Reflections from the Well

On Writing Craft, Creativity & Inspiration

By Alexander Slagg

Finding Success on Your Own Terms

As a writer, I’ve faced a lot of rejection. When I am in submissions mode, I have my writing rejected frequently. It’s frustrating at times, but I’m not ready to pull up stakes and move to Mars quite yet. The satisfaction I take from writing continues to inspire me to carry on. Looking back on more than a decade’s worth of rejection, the most stinging brushoffs weren’t those that I received from any magazine or journal, but from the creative writing programs I applied to.

This was early in my writing career. I had friends that were in programs and I was looking for a course to chart for my life. I liked to write; a creative writing program seemed like a good fit. But it was not to be. I think the reason those typewritten slips of paper cut so deep was because I had a lot of expectations riding on them. In my mind, acceptance into a creative writing program was like Sally Field’s Oscar acceptance line: You like me, you really like me! It was validation that my writing was good—that someone whose opinion mattered saw something worthy in me.

It was to be the turn in the road that took me from a dull, normal existence to a life filled with South American supermodels, Mai Tais on the beach, and after-dinner cognac and cigars with fellow literati. And when it didn’t happen… I felt lost and adrift. What do I do now?

After some soul searching, I came to believe that my motivations for wanting to attend a program were off. I was looking for a lifestyle rather than simply wanting to study the craft of writing and improve my techniques. I had a lot of misguided desires wrapped up in that application. Soon enough, I pulled myself up by my Doc Martin bootstraps and continued writing.

And after that experience, my writing changed. It got better—rang more true. It went off in directions that I never could have imagined. Accepting this rejection allowed me to shed whatever preconceived notions I had of how or what a writer wrote. I had freed myself from the fetters of expectation. I now wrote for no other reason than because it was an enjoyable activity.

Today I’m thankful for that slap in the face. It woke me up. That experience changed my mind about what constitutes success. Surely I could become a writer without going through a creative writing program. After all, did F. Scott Fitzgerald attend a creative writing program? How about Tom Robbins? And Neil Gaiman? No, no, and nope. If the writers whose work I really admired had never attended a program, what did it matter if I did? Somehow they found their way to a career as a writer, and somehow I would.

Don’t get me wrong—a writing program has its place. It can sharpen the tools that we use to tell stories, and it can serve as a good concentrated timeframe to study the craft of writing. But it isn’t the only route to finding success as a writer. Any motivated individual can study the writing of others and put in the time to improve one’s craft.

And no writing program can give you the life experiences that tinge the water of the unconscious well from which you draw your stories. They cannot mature you as a human being to better understand the spark that flickers through the human heart and the patterns that communicate the passing of the seasons. All of this awaits off on the horizon for anyone with the courage to take the road less traveled.

***

Touching on various aspects of the writing process, Reflections from the Well is more than a rote column, it’s a literary lounge where writers and other creators are invited to share their own experiences. Share your comments with Alex for possible inclusion on the LWN blog or in his next reflection at aslagg@literarywritersnetwork.org.

Reflections from the Well

On Writing Craft, Creativity & Inspiration

Alexander Slagg

Finding a Guide to Paradise

While the creative process of getting a piece of writing from shimmering spark inside your head to polished diamond on the page is often considered mysterious and magical, it’s the next step. Getting your work into print—that is the truly inexplicable process for most creative writers.

Publication is that Edenic realm where only truly successful writers reside. And any reader of the Bible will recall that there’s a muscle-bound cherub with an enormous flaming sword blocking the entrance into this paradise. Of course, I’m referring to THE EDITOR.

I’ve listened to countless conversations between writers that in one way or another ask the question: How do I get an editor to publish my work? But this is the wrong question to be asking. The better question to ask is: How do I get the right editor to publish my work? What’s the difference? Allow me to explain.

During my time as an editor at a book publisher, I worked very closely with the acquisitions editors. They were a friendly group—we had potlucks, shared gardening tips and talked about books and literature a lot (same as what writers do together). What I observed over and over was that certain editors had topics that interested them, and that they rarely strayed from these topics when acquiring titles they wanted to publish.

One editor wanted to see any book proposal that touched on health and beauty topics. Another editor was all about pet-themed books. The health and beauty editor wouldn’t bother to review a pet-themed pitch, and vice versa for the pet editor. Each editor also had his or her own views on the kind of writing they liked.

