What We (Really) Need to Hear
By Sarah Callender | July 10, 2013 |
I’ve got bunion-clad old lady feet. I’d take a picture and post it so you could see exactly what I’m talking about, but you may be eating breakfast, and needless to say, Bunions + Special K = Ick.
Just last week at the gym, however, something magical happened. I was doing a barefooted class, and this (gorgeous and close-to-my-age) woman came up to me. She pointed to her feet. “Look,” she said. “I have them too. Aren’t they horrible? Don’t you hate them? And yours are so much smaller than mine!”
Maybe mine were about .02% less bunion-y than hers, but still, shoeless in that gym class, I had found a sole mate. We prattled on about how difficult it is to find cute shoes. How embarrassing it is to wear sandals in the summer. How we were both far too young to have old lady feet. How I dated a guy in college who took one look at my feet and said, “What IS that?!?” How she used to be a foot model, for crying out loud!
In those few moments of chit-chat and empathy, I found someone who a) understood, and b) knew just the right thing to say to make me feel less weird and lonely. It’s important to surround ourselves with people who do both. And as writers (which, face it, is a weird and lonely profession), we need at least one someone who knows exactly what to say when we are experiencing writer-bunions.
What are writer-bunions, you ask? I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure they don’t feel good, and I’m very sure they don’t make us happy. But because all of us writers, all of us, go through periods where we feel pretty dang lousy about our lack of talent, luck, and success, we all need someone who knows what to say when we’re feeling low.
Because it will happen.
No matter where we are in our writer’s journey, it will happen. Even (and maybe especially) after we are published. Just last week, one of my writing partners–a lovely and gifted writer with a memoir published by Simon and Schuster and many, many published magazine articles–left this message on my voicemail: Hey. It’s me. I’m calling to tell you that I’m not going to be a writer anymore. It’s just not working out. So that’s all. OK, talk to you later.
She is not a drama queen. She was not fishing for compliments. She truly and honestly felt like it was a better idea to stop writing. And as my writing partner, she was calling to give notice.
Before I returned her phone call, I thought about what she needed in this moment . . . which forced me to think about what I need in these moments where I decide it was a 100% stupid idea to be a writer. What I need to hear when I am feeling low and ridiculous, when I feel like the target of a heat-seeking aspiring-author-seeking missile, when I wish I had never told a single person about my writerly ambitions.
I realized this: I don’t really want to hear, “You’re a good writer.” Sure, it’s nice to hear, but when I know I’ve spent an entire day puking drivel on to a computer screen, pages and pages of the carpiest of carp, words as lyrical and masterful and Pulitzer-worthy as Dick and Jane primers, I know that the words, “you are a good writer” are a carpcart of hoo-ha.
So then, what do I need to hear?
1. I need someone to remind me that every writer feels this way. Every writer. Ergo, I am normal.
2. I need that someone to tell me to keep going.
The script looks a little something like this: Writing partner/spouse/best friend/cat/UPS Guy [rests hand on Sarah’s shoulder]: Yes, Sarah, writing is really hard. In fact, you’d be weird if you didn’t think it was hard. But shut up and buck up. And keep going.
It’s that last part, the “keep going” mandate, that’s most helpful to me. So when my talented writing partner was wandering, lost and alone in the Valley of Bunions, I used my script on her. “Keep going,” I said. “Just keep going.” I also told her how excited I am about her WIP, how far she has come in figuring out her narrative voice, how excited I am about her story. “OK? Keep going.”
I was surprised by how empty those words sounded. How unhelpful.
But a few days later, she sent an email, the subject heading of which was, “My crappity-crap Chapter Two.” And an attachment.
Let me tell you, there was absolutely nothing crappity-crap about her attached chapter. It was lyrical and lovely, witty and bright. Why? Because she works hard, because she’s got natural talent AND because she pushed herself through the treacherous Desert of Bunions. She kept going. Such a simple thing, but, at times, it’s really the most difficult of tasks.
Keep Going. Write that statement on a piece of paper and duct tape it to your computer screen. Get a Keep Going tattoo on the back of your hand. Legally change your name to Keep Going. If you surround yourself with that message, chances are good you’ll do just that: Keep Going.
Those are the two words I need to hear, but what about you? What specific words of inspiration do you need to hear when you are feeling low? Conversely, are there words you find surprisingly unhelpful? Do you need bunion empathy? Please share!
Photo compliments of Flickr’s Rightee.
