HollyRobinson

Writer & Red Dirt Rambler

Getting Unstuck and Finding Your Fiction Portal

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I am no fiction virgin. I have published six novels to date—one on my own, and five with Penguin Random House. Yet, until recently, I have never felt more stuck as a writer.

What happened? I really don’t have a clue. Yes, my agent has been hanging onto my latest book for a while. But I’ve always been a writing workhorse, so I decided to start another manuscript while I was waiting. I mean, what better excuse is there for starting a new novel than National Novel Writing Month?

Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get unstuck. It was like my brain had frozen or overheated or, I don’t know, locked some secret door, preventing me from accessing whatever neurons I need to write. Every day I’d sit at my desk, but the words refused to come.

I didn’t panic at first. But then, as the days and weeks went by, I became grumpy. Then angry. Then desperately sad, to the point where I felt like I was sinking deeper and deeper into that hellhole of despair, the one familiar to many writers who become convinced that our time is up and we’ve written our last books.

This is the sort of despair that feels as if you’re wading through a muddy pit of writhing snakes. You are trapped in a cloying sort of darkness, entangled and bitten by every mean thing anyone has ever said to you about your writing.

It took me a while to realize that the source of my despair wasn’t just a new crisis of confidence, but the fact that I had NO FICTION PORTAL at all.

For me, a fiction portal is any story or novel in progress. This portal is nearly as essential to my existence as oxygen. If I’m writing, well, I can handle almost anything else in my “real” life better. The fiction portal gives me a place to escape to, one where I control everything from the weather to why people fall in love with each other (or not).

Clearly, I needed to find a new fiction portal. But how, when it felt like every avenue was closed off to me?

I did find one in the end. I’m writing again, and much saner. Here are some strategies that worked for me, not in any particular order:

  • Read three books in a row without writing anything new. Doesn’t matter if it’s fiction or nonfiction. One of the best ways to be an inspired writer is to be an inspired reader.
  • Look at another manuscript you tried to write, anything that failed and has been put in a drawer or stashed in an attic box. Pick three paragraphs you like out of that abandoned book and use them to start something new.
  • Clean out your office and closets. Sometimes, a clearer physical space will help unclutter your mind, too.
  • Sign up for a writing workshop. Having a new audience will give you a fresh perspective on your work, and workshops are often free if you find one through your library or local bookstore.
  • Try writing in a completely different genre.
  • Read quotes by famous writers. Here’s one of my favorite sites for quotes by writers about motivation and rejection: http://writersrelief.com/quotes-for-writers/#Rejection
  • Finally, get plenty of sleep and exercise. It’s impossible to feel like your head is on straight without getting plenty of sleep. And who knows? You might just dream your next plot line.

I found my new fiction portal this time around by starting something completely different: a YA science fiction novel. I haven’t read science fiction since college, so it’s fun to just let my mind roam in that direction without any pressure. Who knows where this book will take me? Maybe nowhere, but at least I have a new portal beckoning me out of my everyday life.

How to Write Historical Fiction: It Will Take More Time than You Ever Dreamed Possible

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I hated history class in high school. All of those boring dates and dead people, blah blah blah. I memorized what I needed to, then took the tests and promptly forgot everything. Who cared? I was alive in the vivid present!

I never took another history class. Not in college, because I didn’t need history to get a biology degree and become a doctor. And not in grad school, because by then I’d switched gears, earning an MFA in creative writing and trying to write a novel.

Fast forward thirty years. I am among the lucky few living the dream of so many aspiring writers: I have published six novels, all contemporary fiction, five of them with Penguin Random House. I have also ghosted many books for celebrities. The writing always came, if not easily, then steadily.

And then, somehow, I met the poet who wouldn’t leave, and discovered I knew nothing at all about writing historical fiction.

This poet, Celia Thaxter, was one of the best known female poets of the late 19th century, and I met her in a painting first. Well, in a print of a painting by American Impressionist Childe Hassam. He had painted Celia standing in her garden, surrounded by tall flowers, the sea behind her. I asked the docent who she was, and discovered that Celia had grown up on the Isles of Shoals—a collection of small islands off the New England coast—where her family built the first grand resort hotel, Appledore House.

