Insecure Writer's Support Group - Too Much of a Good Thing?

It's the bane of unpublished writers attending holiday cocktail parties. Not what to wear or if you should take your life into your own hands and try the egg nog - I wouldn't if I were you - no, it's the innocent sounding question, "So, what do you do?"

Lots of blog posts deal with the topic of whether or not to cop to the W label, and there was an interesting take on the subject on Nathan Bransford's forums a while back. My own take is that I don't use the 'w' word when I'm in non-writer company. It takes too long to explain properly, and causes misunderstandings (wait, so I can't go to Barnes & Nobel and pick up your book?)

It's even taken me a long time to say 'writer' to my own friends and family. But the hardest part isn't that they are not supportive or don't take me seriously. The hardest part is how completely and utterly they believe I will succeed.

It's irrational. They have NO REASON to believe that I'll do more than futz around with manuscript after manuscript until I either give up or am dropped off at the nearest Center for Delusional Old Ladies. Their unconditional support can feel - at times - like an albatross. Another cart load of people to disappoint if I fail.

I know this is a purposefully negative view of what should be a source of comfort, but does anyone else ever feel like unconditional support can seem like insincere support? Or am I being a total freak?

When I give crits or talk to other writers about their work I get really specific about why what they are doing is worthwhile. I don't want them to feel warm and fuzzy, I want them to believe.

That's what I want from my (sometimes) blindly supportive friends and family (Mom, talking to you here.) I want to believe.

What about you? Is unconditional support what you want? Or are you a freaky bag of contradictory needs like moi?

This is a (totally awesome) blog hop started by the incomparable Alex J. Cavanaugh. You can find the list of participants after the jump.

I Hate... Writing Books

writing books nevermore?

I don't, not really. There are about 1000 creative writing books that give good, solid advice, advice I could use. But I made a mistake with writing books. I bought them by the truck load before I began writing.

This isn't as daft as it sounds. I like to learn from books, so when I was getting married I bought married-type books. When I was pregnant, I bought baby-having books. I like to be prepared, though I'm woefully aware that how-to books only give you a foundation, a peek at a real experience.

So I figured writing how-to books would do the same. They'd help me understand what was involved. You don't read a cookbook after the souffle has flattened into a discus, do you? So I figured I had to read as many writing books as I could before getting started.

If I'd known myself better, I would have realized that this was grade A procrastination. Another problem was that everything described in the how-tos was abstract. Don't use these dialogue tags. Show don't tell. Make the reader feel the emotion. These books always have example text included to show good writing and bad. The good writing is always the Great Gatsby and the bad writing is always someone you've never heard of. But until I had completed my own book and revised the crap out of it, until I understood writing terms not only intellectually but by instinct, all that advice was so much noise.

Until. (You knew that was coming.)

Hooked by Les Edgerton

My beta reader extraordinaire, Becky Levine, after reading my book's first chapter, recommended Hooked to me. The fact that she recommended a writing book to me after my first chapter made me cry inside, just a smidge. OK, a lot. I thought I was beyond writing books - I'd read them and they hadn't helped - and being told I needed schooling did not feel warm and fuzzy.

Hooked is about beginnings and how getting the beginning right can have a positive knock on effect on your whole book. The beginning is a microcosm of the whole book. And if it isn't in your book, you may have a problem.

But here's the amazing part. After reading the first three chapters of Hooked, I knew what to do. I mean, I knew exactly what was missing in my first chapter. And a new scene, with Fin, Hero, a cleaver and a chicken, bloomed in my mind, complete. It was perfect. In a short, mundane kind of scene, I set up characters, set up conflict, story problem, surface problem AND foreshadowed the end. SLAM DUNK.

I couldn't have done that without writing BookEnd first. I wouldn't have understood what was missing. I sure as heck couldn't have come up with a solution without understanding my book the way I do now that it's finished.

So, if you are just starting to write and you haven't finished your book, I say save your money for lattes and chocolate to get you to the writing finish line. Then get Hooked. It will open your eyes.

What's your favorite writing book?

10 Years

"Nostalgia, the vice of the aged." Angela Carter

This past weekend seemed custom-made for nostalgia. My husband and I celebrated our 20 year dating anniversary (because we're nerds - I think I mentioned this before?). It was the somber, soul-wrenching 10th anniversary of 9-11. And mom is staying with me - stunning me with non sequiters like "What ever happened to Trista?" a girl I last saw in fifth grade.

So, I've done a lot of thinking about the past in the last couple of days. Some of it good, some of it bad and some of it cringe-inducing. On balance, because I'm an insufferably positive person, I think I've done OK. I work hard at my marriage because it's worth more than rubies, and I love my kids as hard and well as I can.

