Desperately Seeking a Writing God
By Jan O'Hara | April 17, 2023 |
A writing goddess visited my city recently. Elizabeth Gilbert. Ever hear of her? She of Eat, Pray, Love and Big Magic fame? When given the chance to brush up against such a figure, I rarely refuse. So when an author friend expressed her willingness to drive several hours and accompany me to EG’s event, I was quick to agree.
I hoped to leave with a few writing tidbits for myself but also thought to act as your eyes and ears.
Since Covid, I have been a comparative hermit, so my impression of the evening was influenced by many post-pandemic milestones. First time seeing my companion in four years, for example. First dinner in a fancy restaurant. First glimpse of the new downtown train station with its burgeoning homeless population. First occasion among two thousand, mostly unmasked people.
EG presented herself much like her TED Talk: funny, insightful, warm, observably humble. She talked about her earlier book tour for Big Magic and alternately had us in stitches or tears.
She said her full-time job is taking care of her mental health so that her part-time job can be the actual writing. And with further prodding, she described some strategies she uses to overcome her creative roadblocks. I won’t detail those here. I suspect they’re contained within her now-retired podcast or her book, which remains in my groaning To Be Read pile.
Then she opened the floor up for questions, which she predefined as a single sentence that ended in a question mark. She also asked us not to eat up the time with gushing. That she was grateful for our gratitude, but our presence in the auditorium served as tribute enough.
Despite her attempts to set boundaries around her stardom, some people were still overcome by outbursts of adulation. (Maybe the famously polite Canadian constitution asserting itself, or maybe that’s just what she deals with on the regular.)
Anyway, I thought of you in that moment, my dear Unboxeders. Actually visualized myself striding up to a mic and asking what one piece of advice she would have for you all. Before I could wrestle my shyness into submission, someone beat me to it.
And her answer, to the best of my recollection and note-taking capabilities? “Don’t let the terrorist inside your head stop you [from writing your book]. Be more curious than afraid.”
The reason I decided to write this column is that I left the evening feeling thoughtful, buoyed, but also somewhat discomfited. My uneasiness wasn’t because of anything EG said, but rather the way a certain subset of the audience received her hard-won self-knowledge. They seemed desperate to believe in what she offered as possible creativity hacks, at times reminding me of this snippet of dialogue, taken from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, in which an ordinary man, born in the stable next door to Jesus, is mistaken for his holy neighbor:
Brian: …Will you please listen? I’m not the Messiah! Do you understand? Honestly!
Woman: Only the true Messiah denies his divinity!
Brian: What? Well, what sort of chance does that give me? All right, I am the Messiah!
Crowd: He is! He is the Messiah!
As I looked at those eager, adoring, and therefore vulnerable people, I felt a wave of protectiveness wash over me. I saw myself in their faces—the Jan of a decade ago, so determined to follow her writing dreams and so ready to see anyone who spoke authoritatively as an expert, that she willingly and repetitively gave away her agency.
That Jan bought writing book after book, hoping this would be “the one.” She took endless workshops, sometimes derailing a period of productivity to chase a better plotting method or social media strategy. She stuck with critique groups that didn’t work for her and invested financially in tools that wouldn’t make a whit of difference—something she would have known in advance, had she been ruthlessly honest with herself. (Much the same way that she knows she will regret the DQ Blizzard even as she lines up in the drive-through.) That Jan would also have loved to find a personal writing guru.
Present-day Jan would spare those ardent audience members a similar period of flailing.
I would tell them to be careful if you’ve been raised, educated, or worked in a field that reveres authority, and rules, and hierarchies. (Think medicine, law, accounting, the military, and so on.) Some of the tools that help you survive in those worlds might not be ideal for the artistic path. They can lead you to mistake personal experience or a suggestion for the authoritative answer to your current struggles.
Do be open and inquisitive. Explore. Find mentors and educators who offer you possibilities, and then experiment in ways both large and small to discover what works for you now with your specific work-in-progress. But don’t turn anyone into an all-knowing, all-wise figure. To Elizabeth Gilbert’s excellent advice, I would add, “be more curious than deferential.”
Allow them their humanity, and in doing so, honor yours.
