Learning to Write

There\’s a good chance I suck

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I’ve been thinking about this post for a while already. I decided to finally write it when I read – on the fantastic Writing About Writing page by Chris Breechen – the following question a reader asked:

Casey asks:

Why can’t I sell my work? My friends all say it’s great.  I do fine if I submit it to some tiny zine that can’t [sic] promises its writers only exposure and glory, but I always get rejected at the places that pay. Even places that pay just a few cents a word reject me. Help!  This is so frustrating!! Am I just not as good as I think I am?

I am very aware of the fact that my book might not be as good or as life-changing as I like to think it is. There might be no readers interested in what I’m writing. Most people in the world don’t share my obsession with Iceland, its history, Norse Gods, or even (gasp!) blacksmithing. And that’s OK. In fact, I find this thought liberating.

I feel asking my friends to serve as beta-readers was a mistake. Most of our friends can’t find in themselves to tell us our writing sucks. One of them told me she never even read the first sentence, paralysed by the fear she would have to tell me the book is shit. In other words, by asking friends to tell me if they like the book I actually decreased the number of people willing to read it. I like to think (confirmed by the editor I work with) that I’m good at accepting constructive criticism. But I might just be saying that. I might just be deluding myself. I know that there were at least four of my beta readers who wouldn’t have lied to me when they said that they enjoyed the second draft I sent them, then provided me with actual constructive feedback. I thought they were wrong on many counts. A few rewrites later I have incorporated all of their remarks. They were right. All of them said they enjoyed the book. So did my husband. Assuming they were not just being nice, that means five readers interested in its final version, and all of those five will get the book for free. Which means selling 0 copies. I put the purchase a private island filled with Porsches on the backburner for now.

I used to not write anything, because of two fears. Fear of failure is kind of self-explanatory. Fear of success is perhaps less obvious, but a success means inevitable criticism from people who won’t like my writing. And there is no single book universally loved by everyone. Not even my personal favourites.

An international bestseller from last year, whose author is swimming in prizes has been recommended to me by quite a bunch of people whose tastes I trust. I managed about 1/3, suffering from second-hand embarrassment through every page. I decided to stop, despite people telling me “it will get better”. Because I have 300 unread books on my e-reader. Judging by the reviews, this book is exquisite. Judging by my experience…it isn’t. Not for me. I did not leave a negative review, because there was a chance it would have gotten better had I continued. I am sure she wrote the best book she could, as evidenced by all the praise from both critics and readers. That book was not good enough for me to bother reading it, and it takes a lot for me to give up on a book – in the last year it only happened twice, and the second one was also an acclaimed (and very, very, very long) bestseller.

In 2013, 304,912 books were published in the United States. That means 5863 books a week. Even if somehow the NYT bestseller list completely changed every single week, without any book staying in top 100 longer than seven days, it would mean 5763 books A WEEK wouldn’t see the top 100. Average sales of a debut novel published by one of the Big Five (is it Big Four by now?) are between 1,000 and 20,000. Anything over 10,000 is considered a very good result. Smaller press will get 250 to 5000 sales. (Source.) Having spent – so far – almost 18 months writing, researching, interviewing people, writing this blog, trying to get potential readers to notice my existence I had and still have to be aware that in the US alone 304,912 books (perhaps more in 2017) are competing for that attention. That’s excluding many, many books writers slaved over for years that never found a publisher, not even an agent.

The top selling book in 2014 was “50 Shades of Grey” with 8 million sales. The amount of bad reviews that book received was staggering. The amount of $100 notes in which E.L.James rolls daily, cackling (I like to imagine successful writers do that all the time) is also staggering. My fear of success came from believing that I would get the same amount of bad reviews. My fear of failure came from worrying I won’t sell 8 million books. None of those fears are realistic, if only because in order to get so many bad reviews one needs to sell 8 million books first, and none out of the 304,912 books published in 2013 managed to do so. (I’m aware I am comparing 2013 data with 2014 data.) Those both fears can be squashed by a calming thought that my book will never be published, I will never need to worry about any reviews, sales or lack thereof, so I can focus on writing and nothing else.

I happen to love doing research, editing, revising, watching the book turn from a shapeless blog into a sculpture of David. You’d think that’s not a very modest comparison, but truth is – personally I have zero interest in the sculpture of David. Does Michelangelo spend his days turning in his grave because of the fact I can’t be bothered to even look at pictures of his masterpiece? I sure hope not, because that would be a whole new level of creepy.

I have two favourite works of art, both placed in Reykjavik. One is the statue of Leifur Eiríksson, one is the Sun Voyager.

I don’t know how many people would name the statue of Leifur Eiríksson their favourite work of art, especially as it stands in front of the real landmark of Reykjavik, the rocket-shaped church Hallgrímskirkja. Perhaps 250 people? You can review EVERYTHING on the Internet now, and this statue averages 4.0 stars out of five. (Why the hell would anybody feel the need to give a statue a three-star review is beyond me.) I don’t think Alexander Stirling Calder, who designed it 90 years ago worried about his TripAdvisor reviews, or that the number of people wanting to take pictures of it might be smaller than of those in awe with Hallgrímskirkja.

When I look at my brother Leifur here, I realise how little I am actually risking. He got on a ship, fully aware he might never return (this is not something I have to worry about while writing), that he might waste time and resources, discover nothing, become a laughing stock among his peers – if he even makes it back at all. But he had an America to discover, so he went on the journey, and got rewarded. The worst that can happen to me is not a pile of rejections. The worst would be to stop writing. Leifur could have turned and announced “actually I think farming is my true calling”.

