Posts by Vaughn Roycroft
photo by Kate Ter Haar
“Don’t you ever just, like, want it out there already?”
This question was asked of me by my brother-in-law at a recent family gathering. Over the past couple of years, and his series of inquiries into the current state of my writing journey, I’ve endeavored to explain to him that most novel-length stories are rewritten and revised, often over a period of many years, before they are ready for publication. I appreciate his interest, and he’s evidently begun to grasp what it entails, but I suspect he still thinks I’m hedging.
The question speaks to the anxiousness of those around me. Those who care about me wish for my success. It’s difficult for those who’ve never tried to write one to understand how a successful novel can be so difficult or take so long – particularly if they know a complete draft exists. It’s sort of funny, but in some ways staying patient is more difficult for those who care but who aren’t constantly exposed to the vagaries of the publishing industry, and to constant conversation about the need for diligence and perseverance among writers seeking traditional publication.
Destination Denial:
I suppose I’ve developed an odd sort of ambivalence about publication. As much as I want it, and as long as I’ve striven for it, I’ve also grown a layer of psychic armor—an emotional shell for my literary ambition to retreat into. If I get to another New Year without a publishing contract on the horizon, it’s no big deal. I’ve already been through several New Year’s Days with the realization that I thought the prior year would be ‘the one’ on the prior New Year’s Day. Why set myself up? It’s really about having grown as an artist in the prior year, right? No idea which manuscript will be ready or when? Ah well. C’est la vie. Check the armor and continue the climb. It’s like a sort of artistic somnambulism.
As much as I hate to mention the phrase, I may be guilty of too tightly embracing the notion of the artist’s journey. It’s not about the destination, but the journey, right? Embrace the moment, love what you’re doing this very day, this very moment. Be diligent, be grateful, continue to learn, to seek. An artist can only be happy if they accept each artistic effort as a step in a never-ending quest.
Well, I have learned a lot. I am grateful. And don’t get me wrong: I love to write. Once I’m into a story, there’s nothing better. I am often perfectly content in the knowledge that I’ve made progress. But getting myself back into a story I’ve already rewritten several times takes no small amount of effort. And in the process of getting there, Resistance (with a capital R) often rears its ugly head. I admit, for a few weeks this past summer, my diligence slid into a slow idle. I knew I had important work to do, but artistically I was sleepwalking through it. I knew my Resistance was just a part of the journey, but my motivation to continue the climb sort of got lost in the clouds on the horizon of that never-ending quest. The darn summit […]
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I suppose my first confession resides right there in the title of this essay: I’m a beachcomber. No, I’m not one of those old guys you see at public beaches with a metal detector, a leathery tan, and high-waist trunks, searching for coins and lost jewelry. And even though I do my beachcombing most days during the warm months, I’m not obsessive about it. A bit superstitious perhaps, as you’ll see in a moment. But not obsessive.
Beach Walk Byproduct: Scanning the shoreline is really a secondary outcome of my daily walk, which happens to take place along a nearby beach, on the western—or “Sunset Coast”—of Lake Michigan. Beachcombing has been around a long time. Did you know that the first appearance of the word in print was made by Herman Melville in 1847? I think it began as a means of harvesting, or salvaging, the bounty of the tides, probably mostly for food or for profit.
But it’s not always just for profit. Beachcombing can be soothing. How can you beat an endeavor that requires walking along the shoreline? And satisfying. I recall when my sister and I we were kids, hitting the Great Lakes beaches with our Uncle Evertt, hunting for driftwood for his woodworking projects (I still have an intricate little wooden box he made for me in my office). There’s such satisfaction in coming upon the perfect find, softened and accentuated by water and sand, weather and time.
I suppose old habits die hard. From driftwood, to seashells, to Petoskey stones and fossils, to the perfect, flat skipping stone, on every beach I’ve strolled, I’m prone to scanning the tidal zone.
