Write Your Own A+ Story

My daughter’s professor explained that the expectation for a “A” essay was to enlighten her with an analysis she hadn’t seen before. At first glance, it seems like a sound criteria for a high-level university essay. Except it’s not. It makes the criteria relative. A student’s mark is dependent on whether the prof has or hasn’t seen that analysis before, not how good the analysis is. A prof who has been teaching for 30 years and has “seen it all” will no doubt marker harder than a prof who has just begun. 

It’s an easy “mistake” to make when we judge writing (in this case, academic essays). If we’re surprised by the unexpected, we often think it’s good. But it’s also limiting. A writer can still write well if they craft a conventional story with conventional characters. 

Which is why, if you’re not getting traction in the publishing world for your story, it may have nothing to do with quality. It may have everything to do with the publishing industry (agents, editors, publishers) who have “seen it all”—so they’re looking for what they haven’t seen, not necessarily what readers have or haven’t seen. 

This possibility is heartening to me. I can’t possibly write the best story for everybody, but I can write the best story for the one reader I most want to please: myself. I’ll aim for my own A+.

Writing is Real Life

When I joined a community book club, I didn’t know any other members, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know them. It turns out one young woman had attended the same high school I’d taught at for nearly two decades. We dug deeper; she’d never been in my class, but her brother had. That’s when I exclaimed, “I remember your mom!” 

Of the thousands of students and parents I’d met over the years, how was it possible I could pick out one person? Because her mom had been so warm and open; she’d told me all about her daughter’s interest in horseback riding and when I said my own two (at the time) young daughters were interested, she invited us to visit the stables where her daughter rode. We took her up on that offer—and that got my kids into riding lesson. (For which my new book club friend apologized, given the cost!) This was not typical of a parent-teacher relationship, yet it was so generous on the part of their mom. 

It’s easy for writers to craft serendipitous moments when two characters reunite or find a distant connection. It’s even easier for readers to dismiss these moments as being “too convenient” or “too coincidental”. The writer has to ensure these moments are neither; there has to be clear cause-and-effect so the reader does buy that this scene could happen—but then my reunion with this former student reminded me how possible these moments actually are. As a writer, lean into them. 

Writing Is Its Own Beauty

We had a big snowstorm here recently, and as I was (inside, snuggly and cozy) staring out my back window, I noticed a tree had fallen and been caught horizontally among neighbouring trees. With the snow cover and sunlight, it was a beautiful sight.

That’s when it struck me that I own that tree. It’s on our property, part of a small forest, yet it seemed strange to think that yes, I “own” that tree. And perhaps legally, that’s true, but that tree was here long before me and, unless I take an axe to it, its fallen trunk will be here long after me. 

It reminded me of a phrase from the English poet John Keats. “How beautiful are the retired flowers? How they would lose their beauty were they to throng into the highway crying out ‘admire me, I am a violet! Dote upon me, I am a primrose!’” Keats’s argues that the flower is beautiful because it just is. Just as “my” tree is beautiful because it is. Not because I “own” it, or even because I’m taking the time to admire it. 

Our writing is the same way. Of course we want our writing to say read me! We want editors and readers to dote upon us, but our writing—like Keats’s flowers or my tree—has beauty in and of its own accord. Our writing isn’t about its reception, but its own inherent beauty. 

Your Identity As a Writer

The identity of “writer” isn’t conditional. It’s not an action. It’s a state of mind. It’s being a writer, not just doing writing. Can you be a writer and never set words to paper? Yes. Are you an imposter? No. If you have stories swirling in your head, but don’t have time to jot them down, how does that disqualify you? You may not be able to claim “writer” as a profession (then again, how many authors, published or not, can??) But you can claim it as part of who you are and how you see yourself. 

I was reminded of this when I told a new friend that I’m a swimmer, not a runner. Only, I actually spend more time running now than I do swimming. My time at the gym lends itself better to hopping on the treadmill than hopping into the pool. Yet, my heart, if not my body, will always leap first into the pool. So even though I’m pounding the pavement more than I’m gliding through water, I feel like a swimmer. 

That’s all you need. How you feel. So own that identity. No one can tell you otherwise. If you want evidence to prove to others, well, then, fine, get your ass in chair and write the next great Canadian/American novel. But if you don’t have time in your life right now, or you don’t have a book published, that’s okay. Call yourself a writer because you are a writer.

The Aura of a Writer

At university, my daughter was stopped by a friendly, random stranger to ask if she was an athlete. Surprised, my daughter wasn’t sure how to respond. She loves sports and used to play, but isn’t right now so she can focus on her studies. Her first reaction (besides what made you think that?) was hesitation. Normally, she identifies as an athlete, but she felt she couldn’t lay claim to the title because she wasn’t participating in sports at the moment. 

Eventually, she stuttered a “yes, but…” They chatted for a few minutes, then went their separate ways. 

Sports have always been an interest of hers; that doesn’t change just because her circumstances change. The same with writing. We want to identify as writers, but “I don’t write”. And you may not write because of your current circumstances. Or you may think you have no claim to the identity because you don’t have a book published. But the friendly, random stranger did not ask if my daughter was on any award-winning, sports team. They just saw an aura they connected with “athlete” and made a leap. 

Which is why you are as much entitled to the identity of “writer” as any NYT bestseller, award winner or even published author, no matter your experience. No matter if you’re even writing at the moment. If you write/have written/want to make time to write in the future, then you get to decide. Yes, I am a Writer.

