Today, obviously, I am going to write a pretentious entry because, well, just look at the title, man!
Yesterday I posted a link to Cath Schaffer’s article on negativity and writing. Cath’s strategy is get past the negativity and fake it until you make it. Honestly, this is the strategy that transformed me from stunted abused child into a stunning and vibrant co-ed, and eventually into a sincere teacher and administrator. I met a woman at a very young age that I wanted to be. The most interesting person in the room, I wanted to travel, have interesting hobbies, and have people attracted to me, just like her. I faked it until experience caught me up.
This is not how I’ve conceptualized my writing career at all. Talk about deviation from the pattern! To understand why, first I have to tell you a little bit about myself as a student. CUE FLASHBACK
As a college freshman, I came home on break. One afternoon visiting my grandmother, I discovered she was bribing my younger brother (a mere 2 years younger) to get good grades. $1 for every B. $5 for every A. And a grand prize of this lamp he’d had his eye on. It was an antique, and it was a sailing ship on a cylinder. The waves rotated around and around. It was cool.
Well. Of course no one had ever offered me a bribe for getting A’s. I earned them anyway, so folks didn’t worry about making that happen. I suggested to my grandmother that this was the wrong strategy, that if Ken only got grades because of valuable prizes, surely he would not be intrinsically motivated to continue the behaviors that led to good grades.
You know, I’ve never asked my younger brother if the fist full of dollars he garnered changed his habits. He flunked out of college, so I’m guessing perhaps not. I wonder what he did with the lamp…
And your point, Catherine? Like studying for a class to the best of my ability, I measure my sense of writing success intrinsically. The reason I don’t feel successful right now isn’t because of the rejections (believe me, that would be enough reason ;P). Actually, rejections make me feel like I’m doing something, even if they don’t work out. The reason I don’t feel successful right now is that I feel I need to kick my writing up a notch, to push it to the next level. My expertise hours in the new year are a step in the right direction. I can see flaws. I need to look at a story and feel the confidence in it by my own measure. The way to please myself is to do the things that I think will turn me into a better writer.
This ostensibly means that I don’t care what you all think. That is not entirely true. I want the feedback from critiques and agents, because it helps me get better, and that makes me more intrinsically pleased. I do want my work to go out. That’s part of my conceptualization of being a writer, so I need that interchange, even though my bar is internal. You all can help me write better, with every rejection and every bit of feedback.
How do I deal with negativity? I guess my assumption is that I will receive negative feedback until my work is good enough for both me and you, so I expect it. It doesn’t matter. It disappoints, and then, in the immortal words of Esther Friesner, “your loss, sweetheart!” and I move on. But it doesn’t wear me down because my motivation is to be the best writer I can be, and to improve. My approval is more important than your acceptance or that of the industry. What I approve of is working as hard as I can, getting better, and getting rejected. Taking the right steps. Doing what writers do.
My hope is that in the natural process of time and practice, I will stop getting rejected. If this journey has taught me anything, it’s patience. I’m getting the hang of patience. What if I don’t have the chops? Or I’m not marketable? I am the measure of my success. I’m going to write to the best of my ability and I’m going to send it out. That is what matters.
Sometimes I can’t keep it all intrinsic, but I try to get back to that space as soon as I can. No one is hardy enough to be upbeat about rejection all the time. Overall, I intend to enjoy the journey.
And some day, some agent’s going to send me a rotating lamp to get me through to my next deadline. I can feel it.
Catherine
“My folks used to give my brother a nickel a week to be good, but I was good for nothing.”
Badump-bump. Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.