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
I escaped the family bunion feet. My sister got those (don’t feel bad — she also got an extra three inches of height), but I definitely have my share of writer bunions. While I love the idea of a “Keep Going” tattoo, sometimes I need a “Just STOP now” sign. Walking away from my writing when I’m depressed about it and taking a week’s break (or longer) lets me come back to it with fresh eyes and renewed energy.
You lucky girl! I’d give you three inches of my height (I’m 5’4″) and my bunions. Fair trade?
So true about needing to get some distance in order to see our writing with fresh eyes. It never fails to amaze me, what I can see if I just set it aside for a while. Kind of scary, actually!
For me the step right before “keep going” is to throw myself (dramatically–has to be a large drama to work) on the bed and declare I’m so totally quitting this whole stupid thing and that’s that. So the best advice from my writing partners is “absolutely, honey, just go throw a fit and I’ll talk to you later”. The direct approach of “keep going” seems to raise my resistance and this deflates it.
Great post and good job on the writing partner rescue!
Three words have gotten me through a number of very long projects–“just do it.” (And yes I’m old enough that I used that phrase long before Nike decided they owned it.)
I think that says pretty much the same thing as ‘keep going,’ but it assumes that there is absolutely no sustainable momentum, ever. Every single minute of writing requires me to push myself from total lethargy (aka avoidance) into action.
Brilliant, Jeanne! I’m going to forget everything I just said and change my name to Just Do It Callender. That should get some attention, no?
I love your point about the momentum/inertia. So true. Thanks for sharing your smarts.
Loved your message and that you found a ‘sole mate’ at the gym. Clever lass. I needed your message. After 23 novellas, I hit a wall 2/3 through another and have stepped back for perhaps too long. Your bunion prod may just rouse me from my lethargy and self pity. As they used to say in the aftershave commercial, ‘Thanks, I needed that!’
23 novellas? I bow down to YOU!
And yes, I love that “Thanks, I needed that” campaign. I always love your comments. :)
Never. Give. Up.
Yup. Love it.
I agree that we do need to hear the words “keep going” once in awhile, but I have a hard time thinking I’ll ever stop writing in one form or another, no matter whether I have a bunion partner or not. It’s just become ingrained, part of who I am.
Bunion partner. I laughed out loud.
And you’re right, Dan. How many of us could actually stop writing? Not many, I bet. Once the fever’s in us, it’s in us. For better or for worse!
Years ago, as a newbie in a writing group of 6 or 7 where we exchanged pages to critique, a published author wrote on my page, “Keep writing!” Those words didn’t encourage me in the least. They seemed glib — just a quick couple of words to write down at the end of my work. They may have been quite sincere, but I didn’t take them that way.
I think what I needed instead was for her to point out some one thing in my very raw work that I was doing right. Some one thing to hold onto that would help me ‘keep going.’
Thanks, Sarah, for bringing this back to mind. It will help me be a more patient critique-er myself.
Oh, such a good point, Carmel! “Keep going” (or “keep writing”) absolutely needs to be surrounded with the proper, nurturing, honest feedback. Otherwise, it does sound so trite.
I’m so glad you brought that up!
I loved this post. Loved it. The thing that usually works to kick my butt when I’m feeling all buniony is anger. All it takes is for someone to say something along the lines of: “Yeah, but at least your work is better than Twilight.” And then it’s on.
First I get into a righteously indignant state where I talk at length about the egregiousness of singling out a particular author as being “bad” when her work obviously connects on an emotional level with a vast number of readers, regardless of the objective quality of the writing itself. Which leads me to talk about the way all writers should be supporting each other, not ridiculing other writers or tearing them down. Then I move on to talk about how important writing and storytelling is to all cultures, and how we, as writers, have a responsibility to all our readers-in-potentia to create the best stories we possibly can.
Then I realise I’ve just re-identified myself as a writer, and I wander off and get on with it.
Well said, Jo.
Indeed. Jo. I can tell by your comment (and by your hair color) that you’ve got some kick in you, girl!
And don’t you think that serves you well as a writer? The whole, “I will not be taken down by this crazy gig!” attitude. We do need to stay feisty; otherwise, it’s too easy to feel so small.
Thanks, Jo (and J.H.)
Sarah
This encouraging message applies to everyone, in every profession.
Don’t we all want to quit our ‘bunion’ life at some time or another, and run away to the Bahamas to live on the beach? I’m sure those people living on the beach have it easier than me….
Yeah, right.
I love your article because it is SO TRUE.
Thanks for the encouragement,
I’m forwarding this on to my daughter. You say it so much better than I could,
Thanks, Kathy. I agree . . . I am often struck by how often “writing lessons” are the same as “life lessons.” Can’t be a coincidence!
