When I tell people I’m a writer, I often get some variation of, “you’re so lucky,” “what a great gig,” “you must be really talented to make it as a writer.”
The truth: I don’t think luck has much to do with it – or even talent. It’s hard work.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had a certain stick-to-itiveness. I’ve finished books I hated, sat through movies that bored me and even stayed in relationships that clearly needed ending. If you ask my husband what he loves most about me, he’ll say, “She never gives up.” If you ask him what he likes least, he’ll say the same thing.
But there’s no denying this mindset has worked well for me with my writing.
Just Keep Writing … Just Keep Writing … Just Keep Writing
When I was in 7th grade, my English teacher, Mrs. Murie, told me I would never be a writer. I thought, “I’ll show her … I’ll rewrite that story.” After all, by the time I could write in complete sentences, I started keeping a journal. I also wrote essays, often about subjects as mundane as the décor in our dining room – the kaleidoscope of color I saw when the sun struck my mom’s crystal chandelier.
So, when an editor slams a metaphorical door in my face, I knock on the next door. And when I can’t seem to make a draft sing, I put it away for a few weeks, make a few tweaks and try again. Take my Bunco story, for example. I wrote multiple versions of varying lengths and pitched it to at least a dozen pubs before finally approaching Newsweek.
This winding road to publication is hardly unique. Nearly every successful writer from J.K. Rowlings to Sue Monk Kidd will tell you they heard “NO!” far more than “YES!” – at least before they became well established.
Striking a Balance
Finding time to write amidst the backdrop of three screaming boys, a bustling household, assigned (read paying) work and an aging and needy Beagle is a challenge. You have to learn to make the time.
Enter the magical timer! I often write my way through essays in 15- to 20-minute chunks. It’s really just high-level self-manipulation. If you can bribe yourself to write – and only write – for 15 minutes without stopping, you’ll be able to craft a rough essay in just four to five sessions. The rub: You have to give yourself permission to suck.
Most first drafts are terrible, especially when you write them in 15-minute intervals. But, when you give yourself permission to write with abandon, without judgment, you can get the difficult work done and then go back and polish it up.
Liz Gilbert’s analogy: “It’s much easier to run over a tightrope than to walk it. Don’t think, just write.”
Want to learn more about how to actually get the work done? Join my next basic class on May 6. While most of you have already taken my class, you may not realize alums can re-take the course for half price (you’ll only get one full critique instead of two). And if you want a higher- level course, you can sign up for my next alumni class in June. I would love to see some of you in “session” soon.
Happy Writing,
A