Seen a lot of folks giving advice to so-called “aspiring” writers these days, so, I figured what the hell? Might as well throw my dubious nuggets of wisdom into the stew. See if any of this tastes right to you.
1. No More Aspiring, Dingbats
Here are the two states in which you may exist: person who writes, or person who does not. If you write: you are a writer. If you do not write: you are not. Aspiring is a meaningless null state that romanticizes Not Writing. It’s as ludicrous as saying, “I aspire to pick up that piece of paper that fell on the floor.” Either pick it up or don’t. I don’t want to hear about how your diaper’s full. Take it off or stop talking about it.
2. Kick Your Lowest Common Denominator In The Kidneys
You can aspire to be a lot of other things within the writing realm, and that’s okay. You can aspire to be a published author. Or a bestselling author. Or a professional freelance writer. Or an author who plagiarizes his memoir and gets struck with a wooden mallet wielded by Oprah live on primetime television. You should aspire to be a better writer. We all should. Nobody is at the top of his game. We can all climb higher.
3. Aspiring Writers, Far As The Eye Can See
Nobody respects writers, yet everybody wants to be one (probably because everybody wants to be one). Point is, you want to be a writer? Good for you. So does that guy. And that girl. And him. And her. And that old dude. And that young broad. And your neighbor. And your mailman. And that chihuahua. And that copy machine. Ahead of you is an ocean of wannabe ink-slaves and word-earners. I don’t say this to daunt you. Or to be dismissive. But you have to differentiate yourself and the way you do that is by doing rather than be pretending. You will climb higher than them on a ladder built from your wordsmithy.
4. We All Booby-Trap The Jungle Behind Us
There exists no one way toward becoming a professional writer. You cannot perfectly walk another’s journey. That’s why writing advice is just that — it’s advice. It’s mere suggestion. Might work. Might not. Lots of good ideas out there, but none of it is gospel. One person will tell you this is the path. Another will point the other way and say that is the path. They’re both right for themselves, and they’re both probably wrong for you. We all chart our own course and burn the map afterward. It’s just how it is. If you want to find the way forward, then stop looking for maps and start walking.
5. The Golden Perfect Path Of The Scrivening Bodhisattvas
Point is, fuck the One True Way. Doesn’t exist. Nobody has answers — all you get are suggestions. Anybody who tells you they have The Answer is gassy with lies. Distrust such certainty and play the role of skeptic.
6. Yes, It Always Feels This Way
You will always have days when you feel like an amateur. When it feels like everybody else is better than you. You will have this nagging suspicion that someone will eventually find you out, call you on your bullshit, realize you’re the literary equivalent of a vagrant painting on the side of a wall with a piece of calcified poop. You will have days when the blank page is like being lost in a blizzard. You will sometimes hate what you wrote today, or yesterday, or ten years ago. Bad days are part of the package. You just have to shut them out, swaddle your head in tinfoil, and keep writing anyway.
7. Figure Out How You Write, Then Do That
You learn early on how to write. But for most authors it takes a long time to learn how they in particular write. Certain processes, styles, genres, character types, POVs, tenses, whatever — they will come more naturally to you than they do to others. And some won’t come naturally at all. Maybe you’ll figure this out right out of the gate. But for most, it just takes time — time filled with actual writing — to tease it out.
8. Finish Your Shit
I’m just going to type this out a dozen times so it’s clear: finish your shit. Finish your shit. Finish your shit. Finish your shit. Finish your shit. Finish your shit! FINISH YOUR SHIT. Finish. Your. Shit. Fiiiiniiiish yooooour shiiiiit. COMPLETO EL POOPO. Vervollständigen Sie Ihre Fäkalien! Finish your shit.
9. You Need To Learn The Rules. . .
…in order to know when they must be broken.
10. You Need To Break The Rules. . .
… in order to know why they matter.
