Ahh. The lies we writers tell ourselves. It’s a popular topic here, because as a man who has in the past been firmly rooted in the mud of his own self-slung bullshit, I think the best thing writers can do is get shut of illusions and myths and the deception — especially that which we create. Seemed high time to jack this into a “list of 25.”A greatest hits, if you will, and then some.
Let us now extinguish the conflagration of deception consuming our pants.
Argue these, if you choose, or add your own.
1. “I Don’t Have Time!”
Said it before, will say it again: I am afforded the same 24 hours that you are. I don’t get 30 hours. Stephen King doesn’t have a magical stopwatch that allows him to operate on Secret Creepy Writer Time. You have a full-time job? So do a lot of writers. Kids? So do a lot of writers. Rampant video-game-playing habit? Sadly, so do a lot of writers. You want time, snatch it from the beast’s mouth. And then use it.
2. “It’s Okay That I Didn’t Write Today, I’ll Do It Tomorrow!”
Another temporal lie. Oh. You didn’t write today? You’ll write tomorrow, you say? And I’m sure it wasn’t you who ate the last of my Honey-Nut Cheerios. Filthy cereal-stealing cock-bird! Ahem. Do not assume tomorrow will come. Car crash, heart attack, panda mauling; no promises that you’ll see the day after today. What you do get is today. You’re here right now, so don’t waste it. Today is always the day you have. Tomorrow is always a day away. Something-something Daddy Warbucks, hard-knock-life, blah blah blah.
3. “I’ll Come Back To This Story After I Write This Other Story!”
Yeah, that’s usually how it works. OH WAIT NO IT ISN’T. Ha ha! Thought you were going to sneak that squeaky wagon of bullshit past me, didn’t you? If you and your current manuscript pull a Ross-and-Rachel and “take a break,” you’re going to go and dip your wick in some other story’s puddle of word-wax. And — alert, alert, made-up stat incoming — 90% of writers who do that never return to the first story. And it forms a pattern that will happen again and again. It’s like you leaving a trail of half-eaten sandwiches. “Oh, ham-and-Swiss oh look pastrami-on-rye oooooh hold up hold up Italian hoagie OH SWEET SALIVATING SALLY is that a roasted bonobo monkey loin on brioche? CHOMP CHOMP.” Stop that. Finish the sandwich you’re eating. Er, story you’re writing. I may need to eat lunch. Anybody got a sandwich?
4. “Oh Noes, Writer’s Block Again!”
Writer’s block is not a real thing. You can be a writer, and you can be blocked. But don’t give it a special name. And don’t let it take up real estate inside your head. Writer’s block is an excuse afforded by the privilege of not having to write to feed yourself (mmm sandwich). When you suffer a thing you think is writer’s block, as with any demon or ghost, deny its existence. “The power of word count compels you!” you scream, flecking it with the holy water of writers (aka, whiskey). You get through writer’s block the same way you get through a door that’s closed: you open it or tear that fucker off its hinges.
5. “I Can Only Write When The Muse Allows!”
To the working writer, that means, “I can only pay my mortgage when the Muse allows.” True Fact Alert: Your Muse is a twatsicle. Hell with invisible fairy spirits who breathe the heady breath of inspiration in your soul. Own your work. It’s yours! That’s awesome! It’s not delivered to you by a shining knight galloping up on a golden unicorn. (Well, it is if you’ve gobbled copious fistfuls of hallucinogens.) Your story came from within. Fuck external validation. Let it all be you. Get away from excusing your lack of productivity on the capricious whims of a fickle butterfly-winged motherfucker some Greek made up once.
6. “My Creative Spark Hath Been Extinguished!”
Your creativity is not a baby rabbit. It doesn’t die of fright. Oh, I’m sorry, outlining hurt your poor widdle cweative self? Editing made your inner baby cry? Writing that query letter or reading that bad review huffed and puffed and blew your house of cards down? Dude. Dude. DUUUDE. Your creativity is made of tougher stuff. Kevlar and gravel and cast iron and… sandwiches. (Wait, I still didn’t eat lunch, did I? Is beer lunch? Yay! Beer!) The more you try to protect your idea of some frail, quivering flower living invisibly within your mind, the less you actually put words on paper for others to read.
