During my trip to New York, I saw a lot of interesting sites, and had a great conference experience at Book Expo America.
Before visiting the city, I had a chance to go to Caffe Lena in Saratoga Springs, where the likes of Bob Dylan and other folk musicians have performed. That night, it was a unique blend of blues--sliding guitar, tuba, and trombone. But most fascinating was what I encountered in the bathroom:
"Always know yourself before making a decision that may change your life"
While the walls were covered in inspirational quotes, I picked this one above the others because it's so deceptively simple: "Always know yourself before making a decision that may change your life." Because better decisions are made when you have your own best interests in mind. And knowing what those interests are is key in determining whether a decision is a good fit.
As with anything, this can be applied to writing at all levels:
Crafting stage: When you are still in the process of editing your work, and getting it critiqued by others, make sure feedback resonates with the story you want to write. Don't assume that someone knows more than you, or that negative feedback means you have to change the story entirely.
How to Know Yourself: Think, reflect, and figure out which feedback resonates with you most. Be with it for awhile to see what sticks and what doesn't. That way, you can save having to revert to a previous draft when someone else's recommendations aren't working (though this isn't unheard of--I've had to do it myself).
Agented/publishing/selling stage: From what I understand, this can be a perilous stage because it involves a lot of waiting. And waiting can inevitably morph into unnecessarily questioning yourself. Or settling for a deal that might not be right for you in the long run in order to relieve immediate stress.
How to Know Yourself: Be sure of the direction you want your career to go. Make the decisions that honor that, even if it means waiting to see yourself in print. Because settling for something lesser means possibly having to undo it later on--and that isn't always an option.
What about you? In what ways do you know yourself? And how do these inform your decisions going forward?
Last week, I heard a presentation that discussed performance anxiety, given by music professor John Masserini. As I listened, I realized the tips he gave could also be applied to writing. Because all creative pursuits, whether they be art, music, or theater, share the same anxieties.
Translating this...
...to this.
And as artists, we can use these anxieties and translate them into bigger truths. Such as:
1. You are the vessel.
This was probably the most useful tip of all. When John coached his music students on performing, he reminded them they were just a vessel for the music--that the audience wouldn't be focused on them--but on the music itself. It was the the notes, instead of the person playing them, that truly mattered.
And it got me thinking about how nervous I've gotten when putting my writing out there, and worrying about what people will think of me. When all this time, I've only been a vessel for the words that choose to come through my fingers and onto the page. This helps takes the onus off me as a person, and puts it where it belongs--on the story.
Elizabeth Gilbert alluded to this sort of thing during this fabulous TED Talk (it's lengthy, but definitely worth watching):
It's worth mentioning that Elizabeth Gilbert's use of "vessel" (8:41) is different from what I'm implying. I'm treating vessel as a conduit, a way to sail somewhere, rather than the full vat of creativity, or, the boat itself. As writing vessels, we write the words, but they do not necessarily always come directly from us.
2. Establish a routine.
This seems pretty basic, and as writers we hear it a lot, but John took it a bit further in his talk. As in, when his students are preparing for a recital for 7 p.m. on a Friday, he advises that they run through the repertoire at the same time (7 p.m.) on the Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday before the performance. That way, by the time Friday rolls around, the student's brain will be attuned and accustomed to running through the repertoire by the time they have to do it in front of a crowd.
In writing, the equivalent of this is anything potentially big that could happen along the way (meeting with an agent, editor, or perhaps pitching at a conference). So, for example, if you have a pitch appointment with an agent at noon, run through your pitch at noon as many days as you can before that meeting. Then, it will seem like it's old hat.
One final note about routine: even though we often hear that we "should" establish some sort of routine, it can sometimes be easy to brush off as, "Well, that's not my process." I told myself that for years. "I'm not an early riser, so I'll write at night." But recently, one of my MFA writing instructors recommended writing with the "best brain"--which means first thing in the day. And after trying that for the past few weeks, I've realized how much of a positive difference it makes. By getting my writing done in the morning, I get to do the thing I love most first--and then I'm not as resentful of the time taken away by other things throughout the day.
3. The art is in the recovery.
As a former pianist, one of my biggest anxieties was making a mistake during a recital. John admitted that mistakes were inevitable, but he advocated going on anyway. "The art is in the recovery," he said. A bad note may happen--but it's the notes that come afterward that count.
And of course, this can be applied to all stages of writing. Rejections at the query stage--what writers do afterward is what counts. Do they quit? Or do they hunker down at the desk and strive to write something better? Same goes for abysmal sales. What does the writer do next? Give up? Or write the next book?
Mistakes, nerves, and insecurities are inevitable in music, art, writing and life. But if we can learn ways around them, and not make them a hindrance, we'll go farther than we thought possible.
What about you? What are your fears? Where is your focus? When are you at your best? And how does all this translate to your writing?
The first 8 years of my marriage were lived out in rentals, mostly apartment rentals. There was one little colonial house with a frosty basement and pokey stairs, the kind you trip down when pregnant. Being home with kids in apartments in a one-car family situation, I often felt like a shut-in. It was a good day if I took my tinies to the park, their recreation center classes, or on a nature walk. We did a lot of fun things INSIDE, but my anxiety over handling the dangers of California roads/traffic, strangers, and wild-kids-who-don't-listen often kept me inside.
Feeling cut off from the world by my circumstances, I reached out to the online community to socialize with distant family, stay abreast of the news, and cultivate my writing talent. I found so much support, plenty of avenues for stretching out as a person. I wouldn't say it was a limiting experience, but I wouldn't call it rich, either. Truth be told, I spent too much time on the computer, whether writing, reading for others, blogging, or perusing the news.
When we moved recently and bought our first house, in the country of all places, something changed pretty drastically. I had WINDOWS! Lots of them, facing the light and the mountains and the sight of my kids playing in the backyard! Suddenly I spent less time on the computer. Feeling safer in our little community, I ventured out more, joined a co-op, discovered the library programs, and put my kids in swimming lessons. I talked to people face to face. At first it was scary, coming out of my protective shell. I worried about saying the wrong thing (common for me), losing one of my wayward children, or damaging public property (I have all boys). With some early successes, I felt encouraged, and just plain got out more! About this time, my husband and I got smart phones, which let us have our "Windows away from Windows," so to speak. I could check my email, communicate with distant family, read books via the kindle app, and do flashcards with my kids, all away from the computer. (Of all the inventions that have helped stay-at-home moms--the vacuum, the blender, the crock pot, the sticky note--the smart phone may have been the most liberating for me personally.)
When I approach writing today, as a liberated person, I don't do it feverishly or constantly. I do it purposefully. In fact, everything I do these days is done on purpose. I feel freer to act rather than to be acted upon.
And though I write less than I did before, I believe what I do write has a richness that was missing before. Maybe let's call it SUNLIGHT.