But I'm proudest of becoming a writer. It's the one thing I've done completely by myself. It's practically magic, the way I 'forged in the smithy of my soul' (sorry, James) a new identity. I know, I'm patting myself on the back for something that countless others (and all of you) have done already. But for years I didn't think I'd have the courage to do it. For years I let myself believe that I couldn't, shouldn't. And then, two years ago, I stopped standing on my own way.

What are you proudest of doing in the last 10 years?

Just Because You're Good at It, Doesn't Mean You Should Do It.

I planned an executed a detailed fairy treasure hunt (there were keys, poems and double clues involved.) I made tea sandwiches and cupcakes, I made mini pizzas. I made 'fairy fizz'; I decorated with light up lanterns and I coordinated table cloth, napkins and shell pink cutlery. I bought fairy themed movies and I made up a playlist of fairy-inspired music, burned them onto discs, had my husband design CD covers (including tray card) and inserted that into an already bulging gift bag.

Yes, my seven year old's friends got swag.

I don't have to do it. I'm not sure my daughter's birthday wouldn't have been just as enjoyable if I'd gone the dreaded Chuck E Cheese route. But I'm an event planner and I'm good at it. What's more, when I do it, I usually get paid for it, today being the exception unless you count sticky kisses.

This was a major stumbling block to trying to create a sustainable writing life. I already had a sustainable life, thank you very much. It was sustaining my ass in new shoes, vacations and grocery shopping at Whole Foods, for chrissakes. It was so daunting giving up something I was good at and had proof that I was good at (years of promotions, experience, cute business cards) for something that I didn't know if I'd be good at. And, worse, I didn't know if I'd ever find out if I was good at it.

When I was a kid it confused me that I was good at more than one thing. The phrase "Jack of all trades, master of none" was drilled into my head at an early age. So I knew that, even when I was a good dancer, a good artist, good at singing, good at acting that I could only pick one to master. At the time, mastering something seemed very important. Having a 'calling' was big in our house, having a (singular) talent. I was Art and my Sister was science and everything else was just a hobby. So I went to art school, then art grad school, then got a job as a tea lady, I was so effing confused. I didn't know that just because I was good at something didn't mean that wasn't necessarily what I should do. I didn't know that the 'Jack of all trades master of none' saying is essentially bullshit and that people, all people, have tremendous, nearly ridiculous capacity for achievement.

I do know that now, kind of. I know it in my head. I'm just trying to learn it in my... Jeez. I don't want to say heart, it's so corny. You know what I mean.

Writing Tip Thursday! #3 - Kill. Your. Inner Editor!

My inner editor masquerades around like my common sense. She looks like me, talks like me and what's worse, knows about that time I ended up on the floor of a black cab, completely shit faced from one too many pitchers of caipirinhas, singing happy birthday softly to myself.

In other words, she knows my secrets and she's not afraid to use them. Every time I've tried and failed at something, every time I've been embarrassed, every time I've felt small. I'm assuming she knows about good times too, but she's not talking about those. Her job, she tells me comfortingly, is to save me from any more heartache, by telling me to give up before I get hurt.

She must die.

During NaNoWriMo, there were lots of message boards about how to kill your inner editor. Here are some of my favorite methods:
-Make a play dough IE (inner editor) doll and have cruel things befall her ala Mr. Bill.
-Make a paper IE and burn her in effigy.
-Visualize putting a gag on your IE.

Like the cave paintings in Lascaux, ritualizing what you fear can give you you power over it. So, here's my tip: Take your inner editor out of your head. Look at her. Realize what she really is - just your own fears and negativity dressed up to look like logic. Bringing your IE out of the dark recesses of your mind and into the light will make her seem small, insignificant. Pretty soon, she'll start to fade. She's the one made of insubstantial shadows. She can't stand being looked at head on, preferring to sit on your shoulder like a demented 'lil devil' and steer you towards the only true failure you could ever have - not trying.

For me, besides dragging the little heathen out whenever I hear her rattling around in my head, I like to play Kill Your Television by Ned's Atomic Dustbin, really, really loud. I substitute 'Inner Editor' for 'Television'. It works for me.

So what do you do to muzzle your IE?

Will Write for Botox

My mother pulled out her mash-up Deepak Chopra when I told her I was really, seriously (for reals now) a writer. She mentioned, in order of no importance, following your dreams, being true to yourself and how Mrs. Garluski (psychic, Basking Ridge, NJ) told her I'd be a writer one day. Mom may have also mentioned past lives and the karmic wheel, not sure as I'd glazed over by then.

But what she didn't ask was, why do you want to be a writer? Sometimes I think if I sell something, making just enough for a years supply of botox, well then, that's success. I've never had botox but I think about it. Am I a botox type person? The late thirties are an absolute bitch on my face.

I think I write because I don't actually believe I can be a writer and I'm trying to prove myself wrong. That's the twisty way I work, a double, triple fake out. Yes, someone married me, miracle.

So, why do you write?