Are You Telling Yourself the Wrong Stories?
By Tiffany Yates Martin | September 6, 2022 |
Photo by Pablo Hermoso on Unsplash
I’m not talking about the stories that you write. I’m talking about the ones you tell yourself: while you’re writing, when you can’t write, after you write, when what you wrote doesn’t get an agent or publisher, or isn’t well reviewed, or doesn’t sell well.
Our attempt to find reason and logic in what is so painful to us—rejection, disappointment, setbacks with our personal creative work—often results in finding reasons that don’t actually exist. “Reasons” that decimate our confidence and self-image and equanimity, the very elements we need to most freely create our best work.
It’s not these events themselves that can derail creatives, but the storytelling around them that we choose to subscribe to: Failure. Lack of talent. Hopelessness.
I’ve written a lot about this kind of destructive internal messaging and how to deal with it. But in this post I want to examine the premise of that story itself.
The Fallacy of the Story We Tell Ourselves
Usually it goes like this: “If I work hard and learn my craft and write the best story I am capable of writing and keep doing that, then eventually if I am good enough I will get published, my books will be hugely successful, and I will be a working writer forever and ever, amen.”
Unfortunately that’s just not how this career works. It’s not how most creative careers work. It’s not actually how any career works.
Interestingly it’s story itself that teaches us to think of it this way: The hero valiantly fights battles and ultimately he succeeds because of his skill or talent or goodness or strength. Humans are almost hardwired to believe this, and no one more so than writers, who live it every single day they practice their craft and try to incorporate some version of this idea into the narratives they’re creating.
It’s satisfying and tidy, but it’s not what happens in our writing—and it’s not what happens in life.
I regularly interview successful authors for a monthly “How Writers Revise” feature I write on my blog, and there’s not a single author I’ve spoken with who hasn’t talked about this business’s ups and downs, obstacles and setbacks, crushing disappointments as well as heady successes. There’s not one of them who hasn’t ridden a roller coaster between them all.
This is a business of ups and downs. Of seemingly random outcomes from decisions made based on the most subjective of criteria. Even factoring in that it is a business (and many times whether or not you get an agent, or whether or not you get published, has less to do with your talent or your story than it does the current market and the subjective preferences of a handful of individuals), after that it’s anybody’s guess what may capture a reading audience and what may not. What may sell well and what will not. What may be critically well received and what may not.
An author may struggle for novel after novel to even make a dent—a process ever more challenging now in a fast-moving industry that quickly moves on to the next shiny new debut author—and then suddenly break out. Ask Katherine Center, whose sixth novel was the one that catapulted her from the midlist to the New York Times bestseller list.
An author may succeed wildly with one title, only to stumble and fall on subsequent releases. Ask Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke, whose fourth novel was a breakout smash, but whose seventh novel’s underperformance led to their being cut from their publisher. They feared for the survival of their careers before ultimately selling their eighth to another publishing house. (They talk about their travails in their wonderful “rejection series” of podcast episodes starting here.)
Ask indie-publishing juggernaut Joanna Penn, who was “treated like a lot of crap” as an early adopter of self-publishing before going on to create an empire of podcasting, blogging, publishing, and speaking that reaches literally millions of writers in hundreds of countries.
None of these authors are any different in the moment of their successes than in the moment of their failures. They may grow and deepen and develop their skills, but their essence and worth as creators—the foundation of their work—has not. These ups and downs are simply a product of the vagaries of an incredibly subjective business with an unfathomable number of moving parts.
So how does this affect the story you tell yourself?
Often the stories we believe about ourselves, our writing, and our careers involve elements over which we have no control: If your idea of fulfillment and success involves, say, publishing with a major house, making big advances, receiving unswervingly good critical reviews, or attaining stratospheric sales—book after book after book—then the chances are pretty good you are never going to be happy. That’s a minuscule fraction of authors (and I’m betting zero who unfailingly achieve all these metrics).
If you want to increase your chances of finding satisfaction and building and sustaining a long-term creative career that is meaningful to you, maybe it’s time to reexamine your premise and redefine your definition of what being a successful author is.
What is it about doing this work that does make you happy, truly, at the core? Or maybe a better way to think of it is what can make you happy? What can you be happy with? What will make every day spent as a writer potentially rewarding and fulfilling for you?
Author Vaughn Roycroft, a regular contributor to Writer Unboxed, not long ago published a beautiful post about his journey to redefine what fulfills him in his writing career. After struggling for years to get traditionally published and “failing,” he decided to abandon that goal.