7. “My Characters Are In Control!”
Stop that. This is another version of the “Muse ejaculates her story into my brainpan” lie: if you legitimately assume that your characters are in control, you’ve once again ceded intellectual and creative territory to imaginary entities. I’m not saying your subconscious mind fails to work through the story elements on the page. It does. It totally does. And, indeed, it feels at times like some kind of crazy moonbat magic. But from time to time you should remind yourself: this isn’t magic. Everything that’s happening is real. You control it. These puppets dance for you. This is your show. I wonder if writers tell this lie in part because it excuses failure and in part because it absolves them of responsibility — “Oh, didn’t like that story? Well, garsh, it’s what the characters wanted. I am just the conduit for their psychomemetic existence. Blame them!”
8. “That’s Not Bad Writing, That’s My Voice!”
Yeah, no, it’s just bad writing. It’s yours, all right. It’s just shitty.
9. “I Write Only For Me!”
Then don’t write. Sorry to be a hard-ass (ha ha, of course I’m not), but writing is an act of communicating. It’s an argument. It’s a conversation. (And yes, it’s entertainment.) And that necessitates at least one other person on the other end of this metaphorical phone call. You want to do something for yourself, eat a cheeseburger, buy an air conditioner, take a nap. Telling stories is an act we perform for others.
10. “I Don’t Need An Editor”
Ohh, but you do. Writers thrive on a little creative agitation. Your work is never perfect. You need someone to shave off the barnacles and, on a deeper level, unearth those things you didn’t realize were still buried. Maybe it’s a proper editor, an agent, a talented wife, a writer buddy, or a secret hobo genius. But someone needs to be there to tell you, “This works, this doesn’t, and have you considered this?” Their words are not gospel, but they’re necessary just the same. A high-five to editors all around. *slap*
11. “I Don’t Need To Do Any Planning!”
Your story is just born out of your head fully-formed, like Athena from Zeus? I don’t care if you’re outlining, drawing mind-maps, collecting research, or spattering notes on the wall in your own ropy jizz — you’d better be doing some kind of planning lest your tale flail around in the dark. Thing is, so many writers have convinced themselves that this is a totally viable course of action that they try it again and again, wondering exactly why the story can’t get off the ground or won’t make a lick of fucking sense. (And yes, I’m sure some people can actually accomplish this and accomplish it well. Those people are secret geniuses and I hate them and refuse to acknowledge them further lest I weep openly. DON’T LOOK AT ME WHEN I CRY.)
12. “I Have Nothing More To Learn!”
Dang! I didn’t realize I was speaking to a bodhisattva of the craft! You hung around on this mortal, ephemeral coil in order to lead the way by spiritual example? You’re the zenith! The pinnacle! The tippy-top of the penmonkey tit! *kicks you in the trachea* Sucker. You’re no such thing. Nobody is. Even the greatest writers can learn new things about storytelling, about writing, about the world in which we peddle our salacious word-born wares. You can always up your game. Seek opportunities to do so. Oh! And by the way, any of those writers who tout that line: “You can’t teach someone to be a writer, you either are a writer or you aren’t” are high on their own stench and just want to make themselves feel better. What kind of fucked-in-the-head lesson is that? You’re born a writer or you’re not? We’re beholden to some kind of creative caste system? It’s in our blood, like vampirism or syphilis? You can be taught. And you can teach yourself.
13. “I Need (Insert Some Bullshit Here) To Help Me Write!”
Whiskey? Coke? Crack? Ketamine? Salvia? Weed? Video games? Febreze? Pegasus blood? A sunny day? A winter’s night? A Carpathian prostitute? You need none of these things. Writing relies on very few things, my friend. All you need to write is your brain, a way to convey the story into existence (pen, computer, whatever), and a place in which to do it (office, kitchen table, lunar brothel). That’s it! Oh, and coffee. If a dude tries to take my coffee I will staple his hand to his face and push him down a hill.
14. “I Need To Write Like (Insert Some Other Asshole’s Name Here)!”
