Recently, I took a class from writer Alli Martin called “Writing Advice You CAN Ignore.” It was sponsored by the Orange County Library and offered for free over Zoom. From the get-go, I made several inaccurate assumptions about the class (you know the old saying about assuming). My first faulty assumption was that the Orange County Library was in California. I was happily prepared to watch Jeopardy and then join the 7:00 PDT class at 8:00 MDT. At about five minutes to 5:00 MDT, I checked my email. Apparently afraid that others would make the same assumption, the library had sent out a notice reminding folks that Orange County is in New Jersey. Panic ensued as I delegated cooking supper to my husband, dashed into my office to log on, and joined the class just as the introductions ended and Alli began to speak.
Once in the class, I was quickly disappointed. Alli’s first piece of advice that could be ignored was: You must write every day. Her reason? You might not want to write every day. The downside of not writing every day, she said, was that you might forget about it.
What? I have always been a disciple of Nora Roberts’ “butt in the chair” philosophy, which I assumed anyone who attended a writing workshop would be. I am a serious writer, and I am not about to “forget” about the 97,000 words I have already written. So why did I need to listen to such a simplistic lesson?
The class continued, despite my disillusionment. Alli suggested that other writing myths were that you need a dedicated writing space, something else I strongly believe. She also debunked the myth that you need an hour to write. Some people, she said, just don’t have time to do that. Hmph.
At that point, I was ready to zoom away and join Ken Jennings on the Alex Trebek Stage, but then, I began to read the comments that other participants were posting in the chat. Someone thanked Alli profusely, for she had freed them from the guilt that they felt about writing sporadically. Another said, “This is exactly what I need to hear to start my work. I have been so afraid I won’t be successful.” Others echoed those sentiments and thanked her for her sound advice.
I truly had fallen into the old saying about assumptions—only in this case, I had made an ass only out of myself by being so condescending and self-righteous. What Alli Martin was offering was self-care, compassion, understanding. She was accentuating the positive by re-examining popular writing “rules” that can sink a novice writer’s determination and even discourage a seasoned professional. By the time she addressed the pressure that writers feel to be prolific and produce scads of words, she had won me over. I have friends who put out books every month to six weeks, while my historical sagas take ages of research and planning. Alli pointed out that, sure, the more one publishes, the more opportunities one has, but maybe it’s okay to be the tortoise that isn’t bothered by the dust when the hare zips past.
Near the end of her talk, Alli offered three sound pieces of writing advice that shouldn’t be ignored. She suggested that if process or routine makes it harder to write, do something else. Paint, hike, watch Bridgerton (no, she didn’t really say that), read. Don’t beat yourself up over having writer’s block. Instead, free yourself.
Her second piece of advice was to use prompts or writing exercises when a WIP isn’t going your way or if you don’t have a work in progress. You’re still a writer when you work at improving your craft, and as we’ve all heard, practice makes perfect. Or at least, better.
Her last piece of advice was to find a writing habit that fits within your life. Don’t worry that someone else is “ahead” of you or faster than you are or has more notches in their publishing belts than you do. Enjoy the process, enjoy the discovery, enjoy living. You won’t lose the race. There is no finish line except the one that works for you.
In the end, it was well worth missing Jeopardy to take Alli’s class. I want to thank her for offering so much common sense for writers, for empathetically encouraging the less-experienced writers in the class. I want to thank her for touching the lives of the participants who made comments—participants who were far less jaded than I am—and for teaching us all that we all need to show a little grace toward ourselves.
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