We can’t hope to get better without constant learning. Just like I pointed out in my article about the self-taught writer, our teacher isn’t qualified.
I’ve heard this title going around for some time now, as if it’s begging for me to read it. I am not disappointed. The War of Art is just that, a war, and the war is against ourselves. I highly recommend it—not only for writers, but for anyone who is thinking about chasing a dream.
Will you be reading a book on improving your writing this month?
Most of us have experienced true fear or anxiety on some level — whether it was a close scrape with danger, a rollercoaster ride, or the general anxiety our brains subject us too. But with coronavirus, we are all facing a fear we have never known. It’s not the breathless fear of running away from a predator, but it is a gnawing fear that sometimes overtakes us. We fear death, chaos, and uncertainty. We are living in the dystopian book we all dreaded, worrying about how crazy this is going to get. We might wonder, is it okay to use this fear as a creative impetus? Do we dare transform it into a dark source of inspiration?
Absolutely. Writing has been long used as a therapeutic practice. Storytelling is human beings’ chief way of making sense of a chaotic world that escapes our understanding. We may never understand the scope of our existence, but we can understand our story, and therefore, our place within it.
Writers are observers, chroniclers, and documenters. We examine our world with a microscope. Even though fiction is not real, our stories are a snapshot of the human psyche of our time. In this pandemic, for example, we are witnesses to a historic event, one that humanity will want to learn from for years to come. When people read our fiction, even decades or centuries from now, they will be able to know our experience on an intimate level. They will understand our values, fears, mistakes, triumphs, and insecurities. Just like when we pick up a book by Jane Austen or Tolstoy, we get into the authors’ minds — not just to read about history, but to live it.
Furthermore, what is served by turning fear into fiction is not just for the writer, but the reader. When you speak to the fears of another person, whether they know they have them or not, you make them feel understood, less alone, and less crazy.
Fear is not just for horror
Some may think that writing about fear is just for horror writers, or maybe the next dystopian series, but fear is a driver in every genre. For example:
Thrillers—fear of world destruction: In thrillers, there’s a bomb, a terrorist group, and or even, yes, a pandemic.
Romance—fear of rejection, abandonment, or loss: There is always a point in a romance novel where the heroin may have to lose the one she loves or lose something of herself by falling in love.
Scifi/fantasy—fear of subjugation or annihilation: Similar to thrillers, these stories often involve quests where the hero must save his world or his people.
Dark fiction/noir—fear of stagnation, of the world staying the same: Here, the character is in danger of not growing. If he can’t find the courage to change, it will end in self-destruction.
You can see how we can use fear to inform all our stories.
Writing fears
Because of the circumstances surrounding coronavirus, I pre-launched my first Writers’ Mastermind group discussion called Turning Fear into Fiction. During lockdown, I knew there would be a variety of ways writers use the stress and fear of this situation creatively. What I didn’t expect was how everyone had such unique and amazing insights into how fear affected us and our writing in so many nuanced ways. When talking about fear, we found it threaded through just about everything, including the act of writing itself. I’m going to expand on a thought from each member so that you can use it as inspiration when writing during your quarantine and in whatever world awaits us afterward.
There is a certain point where life gets so bad that we will feel paralyzed creatively. Most of us haven’t reached that point yet during this pandemic, but it could happen. In the meantime, we might escape into writing, and even enjoy it. But David mentioned something many of us have felt but few of us articulated, the guilt we feel enjoying writing while people are sick and dying. How can we be penning dramas about imaginary characters when there is so much suffering? Shouldn’t we feel guilty?
Sympathetic? Yes, but not guilty. We are not meant to carry the sorrow of the whole world, and those suffering wouldn’t want us to either. It’s our duty to tell stories, to make sense of what’s going on and explore how it could affect us personally and collectively.
Ross just finished a novel-in-flash in which he writes very openly about brutal topics like trauma, abuse, sexuality, toxic masculinity. He also writes about his relationship with his father and even from his father’s point of view. Ross was worried the moment he handed it to his father to read. What would he think of such naked honesty?
We all have that fear of people we know reading our work and what they are going to think of it. We don’t want to expose ourselves, but we should. When we put it all out there, we champion those who hide alone in anguish. Writers are brave in that way. We point out the elephant in the room. We expose hidden resentments, sins, and suspicions, giving everyone else permission to be flawed.
In the beginning of the chat, one of our members, Joseph Sale, left the perfect quote in the chat box.
