The Forest for the Trees
By Annie Neugebauer | January 4, 2019 |
One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn—and am still constantly learning—as a writer has been patience. Not just moment-to-moment, don’t-re-check-your-inbox patience, but long term, forest-for-the-trees patience. I have had to learn my craft, learn the industry, and then learn to readjust my expectations accordingly. I have had to learn as much as I can about all the things I can (_o/) so I have the confidence to admit that the rest is out of my hands. I have had to learn to show myself grace, to release the fatalism that comes with failure, and to know when to step back and take the broad view.
I’d like to say I learned all that smoothly and quickly, but it’s been a struggle every step of the way.
One of the beautiful things that comes with having over a decade in the thick of it behind you is that you begin to see the broader picture more easily. I remember when I first started out how I felt drafting my first novel. I was certain that I had to do it as quickly as possible. I’m not sure why. Generalized impatience, I guess. I’d decided what I wanted to do and so I wanted to get it done. I wanted to write it fast, edit it fast, sell it fast. I wanted to be twenty years in during year one. Obviously, that’s not how it works. Perhaps luckily, I didn’t realize that at the time, and so I started at the beginning, which is the only way to do it.
With almost every project I’ve ever worked on, I feel a sense of urgency. Some of that is creative drive, which is a glorious, magical thing that I cherish and don’t mess with. But some of it is impatience. I want the next thing. I wanted something published. I wanted an agent. I wanted a book deal. I want, I want, I want, and wanting makes us (or at least me) hurry.
Hurrying isn’t the same thing as working hard. That’s another lesson I’ve learned the hard way. You can do both sometimes, but usually you have to choose working hard as your priority or hurrying takes over. Getting it finished becomes more important than getting it right. When we think about it that way, it becomes obvious that we need to take our time and do the work. But in the thick of things, it can feel almost impossible to slow down and resist the temptation to cross things off our list by taking shortcuts.
How do we step back far enough to see the forest for the trees when we’re already deep inside the forest?
I stop for a minute.
“What do you mean, stop?!” you wail from deep inside the forest. “I’m only ten thousand words away from finishing this dang book!” Or one more conference away from landing that gig. Or ten more queries away from snagging that agent. Or…
Exactly. All the more reason to stop. Have you been sensing that you’re way off track in your WIP but are plowing forward anyway? Have you spent too much money on networking already but keep thinking the next one will be the one that pays off? Have you already lowered to your second- third- or fourth-tier on your agent wish list? There’s a good chance that you, my friend, are stuck in the trees. Trees are lovely, but if you’re looking for good choices long-term, you can’t be looking at bark from an inch away. You have to step back, find some perspective.
Stopping, even at the angstyiest, most inconvenient possible time, is the best way to do that. I’m not saying take a month off or anything—unless you need it—but I am saying you need to allow yourself time to remember that there’s more around you than a few trees. There’s a whole forest. Thinking you can see a field up ahead is great, unless you’re actually headed to the wrong field. Your book can wait two more days. You can miss one conference sign-up. And the agents on your next tier down aren’t going anywhere before next week. Take some time and ask yourself if what you’re charging toward is right, and if you need to charge so hard.
Do you want to finish your WIP to say you’ve finished if it means you gave it a sloppy ending that doesn’t fit? Do you want to pay for a conference just to pitch to an agent you could query via email? If the agents on your next tier down actually offered you representation, would you really feel comfortable saying yes? If the answer to your step-back is “no,” then congratulations: you’ve saved yourself time, effort, stress, and maybe some heartache. If the answer is “yes,” then no harm done. You can spare the pause. Almost always. It’s hard to remember, but our now now mantra isn’t actually accurate.
The more we practice stepping back and seeing the forest itself instead of just the trees (even if it means climbing up one and looking down to see the canopy from above), the easier it becomes to enact patience. When we’re wandering in circles in the thick of it, it’s easy to just want faster faster faster, but when we remember that there’s this whole wide forest and a specific place we’re ultimately trying to go, it becomes easier to slow down and correct our course—even if that means doing harder work to get there.
Patience. For me, it’s all about learning to stop and give myself time to rediscover that broad view. The harder it is to do that, the more I usually need to try. Do you struggle with patience in this writing world? How do you see the forest for the trees?
[coffee]
Annie Neugebauer is a two-time Bram Stoker Award-nominated author with work appearing and forthcoming in more than a hundred publications, including magazines such as Cemetery Dance, Apex, and Black Static, as well as anthologies such as Year’s Best Hardcore Horror Volumes 3 & 4 and #1 Amazon bestsellers Killing It Softly & Fire. She’s a member of the Horror Writers Association and a columnist for Writer Unboxed and LitReactor. She’s represented by Alec Shane of Writers House. She lives in Texas with two crazy cute cats and a husband who’s exceptionally well-prepared for the zombie apocalypse. You can visit her at www.AnnieNeugebauer.com for news, poems, organizational tools for writers, and more.