On the day I saw that picture, Celia climbed right out of it and came home with me, begging me to tell her story. Her story was intriguing, I had to admit, if only because she kept a salon that drew popular writers, musicians, and painters of the day. She knew Hawthorne and Emerson, Charles Dickinson and Harriet Beecher Stowe.

But that wasn’t what drew me to her. No, the thing that got me was this: Celia, like me, had a posse of women writer friends who traded manuscripts and wrote each other letters about their lives. I went to the Boston Public Library and began reading through one collection of letters—over 250 of them to her best friend, Annie Fields—and realized that Celia had her own doubts about the value of her work, the health of her marriage, and parenting her children, one of whom had serious disabilities.

She was, in a word, human. I suddenly wanted to tell her story. Because I’m a novelist, that meant putting Celia in a novel. But how do you write historical fiction? I had no idea.

And so I began searching out her letters in other libraries. I also read botany and gardening books, because Celia was a famous gardener, and biographies about other writers in Celia’s life, like Lucy Larom and Harriet Beecher Stowe, plus Emerson’s works and Thoreau’s, too, just because.

In addition, I began visiting all of the places Celia had ever been or lived, including the house in Newtonville where she was so unhappy, struggling to raise three small boys with no money and a husband who was allergic to work. That’s the house where Celia wrote her first published poem, and I managed to talk my way into it when the owner caught me loitering in her driveway.

All of this research took over a year. Finally I drafted a hundred pages of a novel and fired it off to my agent, who said, in a word, “No.”

But I couldn’t let Celia go. So I read some more, spent some nights out on the Isles of Shoals, and started gardening, trying to see why gardening was so damn important to this woman. I grew hollyhocks because she did, and showboat Dahlias the size of dinner plates. Digging in the dirt, it seemed, was something that freed Celia’s mind, and it began to free mine, too.

I decided the book should have dual plot lines, one with Celia in the 1800’s, at her grand resort hotel on the Isles of Shoals, and the other set now, with a woman struggling with similar issues: a troubled marriage, a problem child, the hard work of balancing a career with motherhood. Now all I needed was a way to connect my two characters. Yeah, a plot would be nice.

And so I was off. Five hundred, six hundred, a thousand pages came and went in my various drafts, until finally I sent the finished book to my agent a month ago. Last week, she emailed to say that the book still needs work.

She is making notes on the manuscript to help me, and I am grateful. At the same time, I can’t help wondering why I decided to hit my head on this particular brick wall. Why didn’t I just write another contemporary novel? What if I spend two, three, four years on this book, but it ends up in a drawer? What will I do then?

The answers to these questions are the same ones I’ve given to aspiring writers in my university classes and author signings in the past: We write fiction because there is nothing else we love to do more. We write a particular book because it haunts us and won’t let go.

I also remind myself–as I hope I’m reminding you—that writing any fiction is a lot harder than it seems, when you’re holding a neatly bound book in your hands that you’ve just picked up in a bookstore. And writing historical fiction (as I should have guessed) takes months, or even years, of research, if you’re going to breathe life into a time and place around a character. You’d better love the research itself. (I do, it turns out.)

The payoff? I don’t know. I wish I could tell you that this is all worth it, that of course you (and I) will publish our novels and see the books we’ve slaved over for so long on the shelves of our local bookstores. But I can’t promise that.

Instead, the payoff for me has been much bigger than just a publishing deal. Writing historical fiction has led me down all sorts of fascinating rabbit holes, and now I see connections everywhere: in the Gilded Age exhibit I recently saw at the Met, in the new Henry James exhibit at the Gardner Museum, in the 19th century houses in my own neighborhood.

This is something I should have learned in high school, but didn’t: those people we read about in history class lived, loved, fought, cried, and laughed together, just as we do. We are all connected. And isn’t that the most important lesson a human can learn?

What’s the Best Way to Make It as a Writer? Don’t Quit: 7 Great Tips for Handling Rejection

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If you’re a writer, rejection is a way of life. Maybe your writing group doesn’t like your current draft. You can’t find an agent. Or, if you do have an agent, your agent doesn’t like your current book. Then all of the editors might say no.

What do you do? You have no choice but to begin again. I know the drill well: It took me over twenty years to break into traditional publishing. Fortunately for all of us, there are strategies we can use to keep going. And that’s what you have to do, no matter how lousy you feel, because the surest way to fail as a writer is to quit.

As a woman who cries easily—even a TV commercial can set me off, never mind an outright rejection of something I’ve put heart and soul into for, oh, two or three years—I thought it might be interesting to see what a guy has to say about taking it on the chin. Here are seven great tips on how to handle rejection from my colleague and online pal Shane Weisfeld, a Toronto-based screenwriter. At the age of 43, he has spent almost 20 years facing the ins and outs of the industry. The 2014 movie “Freezer,” starring Dylan McDermott and Peter Facinelli, was his first produced feature film credit–after 15 years of actively pursuing the business.

 

You can follow Shane on Twitter @ShaneWeisfeld. Meanwhile, take heart from his advice, all of you creatives out there, and keep going! The world never needed artists more than it does now.

1. It’s a Test

You can take rejection crying like a baby or face it like an adult. It’s a true test of your will, determination and mental strength. Instead of the old “why me?” response when you face it, you should be saying “I’m glad I was chosen for this test.”

Writers face rejection. That’s it. You can’t get away from it. As long as you want to be in the arts, you will experience it – whether you’re a writer, journalist, musician, artist, painter, photographer or dancer. It’s like Hyman Roth says in Godfather Part II: “This is the business we’ve chosen!” In our case, the business of rejection.

The more you study and learn the ins and outs of this rejection test, the easier it will be for you to take, and pass, that exam of personal resilience, persistence and tenacity.

2. Start Taking It as Early as Possible

If you’re lucky enough to know what you want early in life, you’ll start going for it right away. However, that means the rejection will start as well. The better you’ll be later on if you start receiving rejection from a young age, because that’s what builds a thick skin and backbone – and it will help you with other things in life as well.

Take professional athletes as an example. Athletics and sports is one of those careers where you have to start practicing from a very early age. By the time these athletes reach their teens, they’re already seasoned in being cut, hearing “no”, and people telling them they need to practice more and that they’re just not ready yet.

With any hardships in life, the earlier you start enduring it, the (mentally) stronger you will become.

3. It’s a Lightbulb above Your Head

When you receive rejection, and a lot of it, use it as a realization. Being self-critical is extremely hard, but it will help you as a writer. If you receive several rejections within a short timespan, use it to reflect and take a step back. Retreat to the drawing board and REWRITE.

Sometimes, and in some cases many times, the people rejecting you do know what they’re talking about – especially if you’re able to get your material in the right hands. If some of these people (whether it’s agents, managers, publishers, editors, producers, executives, writing competitions) have taken the time to give you constructive criticism, feedback and notes – take that and run with it – and come back only once you’ve improved your work.

If rejection makes you go back and rewrite your material to make it better, you should be personally thanking rejection.

4. It Separates You from the Rest

If you can take rejection, you’re already ahead of the game! Most people actually can’t take rejection. The 1% of us in the fine arts have chosen to be guinea pigs. You can be like 99% of people who choose a profession just so they don’t have to face rejection, or you can go with your gut instinct and what you were meant to do, and be that original, unique, 1% that not only takes it, but rises above it.

People are impressed with those who face rejection on a regular basis. It makes you stand out. It means you have been through the fire and back, and that you have stories to tell. It also means you’re not afraid to share your ideas and execution of those ideas. It comes with a cost though, which is explored in tip #6.

5. It Helps with Connections

As a screenwriter, one of the most frequent questions or comments I get is: “It’s all about who you know, right?”

Well, obviously! That’s not the only thing, but it certainly helps. The question is: how do you get to know people? Or rather: how do people get to know who you are? Not just making connections, but building relationships as well. You need to throw yourself out there and get people to read and analyze your material. This is all under the umbrella of perseverance. For all writers. If you’re going to be spending years at this craft and facing rejection, you might as well take that time making connections as well and build up your network.

Rejection isn’t always a completely closed door. Sometimes that door is left open just a bit and it’s up to you to nudge that door open a little more. I’ve made some of my best connections with people who initially rejected my material. There’s always a chance for you to come back better and stronger, and what better way to make connections then with people who can become fans of your writing?

6. Nobody Cares that You’ve Been Rejected

You can have a sob story of how long you’ve been in the trenches, but it really doesn’t matter – your writing in the moment is what counts. Work hard, have more than one writing sample, be open to collaboration – but sympathy is not something writers can use to get them in the door. It’s actually naive and unprofessional to be using rejection to garner the sympathy vote.

Perseverance is the key ingredient to reaching your goals, but you have to let the writing speak for itself. It may take you years for things to start happening, but the industry people you’re trying to impress only care about the WRITING and quality of the material (and not being a nutjob, of course. “Good in a room” counts!)

What happens outside of the writing is your own internal story, which you can certainly share with others, especially if that’s what has allowed you to reach certain goals… but don’t think people will say “yes” to you just because of that.

7. Turn Your Dream Into A Burning Desire

There are people who have hopes and dreams. Then there are those who have this obsessive, burning desire to make it at what they’re so passionate about. These are the people who can’t see themselves not doing this “thing” for a living. The people who aggressively go out there, hustle, and keep coming back stronger year after year after year after year after year… those are the ones who find a way to reach their dreams and goals.

If this is you, then rejection will be much easier to take, because nothing should stop you from reaching your long-term goals, which could come in baby steps. You have to be so intent on making it that no amount of rejection will break you or question your ability, talent or confidence.

It’s one thing to have a dream, but a whole different ballgame if you’re realistic about it, in the form of a question that goes something like this: “Do I want and need this bad enough that I’m willing to not only spend years at it, but in those years, to face a mounting plethora of back-breaking and bone-shattering rejections that comes along with it?”

I asked myself that a long time ago, and there has been no turning back ever since. I’ve been able to take rejection all these years because the writing fire burns inside of me so intensely, and because my willingness to persevere is way stronger than the idea of people saying “no” or the fear that it won’t happen for me.

You Finished Your Novel. Now What?

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So you finished your novel. Congratulations!

Now what?

If you’re like me, the first thing you’ll do is celebrate, maybe even all by yourself. Last week, for instance, I reached the end of my current manuscript and washed slices of my favorite pizza down with a couple of glasses of Prosecco because my husband was working late and I was in a coma.

However, whether you’re pursuing a traditional publishing deal or self publishing, there’s a long way to go before your book appears in stores or even on Amazon. Here’s what might happen next:

Make Time for Beta Readers

My husband is a software engineer; when he finishes writing a bunch of new code, it’s in the “beta phase,” also known as Betaware. Likewise, once you complete the entire first draft of your book, you’re only at the end of the development phase. Now it’s time to collect your Beta readers. These people aren’t necessarily critique partners in your workshop (though they can be), but should be astute readers eager and willing to point out things like plot holes and inconsistent points of view.

The Magic Is in the Revision

Even though you have already written three, five or even eleven drafts (yeah, I like prime numbers), trust me: your Beta readers will come back with insights and critiques that will make you feel like an idiot. That’s okay. The magic is in the revision. And, if you’re lucky, a few months will have elapsed, so that you can look at your project with fresh eyes as you dig into the revision.

Want Good Dialogue? Don’t Just Read It. Speak It.

You will smooth out a lot of rough/silly/unnecessary dialogue if you read it aloud. Better yet, have someone read it with you, so that you can “hear” the conversations.

Ready, Set, Proofread!

By revision three, five, or eleven, depending on your patience and/or contract deadline, you will be pretty dang sick of this book. Yet, there is one more important step to take before sending it out to an agent, an editor, or whatever service you’re using to self publish: proofread it! You can hire a typo hunter or copy editor for this pesky job. Or, if you’re set on doing it yourself, print out the entire book—yes, PRINT IT OUT—and read it carefully for errors during that final polish. You’ll be astounded by what you catch.

Have a Distraction Handy

Once your book is finally off to the agent or editor for professional feedback, there isn’t a lot you can—or should—do. This book will still come back for revisions. It might even be rejected. Either way, you need a distraction. Arrange a vacation, weed your garden, shop for a new car, clean your closets, whatever. Your book is still going to come back needing another rewrite (or seven), so prepare for that by clearing your head—after you have another celebration!

Yep, I Failed. But Maybe That’s a Good Thing.

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Last year, I did the Couch-to-5K program and ran my first 5K. My time was almost laughable—35 minutes and 12 seconds, with a pace of 11.20 per mile. In other words, women pushing baby strollers were passing me. But, hey, it was my first race. I was determined to keep running and planned to do the same race in 2017. I couldn’t wait to see how much faster I’d be!

That race was Saturday, June 10. And I failed.

This particular 5K is a grand event that raises money in the name of 1st Lt. Derek Hines, who was tragically killed in the line of duty in Afghanistan at age 25, for a Soldiers Assistance Fund. By now, this Flag Day race draws an impressive crowd of runners each year to Newburyport, MA. There is a moving ceremony with military personnel speaking about their personal experiences, and this year there was even a Black Hawk helicopter doing flyovers, followed by music and a barbecue.

When I ran the race last year, I was terrified. I had never done anything like a 5K, never mind one with such fanfare and so many people cheering from the sidelines. This time I felt more relaxed, having put many miles on my sneakers in the intervening year. I already knew the course and had my strategy in place: no racing at the start, baby steps on the hill, try to do the last mile faster. Etc.

So what happened? I ran the course TWO MINUTES SLOWER. Sure, it was hotter than last year, and every runner likes to use heat as an excuse for a bad race day. And yeah, I’d ordered an XL in the t-shirt and it was like running in a dang dress.

But I was disappointed in myself, enough to do that thing I always poke fun at “real” athletes for doing: running a play-by-play description of the race aloud for my husband and friends, lamenting where I could have gone faster and made up time. Woulda, shoulda, coulda: that sort of pointless hit-your-head-on-the-wall defeatist dialogue.

My race day also happened to be my daughter’s birthday, and for her birthday, she and her brother were celebrating by running a 30K race. Yeah, you read that right: 30K. On trails, and up hills in Oregon, where she lives. (Oh, and she’s training for a 100K. In Colorado.)

When I told my bionic girl about feeling like a failure, my daughter said, “I don’t know, Mom. I look at those runners who come in way after I do, and you know what? I admire them. They’re out there running for a lot longer than most people, and working harder to achieve the same goal. You should just be proud that you did it.”

Okay, that pep talk momentarily made me feel worse. Old, lame, obsolete, you name it: suddenly I saw myself as others must: as a red-faced, chubby, over-the-hill dame who can barely make it up a hill.

The thing is, I fail at a lot of things. My garden needs weeding, my laundry needs doing, my crow position in yoga is more of a squat-and-topple, and the novel I’m writing refuses to behave. In fact, I fail a lot more than I succeed.

On the other hand, after I’d fumed some more, after I’d had time to consider my daughter’s wise words, I suddenly had this thought: it’s better to be failing at things you’re trying than to just be lounging on the coach and watching other people do cool things.

So here’s what I’m telling myself: I have a rich and busy inner life, and I can vacuum later. I’m writing a novel and learning as I go. Yoga is all about being in the body you’re in. And I just ran a 5K in 90-degree heat for a great cause. So what if I was slower than last year? I was in there, giving it my all, pumping my arms and legs up that hill, wiping sweat from my brow, and making it to the finish line.

If you’re not failing, you’re not risking anything. And is that really living?

Or, as Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.”

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