In a few short hours my weekend will start and I’ll be off to bask in the glories of my fellow geeks. Just skimming the headlines, tonight it’s Billy Dee Williams and LeVar Burton, tomorrow it’s Jewel Staite and Summer Glau, then Sunday it’s Wil Wheaton and Captain Tight Pants Himself, Nathan Fillion🙂 And more, so much more, plus a posse of costumed people sure to bring cheer to even the rainiest of days.
Does it get any better than this? Nay, I think not.
I’m still busy, mostly with non-writing work, and that makes it harder to focus on being creative than I’d like. That said, you just have to knuckle down and do it. Even when you’re stuck. Even when your work is hard.
Queue this quote. As the Harvard article cited below says, Maya Angelou has been a “cook, streetcar conductor, waitress, singer, dancer, editor, teacher, civil rights organizer, and actress” and oh yes, a writer. If anyone knows how to live a courageous life filled with productive creativity, she’s it.
I realized that one isn’t born with courage. One develops it by doing small courageous things—in the way that if one sets out to pick up a 100-pound bag of rice, one would be advised to start with a five-pound bag, then 10 pounds, then 20 pounds, and so forth, until one builds up enough muscle to lift the 100-pound bag. It’s the same way with courage. You do small courageous things that require some mental and spiritual exertion….
I understood early that not everything I did was going to be a masterpiece, but I would try to do it the best I knew how. I’ve listened to an inner voice and had enough courage to try unknown things.
— Maya Angelou
Today I’m going to pass along a great piece of advice from Brandon Sanderson, author of the Mistborn series and many other excellent books. It helps when I don’t feel like writing (or more likely this month, when I think I have too much to do).
“Sit in a chair and write,” Sanderson says.“Ignore this thing they call writer’s block. Doctors don’t get doctor’s block; your mechanic doesn’t get mechanic’s block. If you want to write great stories, learn to write when you don’t feel like it. You have to write it poorly before you can write it well. So just be willing to write bad stories in order to learn to become better.”
— Brandon Sanderson (as quoted here)
Last night I was facing down a story that’s had me stymied for a while, a tedious rewrite I wasn’t sure was going to work. That uncertainty took up so much brain space I didn’t have the energy to actually write. I finally remembered that the best way around that sort of questioning is to turn off my critical brain, or at least keep it busy in another room. So I put on some music, loud, and sang along while editing.
That’s how I finished my dissertation. Something about the singing ties up my internal editor; he’s too busy trying to get the song words right to nitpick over the written words. There’s probably a neurological explanation for this but whatever, it works for me:)
You can get help from teachers, but you are going to have to learn a lot by yourself, sitting alone in a room.
— Dr. Seuss, in “On Becoming a Writer,” The New York Times, May 21, 1986
In related news, I just got a terrific rejection. Yes, acceptances are great but there is a lot to be said for a rejection that offers praise while pinpointing the one thing that’s problematic. I’ve been asking myself what was missing from this piece for months and now I know. That’s helpful in terms of this particular story but also for future work over the long term.
So thank you, Every Day Fiction submission readers, for doing what so many markets can no longer take the time to do: provide useful feedback.
Scottish writer Iain Banks said Wednesday he has been diagnosed with late-stage gall bladder cancer and has just months to live.
(updated) For his personal statement on this, see his website. This is a tragedy for those immediately involved and bad news for anyone who enjoys good writing.
For writers thinking about what comes after this, visit Neil Gaiman’s post on writers and wills, both standard and literary.
Writers put off making wills (well, human beings put off making wills, and most writers are probably human beings). Some of us think it’s self-aggrandising or foolish to pretend that anyone would be interested in their books or creations after they’re dead. Others secretly believe we’re going to live forever and that making a will would mean letting Death in a crack.
Others make wills, but don’t think to take into account what happens to our literary estate as a separate thing from the disposition of our second-best beds, which means unqualified or uninterested relatives can find themselves in control of everything the author’s written.
Neil’s post is from 2006 and applies to the U.S., but it’s a good place to start. No, I haven’t done this myself. Yet. But I will. Soon!
Oh, this is wonderful. I’ve just gone to an underground lot in China, a restaurant in India, and an Arctic outpost. Wherever the Secret Door takes you, I doubt you will be disappointed.
… I grabbed a New Yorker story off the web (no, it wasn’t by Alice Munro or William Trevor), copied it into a Word document, changed only the title, created a fictitious author identity, and submitted it to a slew of literary journals, all of whom regularly grace the TOC of Best American Short Stories, Pushcart Prize, O’Henry, etcetera and etcetera. My cover letter simply stated that I am an unpublished writer deeply appreciative of their consideration.
That was it. I sowed the seed, and waited.
As for the result, please sit down and place your Starbucks Venti on a secure surface.
Dear reader, every single one of these journals rejected my poor New Yorker story with the same boilerplate “good luck placing your work elsewhere” auto-text that has put the lid on my own sorry submissions.
Oh my.
Obviously I’m not the only one who has ever wondered how overworked slush readers can stay consistent in the face of all of that precipitation. Author David Cameron’s quasi-scientific study (sample size: two) concludes, quite sensibly I think, that “slush sucks.” Now, I can either be depressed that even previously published stories can’t get published in some markets, or, well, not.
Rejections are inevitable, but I have to say that this makes me feel a bit better about my own.
Chin up, folks, and soldier on. The good news is, it’s not just you.
This is a great bit by Ira Glass on Art, and how you have to keep working at it if you’re going to be any good… even when you know that what you’re doing isn’t as good as you wish.
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