I also think the highs and lows of the writing life mimic real life . . . I’m often telling my kids about my lows because I want them to see that when agents/editors/reviewers are saying, “Ick. No thank you.” that I just keep on trucking. And then I go cry when they’re not watching.
Thanks so much for your comment.
Very nicely put. Just shared this with my FB friends :-)
Thanks, Mona, for the share! I lovelovelove WU.
Why not. Whenever I hear a negative, I always ask why not.
That’s my girl! :)
Sarah, I’m willing to bet my bunions are worse than yours – well, one of them (had surgery on the first in Feb, and facing another the end of this month.) I’m SO with you.
On the writing part, too.
Except when I get to that point, nothing helps. I just have to survive it, and try to remember that tomorrow IS another day, and I can go from ‘drivel-spewer’ to blinding brilliance in one day. I’ve done it before, and I only can hope it’ll happen again.
Oh, please let it happen again….
First things first: how WAS the surgery? I have heard that sometimes the pain doesn’t go away (or even gets worse) post surgery. Ugh. Thanks for the empathy.
Second, yes. It’s like life, right? Sometimes there’s no escape from the bad feelings, and we just have to weather them and know (because we do know this) that the bad times always pass.
Rock on, Laura!
I have a fabulous group of great friends/supporters in my writerly life, and they often lift me up when I am in the depths of Bunion Valley. And that’s important.
But I have been so low I don’t even speak of it. To anyone. Sometimes I just can’t bear the thought of being told “keep going,” or “you’re talented.” It’s like a cave below Bunion Valley. I think Gollum lived there at some point. It stinks, but the raw fish is delicious.
There is another group that forces me out of that cave, time and time again: My characters. They get wind of my selfish melancholy and thoughts of quitting, and they rise up in outrage. “How dare you even think of leaving us hanging!” they shout as they turn the hose on me, and rinse the cave-stench off of me. Then they kick me in the butt as I scramble back to my office chair. And they’re an asskicking bunch, so they’re hard to ignore. I always end up realizing I really do owe it to them to keep going. It’s the least I can do after creating them.
My wife will be your bunion buddy if you are ever in the Great Lakes region, and want to go to a barefooted yoga class or something. And she’ll be thrilled that I’m telling you that, too. (I may need to go hang out in the Gollum cave for a day or two if she reads this). If you ever consider quitting WU as a contributor, Sarah, be sure to drop me a line. I’ll be there with the virtual hose and kick.
Love.
Thanks for your honesty, Vaughn. And you are right. Sometimes the lows are truly unmentionable. I struggle with some very nasty chronic depression, so I have been in those low places, caves so low that I really can’t speak. Gosh, those are terrible places, and Gollum always eats all of the fried pork rinds, the jerk. AND he makes me watch soap operas.
I do love that your characters band together, come find you and Gollum watching General Hospital in your cave, and toss you back up to your computer.
Crazy, huh, the strength of our characters? Your wife’s secret is safe with me. I’ll send her some literature for Bun-Anon.
Great Vaughn.
Writing being inextricable from characters, and in most cases inspired by characters, it makes sense that if we love them, they will love us in return. As you say, that love can come in the form of a kick, a fire hose, a call or a fine dose of begging. When we are in this deep (the result of a lot of work and a lot of heart), we definitely have to listen to them and persist until they are happy with the story. In the end, it was the characters in my last novel that drove me for years to finish. (We’re still in touch by email.)
It occurs to me, by virtue of our online existence, we on WU are characters in each others’ lives. We all want to hear each others’ stories.
I love this, Tom. So well said . . . you are right! We CRAVE each other’s stories. That’s such a powerful and reassuring thing to remember. Thanks so much for sharing this idea.
Thank you, Sarah. Simply that. Thanks.
Your comment makes my day, Kath. Thank YOU!
Great post! I recently read an interview with Natalie Goldberg where she uses the phrase, “Shut up and write.” Quiet the voices in our heads and stop procrastinating and just do it. It applies to a lot of life situations actually. :)
Gosh, that makes me want to return to my Natalie Goldberg book! I haven’t read it in years.
Yes. Shut up and write. That’s really all we need to know.
:)
I believe the interview was about her newest book – The True Secret of Writing: Connecting Life with Language. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s on my list. :)
This is the best thing I’ve read in quite a while. I’ll certainly be passing it along to fellow writers. Thank you for this boost!
How kind, Kristi.
When I was telling my husband that I had FINALLY found a way to weave my bunion issue into a WU post, I admit, I got a little worried . . . something about saying it out loud made me realize how weird it was (and how weird I am).