11. What I Mean By Rules Is–
Writing is a technical skill. A craft. You can argue that storytelling is an art. You can argue that art emerges from good writing the way a dolphin riding a jet-ski emerges the longer you stare at a Magic Eye painting. But don’t get ahead of yourself, hoss. You still need to know how to communicate. You need to learn the laws of this maddening land. I’ve seen too many authors want to jump ahead of the skill and just start telling stories — you ever try to get ahead of your own skill level? I used to imagine pictures in my head and I’d try to paint them in watercolor and they’d end up looking like someone barfed up watery yogurt onto the canvas. I’d rail against this: WHY DON’T THEY LOOK BEAUTIFUL? Uhh, because you don’t know how to actually paint, dumb-fuck. You cannot exert your talent unless you first have the skill to bolster that talent.
12. Oh, The Salad Days Of College!
Why are the days of our youth known as “salad days?” Is “salad” really the image that conjures up the wild and fruitful times of our adolescence? “Fritos,” maybe. Or “Beer keg.” I dunno. What were we talking about? Ah! Yes. College. Do you need it? Do you need a collegiate education, Young Aspirant to the Penmonkey Order? Need, no. To get published nobody gives a flying rat penis whether or not you have a degree. They just care that you can write. Now, college and even post-grad work may help you become a better writer — it did for me! — though, I’d argue that the money you throw into the tank getting there may have been better spent on feeding yourself while you just learn how to write in whatever mousetrap you call a domicile. You can only learn so much from someone teaching you how to write. Eventually you just have to write.
13. Reading Does Not Make You A Writer
That’s the old piece of advice, isn’t it? “All you need to do is read and write to be a writer.” You don’t learn to write through reading anymore than you learn carpentry by sitting on a chair. You learn to write by writing. And, when you do read something, you learn from it by dissecting it — what is the author doing? How are characters and plot drawn together? You must read critically — that is the key.
14. Here Is Your Tin Cup, Your Hobo Bindle, Your Rat-Nest Undies
You’re going to starve for a while, so just get used to that now. Don’t quit your day job. Yet.
15. Commerce Is Not The Enemy Of Art
If you think commerce somehow devalues art, then we’re done talking. I got nothin’ for you. Money doesn’t devalue art any more than art devalues money — commerce can help art, hurt art, or have no effect. The saying isn’t Money is the root of all evil. It’s The love of money is the root of all evil. Commerce only damages art when the purpose of the art is only money. So it is with your writing.
16. Overnight Success Probably Isn’t
Suddenly on your radar screen is a big giant glowing mass like you’d see when a swarm of xenomorphs is closing fast on your position and it’s like, “Hey! This author appeared out of nowhere! Overnight success! Mega-bestseller! Million-dollar deal!” And then you get it in your head: “I can do that, too. I can go from a relative nobody to America’s Favorite Author, and Oprah will keep me in a gilded cage and she’ll feed me rare coffees whose beans were first run through the intestinal tract of a dodo bird.” Yeah, except, those who are “overnight successes,” rarely appear out of nowhere. It’s the same way that an asteroid doesn’t “just appear” before destroying earth and plunging it into a dust-choked dead-sun apocalypse: that fucker took a long time to reach earth, even if we didn’t notice. Overnight successes didn’t win the lottery. They likely toiled away in obscurity for years. The lesson is: work matters.
17. Meet The Universe In The Middle
My theory in life and writing is this — and it’s some deeply profound shit, so here, lower the lights, put on a serious turtleneck with a houndstooth elbow-patched jacket over it, and go ahead and smoke this weird hash I stole from an Afghani cult leader. The theory is this: meet the universe halfway and the universe will meet you in return. Explained more completely: there exist components of any career (but writing in particular) that are well beyond your grasp. You cannot control everything. Some of it is just left to fate. But, you still have to put in the work. You won’t get struck by lightning if you don’t run out the storm. You must maximize your chances. You do this by meeting the universe halfway. You do this by working.