Some loved T. C. Boyle, one thought Carl Hiassen was brilliant, and another swore by Margaret Atwood. Those tastes also tended to determine the types of writers they were interested in working with. For example, a story with an animal or pet theme in the style of Carl Hiassen likely wouldn’t work for the pet editor. His tastes were more along the lines of T. C. Boyle’s writing style. This is how most editors operate. No matter how extraordinary your work is, if it doesn’t suite their personal tastes, they won’t consider it.

Even putting aside personal preferences, there’s sound business sense behind these nuanced acquisitions too. Publishing is a business. Editors like publishing work that’s successful, obviously. And once they have some success with a certain market, they will go back to the well over and over again. They have sold books there; they understand what sells to that particular niche market.

For the writer seeking an editor (or an agent, for that matter), what’s my point? If you’ve done your homework, I’m probably not offering any big reveal here. But it’s something to keep in mind as those rejection slips pile up on the corner of your desk.

More than anything else, publication comes down to matching the right writing with the right editor. Constant rejection leads many writers to throwing in the towel—an understandable response. But having your writing rejected doesn’t mean that it’s no good.

It could mean that you haven’t yet placed it in the right editor’s hands. You haven’t found that editor who shares similar tastes to your own and can see the value in your writing. And that, I think, is a healthy perspective as you consume that steady diet of rejection pie, rejection kebobs, and rejection étouffée that comes your way when sharing your creative writing with the world.

Another understandable response to publication is to view the process as a numbers game. If I send out my work to enough editors, I’m liable to randomly find the right editor for my work. This is mathematically true. Much like randomly bumping into the love of your life or randomly finding that dream job. How well does a scattershot approach work when looking for love or employment? If you have the time, by all means, try this approach.

But for those who don’t have endless amounts of spare time, finding the right publishing outlet for your work comes down to your personal interactions with others—networking. There’s no good way around it. A targeted approach is your best bet for finding the right editor. This includes doing research in one of the publishing guidebooks, utilizing online publication resources, directly contacting editors and publications for guidance on what they publish, and contacting a writer that you admire to see if they have any suggestions. It’s not fun work, but it’s the work that will most likely get you through those pearly publication gates.

Touching on various aspects of the writing process, Reflections from the Well is more than a rote column, it’s a literary lounge where writers and other creators are invited to share their own experiences. Share your comments with Alex for possible inclusion on the LWN blog or in his next reflection at aslagg@literarywritersnetwork.org.

Reflections from the Well

On Writing Craft, Creativity & Inspiration

by Alexander Slagg

Is Writing Fun?

“Have a good time, all the time.”

—   Viv Savage, deceased keyboardist, from This Is Spinal Tap

***

The trees swayed in the darkness on the far hillside. My eyes were closed, listening to the wind. The traffic had eased to a trickle down below our apartment building.

I held a glass of pinot noir in my hand, the last dregs tingling down the nether regions of my tongue. I had just finished writing for the evening, an hour squeezed in between my full-time job and the baby happily sleeping in the crib next to our bed, beneath the blue glow of my computer screen.

“Is it fun?” my wife asked, seated across from me on our deck. “Do you enjoy writing? You always seem tired and off in your own world when you’re done.”

“I’m not sure if it’s fun or not,” I remember replying. “But it’s fulfilling.”

We talked more about writing that night. She was not, and is not, a writer. What she saw was a husband juggling a lot of different and newly shouldered responsibilities. So why was he sitting down in front of the computer with his limited spare time to work on a novel? Her question drifted with me for a long time. I still think about it. Is writing fun?

***

Today, I still can’t say that it’s necessarily fun. There are moments where I hit upon an apt description or turn of phrase that elicits a chuckle—fun! But sitting down to write is not fun the way riding scooters with my kids or playing video games is. As a human being with a brain and thoughts about the past and the future—consciousness—the guiding light for my being is experience and growth, not fun. I’m here to embrace joyful and tearful moments—the full range of emotions. And I’m here to learn and grow from those experiences.

Is writing fun? Sure, sometimes it is and other times it’s a dreadful slog—just like life. I believe that the experience of writing is a mirror held up to life. It’s going to reflect everything that you experience in life, good and bad. Some days, gazing in the mirror is invigorating; other days, it’s a drag.