Thank you for saying just the opposite. Happy writing to you!
A great post and so true. The last time I contemplated surrender was a couple of days ago. I’m not entirely sure why it came over me at that moment, but nearly I tossed everything in frustration and disgust. There was no helpful voice to reassure. But then I stopped at the WU Facebook page and someone had posted that they were having difficulty and I was reminded that I wasn’t alone. That counts for a lot and at that moment my self-talk turned around and I got to work. Yes, we all go through it. Thank you for this added reinforcement.
I swear, Christina, I really would be in trouble without the WU community. There is NOTHING like it, and I know it keeps me going. It’s amazing how I can truly love these people, most of whom I have never met. There must be a connection between Love and Utter Gratitude.
So glad you made it to a happier place!
Loved this post. I cannot imagine not writing because it is how I process life. It is what I need to do to understand, to bring clarity to the jumbled thoughts, and although writing for publication is an extension of all that, it is terribly disheartening at times. So I need to hear: Don’t give up. God is with you.
Oh yes. Between you and me, Vijaya, my faith is one of the main things that keeps me going. God, WU, Husband, Writing Partners.
I do know that there’s a Good Plan for me. I don’t often know what it is, but I know it exists, and that’s so reassuring.
Happy writing to you. Thanks for sharing!
You had me at “sole mate.” :)
While I am a well-established anti-whiner, I do believe strongly in the power of community to support us during our inevitable hard times. It can be enormously helpful to be reminded that we’re not alone in the tribulations we face.
But – for my own unusual reasons – I don’t completely subscribe to the “never give up” mantra. I actually got my book deal because I publicly announced that I was giving up, on the writers’ forum that has been my online second home for the past several years. It was not a cry for help on my part, but a calm, drama-free statement of resignation. I’d given it ten years, and that seemed like enough, so I was taking my football and going home.
But one of our members would have none of that, and wrote to me privately, offering to refer me to her publishing house. This was not a close friend, nor even a very familiar online acquaintance. It was just somebody whom I’d helped long ago when she was working on a query – I’d long since forgotten about it. I was in what-the-hell mode, so I said “sure,” submitted my stuff to her house, and voila – I got a book deal. Ironically, I had to quit first.
My longwinded point is that sometimes our statements of pain – or even flat-out failure – can actually bring us assistance we’d never expected, nor even asked for.
All the more testament to the power of community.
Thanks for posting this. Oh, and for not posting any foot photos.
Well, shoot. As you know . . . I had written the perfect response to your perfect comment, and then I was booted off WordPress. Apparently I gained a Spam status, which frankly, kind of hurt my feelings.
Onward and upward!
I love your comment, Keith, because you are so right. I don’t know how or why this happens, but sometimes, total surrender just seems to shake things loose and happy surprises occur. Why is that? I think it’s the old (yep, here we go) reminder from 38/39 Special . . . hold on loosely but don’t let go. I guess white-knuckling ANYthing is unhelpful.
I love the Hope present in your story.
:)
Thank you! You are absolutely right. I love reading your articles- they are funny and engaging and very encouraging. My next great procrastination project may be a “Keep going” sign. ;)
Thanks, Laura. I find writing these posts to be totally therapeutic . . . and as much a reminder to me as anyone. I so appreciate your kind words.
I actually rather like the name Keep Going. Catchy ring to it. You can call me K.G. (cagey?) too.
Thanks for the great post. I’ll remember it when I make my announcement that Keep Going is Quitting.
Cagey! Love that . . . Cagey Gettle-Gilmartin has such a great ring to it. It’s nearly poetic.
Thanks for the witty comment.
Sarah-
I would seriously love to continue the discussion of surgery for bunions but first things first.
“Keep going.” You remarked how empty that can sound. I agree. Keep going how? Keep going why? Keep going at what? I think “keep going” is a fuzzy way of saying, “keep learning, keep pushing yourself, you’re improving.” It’s like beach erosion.
(*Beach erosion*? Explain, Don.) Beaches erode a little each day, wave by wave, but you can’t see it. Only when you return to the beach after a year do you see how the shape of it has changed.
Writing improves too, even though it may be hard to see from day to day. Writers get better. They do. All the time.
You see it too when an author you’ve been following brings out a new novel. Lo, it’s better! You can see the difference. What you didn’t see were the million or so waves (keystrokes?) that it took to make that improvement.
So hit the beach. Erode a little today. (This has got to be the strangest metaphor for writing I’ve ever set down.) You’re improving. Keep going.
