Growing as a Writer

At each Seton Hill Writing Popular Fiction MFA residency I attend, opening night is punctuated with a question that is designed to foster discussion throughout the week. We're supposed to use these questions if we finish our critique sessions and discover that we have time left over. It happens. The question at this residency was especially poignant, so I figured I'd discuss it here too. Quite simply:

How do you continue to grow as a writer?

The question, while directed at the students, is appropriate for every writer. The question actually was "How do you continue to grow as a writer once you no longer have grad school breathing down your neck," but it is appropriate for anyone who fancies themselves a writer. And there were lots of good suggestions. Form a writing group. Attend conferences. Write every day. Everything that was stated was geared toward the writing life and the output for which we all strive. But there was something that I felt wasn't mentioned. Something so simple, most people don't think of it.

Live.

"I'm going on an adventure!" -Bilbo Baggins

Let me explain.

If you've read this blog before, you know I'm a big proponent of primary research, which is a fancy term which means "experiencing the things you write about." It's different from the old chestnut of "write what you know" in that you go and research things. "Know what you write," if you will. It's well-documented that I've done some interesting (silly, weird) things in the name of primary research.  How does this relate to my advice? Simple.

Every experience you have makes you grow as a person.

Think about that phrase for a moment. Every. Experience. Things you love, things you hate, pain, pleasure, fear, exhilaration... They all do one thing: They add to the tapestry that is your life. They give you experiences upon which to draw. They change your perspective, micron by micron. They make your life experience richer, and allow you to know things that others might not know. In short, they help you develop into a more well-rounded person.

Those experiences also make you grow as a writer. They allow you to draw upon the emotions you felt, the revulsion, the joy, the fear... All of it. And they allow you to write with more authenticity. They allow you to reach into your own personal history of experience and distill it down for the world to experience.

So that's my advice to you. Live. Live fully. Live out loud. Live boldly. Have those experiences. Try these on for size:

• See something on a menu you've never had?  Try it. If you hate it, use the experience. 
• Make a point to visit a new restaurant every month. One with cuisine you've not tried. 
• Go camping. 
• Walk around the city about which you're writing. 
• Go to a concert for a band you've never heard of. 
• Take up a sport.
• Learn to shoot.
• Learn to ride.
• Find out what it's really like to walk around in armor.
• Find out how long you can actually swing a sword. 

Take the back road to your next destination. Stop along the way. Love with all your heart and let it get broken. Talk to people who know about your novel's subject. Here's an example:  Two students this past term (whose names I won't divulge here because I've already bragged on them in public enough) followed this path long before I suggested it. One of them went camping, alone, in the UP of Michigan. Did I mention she went BY HERSELF? Because she did. She said it was the most scared she'd ever been, and now she has an amazing point of view to write about. The other one wanted to know about suspension piercing. While she didn't go to that extreme, she did contact a local BDSM group and had them tie her up and suspend her from the ceiling. She now knows what that's like. How many of you out there know? I'm betting the number is small (though probably larger than I expect). 

So that's it. Live. Live boldly. Explore your tastes, your passions, your emotions. Build your tapestry of experiences, and live without boundaries. And then use those experiences in your fiction. Go out and dare yourself to be amazing. 

I AM AMAAAAZING!!!!

SAJ

The Waiting Game

I'm sitting at my desk staring at the little icon for my email.  When I get a message, it jumps up and down like an excited pug and I get the nervous butterflies in my stomach. But then, when I click on the little hyper bastard and see that the incoming message is spam, my mood sinks just a little bit more.

Welcome to my life.

Actually, it's the life of every writer, agented or not. People who don't do this make assumptions that you can send your manuscript out and, like any other piece of email you send, you'll get a reply back within twenty four hours. But that's not how it works. Don't believe me? Here... Look at this:

Blow that up and what you'll see is a listing from Ralan.com, which a site dedicated to folks like us who write and want to make a living at it.  Specifically, they update submission requirements every day.  See those highlighted areas? Those are listed as "RT."  That means "response time." Notice anything?  Yep.  Some of them are more than six months for a reply. Six. Months. Why? Because these people are professionals.  They are in the business of making money and publishing the very best manuscripts that they can find, which means, of course, that everyone wants their manuscript published by them. One (conservative) estimate is that editors receive about 600 queries per week. That, if my math is correct (and I'm using a calculator... Math isn't my strong suit) is more than 31,000 queries per year.  Now, if each query is, let's say, a 400 page novel, that's more than 12 MILLION pages that these people have to get through. See where I'm going with this? 

Pictured:  Agent/Editor

Sure, your book may be the greatest thing written since the invention of the QWERTY Keyboard, but the agent/editor has to get to it before she offers you gobs of money, and that means wading through all the rest. Fair or not, it's how it works. And, by the way, agents have the same type of wait, just like unagented people do.  They just get to nag when they feel it's appropriate. 