Thank you so much, Annie! I needed this post today. I woke up this morning feeling down about my WIP. The first draft was magical and went faster than anything I’ve ever written. The revisions though…not so much. Your post helped me admit that I’ve got to take the time to dig deeper on this next draft and not hurry the process.
So glad I read Writer Unboxed before I got too discouraged.
Oh, that is the best thing to hear! I’m so glad it came when you needed it. <3 Best of luck with your revisions!
So much truth in this well-timed essay! One of the gems, for me, is the point about distinguishing between two kinds of urgency: the creative immersion that propels you forward because you simply must, and the impatience to get it done, get it fixed, get it accepted. For those of us (like me) with high drive, it’s easy to mistake the latter for the former. What helps, I find, is to listen—to those we trust and to our own subconscious, which tends to know the difference better than we might want to admit :-)
So true, Barbara; the subconscious always seems to know. :) Thanks very much!
My sainted grandmother used to say “Patience is a muscle. When you pray for patience, all you get is an opportunity to exercise that muscle.”
I don’t like exercising under duress. Therefore, I try to exercise that muscle gently every day.
Thank you for the vivid imagery in this post, Annie.
Daily exercise is always the best way to build something–whether a muscle or a skill. Love it! Thanks, Judith!
Hey Annie, These are good reminders, and great advice, thanks. I suppose the next logical step for me (also over a decade in) is to ask, what if none of the “I want, I want, I wants” happen?
In other words, if I never get a traditional deal, if I never see a book of mine on my favorite bookseller’s shelves, will it have been worthwhile? And if this were somehow made a hard-and-fast reality, would I continue to write? Well, I mean until I’m too mentally infirm to continue.
I’m deep enough into the forest to answer. Yes, I would. With no regrets (well, maybe with a bit of mourning over what might have been).
Your analogy about climbing a tree to gain perspective brought a scene in The Hobbit to mind. When Thorin’s company feels hopelessly lost in Mirkwood Forest, they ask Bilbo to do just that. I just looked it up, because I recalled it as a hopeful scene – wherein Bilbo relishes the sunshine, the breeze, and the butterflies (after days traveling the dreary forest floor). But actually, Bilbo is sent up to see where the forest ends. The dwarves want answers! When and how would they get out of Mirkwood and on their way to their goal (and the treasure) again?
But Bilbo sees nothing – no edge or ending in sight. Just trees, trees, trees. And yet, Tolkien (rather, the story’s omniscient narrator) tells us that what Bilbo could not perceive was that they were really in a valley within the forest, and quite close to the forest’s edge. And when he climbed down they all despaired needlessly.
Lesson (for me)? Even when we pause and seek perspective, sometimes it’s not ours to know how near our goal may be. Ours is but to do the work. And so we must find our reward there, or we set ourselves up for needless despair.
Thanks again for a wonderful essay. Happy New Year!
Oh, Vaughn, I just love this. What a perfect comparison–and yes, a very true and insightful extension of the metaphor. I love your “next” question: would it be worth it even if our concept of “success” never comes? I agree, wholeheartedly, with your conclusion. Yes, indeed, and that the journey is almost always the value. Thanks so much for this. <3
Timely, timely, timely advice! Thanks for the reminder! It is so incredibly easy to get mired in all that is expected of an author these days. All too often that leads to either losing focus and taking a scattergun approach or sinking into despair and giving up. Taking a deep breath for the contemplative pause and hoping for a great 2019 for all!
Lovely–thank you, Linda, and the same to you!
Thanks, Annie. This is encouraging, because the process of creating often fills me up, urges me to GO BACK. TO REVISE. Your words help me realize that doing that is not wrong.No guilt involved. Yesterday I found some passages that needed work. Editing is golden.
Oh, absolutely! Never wrong, in my eyes, to put good work into our art. Carry on, Beth!
Such an important post, Annie.
Over the last year, I’ve worked hard to change my mindset about writing, making the process the goal rather than reaching a specific finish line. I find that mostly helps me keep a long-term, rational perspective. “Success” is defined by whether I keep on keeping on, rather than the external response.
That’s quite a feat; I need to keep working on that myself. Thank you so much, Jan!
I understand the now feeling very well. I’ve begun meditation practice as a way to help quiet that Now Beast. It’s often felt that if I take time to stop in the woods, the Now Beast will devour me whole. But obviously that my melodramatic side taking hold (the blessing and curse of having a writer’s mind). Thanks for your insight!
Meditation is wonderful for that, isn’t it? Best of luck to you, Marta!
Hi Annie,
I’ve struggled with Impatience most of my life, and now that I’ve (finally!) finished a novel the Now bug wants me to “hurry up and find that agent, etc”. That’s only leading me into fear and self-doubt, lost in the woods, per se. I have to get used to stopping to appreciate where I am, and that’s hard. Thanks for helping me think a little out of my own thicket.
That *is* so hard; I fully empathize! I’m glad my post helped a little. <3 I have full faith you'll find your way!