Ha. When I was tidying up this post, I promise you, I thought, “I bet Donald is going to say, “Keep going? Meaning what?”
And then I thought you’d probably mention that it’s not enough to just keep going, especially if all we’re doing is the same stupid stuff over and over. And THEN I thought somehow you’d tie it brilliantly back to Story, as you always do.
I did not see the beach erosion analogy, however, so thanks for the surprise. And I thought I knew you . . .
As far as analogies go, that’s a perfect one. And you hit the nail on the head . . . yes my definition of “keep going” means keep learning, keep growing, keep improving, keep your head up, keep becoming a better writer.
So glad you pointed that out!
Oh, this was a perfect post to read today. Though I am either too stubborn or too stupid to actually consider giving up — actually, I think I’m just too damned proud… I am at a point where I’m reading the WIP and wondering how I’ve ever managed to complete anything in the past when I am such a terribly uninspired key-tapper. I know it will pass. I know I will go on, and things will feel easier. But reading this helped a bit. Thanks!
Yes, I have often thought that it’s a good thing that I DID tell so many people about my aspirations. It would have been too easy to slip away quietly, with nary a book written, had I not gone public.
Of course, there are other days where I really wish I hadn’t gone public. It’s embarrassing to not-succeed . . . especially when kind-hearted souls are always asking, “Hey, how’s the book? Any news?”
Sigh.
Oh, how I can empathize! Having bunions and being a writer your post made me laugh. I was fortunate to have a mentor who never ever said “keep writing” but did encourage me to “mush on”.
At the time, being a very newbie writer, my newbie-ness showed most in my procrastination. After days of thinking who was I to think someone would want to read what I wrote, I would hear that voice saying “mush on” and crank out another 2 or 3 pages before I folded into self-doubt again.
But I mushed on. Now I have fantastic critique partners, have published articles and short stories, have self-published one novel, have had another published and nearly finished a second and each of those are the first books in trilogies.
Whatever the self-doubt, bunions included or not, if you are a writer you will have those highs and lows. You will look at a page and think ‘did I really write that crap?’ But then will come that magic moment when you read something and think ‘holy cow, that’s good’ and so you go on.
Yes, Vicky! Isn’t it amazing how our own work can be SO great and also SO horrendous?
I love the idea of mushing on. My kids studied the Iditarod (sp?) in 2nd grade, and those sweet dogs are certainly not giving up. And notice that they are tethered to an equally enthusiastic team of dogs pursuing the same goal . . . I love being tethered to the folks at WU.
Mush on, indeed!
Writers’ bunions, love it. Got ’em bad five years ago, convinced myself I was a failure and it was time to hang up the laptop. Locked up my writing studio and became chairman of an environmental group. Bunions won.
Four years later, I got the itch again and wrote another book. It’s being published in February. Bunions lost for good. I’m back at the laptop, three more books coming out, three more gestating on the hard drive. So much for bunions.
Yes! I just read your fantastic Grisham piece the other day . . . so very helpful and inspiring. Clearly you have gotten over your bunions. So inspiring!
Thank you, Tony.
This is wonderful, Jo. And I agree — it’s not necessarily reassurances of talent, because when a writer’s feeling low, she’s not going to believe you. But witnessing that yes, it’s hard, and that she’s not alone, and that you’re still there for her whether she thinks her writing or not… that’s special, and far more valuable. Lovely post.
Yes, Cathy. It’s interesting . . . reassurances tell us what we should feel (and who wants that!). A command like “Keep going” give us something to do. And empathy, well, that just feels good.
Thanks for writing. Based on what Vaughn says about you, you are a gem!
:)
I am a writer and a painter, have been for many years. But when I was first starting out, I quit painting for five years. I thought it was too hard and that I was not good enough. But I missed it and I thought, if I quit and never paint again, I will never know how good I could be. So when I started painting again I promised myself I would never stop for any great length of time again. Two years ago I started the best series of canvases I have ever painted.
Now I paint and I write to see how much better I can be with each new work. Because you just don’t know what masterpiece is waiting inside you.
Yes, Cat. And that speaks to Donald Maass’ comment . . . that really, “keep going” means keep learning, discovering, improving, etc.
There’s so much hope in the idea of discovering a masterpiece. Good for you!
These three words have always gotten me through rough patches:
Drink more coffee.
Good thinking, Tom.
Coffee… Scotch… whatever works.
AMEN!
A wonderful post! I feel better already. :) And like Tom, I grab another cup of coffee and trudge on. I love online communities. They make me feel less alone.
