The Secret to Writing

I think that the Secret of Life is the Wizard of Oz.

Yes, I’m serious. The Wizard of Oz, man. It can apply to any aspect of your life. Take writing even.

You’re Dorothy. You’re out in Unfinished Manuscript Hell (read: Oz) and all you want to do is get home (read: finish the damned book already); but you’re hounded by this Wicked Witch (read: Inner and Outer Critics who tell you you’ll never get published, be good enough, make a living at it) and flying monkeys (read: every day wear and tear of life, like family, job, school, time-management issues)—and it just seems to be impossible you’re ever going to get back to Kansas.

You’re going to do it—and you’ll do it just like Dorothy with the help of your friends, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion, and by the fact you already have seen the movie and know that getting home lies within you if you believe hard enough. See, you’re already ahead. You know the answer.

The Scarecrow=brains. The brains refers to a lot of things. It’s organization, knowledge, and resources.

Time management is key. Organize your calendar and try to scrape out at least twenty minutes a day to write something—because the book isn’t going to manifest itself without you near a keyboard. (I know, I’ve tried.) Like the gym, once you make it a habit, you’ll keep going, but if you stop, it’s hard to go back. Writing is exercise and the more you do it, the better you’ll get.

Read up on plot and structure and character development, and all those things you constantly worry about within your manuscript. Knowledge is Power, baby. One of two things will happen, I assure you: A) You’ll get inspired by something you just discovered and start implementing it immediately; or B) You’ll get so depressed or angry, you’ll stop reading it and start writing. (read: “Fuck it! I’m just going to write the scene how I like!”) Either way, you’re writing, so it’s a win-win.

Draw on your resources. Talk to your writing buddies; form a clan—pass around ideas. Maybe even start a support group to make each other accountable when it comes to writing. Pool your resources with other people; drawing on others; and everyone comes away winning.

Work smarter, not harder. Writing is hard enough as it is.

The Tin Man=heart. Love yourself. If your friend came up with her WIP and showed you the first couple chapters, you would not deride every nit-picky thing wrong with it, nor would you tell her that she has no business writing. Ever. You’d find something positive to say; you’d objectively pick out the things that need to be fixed; then you’d encourage her to keep going because you know it’ll get better. You know this. You do this.

So why let your Inner Critic (read: Wicked Witch) emotionally hijack you because she doesn’t think your love scene was steamy enough—and on top of it, it was utterly cliché? For one, the Wicked Witch has never gotten laid, so what does she know? Nothing. Secondly, she has no business talking to you that way, period. There have been worst things written than what you have down on the page. Some of them have been published. Hell, some of them are being taught in English Lit class. You are not the worst thing to have happened to writing. Don’t let the bastards (especially the fictional ones) grind you down.

But my mother doesn’t support me—and she’s my mother! Uh-huh, well, does she read romances? No. Is she a writer? No? Then really, don’t worry about it. If your mother is not in publishing, her opinion is not the one that matters in the end. And by the time an editor reads it, it’s going to be polished, wonderful, and full of promise.

Also, love what you write. Don’t try to write to some genre or sub-genre because “it’s really hot right now” and it’ll get picked up by a publisher right away. If you don’t like paranormals, don’t read paranormals, could care less about paranormals—then write something else. Paranormals aren’t the only thing being published. Or worse, don’t try to write something because “it’ll be easy.” None of it is “easy.” But it’s all doable. Have heart if you’re writing something that’s not popular right this minute. There are writers who wrote stories that weren’t picked up for years before they finally found a home. Sherrilyn Kenyon, anyone? Believe me, her stories found a home.

Also with love, comes forgiveness. Forgive yourself that your plots are the hokiest things the planet; that your hero is so perfect he must have come out of a factory; and your heroine has no life goals beyond capturing a husband. Whatever. Forgiveness always comes before making the step to fix the problem.

The Cowardly Lion=courage. Courage to begin. Courage to stick with it. Courage to ask for help from friends and family. Courage to show it to other writers—or eek! An editor! Courage to write even if you know in your heart of hearts it will be a shitty draft. (Of course it’s going to be a shitty draft!) Courage to believe you will succeed. If you have courage, if you believe, it will happen. (Self-fulfilling prophesies. If you believe it will happen, good or bad, it will. But that’s another blog.)

If you put these three friends to good use, you’ll find outwitting the Wicked Witch and flying monkeys gets easier—even if it never lets up. And eventually you’ll get out of Oz and back home.