Let that dude or that lady write like that dude or that lady. You write like you write. Your voice is your own. Write to discover it, strengthen it, then own it. Don’t chase another author’s voice, style, genre, or story.
15. “If I Write It, They Will Come!”
It’d be great if all it took was to write a kick-ass story, comic, movie, or religious manifesto. That’s the myth. “Write the best book you can,” I sometimes say. Which is true. But doing that doesn’t cause rainbow beams to shoot out of your nipples that all the publishers the world around can see — “Twin rainbow nipple spires! A bestseller is born.” Writing the story is only part of what we do. The hard part is putting it out there. A great deal of work goes into birthing a book into the world — er, a good book, that is.
16. “Money Just Cheapens The Creative Process!”
Yeah, you know what else cheapens the creative process? Feeding my kids. Paying my mortgage. Stuffing grungy garter belts with sexy dollah-dollah bills y’all. Okay, that last one might actually cheapen it. Regardless! Money is not crass! It is not some vile thing that poisons the water of your creative well. Most of the art and entertainment you have enjoyed — if not all — was created by people who got paid (or, at least, hoped to get paid) in order to create that thing you loved so much. Even classic literature often earned its authors money. Money is good. Value your work. Nobody would fault you for earning out. Except jerks. But who cares what jerks think except other jerk-faced jerk-holed jerks?
17. “This Draft Needs To Be Perfect!”
Perfection is itself the most perfect lie. Well-defended, crystalline in its beauty, an elegant specimen to hold up: “Behold. I seek only perfection. Is that so wrong?” Actually? It is. Perfection is meaningless and impossible. And, worse, it’s maddening. You can spend countless reiterative hours “perfecting” a story, which adds up to you just spinning your tires on a road of greasy mud. You have to know when done is done. When good is good. When perfection is a thing that lives in the eyes of others and exists outside your control. It’s like worrying whether something is or is not art. Let someone else figure that out.
18. “My Crap Isn’t As Crappy As Some Other Crap!”
The other side of the coin, here. You see this sometimes (oft-touted by self-published authors of dubious merit), where they note that Piece-of-Crap X by Author Y made it into the marketplace and their sanctimonious drivel is at least as good as that, and gatekeepers can’t know quality and it’s all subjective and *barf yawn.* It’s all a slippery slope of self-deception bent on excusing lazy habits of writing and, in some cases, publishing. Are you seriously aiming for, what, a C+ grade? Lowest common denominator? “Grade E-but-Edible?” Don’t be a lazy knob. Be proud! Be awesome! Put out the best work you can.
19. “But First I Need To Build My Brand!”
Nobody wants to read a “product” by a “brand.” They want to read a story by an author. You’re a person, not a brand. You have a book, not a platform. Concentrate on the story first. The rest comes later.
20. “Nobody Has Ever Thought Of This Idea Before!”
Yes. They totally have. It’s your job to make it feel original. The art is in the arrangement.
21. “Writing Should Be Easy / Delicious Misery!”
We come to believe that writing should either be super-easy (“The words should just fall out of my face whenever I tilt my head forward!”) or that it’s a miserable activity (“OH GOD MORE WRITING I hate writing so much all this telling stories about imaginary people gives me a well-deserved anal fissure”). Further, when it’s not easy or not wretched, we feel like we’re not doing it justice. Put that lie aside. Some days will be easy. Some will be hard. Some days you dig soft earth, other days the shovel hits stone. But you dig just the same because that’s the only way the hole gets dug.
22. “This (Insert System Of Publishing) Is The Only Way!”
It’s easy to bet everything on one option. But easy doesn’t mean smart, and this is a lie that can get you into quite a bit of danger. Self-publishing is not the wave of the future. Traditional publishing is not an insurmountable mountain. Kickstarter is not a gospel. Free is not perfect. Authors are at a point where we have a great many options before us, and to ignore 90% of them to focus on one path is to deny the awesomeness of having options in the first fucking place. For a long time we had one way to get published. Now we’ve many more. Stick a finger in each pie. Why? BECAUSE MULTIPLE PIES, DUMMY. Yay, pie!
