5 Secrets to Realizing Your Wildest Writing Dreams

 

When I first started writing fiction the possibility of getting my novel published seemed remote. This was back in the nineties when the internet was in its infancy; there weren’t dozens of authors blogging about their publication stories.

I didn’t know anyone who had ever published a book. I lived in medium-sized city in Georgia, and only a few people I knew read a lot of books much less wrote them. Getting published seemed like an impossible dream.

But then I went to my first writers’ conference, and I encountered real-life published authors, swilling beer and milling about just like normal people.

Shortly afterwards I met an author who read my stuff and actually liked it. Finally I felt like I had permission to imagine myself as a writer. At another writing conference, I bumped into other writers who also wanted to get published, and we started a writers’ group and the dream got even little closer.

After a year, I finished a novel and queried agents and actually had one call me because she liked my writing so much, and finally the dream was almost close enough to touch.

Finally after submissions and revisions, I got an offer from a major publisher and the dream coalesced into a reality.

That’s the way dreams come true, even though, at first, my dream seemed so far away it was as if I was looking at it through the wrong end of binoculars.

It only began to be possible when I imagined myself living the dream, and closing in on what I wanted, step by step.

I met resistance along the way; friends and family told me my dreams were frivolous and impossible.

I came to realize these were people who had given up on their own dreams, and thus felt threatened by mine.

It goes without saying that if you encounter naysayers on your journey, while you should be respectful of them and wish them well, you must not listen to them.

Surprisingly, though, the most serious resistance sometimes came from within me.

When you declare your dream to the universe, forces will begin align to make it come true. Sometimes I sabotaged myself by having my own ideas about how my dream should manifest.

Frequently I turned away those who were willing to help me in my writing career. Sometimes I ignored wise advice, assuming I knew what was best.

That’s why I now remain alert and mindful to any assistance that comes my way so I don’t accidentally discount it. I’ve learned that sometimes what looks like a wormy apple might actually be sweet and delicious once I bite into it.

Many times I experienced frustration and setbacks, and instead of accepting them as part of the journey, I was tempted to use them as excuses to quit plugging away.

I still have plenty of writing dreams, and whenever I get discouraged or feel doubtful, I go outside and look at the moon.

I like to imagine the first person who actually had the audacity to think it was possible to travel there. Can you imagine the doubters he encountered and the obstacles he overcame?

And yet somehow that dream, that journey of nearly 239,000 miles into space got closer and closer, until one day magical day, Neal Armstrong lumbered across the lunar surface. The impossible became possible.

If you want to achieve your own writing dreams, there are several steps to follow.

1. Declare your dream. Write it down or shout into a canyon or hire a skywriter, but make your intentions known.

2. Do what it takes to make the impossible seem possible. For instance when I finally met real-life writers and realized they were mortals who didn’t have words shooting magically out of their fingers, I could finally imagine being one of them.

3. Refuse to listen to doubt from others or from yourself.

4. Be alert to any assistance that comes your way, and be careful you don’t discount or ignore it. Don’t get too attached to how and when the dream will manifest. Just keep yourself aligned with the end result.

5. Embrace frustrations and setbacks as part of the journey.

What is your wildest writing dream?

 

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The Only Kind of Writing Advice You Should Ever Take to Heart

 

I was reading a craft book the other day, and the author was witty and extremely knowledgeable but he was also very, very snarky.

As informative as his book was, I didn’t want his voice in my head so I put it aside. He was constantly talking about his students’ failings. His distain for them was obvious and it made me feel sorry for anyone who had ever attended his workshops.

Many writing teachers justify harsh tactics, saying that the road to publication is tough and students need to grow a thick skin. I used to think that way myself, but now I question that tactic.

When I look back on the many writing teachers I’ve had, whether it be the author of a craft book or a real-life teacher, I realize I didn’t gain the most from the extremely critical teachers. In fact, I got the most from a teacher who looked at my writing and immediately identified the glitter among the ashes.

Were if not for him, it might have taken much longer for me to claim my identity as a writer. I was not a very good writer when he critiqued me, but he made me believe that I could grow into one. That is the best kind of teacher, the one who can look past the bumbling and fumbling and posturing and see possibilities. I wish all writers could find someone like the man who encouraged me.

If a craft book makes you feel small, if a critiquer makes you feel diminished, you should close your ears to the advice. Even though some of it might be valid, if it comes with unkindness or snark, it’s not worth it and is hard to shake off.

Instead listen carefully to those rare individuals who are on your side, who are more concerned with what you do well, than where you fail. Pay close attention to the advice of teachers whose advice is gentle and who care about you and your writing more than they care about appearing superior or clever.

If you can’t find that in a real-life person, it can be found in books: I recommend the following:

Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott

If You Want to Write by Brenda Ureland

Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg

These books are also good for washing away the ugliness of a scathing critique.

Critiques cans be hard, and you’re bound to encounter harsh ones, but always remember the words of Brenda Ureland:

“Everyone is talented because everyone who is human has something to express… Everyone is original, if he tells the truth, if he speaks from himself.”

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The Secret to Being a Productive and Focused Writer

 

For years I have set myself a goal of writing 2,000 words per day. Sometimes it felt like a prison sentence. I’d keep eyeing my word count, willing it to get larger.

Sometimes I’d be stuck in my office for eight to ten hours, and when I was finished, I’d feel hollowed out and weak, like someone who has given away too many pints of blood. Other times I’d write poor quality filler just to get the job done.

Much too often I’d become distracted; responding to the ding of my email like Pavlov’s dog, surfing the internet whenever I got stuck, hearing the damning words of Jonathan Franzen resound in my mind:

“It’s doubtful that anyone with an Internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction.”

Luckily, all of the above ceased to be a problem when I found the Pomodoro Technique. An Italian named Francesco Cirillo invented the technique, and it can be used with any task but it works particularly well with writing.

