Follow Your Path

More than once in the past two months, I’ve asked myself in the most unofficial and discreet way I could, if all of this effort I put into writing is anything but a waste of time.

This somewhat dark point of view came from mostly good places. First of all, I had a great professional opportunity present itself. Career-wise it would have been a lateral move, but one that could have brought me some new and thrilling experiences. In the end I decided not to pursue it; after having a lot of long talks with many trusted people and thinking things over, I knew it wasn’t right for me.

At about the same time all of this was just beginning, I had what felt like legitimate reasons to get excited about possibly having something happen with a manuscript on submission. This could have meant there would be a tiny overlapping space in the Venn diagram between Professional Life and Writing Life, and I began to wonder if that was something to consider as I began looking into this opportunity.

Those seemingly legitimate reasons to become excited about my submission soon revealed themselves to be imaginary. The bad news here was that even though I had resisted letting my hopes build up before anything concrete happened, I had started hoping, and it was a pretty hard punch in the gut when I realized nothing was there. The good news? I didn’t let my hope get any more out of control than it did. That might seem pessimistic, to look at pursing a dream as a writer as something that requires you temper you hope, but when I stepped away and realized I was letting that hope influence decisions about the established career I have, I knew I had let it go too far.

There was nothing I could do to advance that hope, so I decided to stop and let it die off, at least that thread of it. I stopped writing so I could center myself again after taking what had felt like a pretty solid disappointment. Luckily I have a career that not only allows for but requires a great deal of creativity, so I redirected that energy into my work, which led to the beginning of some new ideas that are already paying off in dividends.

It makes me wonder though, if creativity is as much a finite resource as it is a need. I know if I’m not doing something creative for too long, I become mentally distracted and agitated. When this happens, making the time to sit down and work on a story can be soothing and centering. However, the same is true for anything else creative I produce, and if I put so much effort into finding new approaches to bring to my work, I don’t feel the need, or the itch, or whatever you want to call it — the drive that makes writing so necessary for many of us.

I’ve got some time off from work over the holidays, and I’m not sure what direction I’m going follow when that drive catches up to me again. I’ve got story ideas in the vault I want to pursue, half-finished drafts to continue, and finished manuscripts needing revision, not to mention all the new ideas constantly coming to life. But knowing I’ve made the career choice that I did, I’m also feeling a pull toward the direction I chose. I know I’ll wake up on the morning after Christmas with time on my hands, and I’m still not sure what I’ll want to do with it.

I guess in the end it’s a lucky problem to have, to have tangible things I can work on that will produce immediate results, and a way to feed the creativity for the time being without letting the hopes I have about writing fade away. The writing will always be there when the stories demand the time for it.

Battling Back Imposter Syndrome

Last week I was talking to a teacher friend about how difficult it can be to find a balance between the time demands of teaching and the other parts of life. She mentioned she no longer brings school work home at night because she needs a break from it and has too many other things going on. “And I know that makes me a bad teacher,” she said, speaking to the guilt we teachers typically pile on ourselves. Anyone working in education knows the workload usually leaves us feeling like we aren’t measuring up to what we expect of ourselves or what we see our colleagues accomplishing.

It occurred to me that feeling this way isn’t so different from a writer experiencing Imposter Syndrome.

I’m guessing you've heard of Imposter Syndrome before. The idea that despite whatever you’ve achieved as a writer leaves you feel like you still aren’t good enough, and you don’t deserve to celebrate whatever successes you’ve had? It seems like most of us deal with this at some point, whether you’re struggling to finish drafting your first full-length manuscript or if you’re a veteran author with several published titles to your name.

I’ve been battling with Imposter Syndrome quite a bit recently, even though, in some ways, my writing year has been successful. No, you know what? There are traces of Imposter Syndrome even in the way I just phrased that. My writing year has been very successful! I’m closing off the year with a new manuscript I’ve both written and revised within the confines of 2017, after starting with a brand-new story idea that hadn’t even existed as late as March. A whole new manuscript from idea to revision inside of a year? I should feel okay to celebrate an accomplishment like that, shouldn’t I?