Am I alone in my detours, Unboxeders? Have you lost writing time to follow a guru’s instruction?
A USA Today bestselling author, former family physician and academic, Jan O’Hara (she/her) left the world of medicine behind to follow her dreams of becoming a writer. She writes love stories that zoom from wackadoodle to heartfelt in six seconds flat: (Opposite of Frozen; Cold and Hottie; Desperate Times, Desperate Pleasures). Her latest Christmas novella, The Cowboy’s Comeback Christmas, is part of a 9-author-strong anthology (A Cowboy This Christmas: A Sweet Romance Anthology). She also contributed to Author in Progress, a Writer’s Digest Book edited by Therese Walsh.
[coffee]
Oh, Jan, I love this post! I completely agree with you. I said something like this just the other day, though not as succinctly or as gently as you put it! My wordier and maybe snarkier version: if anyone tells you how to be a writer, they are either a deluded victim of survivor bias or are trying to sell you something.
I like your version better. :)
LJ, I think anger is a natural response when someone actively pushes their au-thor-i-TIE onto you. (A saying from Southpark.) When I can, I prefer to embrace skepticism instead. I feel like it gives me space to evaluate their content. Even people with agenda can be *occasionally* correct.
“Survivor bias” — yes! That’s exactly what it is, the difference between having succeeded with one answer and believing they have The Answer. Better teachers and better student should know that difference, and take each tip for what it’s worth to them.
Hey Jan, this post really hits home for me. I suppose our shared history as writing friends helps–knowing that we’ve both “seen the battle,” and sure that having lived it has left us both changed. I keep trying to explain myself in this regard, and haven’t been succeeding as well as I’d like. In an interview with our (fabulous) fellow contributor, Tiffany Yates Martin, I kept asserting–perhaps too vehemently–how I am now able to stay true to myself, and to my work. I’m guessing it can come off in a cocky way, as if I’m no longer open to learning and growth. The way I’ve been expressing it might sound like stubbornness or even obstinance, which leaves me feeling uneasy.
What you’ve shown me today, through your very effective essay, is that it takes time to realize that only we can find the real writer inside of us. Although the guidance of experts and gurus might offer us clues and hints, no one else can show us the true path to that person. You’ve made me realize that it not only takes experience, but humility, to find our own path. And a bit of courage to accept it. That’s what I’ve been failing to express. Thank you for the revelation.
Good Sir V, despite that lofty title, I find it hard to imagine you coming off as stubborn, obstinate, or arrogant. But I think there’s a stage between naivete and open detachment where “nice” people are making peace with their own self-agency. As I was saying to LJ just above, that’s a space where some reflexive defensiveness can arise. At least, that’s been the case for me. It’s taken me years, but I’m getting better at saying no to certain types of input and feeling at peace with that decision. Hope that makes sense!
Jan, thanks for this: especially the reminder that our upbringing can affect what we think will “work” even in a very different profession. It’s easy to think that another person (god or just another wise writer who’s slightly “ahead” of us, at least in our own perception) can short-cut our own path. Bottom line: there’s no substitute for hard work and we can really only find our own way.
Carol, the funny thing is that we can learn even from non-writers! But as you say, having heard out the suggestions, there can be no substitute for hard work and active experimentation. At a certain point, we have to stop passively learning and see what works for us.
Well said, old pal! Although my curiosity has taken me down a few rabbit holes lol, let’s just all feel the fear and do it anyway. xo t
Amen, old pal. And very nice to see you again!
Having been raised, educated, and employed by people in fields that love rules and hierarchy, it never occurred to me that’s what was driving me to find someone else’s magic bullet for translating my ideas into a fully fleshed manuscript. But lately, I’ve been tuning into my inner knowing, and experimenting on my own.
Maybe enough time has passed that I’m able to step away from the need to seek an outer authority, or maybe my inner need for expression has finally determined it must simply tell my story my own way. In either case, I loved your insights in this essay, and thank you for the reminder that the best place to be curious is with what works for me.
Sounds like you’re on your way, Christine. I wish you joy on the journey.