A Writer’s Beachcombing Superstitions: Okay, so the first confession wasn’t so bad. Now for the embarrassing writerly stuff. Please note that this has evolved over many years and—more importantly—it’s all in good fun (I’m not obsessive, dammit!). I have three primary objectives to my beachcombing, and they’ve come to represent three aspects of writing. On any given day, finding one has come to symbolize a sort of good luck charm for its represented aspect. Finding all three is the trifecta, of course.
The three prizes and their writerly symbolism are:
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photo by Vaughn Roycroft
Do you ever get the post-project blues? I’m only now starting to see the pattern. It begins with the euphoric rush of typing the words “The End.” I float for several days, elated by a sort of nostalgia born of what felt so right about the finished project. The high often opens the idea spigot, releasing the next project’s story flow.
Then the feedback starts to trickle in. With it comes the realization that there is more work to be done, and suddenly the flow feels tainted. Even though I know this will be the case beforehand, there’s nothing quite like hearing specifics from readers to cause the revision hammer and chisel to thump down on your desk, jarring the euphoria of skilled creation back to the cold reality of a still-misshapen chunk of granite. This is a time when I’m feeling caught between my excitement for book two in the series and the lure to begin fussing with book one again. I know I should wait until I’ve collected all of the feedback, then let it ferment and distill into a unified spirit before diving back in. The crossfire has left me feeling immobilized and melancholy.
Stasis Interruptus: As of the writing of this post, I am resolved. Today I’ve grown weary of the writerly haze in which I’ve allowed myself to wallow. I knew I needed a jolt, to get my mind off of critiques of my work—my own as well as those of others. I needed refocusing, a positive spin on my situation. I understand that I am lucky and blessed, but I wanted to make that understanding more tangible. So I decided to take a hard look at what seemed to be troublesome issues, then challenge myself to flip my perspective of them. In other words, turn my so-called troubles into blessings. I share them here in the hope that you might be inspired to challenge yourself, too.
Issue #1 – Finding the aforementioned manuscript still needs work. Quite a bit of it.
Flipside Blessing – I have a wonderful group of writers who are willing to read and critique my work. They are gracious enough to use their valuable time and experience to help me. Talk about a blessing! To top it off, several have already expressed their belief in the project’s potential. How could I ask for a better post-project circumstance?
Issue #2 – I feel like a slow writer, and each rewrite of a manuscript takes so long.
Read MoreI just finished doing something that I’m certain has nudged me a step closer to writerly competence. As I mull its effect, I find myself wondering how many others consider its value. You may have guessed by the title that I’m talking about reading and critiquing a fellow writer’s work in progress.
I’ve seen a few threads on the WU Group page asking for members’ most valued tools or best craft advice. It seems, beyond the “butt-in-chair/just-do-it” layer of advice, having your work critiqued and learning to accept criticism are high on most writers’ lists. But I don’t recall anyone advising reciprocation. It’s understandable. Early on, having my work read, coming to terms with feedback, and utilizing it, were at the top of my own list. I’ve even written an homage to my beta readers. And of course I still consider having my work read and critiqued to be important. In spite of its importance, my appreciation for being on the giving side of critique continues to grow. So in the spirit of giving, I thought I’d share my growing appreciation with my community.
Prudent Pairings (A Caveat): Reading for others is time-consuming and can be taxing. Finding good matches for beta-reading can dramatically enhance the value of the critique, for both the giver and receiver. I’ve found the best reader-writer relationships are built on an existing foundation of trust and respect. Asking someone you don’t know well to read your work is a risky proposition. You may get lucky, and find a generous and insightful soul. But you may also never hear from them again, or find someone who has absolutely no interest in your genre. In the case of the latter, their feedback is not likely to provide much utility. The same logic holds true for agreeing to read. It’s prudent to choose to read those you trust to be dedicated to growth. And choosing someone who writes the types of fiction that you enjoy reading is likely to enhance the value of the experience for both writer and reader.
