My friend Mark lent me John Scalzi’s book of writing essays some time ago, and I just started reading it on the exercise bike this morning. It’s tongue-in-cheek, and it’s sarcastic, but it’s also a solid piece of perspective.
Let me tell you why, if you’re a writer, you should read this.
Many of us base our writing in insecurity. We are, after all, artistic butterflies. Much of what we produce is beautiful, gossamer, and not worldly. Even if you have to work on your craft yet, this may well be how you view your work. We also, as artistic sorts often tend to do, look to find our work in other’s acceptance of us, and compare our success to the success of others.
Scalzi iterates as plainly as any writer I’ve ever seen what I consider to be the core of writing–stop worrying about others. You have your own writing to worry about.
Sure, Scalzi knocks a lot of the romance out of writing. He allocates keeping your day job, writing a lot, getting used to rejection, and working your ass off.
This is what writing is if you want to be published. If you don’t want to be published, you can have the luxury of the delicate flower illusion. If you do, you gotta get used to being knocked down on the playground.
I’ve often suggested that writing is like getting any job. You know, it took me about 12 years to get THE teaching job. I maneuvered my way through several part time and full time teaching positions and a lot of grad school, always with the goal of getting a great job.
I did. Here I am. It may not be the place I want to teach forever, but I’m mostly happy at my prestigious little community college that lets me get away with a lot, funds most of my conferences, and allows me to write and study literature of the fantastic, as well as teach English. I make a good deal of money, more than an English teacher should expect, actually. But Scalzi’s point applies here: I had to work and make connections and keep being nice to the folks I met to get here.
Writing is the same. People come to writing with a lot of illusions. Perhaps those who do shouldn’t make it, mostly because they wouldn’t necessarily be happy doing it.
I’m determined to write and be rejected. Already I’ve had acceptances and opportunities, but they only came because I was willing to think laterally. Did I think that I would be writing a book about Hercules for kids? That was the last thing I conceived I would be doing, and this will most likely be my debut novel!
Am I tired of being rejected? Sure. I get frustrated like all of you. But how will I find someone who likes my novel if I allow myself to be a delicate flower?
Do I ever envy others their success? Nah. It has no bearing on my own, and besides, you don’t get into heaven if you’re jealous.
Overall, I think Scalzi’s book is good for writers who may need to think about if the career’s right for them, and what they may be doing. It sends the right messages of persistence and reality, while not discouraging or sounding overly superior.
It’s also written in just a plain old fun style. I look forward to reading it, although opinions vary about the exercise biking from morning to morning.
Catherine