But he doesn’t think of that as failure. He began to reframe it when telling a friend his story about starting a particular manuscript when he was an adolescent and finally resolving to self-publish it when it didn’t find “success,” and his friend said, “Let me get this straight. You first envisioned doing this when you were eleven, you went back to it in your 40s, and now—at 60—you’re about to start publishing the damn thing? That’s remarkable.”
Vaughn had been telling himself the wrong story. His friend’s comment shifted his perspective and let him redefine himself as a writer even though he wasn’t a traditionally published author. It let him believe in himself; relish and be proud of his creative product, rather than waiting for some external metric of its worth; and redefine how he approaches his career going forward in a way that offers him more fulfillment and joy. And that is remarkable.
These stories that you have been telling yourself are not you. They are merely unexamined external messaging mistakenly interpreted in a negative way that does not serve you.
So the next time one of these stories begins to play in your head—when you struggle to finish a draft, when you get editorial notes back and are looking at a much longer climb up Revision Mountain than you hoped for, when your dream agent rejects you or you don’t get that publishing offer, when your book doesn’t sell well or isn’t well reviewed, or you’re dropped from your agent or publisher, or any of the myriad other setbacks that are constant uncontrollable factors of any creative career—stop and reexamine your story premise.
What fictions are you accepting and retelling in your mind? That this agent’s rejection means you are not talented or your work sucks? That if you haven’t made it by now you probably never will? Even that “making it” is some distant future external goal…one that has nothing to do with your creative work itself? That you’re through, a failure, that you don’t have what it takes?
Those stories are true only if you believe they are.
Examine your assumptions and retell the story you want to tell about your life and your art. Make yourself the engine of it, the protagonist who drives it, rather than a passive bystander buffeted about by the whims of a subjective and often inadvertently cruel business. Tell a better version of it, one that gives your story a more satisfying journey and a happier ending.
And then go be the hero of it.
How about you, authors: What kind of messaging do you find yourself accepting–or telling yourself–about your writing career? Are you able to notice self-sabotage before it derails your creativity–and if so, what techniques do you use? Have you consciously given thought to what you want your career to look like, and how do you stay focused on that amid the many vagaries and disappointments of the publishing business?
Tiffany Yates Martin has spent nearly thirty years as an editor in the publishing industry, working with major publishers and NYTimes, WaPo, WSJ, and USA Today bestselling, award-winning authors as well as indie and newer writers, and is the founder of FoxPrint Editorial and author of the Amazon bestseller Intuitive Editing: A Creative and Practical Guide to Revising Your Writing. She leads workshops and seminars for conferences and writers’ groups across the country and is a frequent contributor to writers’ sites and publications. Under the pen name Phoebe Fox, she’s the author of six novels.
Thanks for this thoughtful post, Tiffany. I am a sober-eyed realist and I have always known the odds were against my landing a publishing contract. So I set out to be the best writer I was capable of becoming with no expectations. I have improved immeasurably as a writer, but publication still eludes me. That’s okay, though. If we look at writing as self-development, it is a lifelong project. Publication may be the goal, but it is not the outcome. Thanks again!
I love the “sober-eyed realist” description, Christopher. I fall into that category too (most of the time), and for me it does help me feel more satisfied and fulfilled by what I do day to day, rather than feeling I may be always falling short of what I want. I may still pursue certain outcomes, but I try to remember that achieving them isn’t the holy grail–doing the thing is. Some days I succeed in that mind-set more than others. :) Thanks for sharing, and I hope that if you are still wanting to be published, you achieve it–it does seem that persistence is the name of that game, as Greer Macallister pointed out in yesterday’s post.
What a beautiful post, Tiffany! What I especially love about it is that you go way beyond the typical “you go, girl, just believe in yourself!!” to dig deep into the origin of the narratives that cause us so much misery.
These are very much Western, contemporary narratives—that would, in fact, feel insane to other cultures.
* That we are in control, and it’s up to us to make our own success.
* That “success” is the goal of our efforts.
* That getting the prize (agent, pub deal, best-seller list, starred review—which means that we’ve been chosen, while others have not) is the source of happiness.
As you say, these narratives go way beyond the writing world. They are reinforced by our culture, every single day. To stand apart from them and have a sense of self-worth—not arrogance, but self respect— is a big deal.
I’m working on it. Thank you for helping!
Thanks for the post Tiffany.
I daydream about a successful writing career (and how I’d spend the obvious billions of dollars I’d make), but I also try and take away something from the process itself. Learning new things is my best hope at that. The rabbit holes I go down for research are rewarding in themselves even if I don’t make it to Wonderland.
The OBVIOUS billions… :D Love the way you put it–one of my (many) mantras I use to keep me in a healthy, productive headspace is “process not product.” Works every time. Dammit. :) And yes, the rabbit holes can be their own reward. Thanks for this insight.
That’s an intriguing observation, Barbara–I think you’re right that this “be in it to win it” mentality seems to skew more Western-mind-set. That battle for intrinsic self-worth feels ongoing, at least to me, but reminders help–and sharing it helps. Thanks for sharing your perspective.
Hi Tiffany, Oh how I love this essay (and not just because you so kindly included me–thanks much for that!). As I zoom toward pub day, I find that I have to continue to fight a battle to not tell myself the wrong story. There are so damn many pre-pub hoops out there that I could opt to try to jump through. No self-publisher could possibly jump through them all. I’m capable of twisting that into a series of failures. I think the best thing about the gift of having my story retold to me (thereby reframing it for me) is that I now know to fight the battle. I know I should resist succumbing to a woe-is-me version of the story of my debut, and I do (well, most days).
Thanks for a great reminder, and thanks again for including me!
Vaughn, your post and story have really stuck with me–as you can tell. It’s so easy to forget how remarkable it is simply to create stories and people and worlds in our head and bring them to life on the page…to share our vision with others…to persist in something that can so often feel frustrating or disheartening when our reach may exceed our grasp.
It puts me in mind of Kurt Vonnegut’s marvelous quote, “I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’” All those goalposts can be exciting and rewarding–for a moment. But how lovely if we can sit down at our writing every day and feel, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
I’m so happy for you that you’re pursuing your publishing path, and find your fluid adaptations and reframing of your story inspiring.
Tiffany, I love that Vonnegut quote so much I want to marry it. I swim so much in that woe-is-me grotto that Vaughn mentioned that my knees are slimy. I’ve had the requisite amount of frustrations in this writing life, but there are inescapable joys, in the act of creation, that are immutable. (Until my next woe-is-me session.)
Thank you for the heart uplift (and the poised practicalities) of your post.
Tom, you made L literally OL. ;) Thank you back for this wonderful comment–and reminder that our slimy knees aren’t forever. :)
I do love this post, Tiffany. Must bookmark it so I can return to it and peck out the little delicious nuggets I need for when I once again am able to write. But writing aside, I can use your words to re-think my entire career. I don’t really compare myself to other writers as that does no one any good; however, I am realizing how I have been comparing myself ‘back then’ to when I was writing and writing and writing and novels published and articles/stories written/published and conferences/speaking engagements attended and my royalties were pretty nice, etc etc etc, to myself ‘now’ where everything is different … lots of thoughts for me to ponder.
“Peck out the little delicious nuggets” made me smile–love that image. :) Oh, the comparison demon! That’s one of my cadre of demons who traipse out of their caves from time to time to party in my psyche. I compare where I want to be against where I am, rather than where I’ve been, as you mention…but I think the effect is similar–which is to say it sucks the soul and joy from you, and from the creative work.
I think it’s probably normal to stumble over those old familiar demons over and over–but hopefully we get better at spotting them and righting ourselves after we do. Thanks for sharing your version–I find the universality of these feelings to be very comforting, and to remind me that it’s just a stumbling block, and to be compassionate with myself.
I really needed to hear this. I have my manuscript, I have my editor’s notes, and I lost my joy in the overwhelm. What you said here, spoke to me: “ What is it about doing this work that does make you happy, truly, at the core? Or maybe a better way to think of it is what can make you happy? What can you be happy with? What will make every day spent as a writer potentially rewarding and fulfilling for you?” Thank you.
As an editor, I apologize for the fact that editor’s notes can hit like a plank in the face. :) It’s easy to have our confidence shaken when we get that much feedback–most of it feeling like it’s focused on what isn’t working, and making us wonder if anything is. I always suggest authors read it all and then step away for a day or two–that generally helps the overwhelm coalesce into what’s usually the handful of specific areas that might benefit from strengthening or developing or clarification. Hopefully it also reminds authors that this is a process, and it’s normal, and not a reflection on their skill or talent or worth–or the story’s–just basically the equivalent of actors rehearsing to shape and hone the performance.
I’m biased, but I also think that’s the most fun part of the writing process–taking the marble of what you created and chiseling and shaping and sanding it into the version closest on the page to what you had in your head. I always hope that at least part of our editorial process, when I work with authors, puts them in touch with that joy of creation they may have had in drafting.
Thanks for your comment, and the kind words. And good luck with your revision! I hope you find the fun. :)
Great post, Tiffany.
Don’t we all start with those dreams? I cling to mine. Except the part where it’s all up to me.
For me, this is a learning journey. Good enough no longer means high literary quality to me, it means saleable, or even just finding a professional who thinks he/she/etc. can sell my MS and is willing to devote time and effort to it. That’s a huge success, or it will be when (and if) it happens for me. Imagine how it will feel if he/she/etc. is right and there’s a publisher, maybe one who will pay me. And maybe readers will have the experience I want to provide for them. That’s as far as I dare to dream. The only part I can control is to produce the best product I can and try diligently to find the right professional.
Virginia Woolf reportedly said, “Writing is the only thing I do that when I do it, I don’t feel I should be doing something else.” Writing absorbs me completely, makes me lose track of time making something no one else ever made before. That’s pretty close to happy. And the realization that that’s what I’ve just done is icing on that piece of cake. If I could think of something better to do with that time, I’d do that instead. Fortunately, I can’t.
I love this, Bob. My mantra (yet another of them) is “good enough is good enough.” As a lifelong perfectionist, that can be tough to remember (and believe), but I sure notice I’m happier when I can–and more productive, and usually freer.
Love this too: “The only part I can control is to produce the best product I can and try diligently to find the right professional.” So much is out of our control in this business, I think we can lose sight of all that is–our process, learning, improving our skills, what we actually produce, and to a certain degree–more now than ever in my 30 years in the publishing industry–how we reach readers with it. There’s lots more competition and lots more “noise”…but also many more avenues and opportunities for authors, and more access to them.
Every year I revisit my mission statement for FoxPrint Editorial (my company) and my priorities and goals, and give thought to what I want my business to look like–long-term but also day to day. For all of those 30 years, I’ve been able to say, “My worst day at work is still a pretty good day”–and what more could we ask for from our lives? To bring back the Vonnegut quote I mentioned in a previous comment, If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is. :) I may not hit every milepost, but I sure am enjoying the journey–and as you say, it absorbs me completely and makes me lose track of time.
I’m glad you can’t think of something better to do with your time too. What could be better than feeling that absorption and joy in what you’re doing? Thanks for sharing this, Bob.
Great uplifting post, Tiffany, as I sit here reading and editing while my husband is getting an infusion at a major Chicago hospital. But this is not his or my first rodeo and we have our routine as he often sleeps and I always write or edit— a chapter of my novel, a post for my blog. Thanks for you encouraging words. Writing is part of me, and that’s my continuing story.
Oh, boy, Beth–I guess something like that puts everything in perspective too, doesn’t it? I love that you say “writing is a part of me.” I think sometimes it’s easy as creatives to think it’s everything, all of us–but it’s just a part.
Martin Short, in his autobiography, talks about his “curriculum” theory of life: that he regards the major areas of his life as “courses” in school (I think he defines 7 or 8), and worries more about his overall GPA than his score in any individual class–which he expects may fluctuate: If the “family” grade is suffering, he says, for instance, he pushes harder in another area, like the “friends” class, or “work,” and so on.
I think of that a lot when I’m struggling with writing/work–it’s not my whole GPA, and that tells me maybe I should focus more for the moment on something that is more within my control at that time–relaxing, or loved ones, or self-care.
Love that while your “loved one” grade may be a little lower right now with your husband’s situation, leaning into your writing/editing can help raise the GPA. Thanks for sharing this–and I hope all goes well with his procedure and recovery.
Tiffany, what a great post on examining the stories we tell ourselves. I know I need to change my attitude about marketing. I’ve never had to do much of it since I wrote a lot of books that are used in schools and libraries but it’s a whole different kettle of fish when you self-publish. It’s hard to even get your book in the library. I’m trying to learn what works but feel hopelessly out of depth. I’m a writer, a scientist, a teacher, and very much a hermit. How to square this with marketing? My best strategy so far has been to teach and I think it’s because it’s a labor of love. So I’m hoping I will learn to love advertising and sales pitches because I’m nothing if not persistent. I know how blessed we are to have this writing life but it is also a business. Love the Vonnegut and Woolf quotes in the comments. Thank you for giving me much food for thought; I read this in the morning and only now replying :)
Whew, marketing is a whole different animal, isn’t it? It hasn’t historically been among the skillsets authors need to have–but it is now. Love your thoughts about teaching because it’s a labor of love. I try to think of “marketing” that way–I’m spreading this work I’m passionate about to more authors. But I’m with you–it’s a learning curve. Thanks for the comment, Vijaya, and the kind words.
I feel I have succeeded when I have published (I self-publish) a book that I can look at and say “yes, that is a good book.” I do of course love it when others agree that it is a good book, and I would of course love it if more people were reading my books, but at the end of the day, what’s most important is that I did a Good Job of the work that was given me to do.