18. Self-Publishing Is Not The Easy Way Out
Self-publishing is a viable path. It is not, however, the easy path. Get shut of this notion. You don’t just do a little ballerina twirl and a book falls out of your vagina. (And if that does happen, please see a doctor. Especially if you’re a dude.) It takes a lot of effort to bring a proper self-published book to life. Divest yourself of the idea that it’s the cheaper, easier, also-ran path. Faster, yes. But that’s all.
19. No, Total Stranger, I Don’t Want To Read Your Stuff
I really don’t. And neither does any other working author. It’s nothing personal. We just don’t know you from any other spam-bot lurking in the wings ready to dump a bucket of dick pills and Nigerian money over our heads. That’s not to say we won’t be friendly or are unwilling to talk to you about your work, but we’re already probably neck deep in the ordure of our own wordsmithy. (Or we’re drunk and confused at a Chuck-E-Cheese somewhere.) We cannot take the time to read the work of total strangers. Be polite if you’re going to ask. And damn sure don’t get mad when we say no.
20. Your Jealousy And Depression Do Not Matter
All writers get down on themselves. It’s in our wheelhouse. We see other writers being successful and at first we’re all like, “Yay, good for that person!” but then ten minutes later we get this sniper’s bullet of envy and this poison feeling shoots through the center of our brain like a railroad spike: BUT WHY NOT ME? And then we go take a bath with a toaster. Fuck that. Those feelings don’t matter. They don’t help you. They may be normal, they may be natural, but they’re not useful and they’re certainly not interesting.
21. Talking About Writing Is Not The Same As Writing
Needs no further comment.
22. Pack Your Echo Chamber With C4 And Blow It Skyward
Aspiring writers lock themselves away in echo chambers filled with other aspiring writers where one of two things often happen: one, everybody gives each other happy handjobs and nobody writes anything bad and everybody likes everything and it’s a big old self-congratulatory testicle-tickling festival; two, it’s loaded for bear by people who don’t know how to give good criticism and the criticism is destructive rather than constructive and it’s just a cloud of bad vibes swirling around your head like a plague of urinating bats. If you find yourself in this kind of echo chamber, blow a hole in the wall and crawl to freedom.
23. Learn To Take A Punch
Agents, editors, reviewers, readers, trolls on the Internet, they’re going to say things you don’t want to hear. A thick skin isn’t enough. You need a leathery carapace. A chitinous exoskeleton. Writing is a hard-knock career where you invite a bevy of slings and arrows into your face and heart. It is what it is.
24. You Can Do Whatever The Fuck You Want
As a writer, the world you create is yours and yours alone. Someone will always be there to tell you what you can’t do, but they’re nearly always wrong. You’re a writer. You can make anything up that you want. It may not be lucrative. It may not pay your mortgage. But we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about what’s going on between you and the blank page before you. It’s just you and the story. If you love it and you want to write it, then wire your trap shut and write it. And write it well. Expect nothing beyond this — expect no reward, expect no victory parade — but embrace the satisfaction it gives you to do your thing.
25. The One No-Fooling Rule
Is “write.” Write, write, write, motherfucking write. Write better today than you did yesterday and better tomorrow than you did today. Onward, fair penmonkey, onward. If you’re not a writer, something will stop you — your own doubts, hate from haters, a bad review, poor time management, a hungry raccoon that nibbles off your fingers, whatever. If you’re a writer, you’ll write. And you’ll never stop to look back.
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Joseph Ratliff says:
Finish. Your. Shit. = the best writing advice IMO.
Great kick in the ass Chuck.
February 21, 2012 — 12:41 PM
Gareth says:
Taking a lunch-break from my week-long internet hiatus (see point #8), to offer a bit of commentary on your well-considered Point 17, “Meet The Universe In The Middle.”
From a little-known scribbler by the name of Stephen King:
“To be successful, the artist in any field has to be in the right place at the right time.
The right time is in the lap of the gods, but any mother’s son or daughter can work his/her way to the right place and *wait.*”
February 21, 2012 — 12:48 PM
Marlan says:
#19 Makes me want to have a strong drink then punch myself in the face.