At first I was pretty happy with what I’d written, but after spending some time away from it I started to mentally pick apart everything that could be wrong. The things I liked at first didn’t seem as valid anymore. If one of my few beta readers offered any compliments, I was usually ready to counter with a criticism to balance out the positives. Fortunately I eventually figured out what I was doing to myself and how counterproductive it was, and took a few steps to work out of feeling that way.

Maybe if you ever find yourself traveling down that same rabbit hole, some of these ideas might help you find your way out:

*Remind yourself that whatever it is you’ve accomplished, you’ve earned the right to feel good about it. When I thought of how quickly my new manuscript came together this year, it was easier to think of it in terms of how it only took x number of months to finish. When I reframed that and reminded myself of the hundreds of hours spent in front of the computer and how I was constantly taking random notes throughout the planning stages, it seemed like more of an accomplishment.

*Remember the value of self-care. Shari wrote a post about this not long ago that’s worth checking out if you didn’t see it before. Writing can be consuming, and it’s important to do what’s necessary to keep a healthy balance in your life.

*Give yourself permission to take time off from writing if you need it. Here’s where I might have messed up a little, because I went from finishing my revisions into NaNoWriMo only days later. I pushed myself hard to reach the goal and win (hooray), but it was no small amount of work to make that happen. When the writing feels more like something I have to do than something I want to do, that’s usually a sign, for me at least, that something isn’t going well. I’m happy I won another NaNoWriMo, but in retrospect it probably would have been better to take this year off.

*Don’t compare your journey. This is the kind of nugget that fits onto any writing advice list, but there’s a reason for that. Not only is everyone’s situation different, but none of us really know what anyone else had to go through to get where they are, or what they’re still going through now.

We’re all following different paths. From that perspective, there shouldn’t ever be any time wasted on something like Imposter Syndrome. You can't be an imposter when you're figuring out your own way. All any of us can do is be who we are and write what we write.

Things that leap from the shadows

My husband and I have made a few trips “down island” lately, most recently yesterday afternoon. Driving back up island just after sunset, we settled in for a couple hours of extreme vigilance. See, there are a lot of deer on the island, and that early-evening, waning-light time of day seems to draw them to the roadsides, where they graze on the dry grass and leap out at random to cross the highway.

We may not have quite this many... ;)

My hubby hit a deer a couple years ago, on this same drive (the deer lived, but the car had over $2000 damage and was in the shop for a week), and he and I have both had close calls at other times. So, we’re cautious, doing whatever we can to prevent an incident that, at best, would result in minor damage to the deer and our car, and at worst, would be…well, much worse. We reduce our speed, avoid that hard-to-see time of day when possible, use the high-beam lights, and constantly scan for deer.

This morning I’m thinking about vigilance—not for dangers of the wildlife-encounter sort, but for dangers that can leap from the shadows along our publishing journeys and completely derail our writing. But what dangers are there, and how can we guard against them?

1. Comparison. Comparison is a joy-killer, a confidence-killer, a creativity-killer, an all-round nasty villain. We have got to remember that we are on our own journey, that someone else's path is not our path. When we're tempted to compare timelines, numbers of rejections, size of advance, sales numbers, or any other "measure", just...don't. And on those days when that stuff keeps landing in front of our face, let's turn comparison on its head, and instead of feeling bitter or jealous or defeated, let's choose the “rising tide lifts all boats” mindset. Another person’s success does not take the place of our own…it may even pave the path and open the door. Those celebrity deals and blockbuster sales? They allow the publisher to afford to offer deals to debut authors, to take a financial risk on unknown writers. And those I’m-happy-for-her-but-she’s-got-what-I-want situations when another writer finds success? Let them motivate us to improve our craft or finish our work, and let them remind us that it is possible, that good things do happen to struggling writers. And then cheer and be thankful to witness their success, letting it buoy us up along the way.
   
