Telling Fortunes

Cross my palm with silver. More silver. Um... let’s try platinum.

Oh, there it is, I see now. The future is coming into focus: Any of you who really want to be successful at writing and who are willing to fight enough for it, will make it. Oh, there will be setbacks. There will be blows of fate. And, yes, you’ll make mistakes (probably many) but you will eventually make it. If you live long enough. And if there is still a publishing industry.

Why all the weasel words? Because there is no fate. It is all in your hands.

I’ve told everyone I’ve mentored that writing is one of the most “superstition inducing” professions there is, because so little is in our hands. So, if you’re one of my fledgelings, right about now you’re scratching your head and going “Sarah, you have, as they say, zee issues.”

Yes. Comes with the territory. But what I’ve said isn’t necessarily contradictory.

Let me explain. Yesterday I caught myself thinking “If only I could have gone back and told my idiot twenty something year old self that I would eventually get published. How much anguish I’d have saved.” And then I stopped, because what I’d just thought smacks of fatalism, of resignation, of a pre-scripted future. For just a moment, I was in that place where I was born to be or do something; where I would have become that regardless.

I won’t go into why this view – regardless of what some scientists think – must be wrong. The short of it is that it would require the belief in an all-controlling (and dumb) divinity. Any scientific theory that requires Deus ex Machina, isn’t. No, not particularly going to argue it. Not here. There will be a blog on this in the future but not here.

Instead, I’ll go into why it’s so prevalent in writers’ (and other artists’) minds. First, it’s because most of us are in the grip of a compulsion. Surely we can’t want to do this so much if it’s wrong. Second, it’s because it absolves us from our failures.

Heaven knows that half the time in this field, the failures really aren’t our fault. As Dave has mentioned several times, you can’t attribute every crash to drivers’ error. There are a lot of factors influencing this unstable situation. That, of course, is the other end of it. Sometimes, no mater how hard you fight, you are doomed. And in retrospect, it seems inevitable.

The thing is that writing is not “all your money behind one horse.” Oh, sure, if you only ever write one novel, and it can’t succeed for whatever reason, you will fail. The question is “Why do you only write a novel?” “How much can you want to make it, if you only write one novel?” Yeah, it might be the best novel in the whole dang world. It still won’t make it, if it’s something no one wants to read/publish right then. You keep on trying and you’re not being defeated by fate. You’re being defeated by you.

Take it from me – you will make it as far as as you want to make it, dependent on how hard you’re willing to work.

This comes prettily from an almost unlimitedly ambitious writer who isn’t even a NYT bestseller yet, doesn’t it? Sure does. Because it's doable. Eventually. If I live long enough. And there have been times along the way when the world not only wasn’t my oyster – it wasn’t even my kumquat with mustard on the side. That I haven’t got there yet is a function of “How hard I’m willing to try.” In my case, two factors have forced me to take – shall we say? – the scenic route: a) the one thing I will not sacrifice to writing is my boys’ future. This means times when I should have pushed hard were “wasted” shepherding them through childish issues and teen angst. (Not their fault. I signed up for it. Glad I did it too.) b) I don’t work as hard at self promoting as 99% of authors. This will have to change. I know it will have to change. But it goes against a basic part of my personality (yes, the lazy part, smarty. True to an extent. Writing is far more of a pleasure than promoting, so I write more than I promote.) and those can take time to defeat. It can be done, it’s just takes a long time.

Are you really whining “but what if I don’t have enough talent?” Right. Because that’s the operational quality. You sit down, you breathe deep and writing flows from your fingertips IF you have the magical thing “talent.” Look... I won’t deny there’s such a thing as “talent.” I.e. by inclination and character, you do some things more easily. For me, that’s characters. But to compensate, I’ve fought EVERY inch of the way for plot and I don’t flatter myself I’m any better than “solid midlist” on THAT (Except for the last submitted book, Sword and Blood.) I don’t know anyone – not a single professionally published author – who is naturally good at the many parts that make a successful novel. Besides, come on, so far as there’s talent and you can discern it, read the bestseller list. You’ll come across at least two at any given time who have NO discernable talent. But they made it. Now, yeah, maybe they were golden children, raised up by fate with no struggle. However, my guess is if it looks that way, they’re REALLY good liars.

So, this is the bad news: you’re not fated to be a massive bestseller. These are the good news: You’re not fated to be ANYTHING. The future is wide open and even if at times it looks like the south end of a northbound donkey, it is open to change.