23. “I’m The Last Beautiful Dodo Bird On Earth!”
You want things to work a certain way for you because you’re special or talented or because you look really good in those jeans. Don’t think the publishing world will turn on its axis for you. Don’t think that readers aren’t savvy to all the tricks. Be the scrappy underdog, not the self-assumed victor-of-Thunderdome.
24. “Writing Is Not A Viable Career / I Can Never Do This Professionally!”
A dread deception sung by those who would seek to diminish the value of art and stories in the world. I read an article recently that suggested that the average annual take-home for authors is $9000. That is not viable. That is not money on which one may live. But I’m just one example of many entrenched penmonkeys earning a real living year after year. Paying bills! Buying stuff! Porn and sandwiches and whiskey! You can do this. It’ll take work. And time. Doesn’t happen overnight. But it can happen.
25. “I Suck Moist Open Ass!”
The darkest lie we tell ourselves: that we and our writing are not worth a bag of microwaved diapers. Listen, I don’t know how talented or skilled or capable you are. Hell, maybe you’re not that great. But nobody got better by feeling bad about it. You have one of two choices: you can be destructive to yourself or constructive. You can tear yourself down or find a way to build yourself up — and I don’t mean build yourself up with compliments but build yourself up with skills and abilities and the practice that gets you there. You suck? That thought sucks. Get better. Improve. Aim big. Give yourself the chance to fail — and then give yourself a chance to build steps from the corpses of your failure so you may climb higher every time. You don’t become a writer by feeling sad about your self-worth. The only sucking you need to do is to suck it up and do the work. Everything else is a consumptive distraction.
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Laura W. says:
Awesome post. Although I think it is entirely plausible that Stephen King has some kind of time travel device. 😉
I, too, get angry at people who don’t outline. It makes me secretly jealous if it works for them, and self-righteously smug when it doesn’t.
March 27, 2012 — 12:13 AM
Dave says:
Yes. I’ve lurked here for months, feasting on your heartfelt word-spam, while wrestling my way through my first novel. This is my first comment. No more Lies.
March 27, 2012 — 12:26 AM
Dave E. says:
Longtime lurker, first time commenter. B.T.F.O.!
March 27, 2012 — 12:33 AM
EC Sheedy says:
“Your Muse is a twatsicle.”
Damn, I always suspected this…
(And when will we see Coburn again?)
March 27, 2012 — 3:02 AM
terribleminds says:
@EC:
Heh, I’m writing new Coburn this week. Releases in… May or June, I think?
— c.
March 27, 2012 — 6:05 AM
Anna Lewis says:
*sigh* I am *sooo* guilty of #25 it’s just ridiculous. Deep-seated self-esteem issues run rampant in my family; it’s very difficult for us to take to heart anything complimentary, even when that compliment comes from someone who genuinely knows their sh*t and isn’t just saying it to be nice. I’ve only been writing purposefully for a couple of years now (many years since the last creative thing I wrote, which flat-out sucked) and while I can see improvement in what I’ve written lately vs what I first did in 2008, I still find it really hard to believe when a critiquing editor/author says something favorable. I love writing, though: I love being able to create the people and circumstances in our stories, and love doing the research to make everything seem real. I get a high when all the separate elements of a sketch snap into place just like they were meant to be where they are, and that’s what pushes me to keep improving.
March 27, 2012 — 3:39 AM
Jessica Meats says:
I’m one of those folk who don’t plan. Sometimes it works amazingly well and leads the story to places I never would have dreamed possible. Sometimes, I get to the end of draft one and realise that the first few chapters need to be completely trashed and rewritten because they don’t mesh with the end. I just have to accept that drawback because it’s the way I choose to write.
I have in the past listened to the counter lie, “You must plan your story before you start.” I’ve found that when I’ve properly planned out a story, I lose all incentive to write it because I already know what’s going to happen. For me, the fun in writing is the process of figuring it out.
If that means more hard work when it comes to draft two, that’s a price I’m willing to pay. It also means I tend to fall into the trap of lie number 7 at times.