Pictured:  You.

To clarify, you've just spent four months (or more) of your life writing a novel that is the best thing that has ever been written, and now you have to wait even more? Yes. That's just how it works. Deal with it. But what, I hear you asking, am I supposed to do while I wait? Start the next novel. 

Move it, monkey. 

Okay, yes, take a break. Take a mini-vacation, if you must. But if you are like me, while you were busy hammering your last opus out, thousands of ideas hit your brain and you lamented not working on them then because you had to finish what was already in front of you. So go write them. All of them or any of them, but get back to work while your creative juices are flowing. The point is, once you send something out, there is no point in worrying about it anymore.  It's out.  It's gone. You can no longer tweak it or fix any errors. Now you just have to deal with the fact that your little baby sparrow is trying its wings out. Wherever you sent it, put a mark in your calendar for whenever the response time is, and if you've received nothing by then, send it out again. 

This is your life now.

I'm playing the waiting right now. I'm waiting on word back from my agent about the manuscript for my latest novel, Ungeheur.  I'm also waiting on a reply from another publisher for another manuscript for Bokor Island. And, last but certainly not least, I'm waiting for the yea or nay from Emerson University to see if I got into their MFA program. I hate waiting. Since I'm someone prone to stress and suffer from depression, waiting is really hard for me to do. So what else am I doing? Working on a new novel. Sewing (yes, really) a couple of new shirts. Petting my pug. Paying attention to my wife and kid. I'm trying to let all the anxiety slip away while life happens. Then, if something wonderful occurs, I'll be thrilled. But in the meantime, waiting is all I can do. 

Until next time...

SAJ

But that really happened!

When my novel City of Demons came out, there was a scene in particular that pulled people out of the story because it was just too unbelievable.  The scene in question was one in which one of the lead characters discussed learning martial arts from a legit grandmaster who happened to teach at the college she attended. Magic murder, they can deal with.  But learning a devastating fighting style in a college?  Too much. Yes, in a book where a killer can crush a person without touching him and a cop can feel the last few seconds of a dead person's life by touching his corpse, the moment that was too big of a stretch was one that actually happened to me.

See, when I went to college, I signed up for a karate course. I thought "it's a college karate course...how hard could it be?" Then I met this guy.

...

That's Dann Baker, legit Grandmaster in Kajukenbo. And one of the best martial arts instructors on the planet.

We've all been there.  Writers are told every day to use real life experiences as fodder for their stories.   Write what you know, and know what you write! And yet, there are certain experiences that, if we use them, we're told they're too unbelievable. Your story may contain magic, demons, monsters, and superheroes, but coincidental things that really happened to you are considered too unbelievable to go in a book of fiction. It's enough to drive you mad.

Don't call me crazy...

It's happened in other situations too.  Students of mine have replied with passionate anger when I tell them that a scene in their thesis is unbelievable. "But it really happened that way!" they scream. "You just don't know what you're talking about!" Fair enough. You're right, I've not had that particular experience that seems to defy logic or physics. The coincidental continuum seems to have collapsed on a convergence conveniently. And it's still unbelievable. "But here's proof!" they shout. They wave photos, articles, protestations and proclamations all day long. And, in the end, I concede, yes, it happened the way you said it did. 

But here's the problem:  If I thought it was unbelievable, it's likely that everyone else who reads it will find it equally hard to believe. And what are you going to do? Run around and wave proof at everyone who has purchased your book?  Accompany your manuscript to the acquisition editor and prove your story to him? Take out a full 60-second ad during Superbowl halftime to explain that this scene in your book really happened that way and that's how you know it could happen? No... Probably not. What's more likely to happen is this:  You send your manuscript out, your agent or editor reads the scene, snorts derisively, and tosses your legit memory into the trashcan. Why? Because it came off as too unbelievable. 

Pictured:  You.

The following are a list of unbelievable things that I've actually done or have witnessed:

• Honked a live squirrel's tail.
• Tailed a 9' Texas Black rat snake
• Skidded on a wet road and done two complete 180-degree turns, banging my car on the rail both times, and gotten away with no discernible damage
• A person backflipped off a second-story balcony to impress a girl - Survived
• A person survived having a full-sized telephone pole hit him in the head
• Had an 800lb roll of plastic fall on me. Didn't die
• Shot a near perfect round my first time shooting a pistol
• Studied with a real grandmaster that I met at college
• Rescued a 1-week old deer and let it sleep overnight in my bathroom
• Rescued an equally young possum

"How dare you, sir?!?"

