I recently talked about how I try to think about my novel, and writing in general, along the following lines: Reach for the stars. Expect nothing.
This article reinforces my thinking and underlines how important it is to find that balance between confidence and being realistic.
When I’m sitting across from a writer who is pitching their book to me, I’m often feeling a little overwhelmed and a little bit overtired… But here’s what i want you to know: when I’m sitting there I’m also thinking about how brave I think you are and how much I admire you for taking a chance and telling me about the book that is, after all, your heart and soul. It takes real guts to expose yourself like that. Being a writer is so personal that trying to “make it” really does require so much more courage than other professions.
I’m not sure about needing more courage than other professions, but I do think you need a certain steel to embark on a project such as, I don’t know, a novel.
For me, it’s about how much time and effort is required. It’s taken me years to complete my first novel, and at times it’s been incredibly tough, especially when faced with a pile of drafts and no obvious place to go next.
But go somehwere I did and go some place next we writers do, despite all evidence that suggests we might well be wasting our time.
What’s really brave is that you’re doing this even though chances are high that you’re going to fail. Now, let’s qualify this: we are all going to fail. We will fail in our careers, we will fail as parents, as friends, as spouses or boyfriends or girlfriends. And if you’re reading this, you’re going to fail as a writer. (And by the way, don’t forget that I will also sometimes fail as an agent.) What this means is that when you’re sitting across from me you’re bravely embracing your failure. You’re acknowledging that it will happen and you’re steeling yourself to move on. For at the other side of failure lies lessons learned. And lessons learned are the only authentic way to success.
And that brings me back to that balancing act.
If the acceptance of likely failure covers the ‘expect nothing’ part of my equation, there must be some kind of ying to its yang.
If we all - and I mean everyone now, not just writers - gave up or, God forbid, never started difficult projects, especially when the odds of reaching an audience were against us, then nothing would ever get created. There would be no art.
So I say have faith, try hard and believe that, maybe, you might be the one to defy those odds. Because after all, someone has to.