March 27, 2012 — 4:40 AM
Damien Walter says:
Point 24. You have to be careful of those ‘Average author pay less than £8000’ things. Their one of the many ways writers disparage themselves. They are based on organisations like the Society of Authors, where many of the members are basically amateur writers joining a society to be part of something. Is writing competitive? Yes. But then so is any top creative career.
March 27, 2012 — 6:07 AM
Francis Knight says:
11- Prepare to hate me 😀 I rarely plan a damned thing – the closest I get is about half way through the first draft I’ll have a line of dialogue pop into my head and I write towards it (it invariably changes because I think of a better line). It works for me – it may not work for anyone else though. Ofc now I’m having to work to a proposed ‘plan’. I am taking many, many liberties with it. And trying to pretend it doesn’t exist.
25: Hah! Yeah, we all think that, roughly 90% of the time. I often think I’m writing a load of old donkey bollocks. Trick is to use that to *get better*, and write anyway. If I didn;t think I sucked, I wouldn’t try to improve.
March 27, 2012 — 6:22 AM
terribleminds says:
@Francis —
My hate has no end.
No, seriously, though — generally speaking, I’m leery of books that had no prep or planning done before it. I don’t mean outlines — I mean anything. Research, notes, throughline, whatever. Generally those books feel unfocused and clumsy. Those that don’t are either penned by geniuses or took 20 drafts or were just plain lucky. In my experience, at least. Some can do it and do it well, but I think a lot of authors are sold on the lack of work before writing. They believe the lie that writing a story begins the day you confront the blank page, and for most authors, this should not be the case.
Why are you working with an outline/plan now if you don’t like them?
— c.
March 27, 2012 — 6:39 AM
CjEggett says:
Re: 15. All I can think is to not cross the streams.
March 27, 2012 — 6:41 AM
Francis Knight says:
Hmmm. Well I think I can’t tell whether a writer planned a book or not (or not often.) For all I know the words just fell outta their arse 😀 For me, often I just have an idea of a character, or a situation, sometimes just a line of dialogue that seems interesting. I sit down, start to write and see what happens – perhaps that *is* my outlining, because I learn what the story is about by writing it. These days, I find I don;t know what I think about anything till I write it down! The act of writing forces my brain to marshal all those nebulous clouds in my head. But often when I sit down to write for the day, I don’t know what will happen. That occurs when I write it.
And because, um, well I’m writing a book that I’ve already sold. So I have to write the book I sold them. Though the proposal was about two paras so I get a lot of leeway. 😀
March 27, 2012 — 6:50 AM
terribleminds says:
@Francis —
First, congrats on the sale. 🙂
Yeah, I’ve found publishers will ask for synopses or, in some cases, full-bore treatments/outlines. It’s one of the reasons I advocate growing comfortable with that skill.
What you’re ultimately doing, as you point out, is using your first draft as your plan. And there’s obviously nothing wrong with that (there’s nothing wrong with any method or non-method in terms of writing as long as it gets the job done). Though what I’ve found there is it creates a lot more work — you have to push through a whole entire draft to serve as your, erm, very robust outline. Working that way seems to often necessitate big rewrites, and those writing full-time may serve their time better by getting that planning out in a ten-page document instead of a 300-page manuscript. 🙂
I’m not against “pantsing” overall — but I think a lot of writers sell themselves on the lie that pantsing is the only way to go, and it’s in part because pantsing sounds “easier.” I certainly bought that lie for a number of years, and it was only once I got past it that I was able to actually produce novels that were worth writing.
— c.
March 27, 2012 — 7:05 AM
Francis Knight says:
Oh I agree it’s certainly not going to work for everyone – no one method will. I do think it’s a matter of figuring out what works for you.
Luckily it’s never led me to have to do a major rewrite. The most I’ve had to do is swap a couple of scenes, or insert one. No biggy. Maybe I just got lucky.