I have proof of every one of those items, yet I know that if I put them in a novel, someone would cry bullshit on it because, while people can suspend disbelief in the fantastic, their belief in the mundane needs to stay constant. In turning the world inside out and molding it to our peculiar vision, we need to make sure that we give the reader a foothold. A talking squirrel, sure. Sneaking up behind a normal squirrel and honking his tail?  Bullshit. 

The point I'm trying to make here is simple:  If it comes across as too much of a coincidence to one reader, it might do so to the rest of them. I'm not saying you can't include unbelievable life stories in your fiction.  What I'm saying is to be careful. "But it really happened" isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card. It's a tantrum. It's a child's argument. You will never get the chance to explain that it really happened or how to an agent, editor, or to your audience. Once you've lost their interest, you've lost them. So make the best of it. 

Until next time, write on!

SAJ

Writing as Solace

Ever get into a group of creative people and just listen?  I mean, really listen?  If you go to a place where creative types hang out (and I'm not talking about Starbucks...Nothing against them, but this is different) and actually engage your ears, you learn quite a bit about creative types. It doesn't matter whether their medium is paint, cloth, the stage or words, there are common traits amongst them all.  In a sense, they're all share one commonality that binds them together and allows them to write, paint,  act, or whatever. 

They're damaged. 

In some way, we all are.  In some way, large or small, we have issues.  That doesn't mean every artist has been raped or were abused children or were into self-harm or whatever.  It doesn't mean we're all alcoholics or drug users.  It just means that, somewhere in our past, something happened that left a lasting impression.  It might've been a lot of things.  It might've been just one.  This is not a condemnation, just an observation. If you doubt me, look at every famous creative person of which you know.  Look at all the great painters.  Look at all the greatest writers.  Moreover, look at yourself. 

The cracks are in you, not the glass...

Where do you draw from?  If, like me, you write horror, from what part of your psyche or soul do you pull the darkness, the blood, the tears, the pain?  What is the source of all the terrible things that flow out of your brain and into your fingers so you can inflict them upon the world?  What is it that drives you to be creative? 

I'm not a psychologist, and the point of this entry isn't to label every creative person as needing intensive therapy, though many of us do.  Most of us have learned coping mechanisms or have "gotten over it," whatever "it" was.  The point is this:

Use your art. 

I ran into a guy at a convention a while ago who wanted to be a writer.  He wrote for a while, but quite after a relatively short time.  When I asked him why, he said he was too depressed to write, too broken to create.  It struck a chord with me.  I asked him his genre, to which he replied horror.  We talked for a bit, then I asked him the big question:  "Why aren't you pouring those emotions into your work?  Why aren't you using that creative process as an outlet for your pain?"  He looked at me like I was crazy, which, admittedly, I'm used to.  

I can't imagine why...

Let me explain. 

Art is a world in which you, the artist, are God.  The world works the way you want it to, for the most part.  I mean, we still have to follow rules of silly things like physics (not always, but that's for another article), but for the most part, what we say goes.  We can take things like, say, an abusive relationship, and amplify it into a creature or metaphor where we can throw that pain on the page and kill it away.  We can make that pain eat, make it kill, make it fight, and make it die.  A painter can have an outpouring of emotion on the canvas through bold colors and long strokes of the brush.  Writers can solve all their personal issues in a world they create.  Whether that problem is a traumatic childhood, the death of a loved one, overcoming addiction, or deep depression, your art can help you.  

And not just by killing the metaphorical beast on the page.  For me, to put the pain I go through on the page is a form of catharsis.  It's a reassignment of the pain from me to the reader, who will be done with it when the book is closed.  I'm able to get the hurt off my chest, little by little, dispersed through four hundred or so pages.  So when someone says to me they are in too much pain to write, I say to them to use it.  I know.  I've been there.  I've been defeated and broken before.  

Pictured:  So done with everything...

It's not secret that, in 2013, I lost my wife of twenty years to cancer.  What may or may not be common knowledge is that, for the two years she fought, I didn't write.  Not a single word.  I was busy.  I wanted to care for her and, frankly, there was no creative muse left for me.  My muse lay in a bed while cancer took her away from me.   When she passed away, I was a broken man.  I didn't care anymore about writing, about the program for whom I work, or for my own life for that matter.  Nothing mattered to me.  I spiraled into a very deep depression.  Then I met someone who made me want to write again.  She inspired me.

But the pain still lingered, and I suspect it always will. 

Here's the point, though.  I started working again.  I started writing again.  I pushed myself to turn on my computer, pull up a blank file, and pour all those emotions into characters and situations and monsters and mayhem and symbolism and rage and... and...  

And something curious happened.  I felt better. 

Found my tail...

Characters died, others wept, and my emotions were thrown on the page, raw and bare, for the world to read.  I can't tell you how many times I caught myself in tears as I typed away, not even aware I was crying.  My characters went through loss and pain, and I didn't feel so alone anymore.  I pushed everything I felt out onto the page and it felt like a deep breath released.  And when I emerged from my writing room, I felt alive again.  I felt energized.  I felt like me. 