No one goes through life expecting hedonistic enjoyment all the time. The Jeff Spicoli school of philosophy, expecting nothing but tasty waves and a cool buzz from life, is exactly what it appears to be—adolescent dialogue from a fictional character in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. For whatever reason, we human beings crave this notion that any activity worth putting time into needs to be fun.

I tried to live the Spicoli life for many years, but ultimately it did not suit me because I matured. Bad things happened to me. And Jeff Spicoli offered me no guidance on how to navigate the all-to-common choppy waters of life. What did offer me guidance? Writing.

Thinking about how and why people do what they do; considering the themes that run through life like currents in a river; detailing the color, size, smell, feeling, and shape of the world and everything in it; setting the watch-like mechanics of a plot into place—these activities, the work of the craft, give me guidance and offer insights and a nuanced way to consider life, the good and the bad.

No, writing is not just fun. It’s also burdensome, sublime, frustrating, thrilling, dull, heartening, and capricious.  It is exactly the way I experience life. I don’t do it for a good time. I do it because it fulfills me.

Touching on various aspects of the writing process, Reflections from the Well is more than a rote column, it’s a literary lounge where writers and other creators are invited to share their own experiences. Share your comments with Alex for possible inclusion on the LWN blog or in his next reflection at aslagg@literarywritersnetwork.org.

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“Traiteurs” by Ramona DeFelice Long

"Miss Aline is going to die, but it will not be today. It won’t be this week, or next. Beyond that, not even I could say for sure."

“Stephen Dreams of Visiting Heaven” by Christine Kindberg

"Stephen needed God’s attention urgently. No one else seemed to know what to do, and his mother was just getting worse."

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Reflections from the Well

On Writing Craft, Creativity & Inspiration

by Alexander Slagg

Finding the Fun in Self-promotion

I have a novel that I’ve completed. I’ll continue to rework it for a while (currently on draft 3). But I think it’s at a stage where others can take a look at it. It feels like the right time to begin the search for an agent—or a potential publisher.

This prospect touches on several anxieties for me.  I’m not some silver-tongued, rolodex-spinning jabber jaw ready to work the phones and make the big deal. Nor am I a sparkle-toothed, professionally coiffured marketing android ready to march out and sell the Alexander Slagg brand. I don’t have boundless time and energy to query and query and then query some more.

The problem is I’m a writer. My strengths lie in sitting down and writing, using my imagination, nailing down the right descriptive term. How do I go out and play all of these other roles: deal maker, cheerleader, carnival barker?

When I run up against barriers like this in my life, I’ve come to recognize them as opportunities to grow and expand my notion of who and what I am. How will I go out and find a backer for my book? I’ll just do it—in my own time and in a way that feels comfortable to me. I will build enough internal inertia to overcome my anxieties, and start taking the small steps that encompass the journey to publication.

This is not an uncommon situation for writers—discomfort with the peripheral duties that go with writing something and trying to reach a broader audience with it. But as much as I may identify with the idea of being a writer and whatever connotations this label carries for me, I’m also other things.

I have many roles in life. In certain situations, I enjoy socializing. I can talk about myself, about my writing, about literature. I can be open enough to share with others that I think my book is kind of a big deal. (And if I didn’t truly believe that at heart, why would I bother to share it with others?) Occasionally, I can be the person who’s able to conjure up single-minded focus for querying, the one who can go out and sell a project.

Thinking back on past experience, the best way for me to dial in these needed characteristics is to bring a sense of play to the task at hand. I remember fondly one of my job-seeking experiences when I was in my twenties.

On a whim, I picked up a pair of cheap eyeglasses from a Chinese import store. Sleek, platinum frames (plastic!) with nonprescription lenses. The next day, I started wearing them to job interviews, joking with myself that they brought a modern, “employable” sheen to my appearance.

I was in on a little joke with myself, in what was otherwise a stressful situation. This made the experience fun. And bringing a sense of play to the dreary task of finding work made it bearable—and eventually got me employed, landing me in a great situation.

And that’s often the missing puzzle piece in situations where we’re starting uncomfortable tasks we don’t feel we’re up for—a sense of play or whimsy. When some fun gets added to the mix, we can do most anything.

* * *

Touching on various aspects of the writing process, Reflections from the Well is more than a rote column, it’s a literary lounge where writers and other creators are invited to share their own experiences. Share your comments with Alex for possible inclusion on the LWN blog or in his next reflection at aslagg@literarywritersnetwork.org.