How to be a Great Writer and Why That Still Doesn’t Matter

Someone from a writing group I’m in asked if anyone else was overwhelmed by the sheer number of writers out there today. And, it’s a valid question because never in the history of this world, has so many people decided they can write. And it’s not a bad thing. People need to express themselves. I’m sure for some people (like my daughter) just having things like social networks and blogs have allowed then to find catharsis through writing out their feelings. And somehow, the fact that others might be reading it makes it more attractive to these people. I think that’s a lot of the reason we’re seeing so many writers today. It’s not just because they KNOW they can self-publish if New York shuns them, and it’s definitely not for the money (it’s really hard to make decent money writing–I have four traditionally published novels and I may have to siphon gas out of the neighbor’s car at midnight if I want to go visit my girlfriend). So yeah, we’re not sitting back in the penthouse suite of Four Seasons sipping mimosa and sketching out plot ideas. Nobody’s in this for the money. You’d be better off working as a McDonald’s crew chief.

I also think a lot of people aren’t overwhelmed because they really don’t think in the back of their mind that they’re going to professional writers. They’re shooting for a couple short story sales, they want to finish their novel, self-publish it, maybe even publish it for free. They just want to express themselves and hopefully gain a little self-esteem boost in the process by finding those handful of readers who come back with something like, “You know? That’s a good book. You’re a smart guy. I don’t know how you did that.” I think that’s the real golden ticket in the Wonka bar for the vast majority.

So, how does this work with the people that DO really want to make it? Those who DO really want to become mid-list or (if you’re like me and already managed to do that) have their eyes set on the NY Times bestseller list?

Well, in that case, everything I’ve said up until now is good news. Because the playing field isn’t nearly as massive as it looks from the bleachers. There’s a lot of fireworks in the sky, but once they’ve done their short-lived explosions, the darkness once again settles over and you can see the stars. There aren’t as many stars and they aren’t as bright. But they’ll certainly glow a lot longer. And, for the most part, they’re stable.

So what does it take to stand out and be a star?

Tenacity. That’s pretty much all there is to it. The difference between a mediocre writer and a good writer is probably 200,000 words of FINISHED prose. To most new writers, that sounds like a huge mountain to climb. Especially the “finished” part. I do 200,000 words of FINISHED prose–these days–probably every six to eight months. I don’t think like a beginner writer anymore. I think like a professional. And I finish pretty much everything I start.

“So, 200,000 words will make me a good writer?” you ask. “That doesn’t sound bad. I can do that.”

I agree, you probably can. It’s just a matter of pushing through and ignoring that little voice that tries to tell you everything you’re writing is crap. Don’t listen to him. Even if he’s right (and he probably is. If this is your first 200,000 words, don’t expect to sell whatever it is you’re writing. It probably IS crap. But after that, you’ll be good.

Only problem: Good isn’t good enough.

Sure the playing field suddenly got smaller, but there’s still a helluva lot football helmets out there and the marching band just appeared. And their dubious of anyone with a stack of double-spaced paper in their hands.

If you want to be a real, honest to goodness, professional writer, you need to be great. Two things really, really improved my writing dramatically, almost over night. One was the day I emotionally disinvested myself from my work. I have my mentors, Kristine Kathryn Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith to thank for this. At the time, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. They basically beat it out of me with a stick, but sometimes that’s what it takes. You are NOT your writing and your writing–even, I bet if you’re Stephen King–is not always going to be good. So get over it. Not every day will be a Hemingway Day. Some days are going to just be shitty crappy writing days. But don’t not write. You need those days. They are your practice days. And the whole point of practice is to refine yours skills and make your mistakes when they don’t really matter. Once you know longer have an emotional stake in your writing, suddenly every time someone tells you there’s something wrong or you have a feeling something in your plot has misfired, your reaction will be: Cool. How do i fix this? How do I make this great. Until you detach, you won’t have these thoughts. You’ll have that little voice saying, “Told you so. You suck.” And then another one coming into your head, “No, fuck him. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about. He’s stupid.” Before I detached emotionally from my writing, a lot of very stupid people critiqued my manuscripts. Ha ha.

But why don’t we KNOW the difference between our shiny work and our shitty work? We do. It just takes some time for that ability to reveal itself in the darkness. This is the second thing that rocketed the quality of my writing to a better place almost overnight: when I was finally able to objectively see my own work and realize the good stuff from the bad stuff. You’ll never be able to do this with 100% accuracy, but you can get close. I’m around 90%. Sometimes, I’ll be writing like a tsunami, thinking, Christ, James Joyce has nothing on me, only to give it to someone to read and get back a bland, “meh,” reaction (which is the worst!!). Those times, usually, once I’ve had a day or so away from the work and a half dozen beer, I’ll look at it with fresh eyes and realize I had been caught up with the passion of writing and it had completely destroyed my ability to see the forest for the trees. It really IS “meh.” But it’s all good. It was practice. I PRACTICED. You HAVE to practice. I also don’t ever throw anything away, so who knows? One day, something might come out of that trip to Boretown.