That’s a wonderful way to gauge your success–are you proud of the work? The more I can remember that, the more fulfilled I feel, regardless of results beyond that. Thanks for the comments, Deborah.
What a wonderful post, very freeing. In spite of having a lovely career, published by four fine houses, I have spent much wasted time feeling that it was not the perfect career I was supposed to have.. as if there was one sort of career. And as if making a career or indeed writing novels were as simple as baking cookies! Why do we persist in this ideal? Much to think about and thank you!
It’s weird, isn’t it? The goalposts always move–I remember when I started my first attempt at a novel-length story, I thought, “If I can just finish a whole book’s worth of a story, it will be enough.” And then I did and it was, “If I can just get it published…” and then “If I can just be trad-pubbed,” and then every goalpost beyond that. I like having goals and reaching for things, but I think we can get so caught up in that that we forget to enjoy the process. And attaining the goals never feels quite satisfying, does it? Or not for very long, at least, as the next one gets set just beyond our grasp almost immediately.
This post is not idle musings on my part, or theoretical–but very personal and practical for me! :) Reminders I give myself as much as anything else. Thanks for sharing your take on this too, Stephanie–your accomplishments are those most of us would only dream of early in our careers. How sobering–and illuminating–to see that you can feel these things anywhere in your career, no matter how successful.
I’m addicted to the Dead Eyes podcast, actor Connor Ratliffe’s three-season exploration of why Tom Hanks fired him from Band of Brothers 20 years ago, right before he was supposed to shoot. It’s really a brilliantly unspooled story on its own merit, and also an exploration of rejection that feels deeply resonant to any creatives, to me–or any human. :) He had an actor on one episode who talked about something his dad once told him–that you never climb the mountain: that maybe Tom Hanks looks at Tom Cruise’s blockbusters and imagines that kind of box-office… Maybe Tom Cruise looks at Tom Hanks’s Oscars and acclaim and wishes for that. It was an interesting perspective for me–that it’s not about getting to a “summit” because there really is no summit. It’s about the journey.
Thanks for this….
Thank you for this encouraging post, Tiffany! I’ve been writing towards publication for only four years now (self-published 5 books in this time) and I already feel burnt out. Despite many little wins along the way, that critical inner voice almost always finds a way to downplay the positives and exaggerate the usual negative stories I tell myself. If an external person were to whisper such things to me as often as I say them to myself, about how all this is a waste of time and effort and that it’s never going to work out etc. etc., I’d have disowned them long ago. Too bad I can’t run away from myself, but as you so encouragingly put it, I can always find a way to reframe whatever’s going on … and so much of it is truly truly not in our control! Thank you for the nuggets of wisdom in your post! I’ve bookmarked it to come back to on my low days. :)
If I may take a page from Vaughn’s book here…you’ve self-pubbed FIVE books in four years?! That is remarkable. Brava, you. We are our own worst enemies, aren’t we? How can we not celebrate enormous wins like that (not “little wins,” as you said–it takes great perseverance and discipline and effort and work to write and publish five manuscripts) and instead focus on what we haven’t yet achieved? I am picking up what you’re putting down, though–I do the same, downplay my triumphs and focus on what I haven’t yet accomplished. Yet as you point out, I’d never be so unkind or discouraging or disparaging with another soul.
One of my favorite books ever is by Dr. Theordore Rubin. It has the unfortunately off-putting title of Compassion and Self-Hate, but it’s so helpful in exactly these areas. He talks about maintaining with yourself “benevolence and a state of grace.” I find that so lovely, and return to it (and the whole book) often when these little not-good-enough demons strike.
Thanks for your kind words about the post, and it makes me happy if it sparked benevolence and grace toward yourself. :)
Thank you so much, Tiffany, for reframing my own narrative! :) The longer I stay in this journey, the more important I find it is to be unconditionally kind towards myself! This one factor alone seems to determine how we’d approach the rest of our writing days. So simple, yet so hard too! I’ll certainly look into the book you recommended.
We were discussing your post in a writers’ group meeting just this morning! It’s a daily reminder most of us seem to need! Thank you. :)
Thanks, Anitha!
“None of these authors are any different in the moment of their successes than in the moment of their failures. They may grow and deepen and develop their skills, but their essence and worth as creators—the foundation of their work—has not.”
So well said, and so important for us to remember.
For me too–a reminder I offer myself whenever the comparison/perfectionism/impostor-syndrome demons come out to frolic. :) Thanks, Kristan.
I love these words too! <3