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Thank you for subscribing to "Write Through It," the monthly newsletter brought to you by Manuscript Rx, an all-purpose service for writers. You can change your subscription at any time by following the link at the end of this message.
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Greetings, fellow writers!
Welcome to your August newsletter. I hope this finds you well and happily productive. As always, I encourage you to contact me with topics you'd like to see covered in future newsletters. Since my goal is to make "Write Through It" helpful and inspiring to you, your ideas are paramount.
Also, writing is a lonely process. I'm hoping this newsletter reminds you that you are part of a community (no matter how geographically spread out we may be) and, while we might write very different things, we all face similar struggles along the way.
Feel free to forward this newsletter to a friend who might enjoy it. And feel free to write me with any questions or comments.
Lucia Zimmitti
www.ManuscriptRx.com
lucia@manuscriptrx.com
This month's topic is inspired by an e-mail from a subscriber (thanks, Janet!). I'm sharing it (with permission, of course):
Q: Help! I've been trying to write seriously for a couple of years now. I don't have any trouble coming up with ideas, but lately I'm my own worst enemy in other ways. I always thought of writing as an intellectual pursuit, and I'm trying to treat it that way. But more and more it feels emotional, and I don't mean the content. I've been experiencing resentment and jealousy when I hear about other writers finally "making it," and also feeling wounded and awful for days after I get a rejection. Other than therapy, is there something you can suggest?
~Janet R., Spokane, Washington
A: Step 1: Write this phrase on an index card: REMEMBER CONSTRUCTIVE DETACHMENT!
Step 2: Tape it above your desk.
Step 3: Read on.
THE IMPORTANCE OF CONSTRUCTIVE DETACHMENT
The emotional hurdles that accompany writing can be more difficult than the practical/physical/intellectual hurdles of sitting there day after day, trying to keep distraction at bay, struggling with a manuscript that you worry nobody will even want to read. Just as REVISE, REVISE are the two most important words for the craft of writing (okay, it's the same word, but it bears ad nauseam repetition), CONSTRUCTIVE DETACHMENT may be the most important words for the psychology of writing. Internalizing this phrase can help keep you sane while you strive toward publication.
Janet, you are not alone in what you're feeling (it may sound corny, but it's so true). The nature of the writing beast is one that gets messy with emotions, and we're usually on the losing end. When we put something in writing and hand it over to others, it makes us vulnerable in a way that perhaps nothing else does. If those first readers love what we've written, our spirits soar. Conversely, if they hate it (or if they reject it with a form letter that at the very least expresses that they don't want it), we are crushed. We think, "They hate me, they're rejecting me."
However, if you try to break the whole process down with a cooler, more logical eye, you'll see that it's not you on the page (even if you're telling your life story); those people you granted the power to encourage or crush you are responding to the montage of sentences and paragraphs you created....they're not responding to you. This isn't semantic wordplay--it's the truth. But knowing that and feeling it are two very different things and we often get so tangled up in the enormous personal effort that writing entails that we associate ourselves too closely with what's on the page. It's no surprise that we tend to conflate ourselves with the hard-won product to an unhealthy degree. After all, writing is tough. (In the words of Walter Wellesley Smith: "There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.")
Note that I'm suggesting a certain type of detachment--constructive detachment. You can't be completely and utterly detached and write well; if you try to keep too much at arm's length when you sit down to write you won't be in touch with your writer-self (that may sound New Agey or trite, but it's true). If you try too hard to block out the core of yourself that's vulnerable to being wounded, you risk shutting down what defines your particular brand of creativity, your writing voice. Detach from your work in a healthy, moderate way--and preferably after you get the words on the page. Realize that no matter how much the words mean to you, they are separate from you--they represent moments of your time, a slice of your creative bent, some of your ideas worked out on paper...not you in your complex, dynamic whole.
Okay, so now you understand the concept of constructive detachment. How to internalize it so that the right dose of distance from your work can serve as a buffer and prevent you from beating yourself up over rejections or harshly delivered critiques?
The practice of constructive detachment
1) Realize that your feelings are normal.
Normalizing your undesirable feelings is truly the first step in defusing them. When you begin to understand why you drown under negative writing-associated thoughts and emotions that originate in your own mind, you empower yourself and become able to change them.
Often the best way to convince yourself that intruding feelings of insecurity or envy are to be expected in this business is through commiseration with others. There is comfort in numbers. Find a good writer's group (online, in person, or both). Prove to yourself that you're not alone with these self-defeating emotions. Read what other writers have said about rejection (Rotten Rejections and The Resilient Writer are good places to start). And widen your critique circle; don't give any one person too much power over you or over your work.
2) Write it out of you.
George Gordon, Lord Byron said: "If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad." Sometimes putting your thoughts on the page (especially those thoughts you consider shameful or ugly) is the most effective way to drain the thoughts of their power. Think of the act of writing down things like "I hate it that she's succeeding; she's not any better than me" or "Another editor rejected me; I'm not worthy to write" as trapping them on paper. Fold up the paper and stow it in a box you won't open (literally and symbolically quarantining it from the creative writing that feels productive).