Labels Can Be Important

How excited was I when I found out there was a name for me! A label! I “suffer” from tsundoku, a Japanese term for the phenomenon of acquiring reading material but letting them pile up in one’s home without reading them. 

That’s me! I have large to-read piles, and multiples of them, too. I love going to bookstores and stocking up, but always it’s accompanied with guilt. When will I ever get to these gems? How will I ever get to them all? And here comes a term that basically lets me off the hook. I don’t have to! I can collect! I can enjoy the look and feel, the atmosphere and mood that my piles of unread books give me. The pleasure and anticipation of potential. The plethora of choice when I do have a chance to pick one up. 

My daughter collects replica swords. She has a beautiful array of weaponry on her wall. Yet she isn’t using them (thank god!) My books are the same. I’ll read what I can when I can, but if not, that’s okay. They still bring me joy. 

Tsundoku. That’s me.

How You Think

You may have heard the phrase “how you live each day is how you live your life”. I like the practicality of that—what is life if not a collection of days, weeks, months and years?—but I also chafed at what I originally felt was some sort of judgment. If I wanted to be a writer, but I didn’t have time to write (thanks, day job, kids, husband, family responsibilities, domestic chores and more), if I wasn’t writing every day, then was I not living the life I wanted to have? As a writer? 

Now my day job is all about writing—my own and coaching others. So now I can buy into that phrase? But just because I had made changes in my own career didn’t mean that was possible for everyone, so were they not integrating writing into their lives if they didn’t write every day? I had trouble reconciling the statement. 

Until I realized it’s not what you do, specifically, on a daily basis, but how you think. If you think like a writer—you have story ideas buzzing around your head, you’re interested to pick up the next book off your to-read pile, you can’t wait to join your next book club discussion, you decide on a new direction for your plot—then it is part of your everyday life. 

Even if you can’t write for an hour, or even five minutes, you’re still living the life of a writer. 

Inspiration from Arcane

In the gorgeously animated series Arcane, based off League of Legend video game characters, is a quote by one of the protagonists: “There is no prize for perfection. Only an end to pursuit.” 

The character may have been talking about something as minor as altering the minds of every human, but despite the frivolous throw-away line 🙂 the sentiment aptly applies to our writing life. 

We often strive for perfection—as represented by the manuscript that lands an agent or a publisher or hits the bestseller lists, not to mention the awards and accolades it could earn. While we know, cognitively, that none of those criteria prove perfection (ever read a bestseller you loathe?? Wonder why that book won a prestigious award??) we often feel like we’re not making it like those other authors because we don’t (yet) have the perfect manuscript. If only we did… and so we keep striving. 

Yet if there were objective perfection in a novel (an idea as fantastical as, well, the world of Arcane), it would be a loss for us all. It’s the pursuit of our own talents, our own capabilities, our own limits, that drive us to write better—and, not surprisingly, to produce better books. It’s not perfection that makes us better. It’s the pursuit of being the best writer we can be. They are vastly different notions, and for that I’m grateful. It takes the perfectionist pressure off, don’t you think? 

Reading Assumptions

Are you a one-book-at-a-time reader? Or do you have multiple stories on the go? For most of my life, I’ve been a strict one-book-at-time reader. I always feared I’d forget too much of the story if a book sat half-read for too long. Of course, if my interest waned in a book and I hadn’t yet pulled the plug on it, then my reading habits waned. I would be stuck in reading purgatory: I wasn’t yet ready to give up on a book, yet not able to pick up a new one.

Then I got into ebooks. Print is and will always be my favourite. I could heat our house for a whole winter, should I ever have to burn my book collection for fuel. (Of course I’d freeze to death first!) But suddenly, with reading apps on my phone, I could squeeze in a few extra minutes of reading when I was out and about. But I wasn’t about to pay for a digital copy of my print books, so I started to buy different ebooks. And now I’m a book juggling fiend! 

It’s taught me a lot about assumptions—about myself. I was adamantly opposed to reading on a screen. I would scoff at the idea of reading more than one book. Yet, when I let go of ingrained notions of “who I was”, I benefited. 

Consider doing the same thing. Question your own assumptions about who you are as a reader and a writer. It’s what we expect of our characters; you deserve no less. 

Read What You Like–And Maybe What You Don’t

I live by the principle that you should only read what you want to read (students excluded!) and if you’re not interested in the book you picked up, then put it down. 

Only, I’ve come to realize, I risk limiting myself. A genre I think I won’t like actually ends up teaching me something. An author’s vastly different writing style that seems off-putting ends up showing me new insights. An ending of a book I might otherwise have put down resonates with me long after I finish. 

A crisis of faith, then: do I discard my long-held reading principle? Do I slog through books that aren’t to my (assumed) taste just to learn something? 

As a writer, I’ve come to learn that the answer is YES. Yes, to getting out of your reading comfort zone. Yes to attempting a book that might not initially appeal to you. Yes to reading a style that might grate. Because yes, you learn from each and every one of these reading experiences. If only to hone your own style. If only to see what you don’t like. If only to show you what not to do. 

The trick, of course, is moderation. Reading can’t be a slog all the time! Pack your to-read pile will all your favourites! Just slip in a few unknowns, too. 

Take a risk as a reader to learn what it takes to be a writer.