Post-Birthday Blog

When’s yours? Mine just was, instigating some musing on the years passing, with the writing happening or not, the publishing happening or not. Whenever your birthday is, perhaps you also contemplate the questions that plague or enthrall me.

~ Why do you write?

Most of us aren’t in it for the moolah, because there’s generally little enough of that except, as in most areas these days, at the tippy-top. Some of the most talented writers I know rarely type or write—it’s too scary, painful, frustrating, or something they can’t or won’t identify. I love to write—creating, tinkering, revising brings me joy. I don’t have a goal or message or plan as much as the pure jubilation of the process. I understand how fortunate this is.

If writing doesn’t provide happiness or income, perhaps it’s not for you.

~ How much does publishing matter?

As you know already perfectly well, it’s a tough industry out there. Word has it that publishers no longer bother responding even to agents. So the supposed magic bullet of acquiring one offers no guarantee. You might have an agent on your side, and still have along wait till securing a publisher. 

Where does this leave you? Try this. A writer—an extremely talented one—recently told me that if she landed an agent and then a publisher, she’d love it. If she didn’t, so what? She confessed that she never expected to complete a novel, much less have one ready to sell. For her, that was enough. 

What’s enough for you?  If you don’t know, what you haven’t admitted might circle around and bite you in the foot. And then in the other foot.

~ How long should this current project of your take?

Many writers have externally imposed deadlines, and they must stick to them. If the novel isn’t quite ready, it doesn’t really matter, because it’s now June 1 or November 15, or whatever. I have the luxury of working on what I write until I feel it’s done. That consistently takes hours rather than minutes, and, more often than not, years rather than months. Does that matter? Not to me. It takes as long as it takes to make my writing what I want it to be. 

What about you?  How much time are you willing to give? When is it too much?

Tip: Writing is so personal; it’s crucial to understand—and accept—your own process.

How can you get what you want if you have no idea what that is? Figure that out. Then give yourself this particular present. After all, whenever your birthday was, there’s another right around the corner. Take advantage.

Stuck

It’s like a dirty word. You’re stuck in here—trying to write when you don’t feel like it because of rain, or heat, or blizzard. You’ve got a deadline, which means you’ve stuck working on this until it’s done. Worst of all? You’re just stuck. Totally. Halfway through the novel. Surely someone knows what’s next. Just not you. Or you know exactly what’s next. But you can’t write it!

“Stuck” seems less synonymous with “fixed, “fastened,” or “infatuated” than with “baffled,” “stumped,” even “paralyzed.” Yet like many things in life, the real meaning of “stuck” depends on perspective. No one wants to be “stuck” doing everything because your spouse is out of commission. It’s a sign of true love, but nevertheless exhausting. But “stuck” with your writing? If you’re a serious writer, couldn’t that go either way?

~ Psychologically “stuck”

So many things can cause this. A rejection slip. A pal’s success. (You’re delighted! But still…) An upset stomach. Eight days of clouds. Ten hours of lower back pain. Sometimes you just can’t make yourself write. And sometimes that’s just as it should be.

POSSIBLE SOLUTIONS: Take a break. Get renewed. Try a different project (though don’t let that become a long-term distraction). Journal. Garden. Mess around on Facebook. Play basketball. Just don’t wait too long. Set a limit—in advance. Stick to it, or you’ll really be stuck.

~ Logistically “stuck”

Perhaps you instinctively realize that you’re headed in the wrong direction. Maybe you’re not consciously aware of this, but part of you knows you don’t want to go there. Or there’s this nagging sense that what you thought would follow hasn’t been set up. It makes no sense. Perhaps you bored? If so, your readers will be, too.

POSSIBLE SOLUTIONS: Brainstorm different directions. Go wild. Alternatively, set up causality—even if that means backtracking. Raise the stakes. Cut unnecessary material. Deepen characterization. Use your narrator to explain whatever context readers need.

~ Creatively “stuck”

Sometimes you don’t feel like writing because you have no idea what happens next or why or how to make it sizzle.  You’ve lost heart.

POSSIBLE SOLUTIONS: Return to your characters. They’re home base. The characters are why you’re writing it and why readers will read it. Hang out those characters. Remember why they intrigue you. Maybe “Take Your Characters to Dinner.” Isolating them from the predictable plot is among the best ways to generate exciting possibilities.

Tip: Why not get “stuck” on the idea of finishing and revising your novel—no matter what—because you care about it so much.

It’s all how you look at it.

The Dreaded Deadline

Like many things in this world, the deadline is a double-edged sword. Deadlines set by writers, their critique groups, or even their writing partners can leave lots of “i’s” undotted, not to mention characters and plots undeveloped or inconsistent. But without deadlines, we can either write one thing forever or not write much at all.

Yet rushed deadlines can eliminate readers, including agents. One reason for rejecting manuscripts is a great idea almost executed. Just not quite. So determination to send out your queries on September 15 or January 1 is only in your best interests if your work is as good as it needs to be.

How good does it need to be? Hundreds of positively dreadful books get published. Yet the goal is surely a good book, not a “good enough” one. Still, about half the writing population never feels satisfied, always thinking it could be a little better. Yes, it always could be, yet writers need a realistic level of satisfaction, a willingness to let go so that someone else can enjoy it, even it’s not perfect. It doesn’t need to be.

It does need to be good. The other half of the writing population is too easily satisfied, quickly deciding that it’s already as good as it needs to be, probably better. But sending or self-publishing too soon is arguably worse than stressing for too long. The novel needs to be good enough not just for you, but for your readers. You don’t want an agent or anyone else thinking, “Love your idea! But you didn’t pick up the pace, deepen the characters, eliminate the passive, exploit the setting, or remove the clichés.”

So. If you honestly think you revise for too long, consider these questions:

·         Would a deadline help you?

·          How will you stick to your deadline if you start rationalizing?

·         Are you aware of a perfect novel?

·          Do you secretly believe that enough patience will make your novel perfect?

·         How will you know that you’ve “finished”?

If you honestly think you don’t revise enough, consider these questions:

·         Is your deadline an excuse to avoid revision that feels hard or boring?

·         Does your deadline provide enough time to polish your novel as it deserves?

·         Have you objectively assessed which improvements your novel needs?

·          If you start rationalizing about need for revision, how will you curb this?

·         How will you know that you’ve “finished”?

Tip: A deadline is a tool, and any tool can help or hurt. You can use it to pound yourself in the head or—make your novel a must-read.