So this is the advice I wish to convey:  Use your art.  Truly creative people are a rare breed, and we can use the pain, the joy, the anger, the rapture in our lives to drive or work.  But more important in this case, we can use our work to soothe our souls.  We can use our art to give ourselves peace. 

One other thing you'll notice if you ever get the opportunity to sit and listen to creative types:  The crazier the work, the nicer we are.  Some of my favorite people in the world write some of the most demented stories imaginable.  People like Tim Waggoner, Gary Braunbeck, Mike Arnzen, Jack Ketchum... People read our work and assume we're terrifying individuals.  But I can tell you from personal experience that every person mentioned here are the nicest individuals you'd ever want to meet.  Of course they are.  All their demons are trapped in words on pages.  

The Best Writing Advice I've Gotten Lately

Writers, all of us, like to give advice.  Whether we've been published a thousand times or are still seeking that elusive first credit, we feel like we know how the business works and, more often than not, we'll share our little nuggets of wisdom, whether you want it from us or not.  We firmly affix our monocles and stroke our chins while dispensing sage-like words like candy from a Pez dispenser.  And, like everything else, it's all subjective.  What works for me might not work for you, and vice versa.

Of course, I'm over-generalizing.  Not all of us are like that.  Some of us prefer to listen, to weigh the opinions of those who came before, and to make our own choices.  So when the subject of "writing advice" comes up, most writers give a collective groan, roll their eyes, and brace for impact.  And most of the time, it's crap.  Anything other than "put your ass in the chair and finish the damned novel" is purely one person's opinion and should be taken with a  grain of salt.

But today, I read a rather brilliant blog post by Chuck Wendig on his blog about his own twenty-five rules for being a successful writer.  Among the gems in his post (and you should read it...click his name) is one simple phrase.  "Don't write what you know, know what you write."

How many times have we been told "Write what you know?" followed by smug giggling and the person offering this trite little chestnut scampers away to watch your meltdown from a safe vantage point?  How could that possibly work?  Let's see...  Most people, when they began writing, had all the life experience of an angst-ridden teenager, with no real experience about anything.  If they stuck to writing what they knew, we'd be even more inundated with hyper-emo stories about teenage break-ups and shitty teachers and what it's like to be picked on in high-school than we already are.  If you only write what you know, your writing is limited to your own personal experience.  Really, though important to you, I'm pretty certain that no one here has the kind of life that makes for a good novel.  So what's the solution?

"Know what you write."  Brilliant.  It's not a statement that your experiences are unimportant.  They are what makes you who you are.  But instead, it's an encouragement to go and have new experiences.  I'm pretty certain Thomas Harris is neither an FBI agent nor a serial killer.  But, when doing research for Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs, he tagged along through FBI training so he could understand what those people went through.  Before I wrote a gunplay scene, I'd never fired a handgun.  Never.  I know, right?  I'm from Texas, and never fired a hand-gun.  But I went out and had a new experience.  I went to a shooting range (taken by my good friend and fellow writer Nikki Hopeman and her fantastic husband Ward [who, incidentally, I consider my brother-from-a-different-mother]) and fired off a few shots, just to see what it felt like, smelled like, tasted like.  I wanted to know what it was like to ride a horse (I know...Again, WTF?  Texas, right?) so I found someone with a horse, saddled up, and went riding.  Yes, I looked ridiculous, but I learned.

The point here is that nothing should limit you.  "Write what you know" is a limiting statement.  Bowing before this holy little commandment does nothing but stunt your growth creatively.  Write what you know, and you'll never know anything else.  Know what you write, however, and you've just opened up a world of new experiences, all in the name of writing a better story.

And so, today, a challenge.  Today, find something you've always wanted to do, but haven't.  Find something that looks interesting.  Eat something you've never eaten before.  Even if you hate it, it's an experience upon which you can build.  Here are some examples that are easy and worth every moment of the experience you can gain:

• Go to a gun range.  Squeeze off a few rounds.  
• Take a walk in the woods.  Sit and listen to the sounds around you.
• Dance in the rain. 
• Skinny dip.
• Eat something that looks or sounds repugnant.  Try Haggis.
• Go to a nursing home and talk to an old person. 
• Guys, in the privacy of your own home, put on makeup. 
• Walk as quick as you can for as long as you can.
• Try to break into your own house without damaging anything.
• Do a ride-along with a cop.

Every one of the things above have hidden things that you'll never know about until you try them.  And every one of them is often misrepresented by writers who haven't done them.  Go out and have those new experiences.  Grow from them.  Learn from them.  Write about them.  Then come back here and tell us what they were and what you learned.   

WS