Writing is Like Life

My grocery store is undergoing renovations. It’s frustrating! Every week, products are scattered in different places. If I were an optimist, I’d feel like I was on an exciting new treasure hunt, but dammit, I have no time for that!

So one week, when I was fuming in my search for ricotta cheese, I was about to stalk out of the store. But an employee walked by, so I asked if he could help. He laughed. “Yeah, we’re looking for it, too.” Turns out another customer had asked this very same employee and they were on the hunt. The customer and I laughed at our serendipitous timing; what were the odds that both of us were looking for ricotta cheese at the exact moment? And then a third customer stopped the employee. Asking for ricotta cheese. Now there were three of us!

The ricotta, it turned out, had not yet been put out, but the employee searched the back and emerged victorious. The three of us went away happy. 

The incident itself has zero to do with writing and everything to do with attitude. I’d been miserable and sulking; I didn’t have time for change. But a light-hearted chance encounter over ricotta cheese, of all things, reminded me I could still smile. 

When writing life feels like my slog through the grocery store, remind yourself there are ricotta cheese moments. Moments that may seem trivial, but that can remind you there’s still fun in your quest. Writing is, after all, like life. 

Why We Don’t Walk Away

Do you ever just want to give up on your writing? Throw in the towel? Walk away? 

Yeah, me too. 

A lot. 

Welcome to the writing world!

I’m not sure why we put ourselves through the ringer like we do—okay, I do know, and it’s most likely because those damn characters in your head won’t shut up. But still, they don’t make it easy, do they? Some of those characters may waltz out of our head and onto the page fully formed, but not all of them. Some of them know their story and the structure is clear, but not all of them. Some of them may have a clear, distinct voice and know how and what they want to say, but not all of them.

No wonder we want to fold. 

But then, I bet you’ve met some pretty challenging (real) people in your day. I bet you’ve had difficult fights with even your most cherished loved ones, too. Conflict is a part of life—that’s why conflict is a part of stories—so why would we think any different about the writing process? 

We don’t walk away from our loved ones (no matter how crazy they seem to make us!) so we won’t walk away from our characters. 

That’s why we keep going. We pick up the hand that we’ve been dealt, and we keep playing. 

YOUR Way

Many, many moons ago, I met a YA author who also happen to be a teacher in my school board. I was enthralled with her success, and, I admit, vehemently jealous. How had she managed to find time to teach and write, when I struggled with that very balance? 

I asked her. Her answer: “I make time.” 

I appreciated it was her truth, but it didn’t help me in the least. I had two young children at the time, a husband who travelled constantly and aging parents to care for, not to mention the crushing load of a full-time English teacher. How the hell was I supposed to follow her advice? 

Only, I realized, she hadn’t given me advice. I’d asked what worked for her, a young woman who happened to be single. She made time for writing in the way that suited her life the best. 

I couldn’t follow her path. I found my own. I waited until my kids got older. I got babysitters specifically for my writing time. I took an unpaid leave of absence for one semester to concentrate on writing full time. That was my way forward. 

So if you struggle with finding time to write, be careful not to compare your success or struggles with others. Their life isn’t yours. Your life isn’t theirs. 

Life can get in the way of writing, true, but remember, it’s your life. Try to enjoy it, whether you’re writing or not. 🙂

Someone Who Writes

Are we writers if we don’t have readers? It takes both to create a memorable story, so if we haven’t yet gotten our work published—or we don’t even want to publish it, not in the mainstream market anyway—are we still writers? 

Yes. A resounding, unequivocal, absolute YES. 

Many, many, many writers I know doubt this. Imposter syndrome rears its ugly head. How can I call myself a writer if I’m not published? 

Because you write. 

Full stop. 

You may choose to write for yourself, or for your family or for your friends. You may choose to write for a bigger audience and you may struggle or succeed in getting your book out there, but none of that matters to who you are. A writer. If you write, you’re a writer. 

Full stop. 

My first published manuscript, Evangeline’s Heaven, was, in fact, the fourth novel I wrote. The third novel I wrote, Amaranth (coming May 2024) will be my second published manuscript, which means, I published “out of order”, if you will. If I went by the theory that I wasn’t a writer until I was published, that meant I wasn’t a writer when I wrote Amaranth. Yet, it’s of a high enough quality even before my first published novel that it was accepted by a publisher, so that argument falls flat. 

It’s easy to get sucked into the rhetoric that you’re only a writer if you’re published. It’s more rewarding to resist it. 

No Formula

You know the expression “know the rules before you break the rules”? Yeah, well, in writing there are no rules. There are best practices and methods to follow. There are suggestions to get better and ways to improve, but there are no rules. 

Which is, of course, a double-edged sword. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a simple (or even complex!) formula? Plug in the variables and you’re good to go. But not even a plot outline structure or even AI software can actually give you that. You could use them as a starting point, but to write a good, solid book about which you can be proud? That takes imagination, creativity and a whole lot of je-ne-said-quoi.

Which is actually the good news! You don’t have to stick to the “right” way to write because there is no right way. There are ways that work for some writers and ways that don’t. There are ways that will work for you, and ways that won’t. Part of the challenge—and exhilaration—of writing is figuring out what does work for you. By all means, hire a book coach (I know a good one 🙂 ) or take online courses, or work with critique partners. You can get guidance, but what writing comes down to, what writing always comes down to, is you and your story. Your way. 

Sharing Ourselves

There’s a line in my YA fantasy, Evangeline’s Heaven, when Michael, Evangeline’s enemy-love interest expresses his admiration for her. My kids chuckled “Didn’t Dad tell you that when you started dating?” No one else would catch that detail, though, so I was “safe”. 

