when considering topics, find herself muttering, “Well, shouldn’t I write something about work?”
And so, because there are many, many things to say about the work of writing, I put together a long list of short thoughts on the topic.
- Writing is the easiest work you’ll ever do, more joy than labor, a flurry of words pouring from your fingers onto the page so beautifully and smoothly you’re more witness than worker. Some days.
- On other days, it’s so hard and slow and yes, laborious, that you feel you must be doing it wrong because if it’s this hard how could anyone possibly force themselves to do it?
- You will be surprised one day, many months after you’ve written something and circled back to it, when you can’t tell the words you wrote in mood #1 from the words you wrote in mood #2.
- You will want to quit.
- You will almost certainly quit at least once.
- You will start again when it has become obvious to you that quitting isn’t working out.
- It’s work and it’s magic and it’s a mad alchemy.
- You’ll learn just as much from other people’s work as you do from your own.
- People who aren’t writers themselves probably will not understand what it’s like for you when the work is going poorly. They may sympathize, they may comfort you, and thank goodness for that, but still, they won’t truly understand.
- The work you do is yours in a primal and important way, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t be better if you work with other people. You owe it to yourself to try.
- No work is ever wasted. Even if you delete thousands of words from a draft, you are a different and better writer because you wrote them.
- Effort doesn’t show. Never keep a scene or a character or even a book because you say to yourself, But I worked so hard on it. (See also #3 and #11.)
- “I worked so hard on it” also doesn’t get you an agent.
- Or a publisher.
- Or readers.
- Everyone works differently. You don’t have to write every day or write what you know or stick to any other particular process that happens to work for other people. Even if it works for a lot of other people. All that matters is whether it works for you.
- Like those writers who type out novels on their iPhones with one hand while commuting to their day jobs on the subway? Awesome. That’s fantastic. But it doesn’t mean you’re any less of a writer if you don’t work the way they do.
- And don’t judge other writers for how they work. It should go without saying, but alas, sometimes it has to be said.
- You don’t have to be producing words to be working. Thinking, observing, planning, all these are important parts of the writing process. It’s not all about word count.
- Work matters. Luck matters. Timing matters. Intangible, uncontrollable factors matter. That’s the writer’s lot.
- The moment at which you finish the work is the moment at which you are least qualified to evaluate whether it’s any good.
- How you feel about the work of writing will change over time because you change over time. Don’t be afraid to change your process or your goals. Something that worked for you 10 years ago may not work anymore. Explore.
- A writer at work tends to stay at work. Keep your characters on your mind every day and you’re more likely to find yourself back at the keyboard bringing them to life more often.
- Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for wanting to get paid for your work. It is work, after all.
- If you’re lucky, one day a review will refer to your style of writing as “effortless,” and you will laugh and laugh and laugh.
What truths about the work of writing would you add to the list?
Raised in the Midwest, Greer Macallister earned her MFA in creative writing from American University. Her historical novels have been named Book of the Month, Indie Next, LibraryReads, Target Book Club, and Amazon Best Book of the Month picks and optioned for film and television. Her latest novel, The Thirteenth Husband, is inspired by Aimee Crocker, the Paris Hilton of the Gilded Age. Macallister also writes the ongoing Five Queendoms epic fantasy series as G.R. Macallister. A regular contributor to Writer Unboxed and the Chicago Review of Books, she lives with her family in Boston, MA. www.greermacallister.com
Hmm – What would I add? Maybe, in relation to #9 and #25, nobody will ever truly believe that what you’re doing is hard work (with maybe the exception of our fellow writers). Or that your work can’t be easily interrupted without consequence (to flow, momentum, etc.). Which makes carving out and guarding your writing time all the more arduous (in other words, even more work!).
Insightful list! Happy Labor Day, Greer.
YES to the interruptions/flow comment. Even a moment’s interruption–someone poking their head in and saying, “Oh sorry, you’re working,” and then immediately leaving will derail me for at least fifteen minutes.
Wow, SO many truth bombs in this post – thank you, Greer! But now I’ve got a sore neck from nodding my head so much in violent agreement.