Thinking about this further, I do sort of outline AFTER my first draft – I do a rough synopsis of what I’ve got, and see what I need to tweak. This is where I look at structure etc, but I think I’ve absorbed enough novels now that the structure is pretty much there from the off. It just needs refining (as does any first draft I should think) The plot never changes (or hasn’t yet, except where I made an editor cry – in a good way – and she asked for the end to be a bit more upbeat. Basically I killed her favourite character, and she asked for them to live. A compliment really)
And yes, I do need to get used to doing it. But it’s hard because it goes against my natural way of working. C’est la vie. There’s hard aspects for all writers – we only differ on what parts we find hard!
TLDR: /monty python Yes, we are all different. /end monty python. What works for me, won’t necessarily work for you. It might be worth trying is all.
March 27, 2012 — 7:33 AM
Mark says:
This is probably the best “25 things” post I’ve read on this here website. I congratulate you sir, I didn’t even skim, I read.
March 27, 2012 — 7:35 AM
Heather Marsten says:
Excellent article – guilty of some of those one-liners myself. I shared this with Facebook and Twitter it was so well done.
Have a blessed day.
Heather
March 27, 2012 — 7:42 AM
Shiri Sondheimer says:
And here I was admitting to myself that I just didn’t write last night because I was watching TV (at least it’s the truth). What, I had three episodes of GCB to catch up on!
Awesome post, Mr. W. It’s so easy to lie. And also pretend we don’t need to outline. And devolve into self-loathing even when the criticism is constructive.
Was just getting to that place where I need at kick in the ass (again). Thanks for delivering.
March 27, 2012 — 7:58 AM
Bonnee says:
Can’t say I’m completely innocent of a lot of these things… silly tomorrow-writers, they never write because tomorrow is always a day away.
March 27, 2012 — 8:11 AM
Shawn McGee says:
Wow, #25 suck up out of no where and grabbed me. How about a little foreplay before that? Jeesh.
There is no truth to the rumor that I am hiding under my desk and crying like a little girl now.
March 27, 2012 — 8:17 AM
Ed Marrow says:
Great Post. It’s sad that I’m thrilled I only tell myself half of those lies. When I hit the first few, I thought you were spying one.
March 27, 2012 — 8:46 AM
Thomas Pluck says:
I wish I hadn’t lied to myself about not needing to plan! Paying for it now. it’s like reverse Jenga.
March 27, 2012 — 8:54 AM
Abby says:
Thank you. That’s all.
March 27, 2012 — 9:10 AM
Joanne says:
“Some days will be easy. Some will be hard. Some days you dig soft earth, other days the shovel hits stone. But you dig just the same because that’s the only way the hole gets dug.”
True story.
March 27, 2012 — 9:20 AM
Steve McCann says:
Great list. And an entire other blog post could be dedicated to why we tell ourselves these lies. I think most of them involve fear, laziness, and lots of other unpleasantness about ourselves. But stare down your inner ickiness you must. Examining the deposit in your Kleenex in never fun, but if you see a lot of green, at least you’ll know you have a bacterial infection and you might want to see a doctor.
Oh, and I would add another lie. If you look at your writing and you think “that should be good enough,” that means it is almost certainly not good enough.
March 27, 2012 — 9:25 AM
Ali says:
Chuck,
This? This is my favorite thing possibly ever. I cheered while reading this. CHEERED, sir. I do not cheer.
Seriously, C — thank you. Shared on FB.
March 27, 2012 — 9:26 AM
Rebecca says:
“You’re a person, not a brand.”
By every holy thing that ever was, this ^ infinite power.
Guess I’d better go write. Might get hit by a bus tomorrow. 🙂
March 27, 2012 — 9:33 AM
DLThurston says:
26. “Wow, some writers a really screwed up, glad none of those apply to me.”
1-3 really nailed me hard, I was worried you’d somehow written an entire list that would just flay me alive and leave me a bloody mess on the floor.
#7. Oh god, #7. I haven’t avoided panelists at cons because they have talked themselves into #7, but I have used it as a tiebreaker if I can’t choose between two panels.
March 27, 2012 — 9:37 AM
Scott Bachmann says:
This is singularly the best thing on writing I have ever read. This should be taught in every english class and the opening speech of every writer’s conference.
March 27, 2012 — 9:40 AM
caren says:
Thank you for this. Just… thank you.