And now, like any good fortune teller I want you to open up so I can advise you (Only if you answer me, I suspect you can advise you after ;) ): What are your fears? What do you think can block you forever? What are your limiting factors? What will you not sacrifice to your writing, no matter what? What is your special talent? What do you know you suck at? How do you plan to get better at that? AND – for fun – what is your ridiculous superstition which you know is nonsense but makes you feel “safer” as you’re on your way? (My own security blanket in this area is that if I eat at Pete’s Kitchen in Denver, I sell something. Might be a short story, mind. Or Japanese rights. But I sell something. So far, so good.)

How Split Personality is a Good Thing

It's amazing how often you discuss writing with people and come across the same quaint notions of what a writer is. (I'm not even going to touch the popular image where we are all filthy rich layabouts like the guy in Californication with agents who pander to our every whim.)

You hear things like:

"People say it's lonely being a writer. You spend your life alone."

Hmmn. Well I guess there is no physical person actually sitting beside you, but I'm sure most writers would agree its pretty crowded in that particular space. So many characters either trying to talk at once, or waiting their turn. Either way they and the universe you are trying to create are there with you.

Then, once the writing part is over and it's time to sell the manuscript, there is no such thing as simply wrapping the thing in brown paper, licking on the stamps, posting it off to some distant publishing house and waiting in the silent parlour for a reply. At least not anymore.

People talk about the writer living in the garret, working away in the bliss of artistic isolation. In this image the writer is uncomfortable with people, introverted to the point of dysfunction. Maybe they start that way.

All the successful writers I know are incredibly dynamic. They might be an introvert at heart, but they have all worked damn hard to become just about everything else as well. Effective networkers that can move through a crowd. Polished performers that rattle off anecdotes in a seemingly spontaneous manner, keeping a workshop or panel crowd entertained while simultaneously informing and promoting themselves and their work. Strategic thinkers who can plough their way through Internet sites and magazines and absorb a bird's-eye-view of the industry, much as any steel-trap minded lawyer or analyst might.

So who exactly is this author person? An artistic introvert at home in their own skin? A networker who delights in the company of others? A performer who feeds off the room? A cool-thinking analyst, capable of ruthlessly pursing their goals who would put Hannibal Barca to shame? Which one? All of them?

It's enough to put a psychologist into a mental hospital. How on earth can one person be all this?

Any clues? Have I missed out any additional split personalities?

Jump in the Bowl. Take a big dive.

For those of you who don’t remember it, this is a Phillip K. Dick quote, from Ubik. The end of it is "you are all dead, and I’m alive." Keep this in mind, we’ll return to it.

Now, for the point of this post – I’ve been giving you some basic down and dirty tricks with a short story. Nothing Earth shaking and no uh uh. If you don’t know how to write a short story, what I did can’t teach you. All of you know I recommend Dwight Swain’s Technicques of the selling writer so much his books are associated with mine on Amazon. But even good old Swain can’t teach you to write a good short story.

Writing can’t be taught. Writing can, however, be learned. What the heck do I mean? Well, my dears, I have tried to teach people with varying success. Some slap their foreheads after a hint and a promise and go "Oh, so THAT’s it." And some ... well, some can’t find their way out of the labyrinth in their own heads long enough to remove the very minor flaw in their writing that’s keeping them from succeeding.

The three things holding most people back are:
1- The inability to self-examine. Whether you believe you’re wonderful or that you suck, it doesn’t matter. If you believe it so it blocks your ability to learn, or your willingness to try you have to get rid of this.

2 - The inability to understand others. I’m not saying you should write or do what others do, but that you need to know how the people you aim to read you think. Only then will you know how to approach them and how to get them to like what you’re saying. Even if it’s... a little different. You have to do this.

3 - Fear. Raw, unadulterated fear. And don’t come to me and tell me you have fear of success. I think by an large this is a made up fear – made up in your own head, to fool your self, because it sounds good to you. Better than saying "I’m a wussy, who is afraid no one will like me." NO ONE has ever shuddered with fear at the thought of a great big pile of money for doing what you want. No. What you’re afraid of is what I’m afraid of – you’ll publish a book and no one will buy it. You’ll write a story and no one will accept it. You have to overcome this.

My treatments for this are as follows.

1 - forget it. Just forget it. Maybe you’re the second coming of Shakespeare. Or maybe your writing is worse than what would obtain from feeding mescaline to a monkey and giving him a typewriter. It’s immaterial. Both kinds of writers have become immensely successful. So, get out from under the bed – you know who you are – forget this nonsense and work. Just work.