February 21, 2012 — 1:03 PM
Barry Napier says:
#20 FTW. Although I’d maybe venture that being depressed by such things makes me more determined and, dare I say it, more willing to branch out. Case in point: I finished a novel 2 years ago which I ended up self publishing. It hasn’t sold well, but damn I love that book. I felt supremely awesome for about 2 weeks. I was proud of the book and even if it only sold 5 copies, I didn’t care. I felt like a writer and MAYBE a good writer.
Then I finished reading The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut. And I am now wondering if, as writers, NONE OF US should read Vonnegut. Reading him always makes me feel like a vagrant writing dirty limericks on a bathroom stall in an Arby’s. I was down on myself for about a week until I decided that the self-pity was useless. Maybe it was time to aspire to write something as great as Cat’s Cradle or Slaughterhouse 5 and just get over myself and WRITEWRITEWRITE.
February 21, 2012 — 1:04 PM
Alice K says:
I used to call myself an “aspiring writer,” but I knocked it off for pretty much the reasons you talked about in point 1. I’m writing these days. I’m finishing my shit. I’m editing my shit, and will submit it for publication. “Feeling like a writer” doesn’t fit into this definition anywhere, unless it has something to do with the nasty flare-up of carpal tunnel I’m fighting this week.
I’m curious if #22 is inclusive of all writing groups. I think the writing group I’m in manages to avoid either trap pretty well; they regularly light a fire under me, and a couple of us have gotten published since joining. I might never have submitted if not for them. Feedback is constructive or GTFO.
I wouldn’t drop the group on your say-so, but I’m wondering if you’re saying that all writing groups become an echo chamber, or if you’re saying how to recognize if they are.
February 21, 2012 — 1:11 PM
M. Edward McNally says:
I’ve read some of the copy machine’s stuff, it’s good. Little derivative, though.
February 21, 2012 — 1:32 PM
Angela Meadon says:
Thank you, once again, for a great post.
I still hear your advice about the “other story” being like a fling behind the school and it keeps me on track, focussed on completing one story at a time.
Now, I have “COMPLETO EL POOPO” to go with it 🙂
February 21, 2012 — 1:42 PM
Kelly Thompson says:
Thanks as always for the much-needed kick in the ass. You are the oddest motivational speaker I know and that’s why I keep coming back to read your stuff.
February 21, 2012 — 1:51 PM
Ryan Carter says:
I like to call myself an “aspiring novelist” because I am working on a novel or three and I consider it done, well, when it is done. I think I have embraced the grim truth that I am a writer, because I can’t stop.
I have at times fantasized about asking someone to read my work, but I know it sucks, won’t unsuck for a while, and in the end, no matter what someone else says about my work, what really matters is how I feel about it, how much I like it and of course how well my opinion of it aligns with “is this actually good writing and storytelling” or not. This is a DIY biz, where you plot your own course and no one really knows you are there until you arrive. Like subspace and FTL in a way. When your ship runs into a planet, you’ll know it, but until then good luck mapping coords.
February 21, 2012 — 2:24 PM
Kathleen Cassen Mickelson says:
COMPLETO EL POOPO.
Si. That’s the only way to earn una cerveza at 5 p.m.
February 21, 2012 — 2:35 PM
Lesann says:
I’m going to mentally refer to you as Dr. Wendig from here on out.
February 21, 2012 — 2:36 PM
Cass Curtis says:
A most profound collection of writing advice. Thanks, Chuck. Btw, where can I find that testicle-tickling festival? I’ve been Googling for hours with no luck. :p
I’se be a profeshional riter ’cause I’se been paid and shit.
February 21, 2012 — 2:38 PM
Sara says:
This is an awesome list otherwise, but I disagree somewhat with 13. Reading did make me a writer, and even when I was young and not reading critically, it gave me a familiarity with and a love for language that aids and abets me every day. Reading widely and constantly has been the single most useful thing to my writing that didn’t actually involve, you know, writing.