Jan, it’s so wonderful you got to hear EG in person. I loved Big Magic and her advice and yours together are spot on. My cats continue to teach me the same lessons (one is right in front of my computer screen washing her face, which I need to do as well). Coming from India, I have a healthy skepticism of most gurus, lol. However, I do enjoy craft books and writing advice from those who’re ahead of me because there’s so much to learn and sometimes it’s that one nugget at the right time that helps me move forward. Thank you for yours!
Vijaya, the day I stop wanting to learn, that’s the day I’ll need a CT scan of the brain. Like everyone here, the quest is an intrinsic part of my personality. And thank you. I am very glad I attended the EG event.
I have two cat teachers as well. They make wonderful writer companions.
Ah Jan, words of truth. From experience and from your wonderful heart and brain. For there is no one on the planet that can understand the individual drive and need in this writer…or in you, or anyone else here. In my earlier years, I might have worshiped at the altar of E. Gilbert, but not any more. I am open to ideas, criticism, the wonder of words that fill me by simply READING. There is no magic bullet. The closest I might come to is the advice of Donald Maass. But truly, the power of creation works with in each of us in a particular way. Isn’t that why we don’t all LOVE the same book, or follow the same course? Again, your words of wisdom here. Thanks.
“…the power of creation works with in each of us in a particular way.” Absolutely, Elizabeth.
Don has served as an incredible teacher for me as well. The thing I like best about his process are the questions he poses, precisely because it aids that process of self-discovery.
Jan, you sent me back to the days when I was so hungry for any scrap of affirmation that I didn’t recognize the worm on the hook. The day I ended a relationship with a long-time mentor was excruciating, as this person had taught me a great deal. But there is such a thing as the law of diminishing returns. I define this ending as my ‘turning pro’ moment (thank you Steven Pressfield). The moment when I stopped hiding behind the illusions of safety and promises and got real about the journey I was on. I think the rabbit holes, costly as they can be time-wise, are what teach us discernment. Much to think on here. Thank you for a wonderful post.
I agree with everything you’ve said, Susan, especially about the search for a guru being about a quest for certainty and safety, which doesn’t work in a creative life. At least, not in MY life. If I wait to feel safe, I don’t write. Period. Full stop.
Thank you for the post today, Jan. It really got me thinking.
I work in multiple artistic mediums. Gathering (hoarding) materials is a natural reflex that I see across the disciplines. Fiber artists can never get enough yarn. Jewelers love their jewels. Metalsmiths salivate at a chance for more (preferably handmade antique) tools.
I’ve done this long enough and downsized enough to recognize it’s not really yarn or gemstones or tools that I’m excited about owning – it’s the possibilities. I won’t use all the yarn, gemstones or tools that I own before I pass on, but it’s possible I can use some of them to create wonderful unique things. They each offer a rush of inspiration when I handle them.
As a wordsmith, I have a collection of blank books, always ready to be filled with journaling or poetry. Their pretty covers and smooth paper are an inspiration.
But novel writing isn’t on a tangible surface, it’s on the laptop in the bits and bytes. No inspiration there. So how do I gather the possibilities for novel writing? I buy books or join workshops about wordsmithing.
I realized in the past year that most of these leave me uninspired and frustrated, exactly opposite what I’m seeking. So, I’ve become extremely selective.
The books or speakers that boast they will save time are the ones that most often suck my time and inspiration. Novel writing takes a lot of thought. Thought for me, requires a lot of time. Saving time methods don’t work for me.
The books or speakers that acknowledge each writer and novel has their own process and each writer holds a unique novel inside them are the most likely to share tips I can use in my work. Their exercises are about looking within, not looking out at charts on the wall. They work for me.
Most importantly, I’ve learned all wordsmith talk can serve as an excuse, if I allow it, to delay opening the laptop and creating the what-if possibilities that are in my head. The what-ifs become tangible when I write their examples into scenes and characters, filling up those bits and bytes. The what-ifs can’t all become part of my finished work, but they can all inspire me with their possibilities. The what-ifs are what I really need to be collecting, not the how-tos.
I’m not a fiber artist, Ada, but your insights exactly mirror mine. Especially this: “I’ve done this long enough and downsized enough to recognize it’s not really yarn or gemstones or tools that I’m excited about owning – it’s the possibilities. I won’t use all the yarn, gemstones or tools that I own before I pass on, but it’s possible I can use some of them to create wonderful unique things. They each offer a rush of inspiration when I handle them.”