2. Ill-conceived goals. It's always discouraging when we fail to achieve a goal, but when our goals are "ill conceived" in the first place, we're really putting ourselves in harm's way, setting ourselves up for a major crash. Ill-conceived goals are ones that are based on things largely out of our control. We cling to them, but we may be confusing goals with dreams. We can dream of a six-figure deal, or signing with a great agent, or winning an award, but beyond writing the very best book we can and sending it out into the world, this stuff of dreams is mostly out of our hands; but the writing, the revising, the seeking feedback and improving our craft, the sending it out, and sending it out again…that’s in our control. So let's base our goals on those things: finish a draft by x date, write x number of words per day or week, research and query half-a-dozen agents on our next day off from the day-job, brainstorm ten new story ideas, participate in NaNoWriMo this year, finish and polish our WIP in time for the next Pitch Wars, save enough money to attend a nearby conference. These goals may not sound as fabulous as the dreams, but we can only hope to someday reach those dreams if we put in the hard work to achieve those building-block goals.
   
3. Negative self-talk. We often tell ourselves things we would never dream of telling a friend or critique partner: your writing will never be good enough; you’ll never get a book deal; you may as well give up now. And even after we’re published, imposter syndrome has us continuing to send such messages: you’re a fraud; your success is a fluke; you’ll never be able to write another book. Those messages can sap our creative energy in no time. I’m not suggesting we should be cocky writer-brats, but we do need to believe in ourselves and in the value of our work. If our story matters to us, it will matter to someone else. Somebody out there needs the stories only we can tell. So tell them. Tell them the very best way we know how, in the way that is uniquely ours, and send them out into the world. The world needs what we have to offer.
   
4. Looking backward. All writers—even those “overnight bestsellers”—have been rejected, disappointed, discouraged. We’re allowed to feel those things. They’re hard, and they hurt. But when we dwell on them, wallowing for far too long, we’re robbing ourselves of joy and stomping on our creative spirit. Who can write when we feel that lousy? I say, limit that shit. Allow ourselves to feel the sting for an hour, or a day if we must, but then move on. Learn what we can from the experience, then leave it behind.  Onward!
   

There are other dangers--distraction, procrastination, being closed to learning, and other things that can derail our writing--but this post is long enough already! I'd love to hear your perspective and any tips you have to share. Tell me, in your experience, what is most likely to derail your writing? What helps you avoid that danger?

Take What You Need

Last weekend I had the good fortune to gather with eight other writers at an old (potentially haunted) stone manor house for a three-day writing retreat.

English Inn, Victoria, BC - photo by Kate Boorman

It proved to be an excellent location—stunning common areas, rooms that were both beautiful and comfortable, quirky closets and hallways, and, only a short walk away, the Pacific Ocean and a park with curious, abandoned military structures. The manor ghost stopped by from time to time, occasionally knocking from within the walls and causing unplugged phones to ring, but that only added fuel to our already-out-of-control imaginations. Top it off with good food, shop talk, wine, and chocolate, and you’ve got a near perfect retreat.

Each of us spent the majority of our time retreating in our rooms – for me, that meant hours spent fleshing out a new story idea; others were revising or first-drafting; a few were working together on a joint project; and one person was intentionally resting, nurturing her creative spirit in preparation for the heavy workload she knew was ahead. We all did what we needed, what was right for us at the time. It was bliss.

So, writers should all just zip off to a retreat whenever they feel the need, right?

Yeah, I think it’s safe to say, for most of us that’s not gonna happen very often. Before last weekend, it had been four years since I’d managed to get away for a writing retreat. (Too long!) But here’s the thing: it’s vital that we recognize and claim whatever we need to be healthy and productive in our creative lives. Maybe that means indulging in the luxury of a weekend away from all other commitments, but more often than not, it means carving out time in bits and pieces amidst multiple responsibilities.

Whether you’re on deadline and need to get words on the page pronto, or you’re feeling a little battle-worn and desperate for some self-care—wherever you’re at in this creative life right now—carve out the time and space you need. Value your work, and nurture your creative spirit, even if you damn near have to perform miracles to find the resources to do so.

I know it’s hard, especially when we have so many demands on our time, energy, and finances, or when we’re so used to caring for others and putting our own needs on the backburner. Do it anyway. Use that trusty imagination of yours to come up with a plan to meet your own needs. Yes, your writing is worth it. Yes, you are worth it.

Give and Take: Of course, the flip side of "take what you need" is "give what you can". Got a tip on ways to find time to write, or ways to make self-care a priority? Please share! Having a particularly difficult time claiming what you need? Let us know, and maybe the hive-mind of our comments section can help you brainstorm a solution.

Take care, dear writers, and write on.