The Wide and Wonderful World of O.P.B. (Other People’s Brains):
Read More“As a reader you recognize that feeling when you’re lost in a book, right? You know the one – when whatever’s going on around you seems less real than what you’re reading and all you want to do is keep going deeper into the story… Well, if you’re writing that book it’s real for you too.” ~Sara Sheridan
Lost and Loving It: I’m with Sara Sheridan. I love getting lost in a book—totally immersed in the world of story. For me the feeling includes losing track of time and of what else is going on around me; not wanting to stop and anticipating getting back to it between sessions; being left with a wonderfully dazed feeling at the end, and then reminiscing about it long afterward. At its best, an immersive read makes everything else fade from conscious thought. It’s like being in one of those sensory deprivation tanks, except all of your senses are tuned in to story. Even the physical book disappears—pages are turned by rote. In fact, one of the primary reasons I write is in an effort to replicate the immersive experience others have provided for me.
It’s not quite as straightforward as it is with reading, but on my best writing days I come very near to achieving total immersion. Very early on I found that, like Sheridan, I am readily able to lose myself in my own work. On these days I can very clearly see and feel my story-world, from whichever character’s perspective I am writing. It’s all so real.
I suspect that achieving this state results in some of my most original work. Besides, it can be a real rush! It’s what hooked me on this crazy-making gig, and it keeps me coming back.
Wading through, Floating Downstream, or Diving Deep? I’ve read quite a few wonderful books this year, but I’ve noticed that not all of them have provided me with the immersive experience I am describing. Some books are well-written, funny or sad, and even fast-paced, and yet I am not immersed. It’s more like being led along by story than being lost in story. Some make me feel like I’m wading through—they’re not deep, but the course to the destination is clear enough. And others feel more like tubing downstream—a lovely ride with periodic rapids, often with very pleasant scenery. These stories can be entertaining and relaxing, but they don’t provide an immersion experience.
“A good book should leave you slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading it.” ~William Styron
There have also been a few that I suspect would be considered less well-written, and yet I am totally willing to dive in and be lured into the layered depths of story. The best, of course, are those that accomplish both—lyrical writing as well as a compelling lure to go deep. I love it when, as Styron describes, I am left exhausted once I’ve surfaced. A book like that is satisfying in ways that are obviously beyond being entertaining or relaxing.
Inconsistent Immersion Provider:
Read MoreCheerful Morbidity:
“To suspect your own mortality is to know the beginning of terror; To learn irrefutably that you are mortal is to know the end of terror.” ~Frank Herbert
I’m a cheerful man. Honest. Well, generally I am cheerful. I certainly don’t consider myself morbid. I wanted to say these things up front because some of you may not agree when you realize where this essay is going. Death is a part of life, right? And it’s surely been a part of my writing journey. I suspect it plays at least a small role in every artist’s journey as well, so I thought I’d explore a part of writing most of us rarely talk about.
Realization’s Impetus:
“The story of my recent life.’ I like that phrase. It makes more sense than ‘the story of my life’, because we get so many lives between birth and death. A life to be a child. A life to come of age. A life to wander, to settle, to fall in love, to parent, to test our promise, to realize our mortality- and in some lucky cases, to do something after that realization.” ~ Mitch Albom
I came to writing a bit later in life than many of you. Storytelling is the story of my recent life. Just as the Albom quote implies, I came to it soon after gaining a more profound realization of my mortality. I always knew I would write, but through my twenties and thirties the concept was an abstract prospective, as in: Someday I’ll have the opportunity to write. As if the drive and ability would be magically bestowed upon me in some distant halcyon future.
Then death visited. How it came and the losses suffered are not of consequence here. At various points in our lives, we all face death—that of those we love, and eventually we face our own. Suffice to say, after this visitation my mantra became: life’s too short. I suddenly knew that if I was going to write, I had to start. It couldn’t be put off. I could not allow my not writing to become a regret. And so I wrote. And wrote. And I consider myself lucky for it. Looking at what I’ve written has taught me a lot about myself. In hindsight I can see that death’s visit was more than just an impetus to write.
