Tag: process

I have yet to see a piece accepted for publication.

And selling anything is a numbers game, not dissimilar to getting a piece published. In order even to begin this marathon task, I first had to give myself permission to be a writer. Then, I actually began writing. I put stories up online. I gained the confidence to write an entire novel. I joined a local writers’ group.

Then came the scary part. I started to submit, to competitions and journals. I expected rejection, and I got it. I hoped for success, and it is yet to come. I kept going, for a complicated web of reasons.

How many rejections will it take before I give up? So far I have remained fairly sanguine, though the polite email was a little harder to open today. How many rejections constitute a message to stop, go away, you’ll never make it? I don’t know, at all. There is no magic formula. But every submission takes a little hope with it, and hope is not infinite. Just one more try, maybe this time will bring the success that repays my faith.

Maybe next time.

Why do we keep writing?

The advice is contradictory. Write for yourself, but write for SEO and keywords. Write as though no-one is listening, but don’t sweat it if they don’t like what they hear. Strive to get published, but don’t rejoice when you do, it’s only the start of more problems. Stay sensitive and also grow a thick skin. The work is the thing, but only successful work is valued. Be humble about your work but also proud.

I’m tired, today. Today, I can’t make those words motivate me, and I can’t find the words to motivate myself. It all seems pointless, writing stories and blog posts and working on a novel that no-one will ever see.

Why should I keep going?

I am weighed down by life and responsibility. It’s easier to sit in front of the TV, gorging on mindless ‘entertainment’ that is as nourishing as a marshmallow; sweet on the tongue for a moment and then gone. It’s easier to look out the window, my brain an empty thought bubble until my oughts, shoulds and musts call me back to earth.

It’s easier not to create, because creating is hard.

But what will happen is this. A tiny grain of an idea grows below the surface of my working brain. Hardly noticeable at first, it gathers size and whispers to me in odd moments and ambushes me as I fall asleep. Pictures and dialogue jumble in my mind. And without thinking, without planning, layers of story start to accrete around the grain.

Eventually I am drawn back to my keyboard, and drawn back to creation.

Because it may be hard, but it is necessary. Creative sparks can be exciting but more often they are like grit in the oyster. They are the start of something, but they need time, and work, and care to become something better.

I make stories because it is in my nature. I tried not making them, I redirected my drive into different areas but after all of that, I came back to words. So I will allow myself some rest, and listen for the whisper, feel for the thing that will not vanish even when ignored.

Then I will cast out my pearl to see if someone else finds it valuable; but remember that a pearl is no less precious because some people prefer a diamond.

I finished it. Cue balloons and confetti!

I finished the line-by-line edit of my primary WIP. I reached The end, and I shall enjoy my reward shortly – lemon cake, since you asked.This is how it went and what I learned.

I expected to do this in small bursts, having made a small start before. In fact, I started (in earnest) one Friday evening and kept going all weekend, whenever I was free. On Saturday, I probably spent eight hours, all told. Now, it is finished and I feel good about that. The ache in my shoulders and dryness of my eyes is worth it, because this is the polished product. As anyone who has completed a long project knows,  the last push often feels the hardest, as you zoom in on the tiniest imperfection, buffing to a high shine.

I have utmost respect for my editor, who added and removed commas and full stops and “he said” to tighten my prose. I’ve learned about formatting, as she explained why she made changes in her accompanying document. This kind of detailed work is beyond most of us. She has given me some feedback on how the story flows, pointing out what is obvious to me, the author, but unclear to a reader. After all, I can see the whole thing in my head.

I did not give her a raw document. I had gone over my WIP for story and pacing, for spelling and grammar, for passive voice. I had looked at it so long that I could no longer see clearly. There were still many, many changes to make. I made them gladly. Now, I can let it go, knowing it is as ready as it can be, thanks to Morgen Bailey.

I am ready to send my creation out into the world, though I’m not sure yet what form that will take. No doubt this will be another tough learning process. Also, I have a new baby WIP to nurture. But for now, I will eat lemon cake, drink tea, and enjoy that feeling of satisfaction. I earned it.

I recently discovered the writing site Medium from a Twitter conversation with a friend. Although our  world is ever more varied and connected, the fact is that with so much content a personal recommendation is worth a lot. I have been thinking about this post by Nicole Tavares.

I have read a lot on craft recently, the skills and tools needed to write well. I am not fond of this kind of reading, but it is necessary and wholesome, like broccoli. I quite enjoy broccoli, but too much is tiresome. I am itching for a change of diet.

Nicole’s post poses a different take. She urges us to write. Write everything, write all the words, all the feelings, all the experiences. Sift through our life and discard nothing. Write without an end in mind, with ourself the only audience. The written page offers no judgement. We can lay ourself bare and choose from those fragments the perfect jewel to decorate our work, and the most suitable brick with which to build a story.

After the New Year resolutions are made and abandoned, this is an idea which can stick in the heart, where word count goals and marketing strategies do not reach.

Just write.

So, that’s all for NaNoWriMo 2015. How did you do?

I failed, and I won.

‘Failed’ because I didn’t reach 50K. Or my stretch goal of 40K; turned out there was less time and more life in my way than I thought. I won’t get to brag online and wear a Tshirt proclaiming me a winner. I have a sore wrist from typing too much and poor technique, probably.  And that is okay, because I claim a qualified success.

‘Won’ because I wrote 35K on this one story. This is more than twice as much as last year. Despite everything, despite coming home drained from work and not writing much on many evenings. It is more coherent and it has heart. Last year’s effort feels more like a series of short stories than a novel. I wanted to do better, and I have.

‘Won’ because I now have the solid basis of the sequel to my WIP, and I’m now actively looking forward to working through my editor’s comments. I want to polish my WIP and send it out. Plus, as I explained here I also have the bones of a poem, an unexpected bonus.

‘Won’ because I have proved to myself that I can average >1000 words a day, if I stick to it and don’t let it become a chore. Last year it felt too much like work; well, I have more of that than I can handle already. For me, writing is meant to be fun, an escape. I won’t physically starve if I don’t write, but my spirit will certainly wither and die. It’s the same for you, I’m sure.

Maybe this sounds like an apology, rationalisation, ‘all must win prizes’ fudging of the fact I missed the mark. It’s not. There are external goals and internal goals, and I know which are more important to me. I’m going to give writing a rest now, read, edit, and let the rest of my new story bubble to the surface. No pressure required.

The end of NaNoWriMo and November is upon us.

I’m not sure where it went, and can it really be less than four weeks till Christmas? And what now, in the dying days. Well, it is clear that I will not manage 50K words. I didn’t start this to build the habit of writing, which I already have, life permitting. I had told myself I would not, could not, too stressed, too busy. Then I started anyway because it’s a worthy challenge, I wanted to get further than last year, and I had a moment of madness.

My personal goal is 40K. It’s still a stretch target for me. I didn’t have Thanksgiving but I was out at a fundraiser last night, when I could usefully have been writing even a bit. I will have to push to make it.

Let’s see.