And the understanding that acquisition can become a means of delay or fooling oneself into believing they’re making progress. Currently, I’m trying to focus on the butt-in-chair time, and being kind with myself about that commitment. When problems arise, that’s when I go looking for a solution. Basically, I have enough “fiber” to make a thousand sails, but my goal is to launch my ships more often, and more consistently.
Jan, I am so happy you’ve found your inner strength. Cheers to that, my friend. :)
Hugs,
Dee
Thank you so much, Denise! xo
True words about people raised in hierarchies. For me, the best advice on what’s worth spending money on, and what’s not, has come from an entrepreneur friend, who has become through experience absolutely ruthless at sorting out the wheat from the chaff.
For me, a lot of the desire to take classes and go to conferences is the idea that it would be fun, but as she says, at least be clear-eyed that that’s what the reason is, and not a business one.
“For me, a lot of the desire to take classes and go to conferences is the idea that it would be fun, but as she says, at least be clear-eyed that that’s what the reason is, and not a business one.”
Yes, Linguist! Yes! At least that’s true in my case, where I’ve chosen to be an indie author and I’m not seeking the agent/editor networking opportunities that come with a conference. We writers can learn a lot from the entrepreneurial mindset of active experimentation, shipping, then incorporating feedback.
To be clear, though, I’m not against fun. Fun is good. And conferences are possibly even essential for more extroverted types. For me at this stage in my life, though, they’re (mostly) not the ideal use of my time. To each their own, though. And I reserve the right to change my mind.
Great Post, Jan. I’ve had the experiences, but I couldn’t have written it. Thank you for doing so.
Yeah, at first it looks easy: All you have to do is rub the right lamp. But the genie only emerges if you do the reading and listening and learning and get your butt in the chair and write and revise and revise and revise. And he emerges on genie time, not your time. It’s a great experience, but it requires endurance.
Has anyone ever published anything that didn’t require blood, sweat, and tears? I only write because I can’t think of anything better to do.
I think you nailed it, Bob. Writing is an endurance sport. (Wouldn’t that make a great T-shirt?) And it certainly comes with bloodied toenails and cramps and chafed thighs. But oh, when you finally cross that finish line…
Have you lost writing time to follow a guru’s instruction?
Yup. Lost YEARS to Lawrence Block’s inspiring Telling Lies for Fun and Profit, and the enticing pantser method he writes by – before realizing that I’m an extreme plotter, and pantsing does NOT work for me in anything longer than paragraph size, and only when that paragraph has been given explicit instructions from the plan.
Wondered why I couldn’t follow his [lack of] instructions. Wrote a whole novel that way, without plotting. I like a lot about that story, and have NO idea how to clean it up and re-do it MY way (I’ll figure it out if I ever get back to it).
Was VERY relieved to find out there is a different way, and plotting/pantsing is on a spectrum, and there are more ways to do each thing you need to learn that is evident from the titles of writing books. I get it: ‘How to write a fight scene’ is FAR more compelling than the wimpier, ‘Here is one way/a way that works for me/ to write a fight scene,’ and that the first is much easier to market.
But the difference is glaring: either you write to discover the story and are BORED if you know where it’s going, bored enough to write something else – OR – you are paralyzed if you don’t know where the story is going because you have no touchstone to help you decide what goes, what stays. (Or something in between, a bastard hybrid.)
YEARS.
I am that hybrid! I have to have certain touchstone events or else I have NO idea where the story is going, but if I have a plan in advance for how I’m going to get there, nothing fits when I start writing it and I get frustrated and the whooole thing falls apart. I have only ever heard of two other people who write that way (Susana Clarke and Diana Gabaldon), and neither of them are teaching writing!
But yeah, holy cow I feel that pain.
Linguist, this is how I work, too. FWIW, Diana Gabaldon does teach a few classes every year at the Surrey International Writing Conference. Alas, they don’t have their list of presenters up yet for this year, and I don’t think she’s ever talked about story structure. (https://www.siwc.ca/presenters/)
But know you have company; there are many of us in the crowd!
In the spirit of this post, I don’t want to ram resources down your throat, but there are two things that seem to help me get enough planning done to begin. Then I have to revisit them as the story progresses. Let me know if you’re interested.
