Back in the day, when I first launched my ridiculous wobbling bicycle ride into being a “real writer,” I viewed “Getting Published” as the shining prize. Back then, when I read about debut writers getting a deal and a lot of attention, I immediately felt the barbs of stinging envy. Pure, raging, unfiltered jealousy—such as I’d rarely ever felt in my life. I was sure these people had some unfair advantage over me, that I’d never get the same chances. They knew someone. They had some referral. They were “in” and I was “out.” It was almost as bad as junior high.
In the intervening fourteen years, I’ve learned one thing: that the only advantage nearly every one of those debut writers had was the time-frame in which to pay their dues. Sure, some people do get a lucky break, but it’s no actual luck if you haven’t yet built up the chops to sustain a writing career. You can easily have a lucky break into a first book and then have it sell no more than ten copies. Or perhaps it’s good and it does well, but you can’t repeat the trick because you have no idea what made it so appealing.
Despite that most of the world—my wobbly bicycle self included—thinks writing is easy and anyone breathing can do it, writing is an art form that’s as challenging to learn as any—and much more challenging than most. Every piece of the well-crafted novel must be learned by tearing down how it’s done so you know it in your bones. Then you must build the skill to create a new story in layers, from character to action and back again, over and over. Layer by layer. Like a master painter layering onto a massive canvas.
Sure, it doesn’t always work this way. Some people DO get lucky and have a well-crafted story pop into their minds and out to the page. I think this happens because we’re such a story-driven animal—we all have a strong sense of story and what we seek in it. Sometimes this means a person gets an excellent new story delivered with a bow tie on it. But this isn’t a repeatable process until you understand what MADE it a an appealing story. What layers went into the characters, and how the action of the tale pushed and stretched each person until it forced change.
In my own experience, writers get better at crafting stories by trying and failing, and then trying again. By now I have a wide network of writing friends, and the ones who are making it into the big leagues are the ones who are on their second, third, fourth, fifth manuscript—where each one has gotten better than the last. There are no bow ties. Only hard work. And the courage to suffer through rejection—to hear the classic line “I just didn’t love it enough” repeated over and over, sometimes more than once in a day. Until you have to eat a quart of ice cream just to make it through the crappiest of these days.
I don’t have an agent yet, but I’ve been privy to the process of getting an offer for four different writing friends in just the past month. What’s striking, when I reflect on it, is that the barbs of jealousy I used to feel are pretty much 100% abated. Having sympathized through their struggles and the anguishing close calls, I can see how every success is well deserved. They’ve all paid their dues. Instead of feeling envious, their successes now make me increasingly hopeful. I know there’s no guarantee for any given manuscript, but I also know you will steadily keep getting better until you find success. As long as you stick with it. As long as you keep up that courage.
Perhaps the greatest success I’ve had in fourteen years is learning how to celebrate for others with a gracious open heart.