The Comfort of Myth-Making:
“What does our great historical hunger signify, our clutching about us of countless cultures, our consuming desire for knowledge, if not the loss of myth, of a mythic home, the mythic womb?” ~Friedrich Nietzsche
It’s been said that Tolkien sought to recreate a mythos for England—for the Anglo-Saxons and Britons—that was lost to the Norman conquest. I’m sure, even if there’s an element of truth to it, that it’s much more complicated than that.
Read MoreIt’s A Bungalow? Are you familiar with the Arts and Crafts Movement? For many “Arts and Crafts” refers to a reproduction Morris chair in their den. For others it might evoke Frank Lloyd Wright’s prairie style or an antique Stickley dining set. Each of these is born of the A&C movement, but none of them alone does much to define it.
I was as unfamiliar as anyone until we bought our first house. We didn’t know anything about the style, but we liked that it was affordable, well-built and cozy. Turns out it was a craftsman bungalow. Being a history buff, I fell in love with the house and the style. I’ve since come to realize that my A&C ardency has affected my entire writing journey. Perhaps you too are an Arts and Crafts writer and didn’t even know it.
The Meaning Behind the Movement: When I first heard the phrase: “Arts & Crafts,” I thought of hand-knit oven-mitts at a yard sale. Then I came to know it as an architectural style. As it turns out, the A&C movement, born in 19th Century England, did not set out to promote a particular style but rather advocated reform and a critique of industrialization.
Early A&C proponents rejected the ornateness of the Victorian era. A&C pioneer John Ruskin (1819-1900) advocated honest and exposed craftsmanship in architecture. Ruskin’s writings influenced designers like William Morris (1834-1896), who strove to unite all the arts within the construction and decoration of the home, emphasizing nature and simplicity to make it a refuge of beauty and enlightenment. Morris’s influence reached America via popular turn of the century periodicals such as House Beautiful and Gustav Stickley’s The Craftsman.
The Artistic Craftsman:
“Art is not a thing; it is a way.” ~Elbert Hubbard
Craft is about function, measuring success by usefulness. Art’s value is measured outside of utility, and encompasses beauty and emotional impact. If a craft, produced for its utility, can be made to be beautiful or to evoke an emotion without harming its usefulness, hasn’t it achieved artistic value? If so, it follows that there is inherent value in combining arts and crafts.
Proponents of the A&C movement espoused beauty in nature and simplicity of form; craftsmanship through skills gained by practice and dedication. As a woodworker, I feel the most beautiful and functional items I’ve produced are the simplest and most natural. Through woodworking I’ve seen that skills are gained though doing the work. There are no shortcuts.
It’s wise to study and to plan your projects, but a craftsman’s skill is gained through practice. And artistic results are produced by skilled craftsmen. (Is this starting to resemble writing yet? Just checking.)
Read MoreI don’t know why it always surprises me. I’ve been here before. And I was warned before my first time. Those ahead of me on their writerly journeys said it again and again: “The waiting is hell.” And yet I find I have to relearn it. Every time.
Waiting.
Hell.
As fiction writers, at some point we all go through it. And in some way, shape, or form, the fate of our work hangs in the balance. Whether it’s being beta-read, edited, or submitted, having your manuscript out in the world is like placing a little piece of your soul in the hands of others. Oh, I know I’m not supposed to care, that I should divorce myself from concern over subjective opinions. I know I should let go of the outcome and move on. Maybe it’s easier for you. Maybe you can hit send and shrug it off and forget about it.
I tell myself I can. And some days it helps… a little. Other days I realize I’m just kidding myself.
