Sit down, we need to talk.
Recently I’ve been observing some rather disturbing patterns in your behavior.
It all started out innocently enough. You had an idea, then a dream, then a plan. You were going to be a writer.
In the beginning, you wrote.
And verily, your writing was crap.
So you started hanging out in a dimly-lit bookstore, trying to look casual leaning against the shelf while stealing secrets from books on writing. You fully intended to buy one or two. Eventually. But books are expensive and you weren’t a wealthy author yet. Did you notice the stares from bookstore employees? No, they weren’t upset that you were stealing secrets. They were jealous that you actually had time to read. But you felt guilty nonetheless.
You adjusted your plan.
Your children noticed the switch from brand name peanut butter to generic and your husband wondered out loud why you were washing food storage bags for re-use, but none of them guessed what you were doing with the money skimmed from the food budget.
Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird was first. Then Betsy Lerner’s The Forest For the Trees. Before long, your bookshelf at home looked exactly like the one in the bookstore.
Then came the blogs. The editor’s blogs. The agent blogs. The author blogs. That blog. This blog*. Oh, my, the blogs. You subscribed until your Google Reader was begging for mercy. But you didn’t stop there. You signed up for Facebook and befriended other writers. You signed up for Twitter and followed the pied pipers of publishing.
You were somewhat troubled when you kept hearing the same bit of advice, “read lots of great novels,” because where would you find the time?
“Not tonight, dear, I have a headache.” And I need to finish Cutting for Stone.
“Hey kids, tonight it’s ‘eat whatever you want’ night! Have fun and don’t forget to clean up the kitchen.” I have to get back to The Girl Who Fell From the Sky.
You found the time.
My friend, you have a problem…
You’re addicted to becoming a writer.
Look, there’s nothing wrong with learning the craft and keeping up with trends. But you’re not a new writer anymore and you’re pruning in the stale, cold water of too much advice. Yes, this was a particularly bad metaphor. You know this because you’ve read a lot about metaphors, about how they can be distracting if they’re overwrought. You can’t have that sort of distraction in your novel. Nope. Never. You will not write a substandard novel, dammit!
What novel?
When was the last time you wrote…just wrote?
It’s okay to cry. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to help you.
Time to adjust the plan again. You have tons of good writing advice in you. It’s there, even if you can’t see it. And now it’s time to get even better. By simply writing.
Put away the books on craft. Shut down the 27 tabs on your browser. You can go back to your craft books and blogs later. Much later.
Now is the time to stop being an addict to an idea. Now is the time to be what you’ve always wanted to be: a writer.
So write.
You’re better than you think you are.
*You clicked the link, didn’t you. Point made.
Comments
24 responses to “Saturation Point”
OMGosh, I clicked the link. Point well taken. I’ve been cutting back on my drug-of-choice lately, though. And while cold-turkey may be a better approach to dealing with my addiction, I wouldn’t want to cause myself a withdrawal seizure or anything. On a happy note, I truly am writing now more than at any time in the past year, so I’m moving in the right direction. Not right enough, but getting there.
I think this is where I’m supposed to include some reference to inertia, but I can’t seem to get that thought in gear.
Steve,
Thank you for your kind email. It was greatly appreciated. And by the way, I like to make up words too—-isn’t that our right and even our duty, as writers? If writers don’t create new words—who will? I will share my current favorite with you: Redneckedness. Used in a pitifully unimaginative sentence it would be—-“He is the epitome of redneckedness.” A variation is Redneckedy. And in a naughtier genre—Rednakedy. And just for the record, my 9 year old orange/red cat’s name is Redneckitty. And he lives up to it everyday. Hope your w.i.p. takes off with new life of its own soon. Fortunately mine has had a second wind this week and has been writing itself at a speed of about 6-7000 words a day for the past few days. I don’t know anymore if I am feeding it or it is feeding me. Either way, I’m grateful.
Great post. Exactly what I needed to hear today. (And that last line made me howl with guilty laughter. Of course I clicked the link!)
Glad the words resonated. Gladder still for the howl of laughter.
*I* did not click the link. Because *I* am a wise and careful woman.
