Anyone who has spent any time writing knows that the endeavor is a very solitary activity. When writing and submitting fiction to literary magazations, publishers or agents, there’s no immediate response. Often not even denial. Often there’s just the kind silence that hurts more than negativity.
This is going to be one of those self-help nonsense posts that sometimes pop up on here. I shouldn’t regret self-help. It’s really self-help for me, reminders and gentle nudges to change the way I look at each day. It’s important to consider each day a limited resource. There are …
I don’t believe in the 50,000 word total. I believe in struggling to find a measure of self-confidence however possible. To find a comfort level in your work that does not breed self-doubt. If that means you spew words as fast as possible without looking back, then by god, man, write like the wind. But if you’re like me, that word-spewing, that regurgitation of prose just doesn’t work anymore. It almost damages me. I write. I revise. I write. I’ve tried many different methods of composition and this is the one that works for me.
Lately I find myself looking over into that pit. And I’m becoming tired, tired of preventing myself from falling in.
A writer is told by pretty much everybody that a writer is only a writer if that writer writes. And if you read those so-called “craft” books, a writer can only be a writer if that writer writes at least two hours per day. More is encouraged. Less is, well, fine, if you want to [audibly scoff] write fan fiction. Pick up any copy of Poets & Writers or Writer’s Digest and you’ll find advice like this. It might be cloaked in encouraging exclamation points but, in the end, every piece of writerly encouragement boils down to this: Just sit down and write.