The hubs tries to be supportive, but when his eyes glaze over as I’m telling him my plot problem or latest character high-jacking, it’ sort of ruins the camaraderie of the moment. :o{
Yes, and that’s the problem, right? That unless you are a writer, it’s hard to know what being a writer feels like.
Though I suppose anyone could say that about their profession. Dentist Unboxed? Waitress Unboxed? Commercial Airline Pilot Unboxed?
:)
mine is the old Winston Churchill ‘never, never, never give up – it runs through my mind like a litany, drowning out the devil on my shoulder that says all that not good enough stuff.
a question on bunions – what are they? are they bone that’s grown distorted?
Thank you for asking, Thea (and for sharing your mantra). Yes, bunions are nasty bone growths that make your feet ache and look like some version of reptile feet.
Isn’t the word disgusting, too? I hate even writing it. It makes me feel like I’ve got onions growing on my feet.
On that note!
:)
or onions on your beets
I so needed to hear this today. Thank you, Sarah! I have gigantic writer bunions this summer.
I hear you, Kim. And this post was as much for me as anyone. I need to remind myself of this ALL the time.
Hang in there. Don’t beat yourself up, either!
:)
Great post, Sarah. Writer-bunions–and that they don’t feel good–is an interesting way to describe the occasional dilemma of wanting to give up. Whether it’s ‘keep going, mush on’ or something similar, good counsel and something I know I need to remember.
At the same time, having personally dealt with the ugly-before-their time-foot-syndrome (along with a fair amount of pain when walking for even a hundred yards) I too had surgery several years ago. (Hoping you are having a great recovery, Laura!) One of the best decisions I ever made! Given the various complexities of toe/joint issues, this may be something for you to consider. Interestingly enough, it made me wonder if surgery and bunions might be likened to editing and writing? Whoa, now that’s a stretch of a metaphor. As one who loves the beach, must be a bit of (positive) influence from Donald’s pondering words of encouragement.
Ha! What a fabulous response, Micky. Thank you for sharing a bit of your brain. :)
I’ve got bunion-clad old lady feet too and to top it off, I’ve just broken my little toe so my feet really do look like hell at the moment! But I’ve come to terms with my ugly feet – I even wear fit flops out of the house. Perhaps its my age? (I’m 37) I don’t know.
Anyway, when I’m feeling low and can’t write, I just head on over to my Amazon books pages and check out all those great reviews… they always help to cheer me up. That and my husband who always seems to say the right thing, even though he isn’t a writer or a reader (he’s never read any of my books!).
Oh, your poor feet! But thank you for sharing your wise idea for spirits-lifting. I look forward to the day that I have some reviews on Amazon . . . please, God?
:)
I’m printing this whole dang post out and pasting it up near my writing space. It’s so good to have friends who “get it,” because you’re right. We’d be weird if we didn’t think this writing business was hard.
Boy do I need a bunion buddy today. :( This helped, thank you.
Thank you! I needed to hear this (I always need this reminder, but this week in particular.)
To all three of you–bam bam bam–who claimed to need this post. I’m so glad that I am in such good company. Phew. Makes everything seem better.
:)
I cannot even focus Sarah.
I’m stuck on Bunions.
Now that was an opener. I would definitely turn the page, if a book started with your first paragraph.
Reading other author’s bios that describe their career journey does it for me. The late Vince Flynn, Ilona Andrews, Nora Roberts, and Brent Weeks are four authors who have inspiring bios. There was nothing quick and pretty about their journey to success, and that my wonderful bunion friend is inspiration.
Tension seems to be in many aspects of writing.
Yes. A risky start for sure, as I can hardly stand the word, “bunion.” The fact that I have them is even more disturbing.
I love your idea of reading the bio pages for inspiration. I’m convinced that any author who hasn’t admitted to loads of rejection and doubts is not a teller of truth.
I always look forward to your comments, Brian!
:)
Love your post, Sarah. Reminding myself that all writers–even successful ones–experience self-doubt certainly helps me get through Bunion Valley. And by the time I “hike back up to the ridge,” I find that the view is even better than I imagined. :)
Oh my gosh, I have NEVER thought about this . . . how the view is always better after being in the valley. Brilliant, Cindy. Thank you!
The last time I felt like giving up was last night. This is not an unusual occurrence, it happens all the time. I read something I’ve written and wonder what the hell was I thinking? And then the doubt sets in, the depression, and I get so weighted down that the only relief is to let it all spill out upon the page. It’s a vicious cycle. I’ve learned to live with my demons, I’m even attempting to harness ’em to work for me, but sometimes their ridicule of my bunions can be so cruel.
