It can be difficult for a writer to keep her chin up. For a person who needs to be sensitive enough to reflect the most compelling attributes of humans and humanity through story, the harsh landscape of a writer’s world can be difficult to endure.
Like our beloved characters, writers contend with a multitude of external and internal conflicts seemingly hell-bent on keeping us from our personal MacGuffins.
Perhaps at the top of every writer’s list of roadblocks, there is the often dreaded rejection, a seemingly never-ending parade of “No” echoes around every turn. Agents, editors, magazines, conferences, bookstores, reviewers, even other authors. If being a writer is primarily about connecting with the readers waiting for your story, some days feel like there are a hundred gatekeepers standing between your characters and the people waiting to meet them.
And yet, for all the disappointment in every rejection, the sting, the bite, the venom that slow drips into the writer’s heart is not the actual “no.” It is the poison laced through all the words unsaid. It’s what we fear drives that “no” to our doorstep again and again—judgment. Of our work, our ideas, our thoughts, our abilities, maybe even ourselves. The people with the power to say no formulate judgments we are rarely privy to. We are instead left to our own imaginings about why we have failed to make the cut.
And writers have excellent imaginations.
Enter the writer’s psyche. If ever there existed the worst hot mess of internal conflicts, it surely took root and sprouted from a writer’s self doubt, anxieties, fears, and the ever dreaded peer comparisons. We fear these no’s may be based on negative judgments that are correct.
What if I suck?
What if I can’t write?
What if it’s me?
Am I horrible, vile…not mediagenic?
What are all the things “THEY” are not telling me thus making it impossible for me to revise these personal imperfections and failures?
A writer can end up mighty frustrated.
I hate this.
I hate writing.
I hate publishing.
I hate wanting this thing that doesn’t seem to want me back.
Maybe…maybe it’s time to quit.
Does any of this sound familiar?
If yes, I have some good news for you. It doesn’t have to be this way. More importantly, it shouldn’t.
I happen to believe it is possible to stay positive despite all the negativity. But first off, inhale, exhale. Again. Deeper this time, really fill those lungs, hold it…now let it out. Do this several times an hour.
Next, don’t quit writing. If you truly love it and are not just hoping this is a get rich quick exit strategy from a demoralizing soul sucking job you’re hoping to escape, don’t quit writing. If it is just a escape plan, make a better plan.
Writing is a terrible way to try and get rich quick.
Writing is a terrible way to try and get famous.
Writing is a terrible way to try and feel important, special, unique, talented, or better than other people in general because there is ALWAYS someone else more special, unique, and talented than you and chances are pretty good you will end up in the same room with this person. Likely you will be listening to them read aloud from their amazing, New York Times Bestselling, National Book Award winning novel.
If these are the motivations that drive you to the keyboard, you are probably wasting your time and setting yourself up for failure because your sense of “success” is contingent on criteria that is either controlled by outside forces or dependent upon who else is in the comparison pool with you.
Write because you love story so much you are compelled to try and create it yourself. Be motivated by the desire to live a creative life. If this is why you write, you will NEVER fail. You can NEVER be rejected by outside forces. Outside forces are not allowed to interfere with this, they don’t get to control it, they cannot say no to it. I dare them to judge it. This love is yours, you decide when, where, and for how long to live in a space of creative energy and output.
Secondly, try to wrangle that spinning, spiraling, better-future-seeking brain of yours. The worrying, obsessing, hoping for that big break so you can finally be whatever it is you think you’re not already—STOP. Right now, in this moment, you are already amazing. An agent won’t make you any better of a person than you already are. Neither will an editor, or an award, or a book deal. These are only things and other people you may one day co-work with on projects (who have their own neuroses and personal hang-ups I might add). When you get an agent, you will wake up the next day exactly the same person you were the day before. If you win an award, you will take it home and hang it on your wall…eventually it will get dusty just like all the other crap in your house. If you get a book deal, you will one day find your hardcover book on the remainder shelf being CLEARANCED for 3.99. Try not to confuse other people’s opinions and the bestowing of plaque shaped things with your own feelings of self-worth and personal validation. Other people change their opinions and things don’t last. Keep your power and decide for yourself if you’re a good enough writer or not. And if your answer is that you are not yet producing your best work—learn to get better, then do it.
“But,” you might say. “I need these people and things in order to achieve the writerly goals I’ve set for myself. I need an agent to open the gilded New York Literary Gates and awards to prove to the readers that my stories are good and worth their time and monies.”
And I would reply, “No you don’t. Well written stories that readers like to read prove to them that your stories are good and worth their time and monies. Guided passage through the Literary Gates and awards are one way to get your stories to readers, and for sure it was once the only way. But now, there are other ways too. Most readers don’t know all the gory details that happen behind publishing curtains anyway, they only know a story they love when they read it. Get that story to them by any means necessary. You may find that love from your readers is the only external validation you ever really wanted in the first place.”
Find your personal center, remember why you started writing in the first place, then try like hell hold on to it--no matter what.