“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown” ― H.P. Lovecraft
Fantasy author, Susan Holt brilliantly expanded on this idea. She said that what lurks in the dark is much scarier than a monster you can see, and writing is a secret weapon that neutralizes our fears. It gives them shape and outline, defining their boundaries. Thus, they are no longer endless voids of horrific possibilities, but a problem with limitations and weaknesses. What we thought was a snake hiding in a dark corner we can now see is just a rope. Writing is the light of day that normalizes scary things.
As a writer, we separate ourselves when we become the narrator. We take a step back from the situation and become the observer. In this state of detachment, we can analyze the fear, and break it into smaller pieces that pose no threat to us.
Sandra’s brilliant term for this was Emotional Autopsy. She said that like determined pathologists, we can cut the outer skin off our fears, dissect them down to the bones and sinew, down to the guts. We can roll them between our fingers, understand them inside and out, so that we know their causes and how to tolerate and address them.
Tia admitted that her writing was escape from all the fear conjured by the coronavirus. Even though calamities happen in her books — terrifying monsters, natural disasters, and even gruesome diseases — Tia is able to distance herself because her stories involve imagined creatures who inhabit on a fictional planet. In this way, she keeps herself psychologically safe. What takes place on her in her imaginary world would never happen in real life.
But of course calamities do happen in the real world, and writing is an escape for most writers. However, this is not altogether a bad thing. Sometimes fear can help us to run away into fiction and stay there, helping us to produce far beyond our normal word counts.
Charlotta was raised in a family that embraced positivity, which sounds admirable, but because of this, she was also discouraged from expressing her darker, more negative feelings. The message was, you’re not supposed to have bad thoughts. Today, Charlotta lives in Norway where people have all their needs met and then some. When she wants to share a worry, most say, “Oh, don’t worry. It will be fine.”
But dismissing fears and problems can be a way of avoiding them, a form of denial veiled as optimism. Sometimes everything is not okay, and it will not be fine. Charlotta pours out this darkness into writing and painting. She still feels guilt for it to this day, which is a problem many of us face.
Negative thoughts are a part of us, and they are natural. Pretending they don’t exist does us irreparable harm. Repressed feelings breed psychological and emotional issues like mental illnesses, self-harm, and addiction. Luckily, we writers have an outlet.
This is why Charlotta takes writing breaks when her overactive mind won’t stop. Purging our feelings, including those we pick up from the people around us, lightens the emotional load — clears the cache, so to speak.
We writers are always in danger of exposing too much. How much of we write is really fiction? When you get to the bones of it, probably not much.
Joseph Sale is editing one of my manuscripts and cited a quote from the story. In the scene, my main character, Ona, makes a comment about the painting The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, saying that the artist revealed more of himself than he realized or intended. Which begs us to think about the pandemic. It will become part of us now. We are forever changed, traumatized, and will probably find ourselves writing about it in some way whether we want to or not. What secrets have we given away? Will they be used against us?
As writers, we may expose ourselves, but we must remember that it’s worth the risk. The best way to get close to our readers is to make them our confidants.
Becoming friends with our fear
Fear is uncomfortable. But it can be used to our advantage. We usually have to put ourselves in our characters’ shoes and presume what it would feel like to be in mortal danger. But today we don’t have to stretch our imaginations. Everything is at stake for us right now. The threat is real. I talked about this in our Writers’ Mastermind mixer — how, for writers, being stuck in a horrible situation has a bright side. It gives us great writing material. So, we might as well make the lemons into lemonade and pay attention to the following list. Jot these observations and ideas down. Come back to them whenever you begin writing.
Thoughts going through your mind — What are the scenarios playing out in your head? What do you keep running over and over again? Solutions? Worst case scenarios? Hopeful endings?
Feelings you’re experiencing — Are you angry? Desperate? In disbelief? Dismissive? Frozen? Depressed? All of over the place?
Physical sensations — Pay attention to your body. Are you tense? Does your back ache? Queasy? Loss of appetite? Itchy? Sleepless? Lacking energy or full of restless energy?
Generalized pressure and stress — How is society reacting? How is your family behaving? What changes are you seeing in the world?Use fear to fuel you creatively by making writing your outlet. How can you channel the energy?
Fear makes us better writers
Becoming friends with our fear deepens our relationship with ourselves and with others, helping us to become better writers. We have the ability to develop more believable, emotionally complex characters. This makes a more mesmerizing, powerful, and satisfying story.
