Creating without Hope and Fear
By Guest | February 19, 2022 |
Please welcome author and community member Tom Pope back to WU today! Tom was a singer/songerwriter in Hollywood for twenty years before turning to novels. His second novel The Trouble with Wisdom is a cross-genre tale, being compared to a union of McCarthy’s The Road and Mattiessen’s The Snow Leopard, a dystopian story that gives rise to hope. It launches this Tuesday, 2/22/22. A prolific guy, Tom has four more novels in the pipe line.
We’re thrilled that he’s here today to bring us a provocation about hope, fear, and creation.
Learn more about Tom and his novels on his website, and by following him on Facebook and Twitter.
Joan Didion’s passing reminded me that after no one pronounced my first book brilliant, trendsetting, and sure to meet with fabled destiny, I realized I was slouching toward Neverland and quit writing for good.
It may surprise you that the next books I wrote in spite of my commitment to join the circus to avoid writing also sucked. My secret is: angst and self-contempt make for wonderful inspiration to get to the writing nook, so in my spare time I hone them to a sharp edge. In addition, ruinous doubt has proved to be a powerful enhancement for doing my best work. . .
. . . Said no author ever.
The Place of Dopamine
According to endocrinology and other scientific disciplines I can’t pronounce, success—such as landing a publishing deal—triggers dopamine response, which fuels happiness. But before you run too far with that, consider that eating food, sleeping well, and taking a bath produce the same result.
In the interest of personal and community care, as authors, let’s lay the cards on the table. 1) Writing involves nearly endless intricacies of the highest form of human cognition along with the mastery of many particular skills. Only the initial aspects of these capacities can be taught. Sharpening them is up to us. 2) The fabrication is time consuming. 3) Underlying each stage of writing lies a barely understood ability of mind—the creative process. Let’s take a moment to acknowledge the challenging landscape we work in.
The publishing industry, on the other hand, is not particularly interested in these things, including our dopamine response. So why would we—except under threat of death—surrender our symbiotic relationship with it in favor of taking a fused subordinate position if doing so weakens our passion to write, the quality of the work, and most importantly our ability to live happy and fulfilling lives . . . which can enhance our writing?
Earth, Sky, and Sales
Regarding creativity, consider each of us is bound by the parameters of the soil from which our creative process springs; things like our culture, country and history, our education and dwelling situation, and our health, backstory and gender. These conditions shape the stories which arise in the blue sky of our creativity. We cannot create what we cannot conceive.
What universal law, though, says that what we conceive will lie neatly on today’s idiosyncratic commercial path to fame and wealth? AND what axiom states that if our work doesn’t lie neatly there, it is bad? (That some authors solve this problem by writing books mirroring what is selling begs a post discussing craft versus creativity.)
Sales? Vincent Van Gogh is my artistic lodestar. The only painting he sold in his lifetime was to his brother Theo, who bought one out of pity. Last I checked, society is glad Vincent stayed his course. (Note: I value both my ears.)
Arcs and Destiny
Can we agree self-loathing is a poor companion to our writing? If so, shouldn’t we settle into seeing our creativity as on a developmental arc and learning to love the process, including results that appear as setbacks?
J.M. Coetzee’s 1999 novel Disgrace deservedly won the Booker Prize. His next book, Elizabeth Costello, was a commercial dud and boring IMHO. So goes the life of an artist. Each story to which we authors commit has its own destiny. We give birth to it, nurture it with the best skill we can muster at the time, then let it go. Whatever comes back is beyond our control.
I accept how conditions bind my capacity for landing blockbuster stories. I was born into an emotionally shriveled white family in a barely concealed racist society and developed iconoclastic tendencies with a mitigating aspect of the love of play. These threads suffuse my stories. Worrying what history will say about me or considering myself a failing author isn’t productive time. All I can do is shoot for the literary stars, trusting my voice will deepen with each book and touch more people.
ARC’s have Arcs, Too
Methinks, my maverick nature makes me a poor query writer. But we never know how life will turn. An ARC reader of my novel launching on Tuesday 2/22/22 (that’s right, Twosday) was so taken with it she passed it—with my permission—to a well-placed friend of hers in the film industry. His opinion of the story got it read by top TV and film execs at Netflix and Warner Brothers. Though I found out recently it was not taken, it confirms that something is up with that book. The studios passing on it does not alter my love for it one whit. And since my job is to get it into the world, I’m self-publishing it without regret.