February 21, 2012 — 2:44 PM
Ryan King says:
Ha. Sweet “advice”.
February 21, 2012 — 2:47 PM
Virginia says:
Goddam it, I’m at work now. I need to hear this at home when I’m slacking off. I’m going to print it out and paste it on my forehead. Thanks I really really really really needed to hear each and every of those 25 gems. By the way did I say I needed to hear them?
February 21, 2012 — 3:00 PM
Laura W. says:
#12 makes me slightly regret being a college student and a writer…
I am a WRITER, though, not an ASPIRING writer. My “aspirations” so far have culminated in some concrete accomplishments, of which I am justifiably proud. *ignores jealousy and depression*
February 21, 2012 — 3:42 PM
Mary Ann Peden-Coviello says:
I love almost all your posts. I agree with every single one of the points in this post, so of course I love it. #6 spoke to exactly what was going through my pointy little head today, so thank you for that. Butt duly kicked. And everybody needs #25 unless we’ve decided to quit the whole writing thing.
Now we’ll see if the website will allow this comment, unlike the last several times I’ve tried to comment here.
February 21, 2012 — 3:44 PM
Nicole/Ninja Mom says:
Bra-vo. Bravo!
I’ve been wrting and editing since 1999 and only in the last two years have I given myself permission to think of myself, to publically acknowledge myself, as a writer. And now I get paid (again) for doing it. So, to be is the question, there is no being not.
And fuck me I do like to mix a methaphor. Oh! That should be a drink. Or a name for a band. Mixed Methaphor. I won’t go with the more obvious “name for a blog.”
February 21, 2012 — 3:59 PM
Erin says:
How many “aspiring” writers are fallowing you after they read that note? You don’t have any, you say? Oh, well… Keep on insulting us, we’ll come around. (Note: Heavy sarcasm. Don’t flatter yourself.)
February 21, 2012 — 4:30 PM
armchairauthor says:
Looks like I have some shit to finish.
February 21, 2012 — 4:32 PM
erin says:
You’re an angry little attack muffin, aren’t you? A muffin flavored with piss and vinegar. What a shame…I just lost respect for 99.99% of the literate population.
February 21, 2012 — 4:42 PM
Naomi says:
Freaking loved this post and I’m glad books don’t fall out of vagina’s–it’d get too bloody and writing’s hairy enough as it is.
Thanks for all this awesomeness *goes off to purchase your books*
February 21, 2012 — 5:14 PM
Jason says:
The best advice i ever got for any of my creative endeavours was;
“Shut the fuck up and just do it”
February 21, 2012 — 5:25 PM
Alan Orloff says:
Oftentimes, the poop I use isn’t even calcified. Nice post!
February 21, 2012 — 5:32 PM
Doc L says:
I owe you a beer.
February 21, 2012 — 5:33 PM
Word Girl says:
This is the BEST thing I have read on writing EVER! Taking communion at the church of Terribleminds.
February 21, 2012 — 6:07 PM
Maggie Stiefvater says:
I’m slightly bemused at those who’ve taken offense at this post — it’s no different than saying an architect designs buildings — he/ she doesn’t just sit around talking about designing buildings.
Every writer in the world, published or not, occasionally needs a butt-kicking to remind us that staring off into space or making character charts is not going to result in a book. Thanks for that, Chuck.
February 21, 2012 — 6:20 PM
Alice K says:
“Fallowing” is the most brilliant pun for a would-be writer who isn’t writing I’ve ever seen. Bravo!
February 21, 2012 — 6:29 PM
Brian says:
Question: synthesizing two of the points from the post above (money not devaluing art and career requirements making professional writers indisposed to reading amateurs’ manuscrpits), what if I paid you to read my work?
February 21, 2012 — 6:34 PM
Bob Mayer says:
You mean this like hard?