I love to watch virtuosos on YouTube — pianists, violinists, dancers, and singers that seem to have supernatural abilities. They make their performances look effortless, but no one sees what it took for them to reach that level of mastery.
What about the hours of practice, the hundreds of times they got it wrong, and how they pushed forward despite the criticism? We don’t realize everything they sacrificed — family, friends, sleep, and fun — to become what they are. They remind me of the investment I need to make to become the best writer I can be.
Until recently, I’ve been a self-taught writer. I always thought that if I read enough books, followed enough writing blogs, and kept working hard, that I would get better. I did get better, a little bit at a time. Still, I sensed I was missing something.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the lackluster sales and rejection letters reaffirmed my suspicion. The feedback from family and friends said everything I did was great. So why was I stuck?
I figured what was needed was more effort. I wouldn’t become better just by wishing, right?
But working harder is not the answer.
As I browsed virtuoso videos, the algorithms directed me to a TEDx Talk, Become a Virtuoso by Mike Rayburn. I wasn’t planning to watch a Ted Talk, but of course I wanted to see if I could find out the secret not to becoming a good writer, but to becoming a writing virtuoso.
Mike Rayburn talked about how most of us coast, learning at a leisurely pace. We don’t actively seek out the most effective and efficient ways to develop our talent, so we hit a plateau and never discover what we’re truly capable of. It’s up to us to make the decision go beyond being competent to becoming the best.
Many of us pride ourselves on being self-taught. I always did. I thought I was making good progress, but what Mr. Rayburn says next was a bitter epiphany.
Here’s the problem about being self-taught: The teacher’s not that good.
Drop the mic right there. Would I presume to teach someone else how to become a virtuoso writer? What makes me think I’m qualified to teach myself how to become one?
The secret is, when you discover the stories of virtuosos, these geniuses didn’t do it alone. They had the best teachers and mentors to give them invaluable feedback and advice. This is what fast-tracked them to mastery, building a foundation on what’s already been done while cultivating the unique style that is each great artist’s signature.
It’s only after taking my first writing class that I’ve realized how much time I’ve wasted “teaching” myself. How would I know how to develop my strengths and work on my weaknesses when relying on feedback from everyday people who don’t even read in my genre? I’ve learned more in the past 2 months than in 7 years of struggling on my own.
My message to self-taught writers is this:
Invest in your dream. Seek out mentors. Budget for writing classes — online or in your local area. Find a tribe of knowledgeable writers in your genre.
You will be amazed at how quickly you improve, how confident you will feel, and how hopeful you’ll be about your future as a successful author.
Don’t waste another minute going it alone. You have no idea what a writing virtuoso you could be.
Let’s Get Published is community of writers, and we’d love to get a conversation going. That’s why we’ll be posting a Writers Share every now and then to keep a pulse on the writers working their wordly magic all over the world.
Today we want to know about what you’re working on right now.
Tell us about yourself and your work-in-progress by responding by email, leaving a comment, or posting on our Facebook page.
Tag or share with your writing friends so they can join too.
1. What have you written?
2. What are you working on right now?
3. What do you plan to do with your current work-in-progress?
4. Where are you feeling good about your path to becoming a successful writer?
5. What are you struggling with?
As for me, I’m in the middle of Richard Thomas’s Contemporary Dark Fiction Class. Since the beginning of September, I have finished 8 short pieces of fiction, two 3,500-word short stories, and 2 essays analyzing books we read for the class. I have crammed more short fiction writing in the last two months than I can believe.
Yes, my brain hurts, but I’ve realized that I can make things happen even when I’m pressed for time and feeling uninspired.
I also feel empowered. I used to wonder why my work is not getting accepted. Rejection letters rarely come with an in-depth report about what’s not working in a manuscript. It’s a writer’s job to know that themselves. This class is teaching me the secret language of good writing (there is a language under the language).
Of course, now I want to take down everything I’ve ever written and rewrite it.
My article about author platform mistakes was featured in The Writing Cooperative, a writing community and publication focused on helping each other write better.
I develop author platforms for a living and have worked with all kinds of writers — from paranormal romance, to literary fiction, to children’s picture books. No matter the genre, the same basic rule applies.
The goal is to be found by your readers, and your author platform must make it easy for fans to engage with and share your content.
The issues I’m going to share with you might seem obvious, but I come across them daily, even with established writers. The smallest holes in your author platform cost you big time. The worst part is, you won’t even realize the connections, opportunities, and sales you’re missing out on.
Go through this checklist and make sure your author platform is working for you…