All of this is pure gold, but to me, #11 is the most important one to keep in mind: No work is ever wasted.
#12 through 15 are also very important to remember, especially when struggling to “kill your darlings.”
And I think # 3 was the biggest revelation to me. I’m terrible about putting off writing certain crucial scenes, worried that my mood might not be exactly right for taking on such an important part of the book. But you’re absolutely correct: when all is said and done, neither you nor the reader will be able to pick out which parts of the book were written while you were in your perfect Zen writing state – or dictated onto your voicemail via cellphone while driving to Home Depot to resolve a plumbing emergency.
Great stuff, and totally on-target. Thanks again!
Hi Greer and Keith:
I agree with Keith about the number of “truth bombs.” These may be short thoughts but they strike deep. I found myself pondering a few at some length. Thanks, Greer. It’s a list of observations that somehow that manages to be both inspirational and sobering.
if I were to add anything, it would be along the lines of:
There will be times when you will need to play the salesman. It will not kill you. But you will most likely hate it.
To which I posit the corollary: There are times when you will have to sell, or advocate for, your work. And you will love it.
Fascinating.
Great post. I especially like #19: “You don’t have to be producing words to be working. Thinking, observing, planning, all these are important parts of the writing process. It’s not all about word count.”
I do a lot of dreaming and planning before I write a scene. This part of the process should definitely count as actual work!
Thanks for this–all 25 points are valuable, but I sure find that #23, basically living with characters, is more or less inevitable the deeper I get into a novel and the longer I spend each day working on it. This works for nonfiction, as well–plus, there’s nothing like being told you “so easily” explain medical information in language the average person can understand, which has been my experience with #25!
Thanks Greer. All of your ideas spoke to me especially 19 and 23. Sometimes I feel like I’m living my work more intensely when I am far from the keyboard. Writing can spark from the heart directly to the mind.
Best post I’ve read in a.long, long time. And you can bet I’ll read it a few more times after I print it off and post on my refrigerator. It may even keep me from pulling the covers over my head a few times. Thank you very much.
That ONE reader can make it worth it on a low day.
To add to your well-crafted list, Greer…
Don’t write something because you think it’s what you should write. For example, from personal experience, don’t stretch and stretch and stretch a short story in hopes of writing a novel. Love the short story and work to improve it.
I loved this post so much. I think you covered it all so well. One of my favorite books on the topic is Word Work by Bruce Holland Rogers.
Two days ago, I put the finishing touches on my first finished full-length manuscript. “Yippee. I’m done!” I thought, followed with that internal glow, “Wow. This is good stuff!”
Yesterday, Ilooked at it again, and I thought, “Ugh. This is drivel. It doesn’t work.”
Thank you for item # 21: “The moment at which you finish the work is the moment at which you are least qualified to evaluate whether it’s any good.”
And thanks to Writer Unboxed for the insights, the advice, and the affirmation that I am not alone.
Greer – Great post! Every one resonated – but # 20 was awesome. Life IS the writer’s lot. And the one that made me chuckle the most – #25. I can’t wait for that laughter! Thank you for all this wisdom.
Writing for publication is not about talent, content or the context of the subject matter you produce. It’s not about the emotion, self-examination or exposure of thoughts never meant for the light of day you may produce. It’s not about tell-all works or works inspired by flights of fantasy, genius, creative uniqueness, fictional brilliance or non-fictional brilliance.
Writing is about who you know in the fields of publishing and literary circles. It’s about contacts. It’s about agents and whether or not you have one. It’s about what agent you have and whether or not that agent has a track record for making money. Not money for you as the writer, but for him or her as the agent.
More importantly it’s about the publishers and their distributors
and the amounts of revenue your work will supply for them. This then is why 95% of us who call ourselves writer have day jobs and why 5% of us live and work in the industries we only aspire too. JBB
Whether or not you succeed as a writer is not about your talent, but about what you, as a writer, can produce that will line the pockets of those who represent your genius. Who print and publish and distribute your genius. It is truly unfortunate that our revenue driven publishing industry leaves behind so many talented writers whose works will go unread.
Well said, thank you!
I love 19. A lot of my writing happens in my head. Great article.