For those of us lucky enough to get a deal, may it work out! But realize it may not. Many deals founder, engendering the opposite of dopamine, which Google says is dynorphin. Only some of us will make a living doing what we love. If you are not one of them—and especially if you are—don’t let that hurt your work. When writing, I leave all considerations of money and reception outside the door,
Let us realize that at no point in the writing dance do dreaming of being published or fearing that we won’t help the work. Those activities distract us from putting our best sentences and scenes on the page. If we are truly passionate authors, we write with our whole beings. To that, let’s raise our always half-full glasses in a toast.
So is writing a zero sum proposition? Publish or fail? Do you consider your creativity something to be protected? Your mind? If so, how do you protect yours? What have you not yet tried that might help your journey or that of others? Since rejection is part of writing, how do you guard against depression?
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
There’s a wonderful saying, falsely attributed to Einstein, that creativity is intelligence having fun. I love that definition (even though it was actually someone named George Scialabba who said it). Yes, writing (our form of creativity) is really hard work. But isn’t it also about joy, play, and a sense of discovery? The relationship between creativity/art and business/success/money has always been messy and (apparently) always will be. Fretting about that diverts my energy. I find that I simply need to get on with it and get back to work—that is, get back to play.
Hi Barbara,
A new saying to me: “Creativity is intelligence having fun,” Yes! I love it.
I am happy to hear you are connecting with the joy of discovery. It is beyond great, isn’t it? At any point in the process of putting words on a page if I stop to observe my mind–or better said–catch how it is moving, I find myself giddy. Imagination is a supreme human gift. Everything is possible.
On the nuts and bolts level, even if the choices I am making at that moment show me stumbling through the rough terrain of a first draft, the very fact that ideas appear and like lightning my mind rejects some and accepts others to pursue is magic. So it becomes a place and process I want to return to. This is my antidote to the blank page syndrome that is posed as the artist’s Black Hole. From this point of view every line is worthy of being seen and felt. Editing carries the promise of making the page shine more.
It seems to me the Black Hole experience is laden with judgment and comparing one’s work with that of others. But I would love to hear what others experience on this.
Thank you for stopping by.
Barbara,
I meant to include a note that a blog post I write years ago with the title Art and Business got read all over the world. People taking to Google that subject show how deep the sense of conflict is for artists and non-artists alike.
Hey Tom–Good exploration here. I wholeheartedly agree about letting go of the burdens of angst and self-contempt.
I suppose, for myself, I might refine your premise slightly. Rather than writing *without* hope and fear, I think it’s important to find one’s own clarity in defining those things. I’ve come to see that there’s a fine line to be drawn between setbacks that advance the work and setting myself up for predictable setbacks that sap–and thereby sabotage–my creativity. I suppose a part of that is learning to know myself as a creator. My creative output is simply not for everyone (whether or not mass appeal actually exists might be another essay–or not). In fact, seems it’s “for” a very small sliver of humanity. To your point, I’m not going to change it at the fundamental level which makes it that way. Accepting those things, and behaving accordingly, allows me to more accurately define my version of hope as the eventual connection that might come with that small sliver.
That slightly refined definition of hope is something I don’t want to move forward without. Indeed, it’s a component of the fuel that keeps me moving forward. Wishing you the very best with the new book! I’m always rooting for you.
Great to hear from you, Vaughn. Your voice always grabs my attention.
I chose to write about hope and fear here to call out the elephants in the writer’s garret. Yes, we humans live on hope and fear. Without these forces, which are flip sides of the need for survival (however that is characterized: Ego lives from kind stroke to threat constantly) some posit we would cease to exist.
Your contemplation of your work seems wise, mature. You are looking at it from a slightly broader perspective than I tried to present in this post. At the writing desk I work to disable the broader tendency of assessing my career, activity and audience as a motivator in the construction of sentences and scenes. Oh, it often wants to slip in there. But I want the characters and the inspiration to lead. When writing songs, I found the need for creating hooks invariable influenced by commerce what was happening in “The Scene.” It created a choking sensation. To me, the depth and breadth of a novel offers a whole other opportunity to be “in” the art.
