I rarely read articles about being a writer. They vary so enormously, from ‘How one woman achieved her stunning fifteen book deal and still knits cardigans for Africa’ to ‘How writing destroyed my marriage and my liver, but who knows, I might still have sold my kids for medical research anyway’.
Pundits grow fat on their Seven Secrets of A Successful Writing Life, with free bullet points and a video for only $149. Established authors slam out articles and interviews, hoping to pick up a few extra bucks in case none of their scripts sell and they’ve dried; nice, wholesome writers talk about their process for writing pleasant, formulaic fiction. Posh authors show you round their beautiful oak-panelled writing space, complete with the first edition Dostoevsky which so inspired their Uncle Jocelyn – and every few months a complete unknown is found by an agent, and given brief fame in the more ‘literary’ journals and papers…
I am, of course, a sarcastic old sod, and not a deep thinker. I have a gadfly brain which allows me to simulate intellect and make it appear as if I think about things. I often write articles that are in fact made up of nothing more than curious trivia and cheap satire, the two proud cornerstones of my cerebral life. And any advice I give on being a writer is usually tongue in cheek – or an ill-tempered croak in response to a particularly annoying habit which I’ve seen in too many stories and submissions that week. But I was intrigued to find a serious piece on the subject by author Tim Waggoner, posted on his Writing in the Dark blog site the other day – and this time I read it all the way through.
I’m six years older than Tim Waggoner. In fact, I was older than he is now when I was first published , which is a scary thought. I have the literary fame of that bug over there, the skinny bug that just went in your shoe (the left one), but I have plenty of working experience, in and out of writing.
I’ve had magazines and presses fold on me, signed contracts where the publisher has then done a complete flit, written for royalties which never arrived, had a novel almost taken and then thrown into the void, seen anthologies come out in my speciality areas where I was never asked to participate, been invited to things I didn’t know existed, and turned up in other markets that totally surprised me.
I’ve had stories rejected by minor markets and then taken up ages later by bigger ones for much more money – and had some of my best work never go anywhere, despite my love of it, totally positive feedback, beta-ing and so on. That’s all part of the job. I treat it as a job, and pretty much let it wash over me. I sell most of what I produce, so when I read about writing, I always reserve the right to shout ‘Hey, you kids, get off my lawn’ and wave my fist impotently.
I read this article, Riding Out the Storms, and I decided not to yell at Tim. Not at all. He’s done a hell of a lot of writing over many years, and knows his stuff. He knows the thoughts that many of us have, and the foolishness of our internal ruminations. His article, dealing with the ups and downs of being a writer, is really rather good. It’s pertinent, accurate to situations I’ve faced and seen friends facing, and it makes a number of points of genuine value to others. For example, this passage of his caught my eye:
Envy is the writer’s disease. I have no idea who first said this, but I’ve heard it many times over the years. It’s too easy to compare ourselves to other writers who get larger advances, have greater sales, larger audiences, better reviews, more awards. Don’t do this. I repeat DO NOT DO THIS. This way lies madness. Admire other writers’ work, learn from it, learn from their accomplishments and their setbacks, but never compare yourself to them. Unless you’re a narcissist, you’ll always come out second best when you compare yourself to someone else, if for no other reason than it’s impossible for you to be someone else. You can’t have anyone else’s career. You can only have yours.
He adds:
Social media makes envy worse… now every writer trumpets their successes (no matter how minor) on social media as part of relentlessly promoting themselves (as they’ve been told they have to do). Now there’s a shit-ton of information out there to make us feel bad about ourselves. It’s harder than ever to stop ourselves from making destructive comparisons. That’s why it’s so vital that we keep fighting the writer’s disease.
All true. That constant announcement of sales and successes is motivated by everything from a desperate need to say “I’m still alive, still trying,” through to meeting contractual obligations – passing along the way with moments of genuine excitement, and moments of panic that no one will really read your story/book.
I too make these announcements on and off, occasionally taking the piss out of myself, because I probably should –both make them and take the piss, I mean. Every so often I am genuinely thrilled at a particular sale, and play it straight. Every other so often, I’m painfully aware that the publisher has virtually no marketing budget, and someone has to do it (a specific commitment to social media presence and promotion seems to turn up in more and more contracts these days).
And the more author Friends you have on social media, the more you will see news of sales and successes. So you see ten (or however many) exciting announcements in a week, and you yourself haven’t finished or sold anything for months. Bummer. These are ten (etc) different people, but it feels like THE WHOLE WRITING WORLD IS SUCCEEDING EXCEPT YOU. Never mind that it might have taken one of us eighteen months – or three years – to achieve that sale, or it might have come about almost by accident. I’ve sold stories as a result of a chance Message or enquiry at a key moment, and if I hadn’t been on the computer at the time, it would never have happened. I’ve lost opportunities the same way, by gardening instead of monitoring the Interweb undercurrents. You can’t do it all (I have high hopes for the climbing beans this year).
Also remember, we’re far less likely to post about failures (except the spectacular ones which make a good anecdote) and the routine churn of rejections, maybes and so on, because a) it makes us look like depressive whingers, and b) it gets boring very quickly…
Envy, as Tim Waggoner indicates, is no bloody use to anyone.
Which is all to say, why not let him play on your lawn for a few minutes, and read his full article (link below). I really would check that shoe as well. Some of these bugs can be weird…
You can find plenty of jolly interesting Tim Waggoner publications out there. We have a copy of his collection Dark and Distant Voices (Nightscape, 2018) nagging at us right now, and really must review it soon.
A full bibliography is available at his website:
http://www.timwaggoner.com/index.htm
He’s also written two dark stories for Occult Detective Quarterly, in ODQ #2 and ODQ #5, both featuring his character Ismael Carter. Occult Detective Quarterly can be picked up here:
