The Ten Stages of (Publication) Rejection

Rejection Stage 1:

I'm okay, everything is fine, I'll find rep somewhere else

Rejection Stage 2:

                                                        But why didn't they like it

Rejection Stage 3:

                                                           They don't understand it!

                                                   They're so unfair, I worked so hard!

Rejection Stage 4:

                   I'm trash. I'm shit, I'm a terrible writer, I'm not even human why should I try anymore

Rejection Stage 5:

I WILL CUT AND BURN YOU UNTIL YOU SHINE BRIGHT LIKE A DOITSU GOD DAMN IT

Rejection Stage 6:

                                                                               y this

Rejection Stage 7:

                                                                              Sleep

Rejection Stage 8:

                                      Did I write this poorly, or was it just not up to their tastes?


Rejection Stage 9:

             Cheetos and Ginger Ale and Comfort Writing ab something else to rinse the taste away

Rejection Stage 10:

                                                             Reluctant acceptance.  

                                                  Time to move on and try again.

A Writer's Vocabulary: A Balancing Act

     When you're little, teachers stress the importance of building a big vocabulary.  They tell you to search out big words, to fall in love with language, and to make use of it.
     I was already fascinated by words and stories by the time I entered school, so I was well on my way, collecting big words and new ideas as I absorbed story after story at an alarming rate; my brain was a sponge and words were my water.
     I never thought much about the words I used--they came to me as I spoke, and if they were the right words for the situation, I used them.  But I often found myself having to stop and explain what I meant using simpler words--when the words I had used were the simplest I could make them without losing the essence of the statement, it sometimes still wasn't enough!  There were even times where my teachers couldn't understand what I was saying, or where my attempt to answer a teacher's question left the class more dumbfounded than it had been previously.
     These experiences were common all throughout my primary and secondary education, and didn't stop at the schoolhouse doors.  In some ways, the awkwardness of these encounters acted as deterrents, especially in such situations as my intellect became a weapon to be used against me in the mouths of some of my more spiteful peers.  If I had loved words less than I did people, I may have learned to avoid big words altogether, and boxed myself into the little vocabulary that society had prepackaged for me.
     My mother went through similar struggles; as an extremely intelligent and well-read woman by predilection and a Master of Psychology by degree, she, too, had a voluminous vocabulary, which grew each time ours did--she had a great love of learning, which she passed down to myself and my brothers.  But in her workplace, my mother found herself at a disadvantage; with more tools to communicate with her colleagues than her colleagues did with her, she was forced to adapt herself to them, and let go of large portions of her vocabulary for the sake of clarity.
     All this is to say that we live in a society where we are often expected to pitch to the lowest common denominator, which is not always a bad thing; if your communication isn't clear, then it's not doing its job.  Words are there to help us express meaning, not show off.  As writers, this is important to keep in mind, and I've come across many an instructional guide that encourages writers to "dumb down" their writing as well--"Throw away your Thesaurus!" they cry!  "Burn the ten dollar words!"
     There's value to these articles--just as their is value in the request that a Kindergarten teacher not read high school-level stories to their five-year-old students.  It's important not to throw a thesaurus at every sentence in your story; if a small word works, it works, and there's no need to gussy it up.  You don't put on ten pounds of makeup to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, after all.
     But sometimes ten-dollar words are the most effective means of communication:  isn't it much more effective to say "She walked along the parapet" than to try to describe the tiny wall/ridge thing that runs along a rooftop?  Isn't it quicker to say "He performed a simple titration" than to try to explain what a titration is?
     If one word works better than seven, or seventeen, or seventy, then that word may well be the optimal word to use, whether in conversation or in a story--revenant, for example, is a word that's been passed around a lot since the release of that new movie, and very few people would typically be acquainted with the meaning of the word--one who has returned, or is believed to have returned, from the dead.  You could call such a movie "Return of the Dead" or "Dead Man Walking," or "One Who Has Returned From Death," and the simplicity of the words would render the meaning clear to most, if not all, English speakers.
     But they wouldn't have the same tone as The Revenant, would they?
     Sometimes the right word is a big one, sometimes it's a small one.  As a writer, it's your job to figure out which to use, and the more words you know, and the more books you read, the better equipped you'll be to make that call.
      As for the question of whether you'll be understood--people are curious, and people are smart; if your meaning is clear enough, they may pick up on what the word means from context clues.  If not, they can always look it up.  If you write well enough, people with smaller vocabularies will be willing to do the work; Lord knows we readers are willing enough to learn the names of a billion fictional places, people, and things.  And if someone does take your command of the English language as a personal affront, then that's on them, not on you.  You shouldn't throw away hard-won knowledge just because someone else can't be bothered to do a quick Google search.    
     I myself no longer avoid big words, either in real life, or in my writing; I welcome questioning stares and cocked heads as invitations to teach, reveling in the act of facilitating another's learning, and when I write, I will write from myself, using the words that are a part of me to make a tapestry that is wholly my own, neither trying to outsmart nor patronize the audience.
     It's all about the balancing act.  It's silly to gussy up to go to the bathroom, but you shouldn't strip naked as you head out to attend a ball, either.

How To Win NaNoWriMo in 15 Days

     Last year, I won NaNoWriMo with a couple days to spare, and I was pretty proud of myself.
     THIS year I won NaNoWriMo in HALF the allotted time, and I felt pretty darn great, I tell you what.  Unfortunately I didn't finish my novel in time (I'm too damn long-winded), but I walked away with a certificate and a smile and a good portion of a first draft for a story that I'm really into.
     Of course, if I kept the secrets to my success a secret, it wouldn't exactly behoove all of you writers out there, wondering how you can get not just your NaNo Novel, but ANY of your fast drafting on even faster, so I'm here to spill the beans and teach YOU how to blow the fishes out of the water with the power of your magic writey-downer abilitations.*
     Here's eight tactics YOU can use to win big fast!

*not a word.

  

1.  Cheat

     Okay, so not cheat, exactly, but sort of???
     See, what allowed me to win so quickly was the fact that on the first day of NaNo I was able to log 11,518 words.  No, it's not because I'm some sort of superhuman (I mean, I am totally some sort of superhuman, but that's not how I was able to write so much).  My secret?  I took NaNoPlotMo VERY seriously; I outlined like hell and scribbled down every note and spare thought I had, fleshing out the first half of my novel so vividly that half my job on day one was essentially copy-paste-expound-upon.
     This also meant that, for the first half of my novel at least, I had a clear idea about where I was going, who my players were, etc, so once I hit the ground I hit it rolling, fullspeed downhill with a fire on my ass.
     This is sort of cheating, yes, because all the WRITING is supposed to be done during November, but taking extensive notes is just an expected part of October for us NaNoers, and no one is looking over your shoulder raising their eyebrow at you for "thinking too much," so you do you and take as many notes as you want, comrade, it's your journey and can't no one tell you how to climb that mountain but you!
     (Also, no one can tell you not to write tons of run-ons in your first draft.  NO ONE.)

2.  Don't Look Back

    This is just one of those old classics of the NaNo experience, but still SUPER helpful.  Like, so helpful oh my God, I spent most of last year's NaNo just LEARNING this one, and it's helped in all my drafting since; don't go back and reread.
     It's tempting, I know!  But you must resist the urge.  Go back a chapter or maybe two if you need to at the start of the writing day, to try to kickstart your creativity, remember where you left, etc., but don't go any further back and do not, I repeat, DO NOT, I REPEAT AGAIN FOR FURTHER EMPHASIS, DO.  NOT.  EDIT.  
     I know those words are being real shitlords--they're screaming at you, begging you to come fix your mistakes, taunting you with your imperfections, but don't do it!  It will only slow you down, it could lessen your word count (which is all well and good during editing season, but not when you're drafting, ESPECIALLY not with NaNoWriMo), and you'll lose all your momentum.  Even if you're suffering from a block, you'd be better off getting up and going for a walk, or reading, or watching an hour of TV than risking a trip into the bog of edit hell.
     Don't even look back for details--if you forget a detail, make it up, you can always fix it in post.  And hey, who knows, maybe you'll like the new way better!
     Just, in general, if you can possibly help it, don't look back.  The time for looking back is not while your chainsaw is half-way through the lonely housewife's torso; the time for looking back doesn't come until the last grudge match has been settled and your bloody trail of carnage and slaughter finally matches the tale of woe and revenge set down in the notebook you made to look like that one from Deathnote.  That's when you bust out the bleach and start checking IDs.

3.  Don't worry about POV

     This year, I couldn't decide if I was writing from multiple third person limited or from third person omniscient.  Last year, during Camp NaNo I kept slipping into second person POV, too, and randomly switching tenses.
     This is pretty normal, we all do it to some degree, some more than others--our brain will just randomly switch gear and suddenly a third person story has six paragraphs of "I went to the store today" slapped in the middle.  Don't sweat it.
     This is another thing that can be fixed in post.  If you're not sure what POV you even want the story to be in, just write.  Write whatever comes to mind and deal with the aftermath later.
     That goes for tenses and shit, too.  Just don't worry; again, it can all be fixed in post.  Right now, the most important thing is to get that story out of your goddamn body before it has the chance to escape in a less palpable form, or takes hold of your brain and drives you MAD.

4.  Big casts help

     I'm not saying that big casts are the answer, or that they're right for your particular story, and I'm DEFINITELY not saying that every story needs to be an ensemble.
     What I AM saying is, I had a big cast this year (both years.  I'm a fan of large casts.  Sue me) and it really helped keep my juices flowing--I had a lot to work with, a lot of subplots to dive into, and any time I couldn't figure out what my MC's next move was, I could cut to some of the more minor characters and talk about a subplot for a chapter or two, which allowed me the time to let my MC ruminate on his options and decide what to do next--and, sometimes, for new characters to invent themselves.
     And of course, while writing my MC's scenes, I was able to work out what my side characters were doing, etc., etc., which makes for a good process most of the time.


5.  Set a big word count and follow that shit

     After my eleven thousand word victory I was like HELL FUCKING YES
     But I knew I had to keep working--I told myself that I would write at least three thousand words a day.  I didn't, of course, but I tried to; some days I went over, some days I went under, but because I was so far ahead, it wasn't any problem--even if you don't get off on the huge side of the bed the first morning of NaNoWriMo, exceeding the normal goal is a good thing to shoot for--maybe you write two thousand words a day instead of 1667, maybe three thousand, maybe five thousand!  Whatever you can handle, do that and do it consistently; that way if something happens and you're under one day, it's no big deal.  If you do it enough and for some reason you have to skip a day, again, you have some room under you, no big deal.
     BUUUUUTTTT.....

6.  Don't skip a day

     If you can help it, don't skip.  I know you have those pretty little days' worth of word credits saved up from all your SUPER DUPER WRITE-TASTICNESS, but do your best not to let them get to you.  If you take that day off, it's going to seriously screw with your momentum, which is what fast-drafting is all about.  You gotta go hard bro, 'cause in this game, there's no goin' home.  *Insert Murder Eyes*
     Plus, by skipping a day, your manuscript becomes a little less clear in your mind, details become a little more hazy--if you knew what you were going to do in the next scene, maybe you lose it, or lose part of it, and you risk the dreaded need to (DUN DUN DUUUUN) TURN BACK.  *LOUD MELODRAMATIC GASPING*

7.  Set up a routine that works for you

     I like to work in chunks of several hours at a time, when I can, so I try to get up early and write for a few solid hours before school, before I've expended my creative energy for the day, and then I do my best to squeeze in whatever extra time I can between classes--maybe you work best at night, though, or for fifteen minute intervals throughout the day; maybe the only time you can squeeze it in is while hastily shoveling bologna sandwiches into your chomping maw at the midday hour.
     Whatever works for you, set a time and try to stick to it--then grab whatever extra time you can get your grubby little hands on.  Try to set up a workstation if you can, leave your computer on sleep instead of off so it takes less time to boot up when you feel the desire for a pyre!

8.  Throw shit in there

     Obviously, you don't want to just slam a random thing down for the words, but don't censor or limit yourself.  Use those adverbs and adjectives you're not sure you'll need, you can cut 'em later!; write that introspective diatribe, you can change it later!; give a flashback that explains the entire character that you're pretty sure you'll end up using like four sentences from in the end; you can cut the rest of it later, but at least now you know, and this is a part of fast drafting that, as more of a pantser than a plotter, I love, because now I have all this information about my characters and their lives that I can use later, or not use at all, but at least I can write the character with all this shit in mind!
    And my wordcount is boosted, and no one got hurt**, and all is well.

**Except for all those people you murdered on number 2.

Salutations!

     Greetings, internet!  Let me inaugurate my first writing blog with a fond hello to all the writers, artists, hopefuls, and to-bes out there!  It’s hard to collect my thoughts for this post, but I think it’s appropriate to ring in the blog with an entry about beginnings—specifically, a writer’s beginnings.

     I know that there are a lot of aspiring writers out there--people who desire to set pen to paper and pour their souls out to the world--and that many of them are afraid to do so.

     It's natural to be afraid.  Really!  We all got scared, especially when facing down something so personal--there is no part of writing that isn't, honestly, because the art of the written word is derived from us and us alone.  We take our thoughts, our feelings, characters we become attached to, storylines we can't live without, and we throw it out at the world, hoping it will strike someone's fancy, and that our audience will come to us with affection in their eyes rather than disgust.  I've been writing novels since I was nine, and I'm still afraid.  So let me tell you why you don't have to be.

     I was not afraid when I was nine, not of anything.  I was top of my class, I loved books, and damn it, I was going to be a famous author if it killed me.  For Christmas I received a little green notebook with a few pretty flowers on the cover and said, "The time is now."  I wrote my first novel over the course of maybe six months, and I thought it was amazing.

     I typed it up on the computer, single-spaced, unformatted, with space-bar indents and a crude understanding of all things grammar--they don't teach that in school like they used to, I'm told. It totaled out at ten or twelve chapters, coming to forty-two pages in all; the main character was literally myself, only a superhero, and all her supports were direct copies of my best friends and our pets, also superheroes.  The villains were bullies from school who had no motive except to fuck up my life who somehow woke up a dragon sleeping under the school, which the protagonist befriended by pulling a thorn out of its foot, and in the end all of the bullies were frozen in blocks of ice and carted off by the police while the heroes basked in the glow of the commoners' praise.

     Oh, and in the middle, there was a three-page digression where the protagonist discovered a new species of rainbow-colored weasel and set them to breed for the sake of science.  Beautiful writing right there, just wonderful.

     Okay, so I'm sure you're asking why I'm telling you this right now.  Do I just want to ramble about a scrapped story?  No.  No, that's not it.  So what's the point?  The point is, it.  Sucked.  Ass.  And I didn't die!

     As I started to realize how far from ready it was for the public eye, I was frustrated, yes, and I wanted to make it perfect, only I didn't yet possess the skill set.  Young, undisciplined, and a little put off, I didn't dwell too long.  Recognizing my limits, I dutifully filed it away on a flash drive and promised to be back for it later, then moved on to the next thing, absolutely certain that it would be a thousand times better.  I've tried to come back several times but, ultimately, if it will ever be worth reviving, it hasn't been yet.  That's okay.  I failed, and that's okay.  Better than okay, it was what I needed!  I can learn from that, I can look at everything I did wrong and I can say, "I won't do that again," because I know, first-hand, that it doesn't work, and there's no authority to spite in trying.  There's only me.

     My point here is; start.  Whatever it is, no matter how old you are, how much you've read, what you want to accomplish, how complicated your story is--start.  Once you begin, you'll find it's hard to stop.  As a stone rolls down a hill, it gathers momentum, and the more momentum available, the more force it takes to halt the object in motion.  Our brains are wired to be more likely to finish something if we start it, and we're more likely to learn from our own fuck-ups than from someone else's.  Skill, finesse, experience, they're all important, but you will never have them if you don't put pen to paper and write.  Write, finish, and learn.

     Seven and a half years later, and the very worst thing that first, awful, despicable manuscript gave me is something to laugh at when there's nothing else to think about.  Three pages of rainbow-colored weasels?  What was nine-year-old me on?

     You don't need to be perfect the first time.  No, let me rephrase that; you will not be perfect the first time, but that's what the revising and editing steps are for!  That's what practice is about!  It's why you read these kinds of articles in the first place!  So go pick up a notebook or open a word processor, and start honing your skill.  You don't have to be afraid--more importantly, you don't have to let your fears consume you.  The only way to finish is to start, and the only way to start is to start.  So start!  There's no one to impede you but yourself.

     To beginnings!