I write things, and then I try to get them published. I send them to literary journals and online ‘zines, and occasionally, one of them gets picked up, and then I celebrate with my complimentary copies.
Lately, now that my kids are a bit older, and I’ve been trying to take myself more seriously, I’ve been writing more. I set the goal for an hour a week, which was more than I was doing, but still ridiculously small.
I love how setting the bar low makes me rise to the occasion.
When you decide having fifteen minutes is “enough” time to write something, pretty soon you realize five minutes is enough, and one minute is enough, and the hour a week seems ridiculously little.
The thing is, I write stuff that I really like sometimes. Stuff that I don’t want to use for this blog, but that I have higher hopes for. Do I send it to a fancy literary journal? Where, exactly? What if it’s not fancy enough for that?
Lately, I’ve been trying to write things and send them out all over the place.
I’ve realized that when I do something creative, I feel like I need a lot of validation to feel like the effort has been worth it. If it’s published somewhere on paper, it’s worth more than just publishing electronically. Someone else publishing it is certainly preferable to publishing it here on my blog. And a fancy someone is better still.
There are good reasons to think this way, but there are also reasons not to. I’ve been published fancy places, which feels awesome. For about three days. And then I start to think, “Now what?” and “Was that good enough?”
It’s really helpful self-talk.
Lately, I’ve written something I like, and I think, “I should save that for someplace really perfect. Someplace good, and respected, and awesome. I won’t publish it until I can find that place.”
And then I think, “Or I could just put it out there.”
I am trying to change my mind. To think of the stories, essays and vignettes as little seeds on a dandelion, that I keep blowing out into the wind. That it’s better (if you like dandelions) to blow as many as possible. That somehow, by putting more out there, by being free with my work, by not hoarding it, it will sprout and fly and take on a life of its own.
Because if you look at publishing at little journals hard enough, you can just end up thinking, “It’s never enough.” But squint a different way, and you might think, “It’s all something.”
I’m closing my eyes and trusting. And taking a deep, anticipatory breath.
Have you been spreading your dreams like dandelion seeds? Are you using your gifts, instead of saving them till kingdom come?
When “No” is really “Yes”
I can empathize with where you’re coming from, Heather. Certain pieces of writing engage us more, and we want them to have a different sort of life than the typical online venue.
Before everyone wrote online, I went through that process of picking and choosing the occasional draft, targeting a few journals, and following their submission guidelines. It would take months – literally 3 or 4 or 6 months – generally, for a rejection.
We write for so many reasons, and those reasons expand and intermingle. Rejection is part of the process. We have to steel ourselves to that and keep going for the love of it – if the love of it will sustain us.
And then, when we’re ready, try again. And again. And again.
Personally, I can’t recall ever being satisfied with my writing. I’ve come close – in a handful of art essays and reviews, but I don’t mind that I’m self-critical – as long as my criticism doesn’t act as an obstacle to writing. Or trying. And trying again.
Yes, the trying is key. Even when it feels somewhat ridiculously preordained that you’ll be rejected. Because how else are we to grow as writers if we don’t try to find homes for our little orphaned stories?
oh i could’ve written this myself. i write stuff and don’t want to put it on the blog but am unsure what to do with it so it sits, there on the external, in a little folder. those pieces probably think they’ve been forgotten and are definitely neglected…i’m just unsure where to send them.
so to answer your question, i’m hoarding my dandelion seeds because i’m a bad writer, filled with fear and a multitude of negative voices. i might need an intervention.
I’m intervening. Because I’ve seen your prose, and it’s lovely.
That’s the thing: being published has a lot to do with perseverance, luck, and a strange sort of hubris, no? It’s writing the right thing at the right time in culture. It’s persevering to mature your voice even when you don’t get any external validation.
Getting stuff published is a completely different skill set than actually writing. It’s hard. We need to lift each other up, not beat ourselves up!
Or as a friend’s father used to say, “Buck up, little camper!” 🙂
i’ll consider that a pep talk and you can rest easy knowing, i’ve bucked up 😉
thanks heather 🙂
Good 😉
“I’ve realized that when I do something creative, I feel like I need a lot of validation to feel like the effort has been worth it.”
Can’t tell you how often I’ve felt this way about writing. And then (at least for me) it gets almost paralyzing. Like my work isn’t worth anything unless someone else thinks it is. Weird how that happens. (And hopefully that’s only my neurosis!)
It’s so funny–I wrote this post in a week of feeling quite good about how my creative endeavors were going, and then am in a funk as I read over comments. I see so many out there in the blogosphere doing such cool creative work–and yet we all seem to suffer from the same paralysis. What matters is the work, digging deep, and not so much worrying what people think of it.
Putting it out there is so hard. Going into business as a photographer and not a hobbyist is the biggest step I’ve ever taken in that direction; 18+ months later and I still worry/wonder about every photo I take.
Yes–to say, “I’m good enough at this that people should listen to me/buy my product/pay attention?” Not exactly easy.
Is that a woman thing, or just a person thing?