Please! :-)
For the earliest, vaguest of outlines, the Pixar storytelling prompt: https://thewritepractice.com/once-upon-a-time-pixar-prompt/
For getting more meat on the bones, Jennie Nash’s Blueprint for a Book. My brain works better with paper books than digital, so if you have that tendency, you might go that route.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B098BP5CX6/
Ouch, Alicia. I hear your pain about the square-peg-round-holing attempts. I’m sorry. If I had to guess, my time-loss scale would be comparable.
For me, I’ve come to see two good things about the experience. First, I’ll do my best not to propagate a “must” onto another artist. (TBH, it’s made me more careful about non-artsy types, too.) Second, if the lesson weren’t so harsh, I’m not sure it would’ve stuck.
I’m also a hybrid writer. A quilter, too.
Thank you for your thoughtful words today, Jan. I’ve been thinking about the desperate search for THE writing guru / method / book / too. I think part of it is a desire for safety, of a way to make writing safe and neat. But writing is a discovery, both of yourself and your story/characters. And that can never be entirely safe and neat. Through experience I’ve learned to lean towards the gurus who energize me and my discovery process, and to dismiss those who tie me in knots. I also know that the same teachers who set me free, will tie someone else in knots and leave yet another cold. So I’m glad there are so many gurus / methods / tools / books. Not so we can each find THE ONE. But so we can all find something that helps in that moment when we need it.
Natalie, “energy” is an excellent proxy for resonance or value, IMHO. And I totally agree with your point about individual excitement and empowerment. I’ve gone cross-eyed in classes and looked across the aisle to see flushed and eager faces, and vice versa. If we can be discerning about what works for us, we live in a time of amazing writerly resources.
While I’m someone who likes to research anything I’m interested in to death, I think I lucked out in terms of writing advice when I started with both Stephen King’s: On Writing and Terry Brooks’s: Sometimes the Magic Works. Reading them side to side, with their very disparate advice on how to do things (Stephen King says to never outline, Terry Brooks to always outline) made it clear very early on that writing is definitely a “take what works for you and leave what doesn’t” sort of pursuit. So, while I have found tidbits of advice on writing that I find immensely helpful (on here, from teachers in college, from a variety of authors I’ve listened to over the years), I’ve always come from a basis of, if it’s free advice maybe give it a brief try: if it helps, cool, if not, move on.
It probably also helps that, coming from a background of having escaped a very cultish evangelical church in my teens, I tend to have massive caution towards viewing anyone as having THE answer on much of anything.
Dorian, I’m sorry for your hard-won wisdom. But how clever of you to observe the dissonance that early on, and understand its significance. It took me far longer to catch on, I’m sorry to say.
If only I could translate figuring this aspect of things out into not getting sucked down other rabbit holes that distract from my writing XD
An eternal battle, my friend. Armor up! ;-)
Any of you guys want several packs of three-by-five cards in assorted pastel colors? Never used? I’ll throw in some thumbtacks.
Thanks for the offer, Michael, but I’m good for another decade or so.
Thank you, Jan, for reminding me that in spite of tons of writing advice everywhere, each individual writer needs to find their own path! I have a stack of craft books on my shelves, and I learn from each of them, but claims like “the one system that will help you writer your novel” make me uneasy. I tend to prefer books that raise questions over those that provide too clean answers.
That’s my preference, too, Choosing. Arguably, Robert McKee is one of the highest authorities on story structure, and he’s a confident man. Brash at times, though with an encyclopedic understanding of film and some novels. But I recently listened to his podcast with Rich Roll and found it illuminating. Weary of his students’ implorations to provide a formula, he’s writing a follow-up to his famous Story, intending to make it clear that there are no limitations. No prescriptions.
“Be more curious than afraid” is a great way to approach the writing/publishing process. Part of that process early on is trying every new thing or method to see if it works for us and figuring out (eventually) what does or doesn’t. Thanks for sharing your experience.
Barbara, I’m not sure if everyone tries everything initially. And I’m not sure some of us ever stop learning new methods. But I take your point about experimentation being a necessary process for writers, and curiosity being an admirable quality overall.