Having completed our work, it is natural to hope that we reach that sliver of readers whose lives may be touched by what we have produced. As for fear about rejection after the release, I am working on learning how to shrug. Yesterday I reviewed some of history’s greatest works and read the negative comments. There are always clouds in the sky.
Thanks for your considered comments.
Tom, congratulations on your new book–so fun it’ll be published on 2/22/22. I love numbers and patterns like these. And what lovely reflections on the creative life and how the business side of things impinge on it. Even as a newbie writer, I wanted this “hobby” to pay for itself, which meant peddling my stories to magazines. Those early acceptances and encouragements from editors taught me to invest in myself with the books, classes, workshops. And there’s so much to learn still. This is why I love this writing life–so much to discover. Since business is part of it, if it begins to affect me negatively, I simply step away from it (sometime for months), focusing more on the creative aspect. This makes me a terrible businesswoman but a happier writer :) Enjoy launching your book into this world and good luck on the books that are in the pipeline.
Hi Vijaya,
I appreciate your dedication to communicating with writers of all stripes.
One of the perks of being self-published is being able to make choices about the how, when, and what. When I saw that date in my mind’s eye, I grabbed it, a marketing choice to make the release date easy for people to remember. And, yes, it gave me a like joy, each time. Even in marketing, I try to have fun.
Your care for your creative process (and your self) seems well-grounded. Of course, we all need to take breaks now and again. But when the business side irritates you, have you found that can you rely on the love you feel to stay with the work?
The writing is “home” for me so turning to it always puts things in perspective. I also love the creative control that self-publishing brings. It’s funny, I didn’t plan it like this, but my first novel BOUND that I self-published went live July 3rd, and July 4th plays a pivotal role in the lives of my story people so it was such a bonus. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
Congratulations on your new book!
I heard some great advice recently.
There are three things under the writer’s control:
1. Motivation
2. Time management
3. Dedication to craft
Focus on those and the rest will place itself.
Val,
Your précìs of the subject wins the day. The nosy little part of me asks what, if any, of these simple things stumbles you. Do you have any advice for others about how to overcome these things?
As someone drowning in dynorphin (a thing I hadn’t known existed), watching the rejections pile up, I needed this food for thought today. I’m afraid I’ve been terribly naive about the whole submission process, even though we writers are beaten over the head about its brutality and power to infuse doubt. I’m already outlining my next story, though, with pages and pages of characterization flying out of me. May creativity always win out!
Hello P, (or do friends call you 48?)
I’m glad to share a good pat on the shoulder. It sounds to me that you have quelled the dyno-beast. Here’s hoping you grow stronger in that over the manuscripts, like the heroines and heroes of your stories;
I believe there is no failure inside creativity. The printed novel is just a blink in the tens of thousands of years of storytelling art. It is ours to play with and redefine if we want. I like that you mention how the act of publishing is not a part of writing. For me it’s just a choice, after the fact, like choosing a frame or wrapped canvas for a painting.
Yes, Ada,
how clearly you say it. I should have called you before writing this one. LOL! I am with you in seeing our art in the context of centuries.
When I accomplish this frame of mind, the Tom part of me vanishes and what is left is story and passion and of course whatever that Tom person gleaned from years of writing.
Hi Tom. Nice article. For me, the solution to depression before rejection, and writer’s angst in general is to keep firmly in mind the role of chaos theory, AKA luck. In my NSHO, writing is suffused with luck, and timing, which is also a matter of luck. Plus (it must be said) money. The writer must have something to offer. After that, it’s knowing how to promote work, and having the money to do it. Otherwise, writers must develop personal-best goals that aren’t dependent on the marketplace.
Great to hear from you, Barry.
I like your takes. But when you say writing is suffused with luck, I wonder if you mean having one’s work getting “recognized” is based on luck. On that, I will agree. About putting the words on paper? No luck there.
My ARC reader knowing a famous producer was absolute luck. Then again, luck is only available if we put ourselves in position for it. That is not lucky at all. The years writing and hundreds of queries drafted etc. And timing? Vincent Van Gogh didn’t have it as far as he knew. That didn’t make his work less formidable. (And it makes his story more dramatic.) But now we are heading into metaphysical territory.
In the big picture, I am now settling into the point of abandoning hope and fear about all of it. I admit I had fun over the weeks waiting to hear what would happen to my book. And would my release have had a different energy had I gotten that call from Warner Bros. or Netflix? You bet. BUT… the story on the pages is exactly the same. I, too, am unchanged.