But the real thing that’s going to turn you from a good writer into a great writer? More of that tenacity. Probably you’ll need to put down another 800,000 words before you’ll be truly great. And by then, you’ll know how good you are and suddenly all that inner doubt dims (not completely, it’s never, ever gone for good. And usually shows up at the worst possible times). Once you hit this level, you won’t even show your writing to people nearly as much as you used to because you no longer need the affirmations. You’ll simply know you’re great. You’ll show it to actual READERS because you truly want good feedback.

Now you’re in the top 2% of all writers out there. So… where’s your agent? Where’s your big publishing contract? Where’s my mansion and super model wife?

Here’s where the story gets a little bleak. The simple fact is, talent is not all it takes. History is full of talented writers who went to their graves before anyone saw them shine. Many were suicides. Don’t let this be you. New York is fickle. Agents are fickle. The entire industry has had a humongous boot to its nuts and everybody’s suddenly gun shy. I quit my “real” job in 2002. It took me TEN years to find an agent. During that time, I wrote 16 novels and sent out not a single query letter. I also wrote around 75 short stories, which I did send out to magazines and places like that. I achieved minimal success with those. My biggest success with shorts has always been in contests. But, once I got a NY agent, she managed to sell some of my books within two years to a NY publisher. I then went on to write them two more books (not from my back list).

You may never get an agent. You may never get a publishing contract. These are simple facts of life. If you keep trying, you have a better chance, but you also have a better chance of throwing yourself into a dark depression of futility and frustration.

My last traditionally book came out July of this year. I have a few that are still coming out in mass market paperback (CLOSE TO THE BROKEN HEARTED will be out this January). Due to instances I have nobody but myself to point blame at, I am not sure if I will ever traditionally publish another novel. I hope I do. But I can’t stop. I’m way past stopping. So I am self-publishing my newest book, THE ROSE GARDEN ARENA INCIDENT (A SERIAL-THRILLER IN SEVEN PARTS). I’m not kidding myself, I know I’ll be lucky if I manage to sell a thousand copies. my other books? Twenty thousand. I think they printed fifty-five thousand paperbacks when DREAM WITH LITTLE ANGELS was released again just this past April. I’ll never see numbers like this. I simply don’t have the money to throw upwards of–I don’t know–$50,000, $75,000?–into marketing. I also don’t have the infrastructure put in place to do it. To sell a lot of books, you need to go through booksellers. Hocking ebooks on Amazon and maybe the odd createspace trade will not ever allow you to compete with dedicated marketing departments and distributors and all the interconnections that come with a brick and mortar publishing house.

And there’s always a slight chance my self-pubbed books could go crazy. I mean, it HAS happened. It’s just far and away not part of the belly part of the bell curve. Those stories (and there are probably less than twenty) lie out in the crazy, lunatic fringe.

But I’m okay with that. Writing has never been about the money. I write because I have to write. If I didn’t, I don’t think I’d ever have gone through those ten years waiting to find an agent while writing sixteen novels. I wrote those books to entertain myself. I wrote them because not writing is impossible for me. Not all the time. Some days, there’s nothing. Other days, it’s like someone has taken my soul and lit it afire and the only way to douse that fire is to hammer down 12,000 words. I’ve had 25,000 word days. I once had a 36,000 word day/night stretch. But then I’ll go two weeks with nothing. I don’t freak out (I used to) when that happens. I know eventually the fire guys in my stomach will return. Until that time, I focus on my family who really don’t see nearly enough of me.

I guess my point is this: don’t get discouraged by all the other writers out there. And don’t ever compare your “career” to someone else’s. And make sure you KNOW why you’re writing and that it’s not for the money. The thing that you have to remember is that very few “writers” actually write. They like to talk about writing. Oh Christ, for days on end. And they LOVE starting novels or NNARAMO or wtf it’s called. But only five percent of them manage to finish a novel. Two percent ever finish more than one. That wipes out a lot of the rabble. And, seriously, until you get at least two hundred thousand words under your belt, you’re a terrible writer. So that’s a lot of commitment, too.

Let me leave with something a little brighter than where this has gone:

Follow your bliss. Eventually, the money should come after you. That’s what I believe. But you have to be determined. There are time even now when I think back to how much time I just spent at my keyboard instead of with my kids (I wrote a million words a year, two years running–that’s just STUPID), and I shake my head. Is it even worth it? I don’t know. I don’t write nearly that many words these days. Maybe a quarter of that. But it still bothers me how much time I’ve spent on what some people would consider a “hobby.”