And what do we do when the wait is over? For me, each time it’s been the same. I absorb the feedback, trying to focus on the good news but totally internalizing the bad. I celebrate and/or wallow. Then I dive back in, feverishly revising the work based upon what I’ve learned. Only to start the process all over, sending it out again. And to end up waiting. Again.
A Literary Uni-tasker
The sage advice I often hear regarding waiting is: move on. Start another project. Begin writing the next one.
I think it’s brilliant… if you can manage it. I’ve tried but, unfortunately, I’ve found I can’t. When I am in a story, I find I must totally submerge myself. It’s never easy in the beginning, but once I’m immersed, I’m good—life is good. My writerly flame burns bright. (Submerged and burning, you ask? Sorry for the mixed metaphor, but I need fire to harden my point).
I’ve long had an idea for a novel which would be a total departure for me. I’ve even jotted quite a few notes. I’m excited about it. So for my most recent waiting period, I thought I’d attempt to outline the new story. Not only could I not submerge, I’d hardly gotten my feet wet before my thoughts strayed back to the story I had sent out into the world.
To Avoid Counting Flowers on the Walls of Hell
Read MoreIf you’re new to WU, you may not be aware that today’s poster, Vaughn Roycroft, plays two key roles within Writer Unboxed. He’s the leader of the Mod Squad, which keeps our community on Facebook both congenial and a promo-free zone. He also culls the best craft-related posts written by WU’s readership—that’s you—and shares them with our Writer Inboxed newsletter subscribers on a bimonthly basis. (Our July-August letter will be published very soon, but there’s still time to sign up–right here.) We appreciate him and his contributions tremendously. Really. He’s a gem.
Now back to Vaughn. Enjoy!
My Confucian Pebble:
My first post for Writer Unboxed appeared here a bit over a year ago. It was titled, Community—What’s In It For Me, and it was one of the first essays I’d ever written. In the article, I make the case that individual voices gain power through community. I wrote: “If each of us is a lone pebble dropped into a pond, we create one series of circular ripples. But a handful (or tribe-full) of flung pebbles striking at once creates a series of circles, some greater than others, overlapping and far-reaching. Together we can really stir things up.”
For me, the post itself was a Confucian pebble. It stirred things up—particularly in the realm of blogging. I enjoyed the experience of connecting with so many of my tribe-mates in what was then a new milieu for me. A month or so later I started my own blog. Since then I’ve published over thirty articles there, written a half-dozen guest-posts, and been interviewed by two other WU tribe-mates for their blogs. And the ripples roll.
Unboxed Growth:
Also since that first community post, WU successfully launched Writer Inboxed, the WU newsletter (for which I am honored to be a contributor), and the WU Facebook Group’s membership has more than doubled in size. Rereading the first article, I was clearly aware of the benefits of community. I knew there was power in connectivity. I just didn’t know its extent.
I still don’t. I continue to be an amazed observer and participant in our joint experiment in tribe-building. And when you’re unboxed, there are no limits.
Far-flung Fellows Become Fast Friends:
WUers can be found from coast to coast in North America, and come from more than a dozen other countries. While watching the world news one night, my wife wryly said, “So who do you know from there?” I must have looked baffled, so she went on to explain that I so often announce the name of a WUer who hails from the current newsworthy corner of the globe, she’s come to expect it.
WU has spawned hundreds of personal connections that have led to friendships. And many extend beyond mere social media followings. Members come together beyond the WU group page and blog. They connect on Facebook and Twitter, on blogs and at conferences. The group has spawned critique partnerships and beta swaps, and even several subgroups to serve various functions or connect in various venues.
There’s Growth and then There’s Growth:
We haven’t just grown larger as a group. I’ve witnessed some amazing personal growth, too. Members—including me—have met mentors […]
Read MoreVaughn Roycroft, stalwart leader of the WU Facebook group’s “Mod Squad” and longtime community member, takes the wheel today to talk about the importance of mentorship. Please check out Vaughn’s bio at the end of the post. Enjoy!