These days when I hear about someone I know or a new author I don’t know having good fortune, I am happy.
Your points on promotion and money etc. are of course, true. Carry on, good sir.
Thanks for replying, Tom. Of course I was talking about recognition beyond the cozy glow of the writer’s laptop. Of course, as well, I know the impulse to express experience through language or in graphic terms doesn’t rely on luck. It relies on a predisposition to take pleasure in giving shape to perception. I am also pretty sure that, like you, I am happy for writers on whom “fortune smiles.”
You have ‘voice’, me darlin. And you are funny. And in a pinch, you can save me. Such the total package. Write away, bud!
Thea,
a kind comment such as yours will carry me through many negative reviews. And when an author takes risks, as I do this book, there will be untold numbers who cannot wait to offer them.
Do let me/us know how you are doing, particularly when you need saving. That is what community is for.
Hi Tom. The only thing that could make me happier than seeing your post here is reading it. I still maintain that the opening 100+ pages of Imperfect Burials is some of the best writing I’ve ever encountered, and the fact publishers didn’t bite is on them, not you.
Am I correct in hearing echoes of Pena Chödrön in the understanding that fear and hope are two sides of the same error, projecting oneself into an unknowable future instead of anchoring oneself in the moment? I can’t remember her exact words, but they went something along the lines of, “If we want to overcome our fear, we must also surrender hope.” I’m certainly sensing some of that wisdom in this post.
So glad to have you here among us, where you belong.
David,
your approval strikes me like sunshine. Auspiciously, given the subject of this post, it has been a day to test my mettle about standing aloof from hope and fear, with both a scathing review and incredible placements on Amazon. Granted, these events are not occurring in the mind of the author while writing, which is where the rubber meets the narrative. But I have been laughing at both extremes. (So, so far, so good.)
And yes, you are indeed hearing Pema Chödrön’s dharma training in the placement of hope and fear as symptoms of the same, shall we say, condition. You and I and I hope Mette will have that long-awaited beer (or single malt) before many months go by as I travel through your soon-to-be new home.
And thanks for giving me the idea of releasing an edited version of Imperfect Burials, one that ends at page 121. We’ll see if anyone notices. Ha!
A surefire way to cure the fear of rejection is to do cold-call sales for a few years. After that experience, even a trunkful of rejection slips will seem inconsequential.
Jay,
thanks for that important take. I came to the same plane of understanding after working in Hollywood, where thousand of songwriters are vying for airtime. The word “no” is said so often there, one begins to consider it synonymous with breathing. I finally came to realize that it didn’t matter all that much what the person standing in front of me was saying about my work. It was a great relief.
i hope you love the process of your creativity and sometimes the results as well, and that you share them with the world.
How I love this, Tom. It states so eloquently one of the most foundational truths I have come to realize about a writing career–that happiness lies in letting go of putting external standards of “success” on our creative efforts, and taking ownership of why we do this and what we want from it, on our own terms. Welcome to WU!
Hello Tiffany,
It’s wonderful that you can confirm this. Am I correct that you work with authors? If so, I wonder if you can differentiate or sense authors in various stages of coming to realize this, I’ll call it, truth. And when hope and fear show in their work, do you shift how you edit? Does it become part of the discussion or is it best to leave it aside?
I think the carousel of hope and fear should be discussed more in the writing community. Because I see how much authors suffer in the trenches trying to get published. There is another round of it, of course, when getting a deal and it not working out as hoped. I expect with sophomore authors it can become even more of an issue, because of the pressure from the publisher and reviews–good and bad–an author receives for her work. Should I cut closely to my last book? Or dare I take further risks? Being able to lay down those pressures is even more important.
Thank you for entering in and for welcoming me.
Tom, late to the party here, but thank you for the care you give to what are the larger rewards of writing and the writing life, while not shying from the challenges. My own book work has had no commercial success, but I move forward with it because it gives me a solace no other work does, and sentence-making can be so gratifying sometimes. Thanks for your eye and heart here.
Hey Tom,
Always glad to have you at the party. Sounds like you have come to a wise place on this situation. I firmly believe that our best work will come from this stability. Whether it gets widely read relies on many factors, and of them, only our effort placed on marketing is the one we can control. Thanks for the kind words. And Write On!