February 21, 2012 — 6:57 PM
hellkitty` says:
Number 22. OMG. I have seen this; in fact I’m in it right now. And it is HORRIBLE. Thanks for the boot to the rear. I’m off to find some C4.
February 21, 2012 — 6:58 PM
Per Fischer says:
Good shizzle, thanks!
February 21, 2012 — 7:00 PM
Natalie says:
#12 “salad days” – just in case you actually wanted to know, Shakespeare’s Cleopatra coined this phrase when she is referring to her “green” youth, her naivity. She is looking back at when she was young and foolish! Well, when she was having an affair with Julius Caesar so presumably it was fun at the time – but she regrets it now.
So I guess it does still fit with college partying.
February 21, 2012 — 7:27 PM
Marty Young says:
Brilliant 🙂 I laughed, I cried. But damn good advice.
February 21, 2012 — 8:13 PM
Kevin Basil says:
I feel both violated and motivated st the same time. What an odd sensation… I will now do as you say and go write my shit.
February 21, 2012 — 8:17 PM
Kylin says:
Well said!
February 21, 2012 — 8:55 PM
Doc Wilson says:
I’ve read an article from Chuck before that contained advice on starting one’s creative bowel movement, but I can’t remember him spelling out that you have to finish it. It always made sense to me to drop the whole log, even if I had to bring a newspaper and the jaws of life, but I think it’s necessary to point out sometimes.
I think it’s also important to say that you may have to squeeze it out one pellet at a time, grunting, red-faced, and close to aneurysm. Once you do, however, no matter how or even IF it sells, you’ll feel a thousand times better.
February 21, 2012 — 9:05 PM
Sherri says:
Love it, love it, love it! This made my long, hard-working, writing-for-shit-pay day altogether.
It was sent to me by my writes-between-breaking-up-kid-fights daughter.
Now, I think I’m gonna steal this, print it, post it above the computer and go find all those piles of shit I wrote 20 years ago and start writing for fun again.
Thanks for the kick in the ass. I needed it.
February 21, 2012 — 9:08 PM
Wade says:
Found the link to this on the Facebook page from a well known, prolific, and published writer.
Great read.
February 21, 2012 — 9:13 PM
terribleminds says:
@Wade:
Might I ask who?
Thanks!
— c.
February 21, 2012 — 9:15 PM
AJ says:
I can only hope, one day, to be called “an angry little attack muffin.”
February 21, 2012 — 9:24 PM
Nicole says:
My biggest demon on this list – FINISHING WHAT YOU STARTED – I am FINALLY tackling this year. A book I have left unfinished for ten damn years is finally getting done goddamn it. Is it worth it? To me it is. Will it be any good? Well, that’s for the second, third and fourth drafts to determine. But I need this done – without completing this it represents an incomplete section of my life as a writer. It had gotten to the point where I would say, “One of these days I will finish that damn novel.”
And now, today, this year, I am doing it. I am conquering my demon. And I AM a writer – screw aspiring.
February 21, 2012 — 9:56 PM
Nicole Alexander says:
Bravo! Funny and true and inspiring as can be. Thank you for making me proud to call myself a writer (note I didn’t say “aspiring”). My book may not be published yet, but I wrote it, therefore I am a writer.
February 21, 2012 — 10:09 PM
Leigh LaValle says:
My husband is also from the woods of Pennsyltucky. Now I know why I love this blog so much. Not that I love Tucky- sorry- but the kick of real it brings to my over-educated and new agey self. Thanks for keeping it straight.
February 21, 2012 — 10:34 PM
Doc Coleman says:
By my reckoning, it takes at least ten years of hard work to become an overnight success.
Doc
February 21, 2012 — 11:25 PM
oldestgenxer says:
About #20–sure, I’m supremely happy that every other writer gets published. Of course I am.
Is this just me though?–I swear to God I can’t say, “Good for you” without it sounding sarcastic. That doesn’t make me a sociopath, it just makes me an asshole.
February 21, 2012 — 11:44 PM