March 27, 2012 — 9:46 AM
John says:
Huge shout out for #10, especially the part about editors not being gospel, just helpful – we all tend to forget that this a collaborative medium, and sometimes we need reminders (however harsh, true or tough-love) that heads need be screwed on a bit tighter.
I am horrifically guilty of #17 and #25. I can edit, I love to edit, and editing pays my bills, but when it’s time sit down with Scrivener, I end up in an ocean of suck and deafened by screaming failure harpies. Believing in myself, when it’s my own work, so very much harder.
But I’ll get there….
March 27, 2012 — 9:52 AM
Trinity River says:
Oh…my…God. I am such a liar!
March 27, 2012 — 10:16 AM
Dan says:
One more:
“I’m too scared to write/edit/submit. Tomorrow I’ll be braver.”
Which is bullshit. If you’re susceptible to this kind of fear, every day you surrender makes it stronger. Break through today, and tomorrow it will be easier.
March 27, 2012 — 10:26 AM
David says:
I suppose I can be happy that I’ve never fallen for lies 4 through 25. Unfortunately I still fall for the first three more often than I’d care to admit, though I’ve just about ground #3 underneath my boot.
To build on #10, how about “My editor is an idiot”, or “My editor hates me?” I can’t think of any lies more damaging to a writer on the cusp of success.
March 27, 2012 — 10:38 AM
mark matthews says:
Yes, put me on the list of thinking this is the greatest post ever and you just ripped the band aid of excuses off of my hairy arse.
I also had tweeted the link.
March 27, 2012 — 10:46 AM
terribleminds says:
I appreciate everyone who is sharing the post. Thanks!
— c.
March 27, 2012 — 10:50 AM
Mary says:
Oh, Chuck. Where have you been my whole life?
Entire list to be printed out and posted on my fridge as a daily reminder.
Love it.
March 27, 2012 — 10:58 AM
Terri says:
I shit you not, every morning I wake up and say, “I am the king of this world and I will finish the shit that I started.” And it is working. The first act of my novel is docile and obedient on a whiteboard, I have a short coming out in an anthology in a couple of months, another sub in the review bin, I got a job stringing for a new local newspaper (I’m covering a rock concert on Saturday), and I proofread for a legit small press. Yesterday the newspaper editor started making, “what would it cost me to get you full-time” noises.
I’m not “there” yet (wherever the fuck “there” is), but the first step was finishing the shit I started. Okay, the first step was making another pot of tea and a sandwich, but, hey, it’s lunchtime.
March 27, 2012 — 11:17 AM
David Robinson says:
Great post, Chuck. Ran through them, thought, “been there, done it, no longer guilty, been there, done it, no longer guilty,” and I was feeling rather chuffed with myself. Then I reached number 25. Guilty as charged. Even my editor gets fed up of telling me there is nothing wrong with my work, but still I read other people and think ,”Why can’t I write like that?”
March 27, 2012 — 11:22 AM
Shadowwalker says:
The only one I’ve come close to (so far) is #7 – but I don’t really see them as ‘in control’. But I do come to know them well enough to understand when they’re behaving in a way they shouldn’t. So I wouldn’t say they’re in control – but they do breathe heavily down my neck!
Oh, and I’m another non-planner. But I don’t just write whatever – I stop and do the research as things come up, and I brainstorm to see the possible consequences of what I want to do next. I just don’t outline, or have the whole thing up on some board to follow step-by-step. If I’m going to that much trouble, I might just as well write the darn thing and be done with it.
March 27, 2012 — 11:24 AM
Amy Severson says:
“I don’t need an editor.” HAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Ahem. *wipes away tear* Heh. Sorry. That’s the funniest shiz I’ve read all week. People actually SAY this? Hoo-boy. That’s rich.
And what you said about muses and the characters running the show is so true. I love when I hit that “sweet spot” when writing and it feels like I’ve plugged into the universe’s creative conduit and it’s feeding me all the words I need. It does feel like “crazy moonbat magic” and it’s awesome. But when the magic is over, I’m even more in awe when I realize that those words were all mine. They weren’t given to me, they were harvested from my own dear, wrinkly brain. Why would I want to give the credit for my words to anyone/thing else?