2 - Ah, grasshopper... (And I don’t mean my character from Soul of Fire) this is a deep problem. Not. Look, we’re all locked inside our own heads. One of the beauties of the American book market is that it’s large enough that if your obsession happens to be writing about monkeys, there is a large enough population interested in it to make you a bestseller. However, you do need to be a good enough practical psychologist to NOT do things like trigger people’s ick factor en masse. (Yeah, yeah, I have read Laurel Hamilton. Do try to have a career of some sort and a good agent before you try this, though. Or just the good agent – she says as Kushiel’s Dart comes to mind.) Also, you need to be a good enough practical psychologist to NOT trigger the publishing establishment’s gag factor. Gor would probably be selling (another example of overcoming ick factors) but it died a horrible death by publisher. (And no, I’m not defending the thing. I once almost dated someone who... Never mind.) Other than that... well, the number of things that you’re hot enough for to wish to write about and the number of things people want to read about might only overlap by ten percent. Find those ten percent and work it.

Number 3- oy, number three. The fear will always be with you. That it won’t sell – with every new idea, every new proposal; that it will sell and everyone will hate it; that your mom will read it and hate you; that... You fear because you’re human. I can’t wave a magical wand over you and make you something else. It will never end. I spent the first three years of my published life in sheer jaw-locked terror and jibbering panic. In my mind, I was running in circles, screaming and shouting. In a way the fear is good. No, stop laughing. The fear is what keeps you studying, learning, practicing new skills, working, moving forward. RIDE that fear. Don’t let it ride you.
You want to succeede in writing? Short stories and novels? Read. Analyze. Study. Write. Submit. Repeat.

Will you get rejected? Oh, baby, will you ever. Ninety percent of the times you send that story out you’ll get a rejection. Ten percent of those will be STINGERS. And I mean outright, mind-boggling HURTFUL. That editor will find your greatest insecurity and push THERE. I got one of those two months ago as I was starting to get sick. It made me impossible to deal with for twenty four hours. And then I forgot it. No, look – maybe I’m as bad as chickie editor (she IS) thinks I am. Maybe I’m WORSE. None of which will stop me submitting that book again and perhaps selling it or writing another one which will sell and make her eat her d*mn words. Keep an enemies list, if it helps. NEVER divulge it. In fact, for the love of heaven, always be NICE to those people. But... but... make sure you’ll be big enough they’ll eat their words. WITHOUT salt.

Ride the anger. Don’t let it obscure your vision.

There is no magical wand. There is no easy ladder to success. In fact, most of the time your experience in this field will be of trying to cross a rope bridge while a bunch of people are busily sawin the supports at the other end. ‘S okay. You just have to run faster. You have to keep writing. Submitting. Learning.

But why, you say. Why if it’s so difficult?

Well, dear hearts, of course if you can give it up, if you don’t have stories in your head, if you don’t feel a push from somewhere inside you – if you don’t wish to create life just like real life but better, if you don’t crave to share your dreams, if you don’t want to write WELL so much you can taste it... in other words, if you can quit any time you want to and stay quit for more than a few days... do it. And whistle as you, you’re a free man (or woman.) In fact, wave gracefully at those of us staying behind, still mired in the quicksands of desire.

But if like me you can quit writing and have done it dozens of times – the longest for me was two weeks – then let’s talk cold turkey.

You can waffle and piddle and play at being a writer. You can write two short stories a year – which given the statistical probabilities would be hard to SELL let alone make a career on. You can CALL yourself a writer. (You can also call yourself a little teakettle. It won’t make you whistle.)

Or you can – even more counterproductive – write stories and novels and never send them out or even burn them (you know who you are) so you can never be rejected... or accepted.
Is that what you want? Seriously. Whether you believe in an after life and a divine mission or not – it varies. I have my moments – you KNOW life is a fatal condition. You’ve been dying from the moment you were born. There will inevitably be that final moment.

Now, maybe you’re lucky and you’ll get hit by a well-aimed meteorite and will never know what’s coming. But there is more than even chance you’ll KNOW it’s your last minute. As you lie there, do you really think the main regret in your mind will be "Dang! I should have burned more manuscripts?" (Well, maybe some. Heinlein should have burned For Us The Living and I’d burn the first novel I ever wrote if I knew which friend passed it to which acquaintance of his passed it to... you get the point.)

Do I get discouraged? Yeah, often. Even bionic women get the blues. And sometimes, out here in the trenches, the mud gets really deep and I have trouble walking.

So I have some sayings I use as crutches. The two most important ones are on my board

"If you just walk on thin ice; you might as well dance."

"Success is how high you bounce, when you hit the bottom" General George S. Patton.

There’s another one, from a Leonard Cohen song, which should be on the board to remind me no one expects my work to be perfect: "There is a crack in everything; it’s how the light comes in."

Do you have any tricks or ways of encouraging yourself? Do you think you need some? Can you imagine some ways around your fears? There YOUR fears. We each must kill our own monsters and see that they're dead.

Come on – Jump in the bowl. Take a big dive. You are all dead. I am alive. (And the water is fine!)