And I have read only two writing advice books in my life (Orson Scott Card and some other I don’t remember) – okay, which might explain why my writing is still crap after years and years and years. (I’m wise because I’m oooold.)
And yours is the only editor’s blog I read, and not because you’re an editor but because you’re you.
(And I should confess I didn’t click the link because I guessed what it would be, and just holding the mouse over it confirmed that.)
Your writing isn’t crap, it’s a thing of beauty. I know, because I’ve read some of it. Also: you’re not allowed to call yourself oooold until you surpass my current age. Good luck with that. 🙂
It’s always true, Stephen. All of it. Except I didn’t click the link. Because I’m stubborn.
Stubbornness can be a virtue.
Ha ha! This is awesome. I *did* click the link. The thing is, I’ve actually spent lots of time over the past year and a half actually writing and only in the last several weeks has it occurred to me that I would benefit from more reading. My “currently following” blog bookmarks list gets longer every day. I will certainly watch out for the addiction. Thanks for the warning!
Being aware of the possibility of addiction is the first step toward avoiding it. (I think I need to write that on a bag of M&Ms. Or maybe all of them.)
Isn’t is funny how you can stumble upon the very words you need to hear. Thanks for the time on your couch, Doctor. I was, until now, drowning in the fog of information. Which also means I was cemented in my place of inaction. Yesterday I sat down at my laptop and wrote. (Actually edited- but I had to completely rewrite two scenes.) It felt wonderful. It felt freeing.
Thank you for your advice.
Writing after a season of “cementedness” feels great. It makes you wonder why you didn’t un-cement sooner. Glad you’re heading out of the fog.
That’s exactly how I feel! People are always saying “The way to become a better writer is to read books and go to workshops and join groups where you talk about writing.” I just want to say “I’m thinking actually writing should be the most important part.” I mean, I can read all the books in the world on neurosurgery. Does that mean you’re going to want me to crack your skill open? Not likely. No matter how well read I am on the subject, nothing can replace practice and experience.
I often think that all this reading about how to be a better writer is simply an excuse for people NOT to write. I snicker sometimes when I see the hash tag #amwriting because I think the hash tag really should be #amtakingabreakfromwritingtomakesureI’mnotmissinganything.
My inner muse smacked me on the head and said “See, stop procrastinating and write, dammit!”. I think I should listen. Thank you for the wake up and the smile.
I agree. When I read too many writing blogs or advice books or best-sellers, it all just seems so daunting that I DON’T write.
Guilty. Guilty as charged. This from the woman who just received her Amazon.com box full of The Association Press Stylebook, The Pocket Muse, The Elements of Style, Hooked, and the 2012 Writer’s Market Delux Edition.
You have me pegged. Have we met?
Really?
“Better than you think you are?” Maybe so, but is that saying much to this audience?
Your motivation is the best kind….sincere. Thanks for the kick in the pants.
Wrong! I just spent two years writing my ass off and after finally emerging from all that not-reading I started reading blogs about how to query and how to write novels and kind of wished I’d read about how first time authors never get books over 100,000 words published, wished I’d read that useful bit of information before I hit the 128,000 word mark.
So I’m gathering more useful information as I head into writing my second book to distract me from all the rejection slips for the first one.
Since I’m here, why not. Just think of it all like a good moonshine; you mash up all those professionally edited (dare I say literary) words, throw in the essential advice on subtext, context, Story and the Oxford comma, boil it up and wait. The clear distillate will be full of stuff that’s relevant to you. Bottle it.
After that, you can stop brewing for a good while–until you run out of moonshine. And if you’re smart, you’ll brew enough to last you a good few years. Then it’s time to sit back and sip it gently as you write. It’s there to lubricate, not intoxicate.
(I’m now exhausted after that analogy, time for a drink. Hey–it’s mid afternoon here in the UK)
DCF
Guilty as charged. Thanks for cashing that reality check for me!
Do they make a blog addiction anonymous support group? I need one.
I actually stumbled onto this article while procrastinating on writing. I am now guiltily slinking back to it.
This used to be me. Heck, it still is every once in a while.
But I’ve come to this realization too. It stinks, all that time I wasted trying to “learn how to write.” You can’t “learn”; you just have to DO.
Thanks for keeping us honest, Steve.
Now…back to writing.