Once you safely excise those draining, useless thoughts, move on to writing out how you want to approach your writing life. Try things like "I am not my work; my work is only one fraction of my life's effort" or "Whether that writer succeeds or fails has nothing to do with my writing journey."
3) Take a few steps back (from yourself, that is).
Get some distance from yourself and pick up a book (one you didn't write). The benefits are twofold: you'll be growing as a writer as you read and distracting your focus away from yourself at the same time.
4) Send, send, send.
Regularly sending out your work--even though you're accumulating the inevitable rejections--may sound counterintuitive. When rejection stings so much, doesn't it make more sense to curl up in a ball and never send your work out again? No. Because then each rejection bears that much more weight, has the power to take that much more space in your head and that much more emotional energy away from productive writing. The greater the number of submissions you have in the mail, the greater chance you'll connect with an editor who feels your piece is right for his/her house. Never put all your words in one basket.
And remember that no matter how much you might respect a particular editor or agent, that person is still just that: a person, a fallible human being who often passes on projects that should be celebrated through publication; a human who might reject pieces for reasons as unpredictable and unknowable (to us) as: "I'm exhausted and can't read another word today...where's my 'reject' stamp?" or "The ice cream man of my childhood terrified me, so I can't even consider a book about one. From Popsicle Sticks to Sugar Cones: The Freddy Freeze Story won't see the light of day if I have anything to say about it."
5) Remind yourself of the subjective nature of art.
How often do you love a book or movie or piece of visual art just to have your friends and family hate it? (For instance, much to my surprise (and dismay), I have encountered a few people who don't like Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird. Huh. I just don't get that.) When you're in the throes of a stinging rejection or an unflattering critique, it's hard to remember the truth that liking or disliking a piece of creative work boils down to opinion (that's right--opinion, not fact).
At the end of all your efforts, your opinion is the one that matters most. And when someone's opinion differs from your own (when they...gasp... don't like what you wrote), don't fall into the trap of thinking that they're making a judgment about you. You may feel like you're sprawled on the page, but you're not. Your writing is a compilation of your efforts, to be sure, but it's not you. You transcend today's efforts. No matter how important writing is to you (and it may be second only to your family), you are more than that and will always be.
6) Call time-out before making writerly decisions.
Don't make any major decisions about your manuscript or about your writing habit while your emotions run high. Listen to the suggestions from your last critique (just listen, don't necessarily heed them...yet). And then set them aside to reconsider when you've achieved some distance from them.
7) Don't get caught up in what other writers are doing.
It may very well be human nature to compare, and we tend to incessantly compare ourselves to others. It's been said that all unhappiness arises from unfavorable comparisons ("She's thinner, younger, smarter, funnier than me...how can I compete?"). If you make constructive detachment a true part of your writing philosophy, you'll be able to read other books without constantly comparing yours to them ("I could never write like this...why even try?").
Likewise, detach yourself from what other people are doing: your success won't be made sweeter because of others' failures, nor will your success be diminished by others' successes. Our achievements are not connected to what others accomplish, but we tend to connect them in our heads through negative, draining, self-perpetuating cycles of comparison. Tell yourself to "Stop!" when you start this grinding self-abuse (say it aloud when you can, inwardly but forcefully when the situation requires); keep at it and you'll jar yourself out of this pattern.
Anne Lamott (in the aforementioned Bird by Bird, a book every writer should read at least three times during their careers) has written a whole chapter on jealousy. I would love to share the entire section; however, in the interest of time, e-mail size and the fact that perhaps some of you might not love Anne Lamott the way I do (gasp! and sad shake of the head), I will mete out a portion:
"Jealousy is one of the occupational hazards of being a writer, and the most degrading. And I, who have been the Leona Helmsley of jealousy, have come to believe that the only things that help ease or transform it are (a) getting older, (b) talking about it until the fever breaks, and (c) using it as material. Also, someone somewhere along the line is going to be able to make you start laughing about it, and then you will be on your way home."
(This is where I pause in my newsletter-narrative to give you a chance to get that index card taped above your desk. Look at it often and intently. A more peaceful writing habit is truly within your reach.)
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READ THROUGH IT: Book of the month
The Man Who Made Lists: Love, Death, Madness, and the Creation of Roget's Thesaurus by Joshua Kendall. I know that this is the section where I recommend a book on writing, but because I plugged Bird by Bird above (read it...seriously), I thought I'd do something different here. This is the best biography I've read in some time, and I recommend it for anyone who loves words (most writers do). I've always taken Roget's Thesaurus for granted, but after this fascinating study of the man and his work, I recognize that Peter Roget created what's indispensable to every writer not just on a lark or to be helpful to others, but to stave off his own severe anxiety, depression and despair. He literally tried to impose order on his chaotic life (chaotic from childhood, due in part to early tragedy) by working on word lists and classifying and organizing everything in sight. A fascinating, compelling read.
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Quote of the month:
"Every writer I know has trouble writing." ~Joseph Heller
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**Visit my Web site to read other articles on writing or to learn more about my editing/coaching/consulting services, including my f*r*e*e critique.**
Till next time, keep at it and the words will keep adding up.
All best,
Lucia Zimmitti
Manuscript Rx
www.ManuscriptRx.com
lucia@manuscriptrx.com