Community helps. Also playing anthem-y music like that Styx song about carrying on really loud in my earbuds. I’m lucky, the writing community I’m a part not only understands completely if I post a song that gives me courage on my writing journey to my FB page, but they join in. Together we sing about carrying on in the face of adversity and how demons are full of crap and how bunions can be beautiful if you’ve got the write-writerly friends to bounce ’em off of. Yes, I’m lucky, and I know it. Thanks WU.
I have felt (often) everything you described. Thanks so much for your comment, Bernadette!
Conversation with myself/squirrel-brain: Quitter: “Hey. It’s me. I’m calling to tell you that I’m not going to be a writer anymore. It’s just not working out. So that’s all. OK, talk to you later.” Bad cop: “Ok just shut up about it. Whiner. Or stop going to ball games & work more.” Good cop: “Never give up speech by Winston Churchhill, memorized.” “Bad cop: “Yeah but … no more fun or ever going out.” Good cop: “Yeah but first drink more coffee, change your name to Keep going, people need to hear what you have to say, take a break, a short one, then start with 3 morning pages of your crappy writing like Julia Cameron said to do in the Artist’s Way. Writing is hard, buck up. You can do it. Every writer feels this way. Then call me back when you ready to send me your next chapter, next week (blah blah blah).” Yeah but . . . sometimes I need that much Good Cop to begin to drown out Bad Cop & Quitter. The morning pages thing DOES work because no one is critiquing it & its just fluid information dump. After a few days, somewhere in those morning pages, VOILA, a character talks to you and you realize how much you love her. Then you get up & go to the computer & say “Oh yuk I still hate you! No way I can writer another word & you can’t make it me.” That is when you need the bribe, the bribe to SIT DOWN. My latest bribe to quitter: Don’t be afraid of computer. You are going to go to Venice (the setting of my novel) and its serene and beautiful and there are hot sexy guys ready and waiting for you there (substitute something fun you like to write in your WIP). This bribe will work for quitter until about 24 hours later. So thank goodness for GOOD COPS like you, Ms. Keep Going Buniony who come to the rescue.
Bribes! So brilliant. Who (or what) doesn’t respond well to a good bribe . . . and Venice! Wow. What a smart idea to set you story there. Instead of, you know, any place else.
Thanks for sharing your squirreliness with us! Loved it.
Great post! I am in the midst of my elevendy-thousandth edit of my first YA novel-in-progress. I need all the “keep writings!” I can get.
And I also write and edit at American Podiatric Medical Association; our PR team just did a big bunion awareness campaign this spring: APMA.org. (Keep writing and walking!)
It’s so hard to keep the faith some days. But it does help a little to know that everyone goes through these feelings. Thanks for sharing.
I’ve got both- the literal and the figurative bunions! But that won’t keep me from walking, or from writing. Thanks for putting it so eloquently.
Oh you have no idea how timely this was…but then again perhaps you do! :) Great post, thank you!
Bunionites unite! Thanks for the good words.
Love this post, Sarah. I have a version of “Keep going” already stuck to my computer screen. It says, “Today: Don’t doubt. Just work.” There is something to the idea of “Keep going” that might seem intimidating; it’s that Sisyphean rock, and will it never, never be time to stop pushing it? (I have another note on my desk: “Love the rock you’re pushing,” but that’s another story.) What I like about my sticky note is “Today.” Just get through today. Today, don’t doubt. Today, just work. And for whatever reason, that helps.
I’m glad your friend had you, with your thoughtful ways, to tell her what you needed to hear, which also happened to be what she needed to hear. You’re wise that way, my friend, which is why I’m so very glad you’re one of us.
Thanks for your comment Therese: Today. Don’t Doubt. Just Work. I immediately wrote that out on my own sticky note and posted it to the wall in front of my computer so I can see it every time I throw up my hands in frustration and stare straight ahead. So you see, you’re already a successful writer. Your words inspired me to take action, and just might have changed my destiny. Or, at least my mood.
Thanks, Amy! Write on.
Yes, and I love the addition of the word, “today.” Such a common word, but in this context, it makes all the difference.
It makes me think of how we set these immeasurable goals for ourselves (e.g. I want to get published) when really, a goal needs to be more specific. “Today” adds the perfect amount of specificity.
Thank you, WU Mama!
At moments like this, I think it helps to remember why you are writing. If you are writing because you love it, then no reason to go all blah when it’s not working very well . . .any more than you would kick out a guy or a friend, because, at the moment, they are not making you feel good about yourself. When things are not going so smoothly, we remember, I’m doing this because I LOVE it, not because any promises of good feelings or compliments or sense of success is promised me.