#25. Lawd. Nuff said.
March 27, 2012 — 11:38 AM
Melissa McCann says:
EEEE! Hop, hop, hop. Clap, clap, clap. I agree completely. I’m so TIRED of hearing about muses and writer’s block and and romantic drunks and characters “just taking over.” I even agree with ones of which I am guilty.
okay, there is #23 (isn’t there always SOMETHING?), I really do need my bipolar meds to write. Of course, I need them for getting out of bed and showering, too, so maybe that doesn’t count.
March 27, 2012 — 11:52 AM
Sandra says:
I’ve been writing ‘for myself’ for years. I’ve recently decided to make a concerted effort to write for pay and I just wrote my first paying travel article yesterday. I am hoping it is the start of many more. I work in film and am a script supervisor. You have NO idea how many truly awful scripts get made into movies (think Lifetime and SyFy MOW’s). I sit there, reading them, thinking -I can do better than this (yes, yes, I know NOW). So I wrote two scripts and now they are out there with an agent. Here’s hoping.
What I really, really suck at is writing outlines. I am more a, ‘just write and lets see what happens’ and half the time, I get halfway through and quit because I have no idea where to go from there. I need to get more disciplined and have some sort of outline before I start. Otherwise my writings mirror life too much – just go on and one with no idea of what tomorrow will bring and no idea when it will be over.
By the way, this is my first time on your site – a friend posted this link to his FB page and here I came. I just bought two of your books on Amazon.
March 27, 2012 — 11:58 AM
terribleminds says:
Thanks, @Sandra!
And best of luck with all your work. Scripts with an agent = good news, indeed.
— c.
March 27, 2012 — 12:00 PM
Shannon LC Cate says:
Love #7 and all the other ones that denounce the magicalness of writing. Take responsibility, writers!
March 27, 2012 — 12:01 PM
RR Kovar says:
I laughed loudly at several of these, because it was easier than admitting they skewered me right where I live. So as I’m bleeding out, I give my thanks to you.
I don’t outline, but that doesn’t mean I don’t plan. I always have a “Stuff that needs to happen” list going, as well as basic character sketches, so the hero’s eyes don’t change color in the middle of the book (without good reason, anyway), and the world-building happens before I begin, even if it’s set in this world. I still hate doing the query letters and synopses, but that’s the price of admission, so do them I will.
Also, everyone needs an editor. Some folks need a lot of them.
March 27, 2012 — 12:08 PM
Damian Trasler says:
Like many people today, I suspect, I am cursing you for opening a window in my head, pulling out the most embarrassing contents and spreading them on your digital lawn for the world to sneer at. I can tell it’s a bad day when I’m nodding my head in a agreement to every point, and I feel like hiding under my desk before I’ve reached the tenth one. Twenty five examples of my own writing perfidy is too much to take at this time of the morning.
I repent, and shall live a better life henceforth. It just might have to be as a plumber.
March 27, 2012 — 12:39 PM
Laura says:
#10: *high five* Thanks.
Also, the rest of the list….yeah. Truer words never spoken.
March 27, 2012 — 1:16 PM
Matt Worden says:
Thank you for this article, sir … good and important words!
March 27, 2012 — 1:41 PM
Natalie Wright says:
This truth telling post could not have come at a better time for me. I’ve been a lying son-of-a-bitch to myself lately and this post called me on it. #25 has been especially prevalent for me lately and I thank you for the kick in the ass I needed to get the hell over myself.
Thanks for the butt kicking.
March 27, 2012 — 1:51 PM
Marla Martenson says:
Thanks for this, a lot of us really needed to hear it.
March 27, 2012 — 2:22 PM
Lisa says:
I’m a “figure it out as I go” kind of writer, but I think that’s only because I am so much more comfortable with revision than initial drafting. I don’t mind spending 300k words to get a 100k story. They are only words. Of course, it would be nicer if I could bust out three books in that 300k, but eh. I’m satisfied with the product and I don’t think I’d have gotten anywhere near the same story without the write and revise, revise, revision process, and that would make me a sad panda.
March 27, 2012 — 2:38 PM