The Dream
Among the many mental and emotional flaws of the fiction writer is the
driving desire to get published. It’s a modern misinterpretation
of the true goal — to get noticed. To be read. The
misguided youth culture of the last 40 years has made publication for
money the end-all, be-all goal of the writer. Oh, it’s a good
thing. Don’t get me wrong. The problem is not, necessarily,
the goal. The problem is the motivation. Today, the desire
to be published stems from the flawed mentality of advanced
capitalism. That’s all I hear — I want to get published so I can
make money, so I can leave my nowhere job and sit in my bathrobe and
write all day.
You know what? That will never happen.
Oh, there are the lucky few. The proud and noble leaders of the
cause, the exceptions to the rules. That’s why you know their
names so well. But those names really are few out of millions
and, upon closer inspection, you’ll find that those proud few work
harder than you ever have in your life.
Do you have the names of the proud few in mind? Let’s talk
dedication to the job. Those names in your mind, do you notice
that they put out at least one book a year? There’s no time
off. You finish the bestseller, you take a week to get your wits
together and then you start writing the next one. Oh, and get it
finished in a few months, kid. You should be well on the way with
the next book before the one you just wrote goes to paperback.
Then there are the tours, possibly the wrangling with a production
company over an option, the useless, static webpage that cost a pretty
penny. It’s astounding the sacrifices you make so that you have
the time to cuddle up with the visions in your head and get them on
paper. More often than not, the money will run short or be
unreliable. You can teach then, lecture, judge contests, host
writing seminars.
Writing is work. If, 10 years from now, you’re the next Stephen
King…writing will still be work. Oh, you love what you
do. The only problem is that you have to keep doing it if you
really want to not worry about the car payment at the end of the month.
It amazes me how struggling writers think it’s so easy. Sell a
story and make a mint and you’ll be famous. Of all the people,
they should know the truth.
Most struggling writers treat it as a hobby, or escapism or self
healing. They work their nowhere jobs and then spend the evenings
laboring over some long winded novel. That’s cool, everyone
writes, but don’t wonder about getting published and making a living
just because you wrote one story about the time Uncle Harry whipped
you. The first thing to identify is why you are writing.
The writer writes because he or she must write. It’s what you
do. The drive to be a living writer shouldn’t come from the idea
that one wants to leave the workaday world and enjoy themselves but,
instead, that one must figure out a way to devote the most time
possible for something that’s in their primal, basic nature.
As with everything in life, if you’re not following your heart, you’re making mistakes.
The golden rule which every struggling writer needs to realize is a simple one: “You will fail.”
There. Say it. Relax and really get your frenetic,
megalomaniac psyche around that idea. It’s not about what you
think it’s about.
Got it? Good, now you’re ready to write.
It’s long been my opinion, and I’m not alone in these thoughts, that
writing comes from the same mechanism as dreams. Even with the
strictest, disciplined outline you’re still creating a freeform
environment where anything can happen. Even if you’re writing
those pre-form romance novels, in the juice of act 2, where your hero
takes a fall, call me if you don’t see an unexpected turn.
It’s a real world that you’re building with these words. You can
learn the language and the structure but you can’t learn how to create
that world. It’s a dream given form, and some people are better
at that than others. Your creative writing degree exists only as
a resume builder. I’m convinced that an illiterate boy raised by
wolves could be a bestselling author if he has the ability to give
those dreams form. This is where escapism comes in, but for the
reader not the writer.
The struggling writer often fails at this point. He or she
forgets the reader. Yet he or she constantly asks how can they
get published and make a fortune.
I hate to be political, but, if anything should be ruled by true
socialism, writing should. It’s the foundation of all
entertainment. It stands there with art and music. It’s
where modern glitz begins. It also belongs to the reader as soon
as you write “The End.” I don’t mean belonging in a financial
sense. It’s deeper than that. You get inside people with
words and music and art. You make them love you, hate you.
Your words shape their speech, their thoughts. You inspire and
destroy the masses with a page you wrote while slightly intoxicated,
wearing a bathrobe, at 2am on a Tuesday morning.
Your connection with the reader is intimate. Forget about the
money in their pocket, focus on the touch. Mesmerize the beast, and
you’ll get your money. Getting paid is not the first step.
It should never be the first step. The key to understanding money
is to ignore it. You’ll be surprised how much you make and save
when you don’t give a damn.
Your priority, as a writer, is your audience. You’re writing for
the guy in the hospital bed, the woman in the bathtub, the pensioner on
the evening train, the flight attendant in the hotel room, the
professor in his study on a Saturday morning, the kid taking a break
after his history final. That’s your audience. Little cells
of Humanity who want to take you into their sphere and let you talk to
them. Private, personal..and, hopefully, repeated a few hundred
thousand times!
I’ll talk about my experiences in the publishing world next time.
For now, let go of your fear, your advanced capitalism, and your
expectations. Just write. Don’t worry about your stupid
job. Write at lunch, write in the bathroom, use your vacation
time, set aside a day during the weekend where all you do is write.
Follow your heart and, for God’s sake, stop your foul whining.