Do You Hate Your Own Writing?
A reader asked, “while writing your book, was it a common question to stop in the middle of it thinking, ‘this is just bad, why am I doing this?’”
Apparently, he wasn’t referring to any of my books directly, which was a relief. Although he certainly wouldn’t be alone in loathing them; I got one particularly charming agent rejection that said basically the same thing. But to answer his question, the answer is: this–writing, editing, publishing, marketing, the whole miserable package–really is like training for a sport. You have to get out there and do it, every day, whether you want to or not. You have to put aside your doubts and just push forward. And push, and push.
An enormous component of any sport is mental; because forcing yourself to get back up and try again ranges from merely unpleasant to nigh on impossible. There’s a Japanese proverb, fall down seven times; stand up eight. And while that sounds empowering on paper, and is empowering if you can apply it to your life, actually doing so on a daily basis is grueling. It requires overcoming your doubts, your fears. Which, in turn, means confronting those doubts and fears head on. Looking yourself in the mirror, meeting your own eyes and saying, I might be a failure. And then going back out there to practice some more.
There’s a reason coaches talk so much about visualization, and affirmations. They’re necessary; because, no matter how competitive your field, and how talented your competition, your own worst enemy is always you. Which is why, as I’m fond of saying, you have to be your own first and most important convert. Yes, you will look at your manuscript and think, this sucks. You will want to burn it, to toss it out the window. You’ll lie awake at night, sleepless and exhausted, wondering why you’re wasting yours and potentially everyone else’s time. You’ll compare yourself to other writers. You’ll periodically convince yourself that your manuscript is the worst thing ever produced, and ask yourself why you were ever so foolish as to think that anyone could enjoy even a few sentences without spontaneously combusting from boredom.
You will feel all of these things, to varying degrees, every day. All of these things, and more. And if you push through them, and complete your manuscript…that’s when the hard part begins.
All of your worst fears will be confirmed: by the agents who reject you, by your own friends and family who refuse to read your book. Writing is a punishing process, but actually trying to sell your writing–and then, after you’re published, promote it to the wider world–is ten times worse. A thousand.
Which is why, before you embark on the publishing process–whether you choose self publishing, some variant thereof, or legacy publishing–you need to make absolutely sure that you love what you’ve written. That you’ve created something that you 100% believe in, and can stand behind. Because if you believe in it only 99%, then that’s not enough. Not enough to withstand the barrage of rejection you’re going to receive, and not enough to withstand the rigors of a buyer’s market that’s increasingly spoiled for choice. Because if you think agents and editors are unforgiving…try actual readers.
Hone your craft. Write, and keep writing. Write until you’ve mastered what challenges you. Write every day, and each day push yourself to write a little more. Start side projects: personal journals, short stories. Anything. Just keep writing. Blogs are great, because they represent a daily–hourly!–chance to expose your work to the world. And to get almost instantaneous feedback. Moreover, daily blog entries are something akin to suicide sprints in that they might serve no obvious purpose on their own–not like, say, practicing layups–but they’ll up your game immeasurably.
And in the meantime, build your team: people who will support you, and challenge you, and build you up, and help you grow. A number of people have asked me, over the years, if I thought that wanting to hire an editor made them insecure (I get these questions, of course, because I am a freelance editor). My answer is not only no, but quite the opposite. Recognizing the need for an editor is the ultimate badge of a secure writer. And yes, “secure” is a relative term; authors, like attorneys, tend to be insecure people. Trust me, I know. But it’s the truly insecure writers, the ones with egos of glass, who tend to avoid editors like the plague. Like my plagiarist, who informed me in no uncertain terms that she was a better writer (and smarter) than 95%–or possibly 99%–of the population.
She didn’t want an editor, because she didn’t want anyone suggesting that her craft might need improvement. But I, personally, have always thought that you should only be afraid of criticism if you believe in your heart of hearts that you’re incapable of doing any better. If there’s even a shred of doubt, somewhere, that you can do even one half of one percent better, however, accept it as what it is–a coaching opportunity–learn from it what you can and move on. Moreover, it’s better to hear “this chapter makes no sense” from someone who’s on your team than from the reader who tells everyone on Amazon.
The goal post is going to keep moving. The only question before you is whether you’re going to be the one moving it, or whether you’re going to let the universe do it for you. Even if, your first time out of the gate, you write the Great American Novel, even if the first agent you query and the first editor she queries loves your manuscript, and even if you immediately get the publishing contract of your dreams, that all is still only step one. If you plan on making a career out of this, you have to write a second book.
It’s an axiom that bravery isn’t lack of fear, but action in spite of fear; remember this, when you’re writing.
If you hit a wall, ask for help. Lawyers are encouraged to be social in a way that, unfortunately, writers are not. They help each other; the people fighting on either side of the aisle are usually friends, in real life. And while they might talk about their actual cases (because, you know, you can’t do that) together, they do talk about the stresses they’re under. There are all kinds of support groups out there, and service opportunities for lawyers who want to help other lawyers–or, indeed, who want to serve the needs of their communities.
All too often, though, writers limit their communication with the outside world to, “offer me constructive feedback” or “buy my book.” It’s okay to ask for other kinds of help! To simply ask for support!
To ask for whatever you need, so that you can keep playing, and pushing, and learning to believe in yourself.