But did that matter if people knew or not? 

Which got me thinking, how personal is too personal in our writing? If you’re working on a memoir, it seems obvious, but just because you want people to know your story, doesn’t mean you have to give them everything. Same with fiction. We often use our own experiences or the people around us (disguised or not), but how much is too much? 

Answer: the amount you’re comfortable with. Writing does make us vulnerable. It’s about being brave. But there’s a balance between what you want to share and what you want to keep to yourself. I fear that much of the rhetoric is “bleeding yourself onto the page”—putting it all out there—but that’s not necessary. You can still have a strong, cohesive story, even a memoir, if you limit how much of yourself you expose. Instead, it’s about being true, honest and open with what you do choose to share. Michael’s line will go unnoticed by almost everyone. That’s the way I want it. 

So yes, “write what you know”, but ultimately, it’s your story, so in fact, we should alter the expression: “write what you want to share.” 

Old Habits Die Hard

I’ve learned a lot over the many years I’ve been writing, both self-taught lessons (often the hard way!) as well as from professionals. I have a much better idea of what works and what doesn’t. But absolutely there are (a lot of) times where I feel stalled, flummoxed, despairing and hopeless, no matter how many manuscripts I’ve written. 

Yet I’ve also found a counter-intuitive way to get past some of that writer’s block. I actually revert to old habits—some that had never worked for me before.

Example: “pantsing”, the art of writing whatever comes to mind without a plan of action. No outline, no brainstorming, just writing (and hoping!) that the story will come together on the page. It works for some writers; it hasn’t worked for me in the past. BUT! I found when I’m stuck, I go back to it, and, like a form of freewriting, I let myself go. When I surface, I feel better about words on the page, even if I know they’ll be changed. And that’s the difference from before—I appreciate how and why I may be missing story elements and can then go back and fix it. In the meantime, though, forging ahead without a plan has freed me from my paralyzing doom. 

That may not be your old habit, but if you’re stuck, trying something you’d otherwise moved on from. A little nostalgia may be all you need to re-spark your confidence. 🙂

Writing Hope

What do you do when you’ve tried everything you can? You’ve tried to carve out enough time to write, but it’s not working. You’ve tried to rewrite your outline dozens of times, but it’s not working. You’ve tried to finish your first draft, but it’s not working. 

How in heaven’s name do you make it work? 

I wish I had the answers. I’d be bottling it up and making myself into a gazillionaire. But since there isn’t one simple answer, all I can do is remind you you’re not alone. We’ve all been there; we all feel that. There’s always one step (or more) of the writing process that will drag us to our knees and crush our spirit. 

But we’re also here. As in, we’ve survived—or are surviving—those moments, which means you can, too. When you have hope, even a glint of it, that you’ll finally, someday, somehow be able to get yourself unstuck, it’s much easier to persevere. That’s what you have to hold onto. Faith in yourself that you’ll find a way. Trust in yourself that you’ll figure it out. Your answers to your version of writer’s block may come after a pause, hiatus or sabbatical from writing, or it may come from discovering a different perspective or process. It may come with only one minute of writing a day or one hour. But if you take a deep breath, and search out that spark of hope, you’ll move forward. One precious, hope-filled word at a time.

Writing and Confidence

Sometimes it’s not just life that gets in the way of our writing. Sometimes it’s us. I’m not just talking about the Inner Critic (who, you may remember, I try to call the Outer Critic as a reminder to speak to myself in a way I’d speak to others). I’m also talking about our actual, objective assessment of our writing abilities. The ones where we look over our work and say, yes, it needs work. It’s important we cultivate that skill—separating our Critic from our actual abilities—because we won’t improve as writers unless we recognize where and how we need to improve as writers. 

But even if we can finally assuage our Critic, and look closely at our own work, we can still easily fall into despair. We think we’re terrible writers because, well, we’re still comparing our work to other books. And even when we remind ourselves that we’re not reading their first draft, it can sometimes feel that our final version will never measure up. 

There’s only one answer to that: practice. Study the writing of those you admire, learn what you can from their works, then learn how to apply those lessons to your own writing. It’s not about imitation—many artists can copy the Mona Lisa—but about absorbing what you can from the authors you love. 

Which mean, reading is also on your to-do list of writing tasks. Isn’t it nice when your interests align? 🙂

Rainbow Connection

I once saw a gorgeous recipe for a rainbow cake. It was six layers and yes, each layer was one colour in the rainbow. Obviously, the picture in the magazine made it look perfect, but still, I wanted to try my hand at it. I wanted to make that perfect rainbow-layered cake. 

While I was mixing my ingredients, with flour all over the counter, food colouring staining my hands and eggshells fallen to the ground, I despaired. Who did I think I was to create this beautiful cake? I’m no expert baker; my effort looked nothing like the picture. 

Until it did. 

I had despaired in the middle of the process, when it wasn’t time to despair. Even the professional who’d baked that cake for the magazine would have had a mess at one point. I was getting ahead of myself, thinking my process had to look like the product. It didn’t. 

Same with writing. Our process—brainstorming, outline, first draft, revisions, revisions and more revisions—aren’t by definition going to read like the final version. It’s impossible to include all the elements at the same time. Instead, like my cake, we need to work in layers. I had to make each colour of cake before I could assemble it; as writers, we have to work on each element of our craft before we combine them. 

It’s easy to forget, when we’re enjoying our favourite book, that the writer didn’t start out with this “perfect” version. Like baking the cake, it took time, effort, mess and perseverance. 

After that, it’s all sunshine and rainbows. 🙂