Last week my daughter struggled with some new math problems. In trying to help her, I pulled out the math manipulatives, talked through a couple of strategies, and worked through some of the problems with her. For some reason, she didn't want to use any of them. She was frustrated but refused to take any of the simple advice I'd given. The homework session drew out three times as long as it needed to. When I ran out of ideas she got mad at me for not solving her problem. That's when I pointed out that she'd created the problem by not accepting the simple strategies and that she could have finished her homework quickly if she had. In the end, she got over her stubbornness and found taking the simple route worked best.
I couldn't help but think, from this situation, of times I'd been stubborn in regards to some simple point of writing, querying, or publishing. I also knew other writers who behaved exactly as my daughter did, by asking a question and then belligerently refusing to accept the answer. We all get that way sometimes. We don't want to switch the way we're climbing the mountain for another path, even if it's easier. We fixate on stupid, little things. We don't want to start over, rewrite, or change a bad habit.
Writing and publishing isn't a stagnate process, it requires growth and change. It's the journey that counts, right? We will encounter new ways of doing things since industry standards alter all the time. Digging in our heels and griping at other people won't solve anything. Blaming someone else for our petty vices only spouts hot air. For example: So we grew up with typing two spaces between sentences and now everyone's saying use only one. It takes less time to train yourself to the new model than it does to write a tirade about it.
A few years ago a beta reader pointed out a problem in one of my manuscripts. Critiques often sting but this particular piece of advice rankled for some reason. I thought he was daft in not recognizing and understanding all my carefully crafted clues (I know, unreasonable idiotic moment on my part.) I shrugged his comment off and continued with my revisions. The story later went through a couple of other beta readers, who pointed out other problems. In fixing those I found I needed to do a major reconstruct on the entire story and by so doing, realized that first beta reader's bothersome comment was actually brilliant. He had shown me the door to a major reconstruct I didn't know I needed until later. I wish now I had taken the time to really think about his comment before. I could have saved myself substantial time and trouble.
Despite all the advice to develop a tough skin and be professional, we writers are usually the opposite. We pout, take tantrums, cry, mock, brag, debate, laugh, and do crazy things. (The smart ones keep these reactions private.) Our first instinct is to pull up our defenses and charge at a supposed threat. We prance up on a huge black horse, armor spiky and shiny, countenance fierce, and in our loudest and scariest voice challenge the rock in our path. We can yell, stab, stomp, and threaten all we want, that rock isn't going away or changing shape.
When something hits us hard, step away from it. Calm down. Sleep on it. Take time to think about it from every angle. Instead of assuming someone’s out to get you, consider the possibility that they want to help you or that a particular method might work better. It may take hours or years to accept it. I’m not saying that all advice is right or that you need to do whatever anyone tells you to do. Don’t blow on your battle horn and try to mass raging hordes to your cause. Fickle creatures, those raging hordes. They’re more likely to raise an eyebrow and ask “What’s the big deal?” when you issue the call. Why? Because you’re declaring war on all uses of the word “was” OR Sans Serif vs. Times New Roman OR “I need twelve pages of backstory in the beginning of the manuscript so the reader understands where my heroine is coming from.” Petty vices.
What insignificant things have you gotten hung up on in the past or might be struggling with right now?
I couldn't help but think, from this situation, of times I'd been stubborn in regards to some simple point of writing, querying, or publishing. I also knew other writers who behaved exactly as my daughter did, by asking a question and then belligerently refusing to accept the answer. We all get that way sometimes. We don't want to switch the way we're climbing the mountain for another path, even if it's easier. We fixate on stupid, little things. We don't want to start over, rewrite, or change a bad habit.
Writing and publishing isn't a stagnate process, it requires growth and change. It's the journey that counts, right? We will encounter new ways of doing things since industry standards alter all the time. Digging in our heels and griping at other people won't solve anything. Blaming someone else for our petty vices only spouts hot air. For example: So we grew up with typing two spaces between sentences and now everyone's saying use only one. It takes less time to train yourself to the new model than it does to write a tirade about it.
A few years ago a beta reader pointed out a problem in one of my manuscripts. Critiques often sting but this particular piece of advice rankled for some reason. I thought he was daft in not recognizing and understanding all my carefully crafted clues (I know, unreasonable idiotic moment on my part.) I shrugged his comment off and continued with my revisions. The story later went through a couple of other beta readers, who pointed out other problems. In fixing those I found I needed to do a major reconstruct on the entire story and by so doing, realized that first beta reader's bothersome comment was actually brilliant. He had shown me the door to a major reconstruct I didn't know I needed until later. I wish now I had taken the time to really think about his comment before. I could have saved myself substantial time and trouble.
Despite all the advice to develop a tough skin and be professional, we writers are usually the opposite. We pout, take tantrums, cry, mock, brag, debate, laugh, and do crazy things. (The smart ones keep these reactions private.) Our first instinct is to pull up our defenses and charge at a supposed threat. We prance up on a huge black horse, armor spiky and shiny, countenance fierce, and in our loudest and scariest voice challenge the rock in our path. We can yell, stab, stomp, and threaten all we want, that rock isn't going away or changing shape.
When something hits us hard, step away from it. Calm down. Sleep on it. Take time to think about it from every angle. Instead of assuming someone’s out to get you, consider the possibility that they want to help you or that a particular method might work better. It may take hours or years to accept it. I’m not saying that all advice is right or that you need to do whatever anyone tells you to do. Don’t blow on your battle horn and try to mass raging hordes to your cause. Fickle creatures, those raging hordes. They’re more likely to raise an eyebrow and ask “What’s the big deal?” when you issue the call. Why? Because you’re declaring war on all uses of the word “was” OR Sans Serif vs. Times New Roman OR “I need twelve pages of backstory in the beginning of the manuscript so the reader understands where my heroine is coming from.” Petty vices.
What insignificant things have you gotten hung up on in the past or might be struggling with right now?