I know, this is all too woo-woo psychologist of me, but the reminder has pulled me from a few brinks.
It’s like in marriage counseling. I say it’s better to be married to someone in love with love and the advantages of long term relationships than to be married to someone who loves you because you make them “feel good.” Cause love, like writing, is hard. Can’t switch goals in the middle.
Oh, and I want to assure you, I can’t accomplish what I have so boldly stated either. Okay, once.
Yes! I am often struck by the similarities between writing a novel and staying married. Neither is for wussies!
Thanks for your smart, witty comment.
:)
[…] With that disclaimer, off we go! […]
Great essay, Sarah. You are an encouragement, so don’t quit on your novel or your nonfiction.
A “treacherous Desert of Bunions”? I thought I had an odd brain when it came to metaphors, but I bow before the queen. Well done.
Love this whole post, Sarah. I don’t have a mantra, and I haven’t found one approach that works universally to deal with my bunions, nor the misshapen feet of others. Journaling is probably my best strategy. On the page, I can feel my way toward the most comfortable shoes for that day.
Oh no. YOU are the queen. I, merely your Lady in Waiting.
xo!
No one seemed to have mentioned things that they don’t like hearing. So here’s mine: “It’s really good.” That comment by itself has no merit with me. I want (need) to know why it’s good!
Mere steps from my first foray into publishing (independently), I find myself plagued by doubt as to whether my work will be received well or not – I do not have any writer friends (except those I am making here), so it is the positive little messages I get from other writers that make me want to keep going. But last month, my girlfriend finished reading my story and without prompting, gushed over it and even went so far as to ask me what was going to happen to my characters in the next book… She even had suggestions!
That is when I sat back down at my computer, smiled and said, “I’m really good!”
Sometimes I think that how we feel about what we write has nothing at all to do with the words and how we’ve strung them together. A million other things affect how we feel about our work on a particular day, regardless of what job we do. I’m always amazed when I turn in what I consider to be a marginal piece, and one of my editors says, “I really enjoyed that one.” Huh?
I’d like to suggest one more thing we can say to our fellow writers when they’re doubting everything about their careers — if it were easy, everyone could be a writer. Everyone can’t be. Actually, a very small percentage of people are capable, let alone wonderful, writers. If we’re not challenged at least now and then, we’re not really writers. We’re just typists.
Love this. I agree that “keep going” means keep learning, discovering, improving. My writing buddies also use Keep on Swimming to help push us along.
Sending this to them right now.
This is exactly how I am feeling right now. It’s so frustrating. I don’t want to be a drama queen, either…I’m tempted to just let my failed writing career slide slowly into the shadows like a forgotten, shameful secret.
Sigh.
Nora, I have been right there with you. I read all these wonderful musings from such creative talent, and I feel like I am on the outside looking in. What I have come to realize, for me, is a need to get in touch with my Essential Self…the part of me that CAN write and create consciously. That is what I am working on now, and now my writing future looks brighter than ever….we can and will emerge and go forth! Nobody but you can tell your stories, and I, for one, want to hear them! Keep on keepin on…..
Great post. I have so many writing bunions, it can be overwhelming. Does your “keep going” message apply to EVERYONE? I have a book that I have been working on for two years. It is a children’s historical fiction that takes place in black plague ridden England (circa 1349). I have worked pretty hard and done a lot of research and editing in the pursuit of publication. But many folks online seem to think that if your a teen writer your writing certainly stinks. I am starting to believe their generalizations, I mean who am I to refute them? So my question is, does this advice apply to me, or should I just wait another decade or two before pursuing writing in a serious way?
Exactly what I needed to hear today. EXACTLY.
Thank you!
What a wonderful article.
(Sarah, just had to add that I positively love that you tagged this “bunions.” Ha!)
:) LOL.
Yes, I figured it was the right thing to do . . . weird but right.
The bunion metaphor rocks along with the story. Cute way to cheer fellow writers on. I feel I put way too much time into something (writing) that may never pay off financially. The few validations I do get that my writing is good, seem even fewer as I add time and effort to this art form/career/hobbie/obsession.
I laughed and was inspired all in the same five minutes.
Thanks for the great post!
S C, I hereby dub thee, “Officially Awesome.” Bunions and All. Thanks.
My niece also pointed to my feet, asking, “What’s that?” So I can relate to both the bunions and the writing despair. You’re motto reminds me of a kid’s movie called Meet the Robinsons. It’s loud and chock full of over stimulation but had a lovely message – “Keep moving forward” It worked for the inventor character and it helps me, too. https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0396555/