This post started out as a review of a craft book. A few weeks ago I was enthusing on the WU Facebook group page about the book in question, Rock Your Plot, by Cathy Yardley, and Therese was kind enough to offer me this slot to share it with all of you.
Thinking about how this book helped me gave me pause to reflect on my relationship with its author. Cathy is my mentor, you see, and I thought sharing a bit about our mentor/mentee journey would not only be of value to other writers, but would help to illuminate what I find special about the book.
Opposites Attract: Cathy and I met on the WU Facebook page shortly after its inception in January of ’11, but I’d taken note of her before. I’d been finding her comments on this blog and on the Facebook page insightful, wise, and kindhearted. In the first of many auspicious connections to come, I received both a friend request and a message from her on Facebook as I was typing a message to her. The message I was typing and hers were nearly identical, something like, “I appreciate your insight.”
On the surface, we couldn’t have been more different—a newbie writing epic fantasy and a seasoned pro writing romance and chick lit; a Midwesterner and a West Coast gal; an ex-businessman and a self-described Berkley hippy-chick. Of course those things are superficial, but none of it helps to explain what drew me to her. I started following her blog on Rock Your Writing, and quickly decided her philosophies on writing and promotion felt right, and that her advice was worth listening to.
Another chance has been engaged, To throw Thoreau and rearrange. ~Michael Stipe (R.E.M.)
Yes, Rock My Writing, Please: At the time Cathy and I were getting to know one another, I had finished a second rewrite of my epic fantasy trilogy and had gone through a second batch of rejections on book one of that trilogy. I’d already started a fourth manuscript, but I’d also decided the trilogy was worthy of an effort to salvage it. The problem was I didn’t exactly know how to go about it. I knew I needed help. I spoke to my wife about hiring someone, and mentioned Cathy. She went to the ‘Services’ page on Cathy’s website and read aloud, starting with this: “Maybe you’re too close to your project. Maybe you’ve been working on it so long, you can recite passages from memory, and yet you still think ‘it’s all crap!’” And ending with this: “If you’ve finished your novel and suddenly feel paralyzed when faced with revising it, you might want to consider a full manuscript critique.” My wife kept glancing at me as she read, and said, “You were nodding the whole time. I think we’ve found an editor.”
Criticism and dissent are the indispensable antidote to […]
Read MoreTherese here. I’m beyond happy to present today’s guest to you. Vaughn Roycroft has become a true pillar of the WU community, though if you’re not a part of the WU Facebook Group (easily remedied by clicking here), you may not know it. Vaughn heads up the moderator team there–an important aspect of the group, ensuring that shared links are valuable and not spamalots. When Jan, who was my number-one helper with the group for a long time (TY, Jan!), and I needed to break away for a while, Vaughn stepped up. And I knew I could trust him. He’s the sort of person who’ll pick up a brush, say “Where’s the can of paint?” More than that, his commitment to the WU community was unmistakable; he was one of us. When we kicked off the Reader Unboxed site–now on hiatus–we asked Vaughn if he wanted to contribute reviews for us. He did, and they’re fantastic (ex: his review of Jacqueline Carey’s Saints Astray). We’ve asked him to participate in some exciting new WU initiatives coming soon as well. The fact that Vaughn is with us today to talk about community and how he ended up here, is the best introduction for our dear friend that I can think of. Enjoy!
Community – What’s in it for me?
Finding My Way Home
Don’t surround yourself with yourself,
Move on back two squares;
Send an instant karma to me,
Initial it with loving care. ~Jon Anderson and Chris Squire (Yes)~
Do you know me? I don’t mean Know Me know me. Only a few reading this post have actually stayed up with me talking into the wee hours. I mean, does my name ring a bell? If so, it’s not because you’ve seen my book (I’m unpublished), or read my blog (I don’t blog). No, if you’ve seen my name, or feel like you know me at all, there’s a darn good chance it is because of community. Specifically, this community—Writer Unboxed.
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