It’s deceptively simple, which makes it all the more beautiful.

Set a kitchen timer to go off in 25 minutes and begin your work. Do not allow any interruptions. This 25-minute period is called a Pomodoro.

When the time is up, do something simple for five minutes. I often do short household chores and I like to get up from my desk to stretch my legs. Just make sure you don’t do anything too complex and don’t think about your work.

Repeat three more times. When you have completed four Pomodoros, take a 15-30 minute break. Then repeat the entire sequence again for a total of eight Pomodoros. Of course you don’t have to do eight. Maybe you only have time for four.

Using this method had changed the way I work.

It’s quite unusual for me to ever write less than 2,000 words and now I do it in almost half the time.

The quality of writing is also better because when I’m doing a Pomodoro I never give into distraction.

People who use the method claim that they have greater clarity of thought, higher consciousness and sharper focus.

I’ve definitely found this to be true. I also think it tricks the brain into focusing. After all who can’t concentrate on their writing for a mere 25-minutes?

If you want to learn move about the method, visit http://www.pomodorotechnique.com/.

Three Thought Patterns That Can Harm Your Writing

Japanese painters can create clever and lovely images with just a few brush strokes. It seems effortless, but much work and time has come before they can paint with ease.

And so it is with writers; sweat must be put in to learn the craft, whether it’s poetry or novels or essays. Eventually the craft is mastered, and yet, still some writers suffer as if they were beginners.

Why? It’s our minds, the greatest enemy of the writer.

When an experienced writer sits down to begin his work, his insecurities and neuroses often sit down with him. Here is what he or she might tell himself:

1. I must write beautiful sentences.

We write to communicate with others, if your predilection is to write beautiful sentences, they will come. If this is not your predilection, you will have another. Maybe it is humor, maybe it is wise observations, maybe it is clarity. All writers have their own particular gifts. Write enough without self-consciousness, and you will discover yours.

2. I must write with a voice.

If you have practiced enough, you have a voice. A voice is natural and can’t be forced any more than you can force a personality.

3. I must write to impress others so I can be famous, rich, respected or sleep with very attractive women or men.

Do not bring this expectation into the writing. Bring your heart, bring your desire to express, bring your playfulness, your passion. Write because you want to co-create with the Divine or simply because it gives you pleasure. Bring lightness to your writing and never treat it as a means to an end.

You may have other “musts” and the only way to be aware of them is to tune into what thoughts your mind churns as you write. The less cluttered your thought patterns, the better the writing.

Why You Shouldn’t Compete With Other Writers

When I was an undergrad at a community college I loved to get such a high grade on a test I’d screw up the curve.

Obnoxious, but it gave me a rush.

When I got to law school, I also wanted to be the best but found myself in a much more elite crowd and ended up being in the bottom half of my class.

I was so upset about my failure to compete I dropped out.

Comparing ourselves to other is the game of the ego. When we’re on top we get to feel superior; when we’re at the bottom we feel despair. The trouble is we can never always be on top.

Instead of looking side to side at the other guys, be a thoroughbred and run your own race. The results are likely to be more interesting. As Seth Godin says, “The problem with competition is that it takes away the requirement to set your own path, to invent your own method, to find a new way… Competing with yourself is more difficult, requires more bravery and leads to more insight.”

How Important is Writing Talent?

I’ve always wanted to play the mandolin… but I have a tin ear.

I’ve wanted to tango… but I have two left feet.

I’ve always wanted to write poetry… but my eighth-grade English teacher told my poems bite.

Have you ever denied yourself an activity because you didn’t think you had the talent?

That’s a mistake; it turns out that if you have the desire, talent isn’t necessary.

That’s right. If there’s an activity you really, really want to do, go ahead and give it a whirl.

Follow that up with a heap of practice, and one day you might be a world-class performer.

Talent, it turns out, is the least important thing. Some people wonder if it’s even necessary at all to a person’s success.

What about Mozart?

Geoff Colvin, author of “Talented Is Overrated” makes a great case that Mozart’s genius was due to effort.

Did you know his father was a famous composer? That he started training Mozart at the age of three? That his early compositions weren’t written in Mozart’s own hand? That dad always “corrected” his son’s work, and quit composing around the same time Mozart started?

In fact, Mozart didn’t write his first masterpiece until he was twenty-one. Precocious yes, but you might be a kick-butt composer too if you had eighteen years of heavy-duty dad training.

Tiger Woods had a similar background and a very similar dad.

According to Colvin, it’s practice, not talent, that makes perfect. However it takes a specific type of practice to be perfect, which he talks about at length in his book.

Definitely worth a read.

So what’s stopping you?

Not a lack of talent for sure.

Go forth and be… a competitive hotdog eater, a belly dancer, a competitive bowler or whatever floats your pretty little sailboat.

Desire and practice is all you need.

Are You Trying Too Hard To be a Good Writer?

As a novelist I get a lot of criticism. If it’s useful I pay attention and try to improve; if not I shrug it off. Recently I got some feedback that stung: It said I was trying too hard.

The criticism had the ring of truth. There was so much effort in my work. I was trying to be clever, trying to be literary, and trying to please. My critic had seen my sweat marks, and that was no good.

Writing is difficult but in the reading you should not see the effort. That applies to anything we undertake.

We want to succeed at what we do but when we try too hard we meet roadblocks. Just like when you’ve forgotten something; it’s on the tip of your tongue, but if you strain to remember, it’ll never come.

It’s when you’re not thinking about it that it materializes.

Whatever you do, whether if be writing or painting, treat it lightly, playfully. If you feel yourself starting to perspire, you’re probably making things worse.

It might sound trite but there’s some truth to this saying:

Never let them see you sweat.