Have you thought about giving up this writing thing?
Have you wondered if you should devote so much time to this endeavor? Whether you should risk your sanity for it?
Is it worth all the SACRIFICE when you get so little in return? So little validation. So many rejection letters.
No money. Nil.
Or perhaps your half-finished story has never seen the light of day. You’ve hidden it in a drawer or on a hard drive, too afraid to show anyone. Too afraid to finish.
Meanwhile, your writer friends publish their work, get noticed, climb the rankings on Amazon. A few have published with the Big Five, won Pulitzers, and made millions. These may or may not be your personal friends, but they write the books you read.
You suspect your writing is not on the same level as theirs. You feel like a dandelion amongst roses. Like Ira Glass explained, a gap exists between what you admire – your taste – and your ability.
Perhaps the better question is, Can you quit?
Discouragement sets in because writing is hard. Believe me, crocheting is much easier. Or knitting.
Can you give it up and keep your sanity? If the answer is yes, then you can take up a more rewarding hobby. Like knitting. (I’m not knocking knitting. I have two projects going right now.)
Or maybe you’ll choose to do the hard thing because you want to write. Or you need to write. And you hate knitting.
And maybe you’ll decide that success isn’t measured by rankings or money or even popularity. Maybe success means making a small difference in the world.
STAY THE COURSE. Don’t give up.
No one else can write with your unique perspective, with your experiences, your voice.
You might object, “Too many voices are clamoring to be heard already!”
But none of them are yours. You are the only one who can write your way. You are the only one with your voice.
If you study the craft, if you do the work, you WILL inspire someone else. If your story, poem, picture or post can help one, anonymous person, is it worth it?
Keep writing. Accumulate a body of work, and your influence will grow. You may not win a Pulitzer. You may never make a bestseller list. But you will reach the right people – your people – with your authentic words.
It’s about writing — and sharing — one true thing.
Be yourself. In time, your voice will find readers. Your readers. Write for your tribe.
One bright morning, my husband and I flew in his little Maule MX-7 from our crooked, grass strip to his parent’s house sixty miles away. As we cruised toward the sun, a few cotton-ball clouds dotted the patchwork of fields below us, but the skies above were clear.
Ten minutes later, a solid white blanket cloaked the ground.
Fog is intimidating when you’re on the road, but it’s downright hair-raising from the air, especially for this white-knuckle flyer.
After vowing silently never to fly again, I pointed out the obvious to my husband. “We can’t land in this!”
“It’ll lift before we get there,” he said, his hands firmly on the control wheel.
We followed the straight line on the GPS screen until we reached the destination point — his father’s farm. We circled the area and searched for an opening in the clouds but found none.
Anxiety taunted me: What if the fog doesn’t lift for hours! The plane will run out of fuel!
We circled again. I prayed, HARD. After one more go-around, the summer sun burned a hole in the fleecy cover, and we were able to land.
Despite my doubts, my husband knew what he was doing. He had studied the forecast and knew the weather conditions – dew point, temperature, and wind – were improving.
Sometimes, even the most conscientious scribblers inadvertently create their own WRITING FOG — a hazy state of confusion and bewilderment. Momentum slows, and finishing — or starting – a project becomes a tricky prospect.
If this occurs while you’re working on a story, you can’t see where the plot is heading. Or maybe your theme becomes fuzzy.
You may encounter Writing Fog between projects: one work is complete, but your vision for the next is blurry. You become disoriented, panicky, uncertain of your goals. You’re afraid you’ve lost creative energy. You’re afraid of crashing.
Lack of planning. When I was a homeschooling mom, I was a dedicated (compulsive) planner. I scheduled every thirty minutes of my day. If I didn’t, I couldn’t get the laundry done. Or the meals. Or anything.
But I reached a point where my ever-increasing To Do list was making me nervous. So, I swung to the opposite extreme and NEVER made a schedule. No plans, no calendars, no lists. This also had its problems, such as missed appointments, late bills, and a serious lack of focus.
Winging it with your writing will give you similar results. That’s not to say you must write a fifty-page outline before you draft your story. And it’s okay if you can’t envision exactly what your next project will be. But a little planning can prevent you from getting lost. Think of it as GPS for authors.
This condition is a symptom of the never-ending, futile quest for Perfection. It’s a trap. A labyrinth of circular thoughts which leads right back to Start, or worse, to No-man’s-land. When you over-think, you edit beyond the point of practicality. Is revising your work for the thirty-ninth time really going to make a significant difference? Or are you simply stalling? Finish the thing already. Excessive analyzing stems from not trusting yourself, which leads to another pitfall…
Too much advice. I love my writing podcasts, blogs, vlogs, courses, books, and #writingtips. But they can be too much of a good thing. All the brilliant but conflicting voices become a jumble of blah, blah, blah, until I don’t know what to believe. One expert says to create extensive character profiles; another says to allow characters to grow organically. Who’s right? In the end, you should go with your gut.
Over-dependence on others’ advice makes you passive. Passivity leads straight into the pea-soup of self-doubt and indecision.
If you’re in a muddle, and you can’t see the next story, the next scene, or the next sentence, consider whether one of these three conditions is to blame. Here’s hoping the mist will clear and bring your thoughts back into focus.
Since I came up with a small excuse for not writing last week, I humbly reblog this article for your encouragement. Thank you, Stephen!
Yes, I’ve been too busy to write much this week. And here’s the reason why:
This is Alex, aka Owlex. A four-week-old Barn Owl that we got from the Avian Conservation Center near Charleston, SC. My husband is a falconer, so he knows quite a bit about birds of prey, but this is his first owl. So far, Alex is eating well, taking small bites of mice from the Falconer’s hand. And he sleeps a lot (the owl, not my husband). It was easy to fall in love with this little guy.
Maybe one day, Alex will look like this:
As a budding writer, I was utterly dismayed by one of the first pieces of advice I received: write what you know.
Write what I know? Where’s the fun in that?
I wanted to write about England, which I’ve never been to but I’m in love with.
I wanted to write about portals to other worlds, like Narnia. Visions conjured from clouds and wind. Erupting, sentient volcanoes with agendas, and evil wizards disguised as noble leaders. None of which I knew.
Here’s what Roz Morris, author of Nail Your Novel, has to say:
“You don’t have to write what you know — you only have to write what you can GET to know. The chances are, if you’re interested in a subject, a place or an era, you can find out enough to convince a reader. “
That was good news. Research was important if I was going to write about a place I’d never visited and a time I’d never lived in. As for fantasy elements, I’d need to flesh out my settings with sensory details and backstory.
“Writers do this all the time…If you should stick only to what you know, we should worry about the thousands of authors who write about murder.”