Showing posts with label dealing with discouragement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dealing with discouragement. Show all posts

Monday, February 03, 2025

What you need to do

You need to arrange your life

so that being able to write

is your first priority

(and being able to read

your second).


You need to set aside time

without feeling guilty

you're not earning

a living.


You need to let yourself

enjoy writing... and not 

disparage the process

because nothing comes

of the words you 

put on paper

today.


You need to sit

and think regardless

of what others think

you should be doing,

to daydream, to follow

wherever the path

leads you.


You need to stop trying

to control the process,

to open your heart

and look inside

without flinching

or turning away.


You need to let yourself

feel whatever emotion

you need to feel, to resist

doubt, fear, uncertainty,

to ignore the voice

in your head telling 

you that you have

nothing to say,

nothing of worth

to offer,

no reason to pick up

your pen

or that you're not

smart enough

or imaginative enough

or brave enough.


You need to savor

each day, each moment,

the pen moving across the page

the ink leaving marks behind,

evidence that you are here--

living, breathing,

alive.

 

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Are You A Writer?

Can you accept imperfection?

Can you accept that you'll need to revise again and again (and still again), that the word you're looking for may not appear until the twentieth or thirtieth draft? 

Can you accept that one day your writing will flow like wine and the next day the well may run dry and all you can do is sit at your desk and stare for hours at an empty screen?

Can you accept that one scene on a given day may work beautifully but adding another scene on the following day may make the previous scene unnecessary?

Can you accept that the purpose of your first draft is to lead you to your second draft and the purpose of the second draft is to lead you to your third, on and on until the story comes together?

Can you live for days or months or years with failure (which is what others will call your efforts if you don't publish your work) and accept that those---who see not publishing as failure---fail themselves to understand writing as an ongoing process?

Can you accept the unexpected mountains that you'll have to climb and the unanticipated twists and turns in the road and enjoy the journey for its own sake, not for where the road might take you but for the pure pleasure of being on the road?

Can you accept that you'll find others on the road who will try to discourage you from continuing on your journey (and yet you still keep writing)?

Can you hold fast to your own belief in yourself?

Can you steer through darkness by the solitary flame of hope that burns in your heart?

Can you find joy in writing with or without financial gain or reward or recognition?

Can you keep writing so that at the end of your journey, when you no longer have the strength to lift a pen but still feel the desire to write, you can say you gave your best?

Then, perhaps, you are a writer. 

Sunday, April 13, 2014

The True Source of Dreams

Lately, I’ve noticed how some writers are getting more and more discouraged because they aren’t able to place their manuscripts with their long-time publishers or agents.

After many years of writing and publishing, they are becoming pessimistic about the future of their work. Editors don’t respond to their submissions, agents no longer call or else tell them that their work isn't current, or doesn't meet a certain trend or taste, or simply won't sell. 

I’ve noticed how many writers perceive this as a kind of failure on their part.

Discouragement, it seems, breeds only more discouragement and discontent.

If you, as a writer, allow this discouragement to take root, it can creep into your work day after day and ultimately destroy your faith in it and in yourself.

What you may have forgotten—and what anyone who wants to keep writing needs to remember—is that publishing is nothing more than a mirage.

You can chase after the idea of publication the same way that you might chase after the mirage of water in the desert. In the end it’s not your thirst that will kill you but your loss of hope of ever finding water.

How do you keep writing if you’ve lost hope of publishing?

There’s only one answer: love writing without caring about publishing.

Publishing is nothing more than an illusion, a fantasy, a false image. It’s the kind of illusion that can kill your dreams if you keep thinking you’ll find water—real, nurturing, life-giving water—there.

You may think that you are writing for a particular editor or agent or a larger audience, but when you put your pen to paper each morning (or whenever you sit at your desk to write), there’s only one person who is listening at that moment: you.

Each time you set words down, you’re writing for an audience of one. You are your first and most important (and sometimes only) reader. You are the only guaranteed reader of your work.

To keep writing, you have to ask yourself only one question, and that question isn’t where can I publish my work? It’s this: what story do I want to hear?

If you love writing, love the feel of putting words on paper, love telling yourself stories, and love exploring the world through your words, then write the story that you want to hear.

Even better, write the story that you need to hear.

Let yourself take pleasure in the moments when you can let your imagination roam and follow your heart wherever it takes you.

Please, please, don’t let yourself worry or even think about publishing. If you’re worried about money or about making a living, you need to find a job to support your writing rather than expect your writing to support you.

If you want to write, then you need to keep writing.

Write for the love of writing. Write for the love of words, for the love of story. Write because it’s what you want to do, not because of some future reward or praise or success.

Write because in this moment, right now, writing brings you joy and the deep satisfaction of discovering something that you hadn’t known moments before.

Are you listening?

Write for the love of writing, not for publication, and watch how your feelings toward what you write and toward the process of writing change.

Only once you give up your dreams of publication will your writing be able to sustain you with real nourishment from the true source of dreams.

For more on writing for the love of writing, visit: