Black Holes and Other Mysteries

My daughter is interested in physics—something about which I know less than nothing—so when she tried to explain her understanding of black holes, I was stumped. 

“You know, sweetie, you got 98 percent on your first high school physics test. I got eight percent on mine.” (If you want to talk about how to own your failures, I excel at it when it comes to science!) 

But I wanted to listen nonetheless. “Explain it again,” I said, and she did. “Nope, still don’t get it.”

She paused. “Okay, imagine two astronauts…” And off she launched into a story to demonstrate the gravitational pull of a black hole and its warping effects. I didn’t grasp all the nuances of what she was explaining, but I got it—because she’d turned the lesson into a story. 

When she played a clip of what a black hole sounds like—NASA shares a lot—I was hooked. “I get it now,” I said. I had reference points from what I already knew, plus the narrative elements like sensory detail. 

We often learn through story. That’s why stories are so incredibly powerful. We need them. We need yours. 

I did have to have the last word, however. “So if we give Astronaut #1 a tragic backstory…” 🙂

What’s In OUR Control

It’s obvious that “bestseller” and “best author” are not the same thing—though, of course they could be. Sales aren’t solely the result of quality writing; a big name, established reputation, or industry insiders rooting for you can change the game no matter what you write.

That doesn’t mean we give up on our “bestseller” dreams, but it does mean we remind ourselves that SO much of writing is out of our control. This, too, is not new, but still, we think we’re not good enough if the magic doesn’t happen to us. 

So we have to keep reminding ourselves of the facts: our writing is not the only factor in our (conventional) success. If neuroplasticity, where the brain can create new pathways to rewire itself is based on repetition of the action or thought it is meant to override, then repetition of that fact is key to our own writing sanity.  

Please, repeat after me: Our writing is not the only factor in our (conventional) success. 

Again: Our writing is not the only factor in our (conventional) success. 

One more time: Our writing is not the only factor in our (conventional) success. 

Nope. Make that another time: Our writing is not the only factor in our (conventional) success. 

And another: Our writing is not the only factor in our (conventional) success. 

Keep going: Our writing is not the only factor in our (conventional) success. 

Our. Writing. Is. NOT. The. Only. Factor. In. Our. (Conventional). Success. 

Repeat it until you believe it. 🙂

The Villain in Our Own Heads

My author friend Katie Keridan wrote these words:

“You allow me to be the villain I wish I was while acting like the virtuous heroine I begrudgingly pretend to be.”

So a) this is why Katie rocks—isn’t that brilliantly written? And b) Katie’s sentiment kinda covers the life of a writer–especially comparing ourselves to other writers–doesn’t it? 

We don’t want to envy other authors their success. We want to be supportive and cheerful, but wow, it’s hard sometimes. So I suggest we admit those emotions; allow ourselves to feel mad, upset, hurt, jealous, or whatever, but then the second part of Katie’s phrase reminds us of why we don’t act on those emotions. We know it’s not fair, and we’re not going to be that person. But that doesn’t make it easy, does it? Especially if we’re all vying for that same brass ring. 

Yet we’re human. We feel and sometimes those feelings feel petty or cruel. That’s because we’re not the good guy all the time. We’re not always the bad guy, either, and that’s what makes us amazing writers. We get the emotional complexity of our characters. That’s what brings them to life. 

Because, well, we live their anguish with them. 

So be the villain in your own head. Rail against the authors whose success you covet. Then turn your feelings into a story. It’s one I would want to read. 🙂

A Cheerleader Reader!

I’ve coined a new term: Cheerleader Reader. It’s someone who reads your work and doesn’t criticize it. They are under STRICT instructions to say nothing but good things about it. And if they don’t like something? They have to keep their mouths shut. 🙂

I stumbled on this concept decades ago in my own life, when I turned to my husband, a non-fiction reader, for support. He balked, reminding me he knew nothing about how to write fiction. I insisted; he relented and offered me feedback that threw me into a spiral. How could he not like my secondary character?? The inevitable fight ensued, hurt feelings on both sides, until I realized our marriage was MUCH better off if he didn’t critique my work. 🙂 But I still wanted to share it with him, so I set out parameters that would become the rules for a Cheerleader Reader: say only positive things. 

It started as a bit of a joke, a “rule” only for my husband so we could avoid fights, but I came to appreciate the value of it for every writer. We should all seek out a Cheerleader Reader. Someone fully, one hundred percent on our side emotionally. You might have the most terrible plot, or the most horrendous climax, but your Cheerleader Reader will tell you how amazing your secondary characters are. 

We all need professional critiques, absolutely, but couldn’t we also do with a pair of eyes that may only ever be rose-tinted in our favour? 

The Positive in Every Book

In my weekly newsletter, I include my take on a book from my “to-read” pile. Some readers have commented on my always-positive mini-reviews. 

“Don’t you ever not like a book?” one of them asked. 

Absolutely. In fact, there are a lot of books I don’t like, many I don’t finish (because I learned early on life it too short to read books you don’t enjoy!). And, some of the books I highlight aren’t always my favourite, either. But I’m never lying because there’s always something to like about every book I’ve encountered. Even the ones I don’t finish. My purpose isn’t to critique; my purpose is to simply share. And, having written many books myself, I know how much blood, sweat and tears go into the process. So why not share the good that I’ve discovered in every book? If it encourages you to pick it up and see for yourself, great. If it doesn’t, that’s okay, too. So why, if I have only a few lines, would I prejudice you against a book before giving you a chance to read it yourself? My purpose is less about “recommending” and more about helping readers become aware of books that are out there. Some are big name bestsellers that everyone and their dog would know about. Others, maybe not so much. 

It’s not hard for me to find something good in any book. That’s what I want to share with you: the opportunity to make up your own mind. 🙂

The Definition of a “Creative”

I’ve been hearing the term “Creative” bandied about a lot as a noun. As in, “she’s a creative.” Or, “This is the way creatives think.” 

I love the idea that there’s recognition that what we do as writers—create stories with words—has enough value to earn its own collective noun. I also love that the term is all-encompassing. A musician, a visual artist—even a software designer—can all be a creative.

Yet it worries me. The term itself is not new, but like all language, it evolves, and I fear the evolution of “creatives” as a noun sets up new writers with the wrong idea. It sounds like there’s one way to be a “creative” or that you have to have certain characteristics or a lifestyle to be a “creative”. Working the gig economy to fund one’s creative works, or becoming a digital nomad, for example, like the 21^st century of “penniless author in the attic”. 

But the world of “creatives” is as wide and vast as the individuals who identify as such. If there are conventions necessary to belong to a community, they are minimal: one must create. 

So if you are a suburban soccer mom with a mini-van, 2.5 kids and a civil-servant day job that may scream anything butcreative, yet you choose to write when you can? You are a creative. 

Labels can be important to feel like we belong. Just be careful you don’t exclude yourself from where you do belong. 

Role Models for Understanding

I read an interview with a famous literary writer who explained she was reading a famous literary classic on a recent flight. Her seatmate, on the other hand, was playing a video game on her phone. The tone of the quote was condescending.

Now, to be fair, I’m reading the author’s words through the interpretation of a journalist. Still I was bothered at the perceived judgment. Was the author implying that the woman with the phone was not educated or cultured? But what if the woman was a literature professor who read classics every day and wanted a break? Or what if the woman had an invisible learning disability that made reading difficult? Or the woman (gasp!) simply didn’t like to read?

As an individual, I try hard not to judge. But as an author, I think it’s expected of us not to judge. We’re the people who get into the minds of others. We figure out what’s going on behind a smile or a frown—or a game of Candy Crush. We’re inside their heads and in their emotions, and that should remind us not to make assumptions about others in the real world. 

I hope I did misread the tone of the author’s quote. But even if I didn’t, it spurs me to be an even better role model as an author. We want the world to know we understand the people in our stories; I’ll make sure the world knows I’m trying to understand the people in it, too.   

There IS No Pattern to Writing Success

You’ve read about the “successful” author, right? The one whose debut novel gets snapped up immediately with a six-figure advance? But you’ve also heard the wonder stories of the author whose 10^th book finally hits it big. Or the story of the author who wrote 20 manuscripts before finally publishing their first. Or the story of the author who has written one novel and gotten picked up by the first agent they queried. Or the one who got picked up after 100 rejections. 200. 300. 

In other words, you’ve no doubt heard every permutation possible about the writing life.

Which means there is no pattern to becoming a bestseller, or getting published, or landing an agent. It’s understandable that you may feel despair if your path isn’t the same as an author you admire, but it’s also an illusion. You find me a writer, and I’ll find you a unique story. Yes, there can be similarities in our journeys (ahem, rejection) but for every “success” story one way, I can find you a success story another way. I can also find you a “failure” story one way and yet another a different way. 

We want there to be a pattern; we don’t even care if it’s easy! But there isn’t (otherwise, everyone who followed said path would garner the same success), so instead, take heart to know that whatever your writing journey is, you’re not alone.

Stay Away From Shoulds

There are a lot of shoulds in the writing world. You should write a certain way. You should pitch a certain way. You should publish a certain way. Only, “a certain way” is never just one way. One cursory glance online and you can see a million different “right ways”. Every one of those authors, coaches, publishers, agents, editors—even readers—has their own version of “the right way”. What, as someone trying to navigate these stormy seas, should you do?

Chart your own course. It’s a cliché, but the longer I’m in the writing business, the more I see its value. Yes, it’s good to learn what others are doing—I’d argue it’s essential to learn what others are doing. But that’s not the same as deciding that what others are doing is your own step-by-step guide. There are simply too many “right ways” to succeed (or fail, for that matter). There’s no replicating another writer’s success. In fact, there aren’t even “best practices”. That would infer there are better ways than others to accomplish something. 

But that ambiguity may feel like you’re still drowning in these rough waters. So start with something you do know, or something you are interested in learning about. Start with your craft. Start with what you love—writing. Focus on building the best story you can write. That may look different from other people’s practices—or it may look the same. Regardless, it’s about finding out what works for you. 

Sometimes clichés make for the best advice. 

What to Read or What Not To Read?

My dilemma: read new books? Or re-read old favourites? 

I have a limited time to read (sadly…). What is the best use of it? To return to something I love? To take the risk of finding a new love? 

There’s value in both. It’s always exciting to discover a new author or new story you didn’t know you’d love. But the tried-and-true books can also offer you new perspectives. You always read it differently. Your stage in life, what’s happening to you now, all can shape your beloved story into a new experience. 

But what if you’re missing out on the next-best read? What if you turn away a potential melt-your-heart story? Given how many books are published each year, and given how many older books you also may not have read, wouldn’t it be better to read widely? 

Here’s the only way I’ve been able to solve my dilemma: I read what I feel like reading. Not because I have to—I’m not a student in school with a compulsory reading list—but because reading is joy. That’s what I’m striving for. What do I think will bring me joy in that moment? An old stand-by? A story and characters I already know and love? Or the thrill of finding my next new favourite (that I will then push to the re-read pile)? It’s my only criteria. 

Consider that the next time you face the same dilemma as me. What books bring you joy?