Will I ever get paid for my work? No idea. Am I as good as I hope I am? No idea. Does that bother me? Yes, sometimes. I get the “I am the absolute worst writer in the universe ever” thoughts a lot. I wait for them to pass, then – sighing – I go back to my two novels in progress (one nearing completion, one in second draft stage). I read an article recently where a published writer said she gave her book 100 rejections, then almost stopped, but a friend forced her to try a bit longer. The 112th agent signed her. Average time between the first time one starts properly writing and gets published is ten years. Average, not longest. Instead of being paralysed by the “what if I don’t sell eight millions” thought, I look at the e-mail in which the editor praises my work (I printed it out, laminated, then put next to replica of Sun Voyager in the spot where I write). Then I go back to writing. There will be tears at the querying stage, especially after 113th rejection. I’ll have the same thoughts as Casey over and over again. I’ll worry about that when I get there. I’ve got 8.5 years before I need to worry about sales figures.

Chris has this advice for Casey:

Casey, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. You’re putting your name out there and you’re working to improve your writing.

His advice is not addressed to me, but I’ll take it anyway.

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Bjørn again

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Today marks six months since I sent what I thought was the final draft of the book to the editor I asked to just look at my grammar and spelling (Crystal Clear Resources).

I haven’t started looking for a publisher yet.

I’ve learned a LOT in those six months. One of those things was that blogging for many years hasn’t prepared me to write a novel. But also that my hunger for knowledge was larger than my fear of rejection or feedback that was something else than ‘OMG you’re the most impressive human being I ever met’. I’ve also learned what an editor can actually do, and why it is a good idea to listen when I am told ‘this starts rather slowly’ by two people, one of whom happens to be a professional.

The entire novel consists of 21 chapters. I started on chapter 7 a few weeks ago, and we did not alter the story much. The last six months taught me that the amount of ways you can write the same story is infinite. That when in February I think ‘this is the most hilarious phrase in the world ever’, there is a good chance in March I will suddenly be struck by the thought ‘this must go‘. That just because some characters only appear on five pages doesn’t mean they can be completely interchangeable. But also that sixteen years after my last university exam I can still learn so much I will be impressed with myself. Not in the ‘OMG I’m the most impressive human being I ever met’ way. Just due to the discovery that I can still be open-minded, and there is some space left in my brain among the lyrics of 80s songs, and Pet Shop Boys related trivia.

The bad, horrible, no good thing is that I fell head over heels in love with Iceland. This is problematic, because I don’t like cold weather. While Iceland is not completely made of ice, it is not an oasis of sunshine and warmth either. When they say ‘land of ice and fire’ they generally mean ‘land of ice, strong winds, low temperatures, oh – we also have volcanoes but you’d better pray they don’t erupt, and if you insist on fire don’t forget we can’t afford to actually burn wood the way you like, which is constantly. But here’s a lighter’.

I don’t know why I couldn’t have fallen in love with, I don’t know, Australia? (This might be because I haven’t visited Australia. Please stop me from visiting Australia.)

There will be Iceland-related stuff appearing here, and on my YouTube, Twitter, Facebook in the coming weeks.

Takk og bless!

Resource for today: Janet Reid, Literary Agent (blog).

Currently reading: “Barbara The Slut and Other People”, Lauren Holmes.

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Second draft finished…

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As the title suggests, I finished the second draft.

I sent it to some people for a review. My first beta readers! I expected to sit for weeks and bite my nails, worrying about how much they will hate my writing. But actually – following another writer’s advice – I started working on a completely different project instead. “I never stop writing,” she told me, and it seems to work.

…

Second draft finished…Read More »

Second draft finished… Read More »

Learning to write

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I decided that before starting on the second draft I am going to read ten very good books by other authors to take a look at their methods, rather than content. You know, I love tinkering with the apps on my phone to get myself warmed up before a writing session, mostly to play casino games like those on casinospil.net but I guess this time I should busy myself with something more related to what I’m about to do.
Most of those books are new to me and recommended by the readers of my Polish blog (thanks to all of you!) I just finished a brick of a book, my description of which you will find at the end, and at the same time I am slowly getting through “Independent People” by Halldor Laxness, an Icelandic Noble Prize winner.

“Independent People” isn’t – to me – an extremely exciting piece of reading (also it has approx. 1500 pages, too) but definitely can’t be called boring, and the ice cold (hoho) humour which shows every now and then makes it easier to get through depressive, detailed discussion of semi-frozen, hungry, hard-working, half-poisoned by brushwood and peat smoke people. Who are, indeed, independent. Sort of.

Here are the first five books I’ve read:

1) “Big Little Lies” by Liane Moriarty

I would never guess that a book about families of kids who attend the same school (I am not a major fan of kids) could be so enticing. Similarly as “The Secret History” (read on) first you are presented with a perfect picture, but slowly scratches and cracks start to appear.

What I have learned: make things more complicated than they secretly appear.

What I am planning to rip off: the way to build conflicts slowly, bit by bit, detailed characters, that bullying doesn’t only apply to children.

10/10

2) “Gone Girl” (also “Sharp Objects” and “Dark Places”) by Gillian Flynn

What I have learned: the book I got is a “complete Gillian Flynn omnibus” e-book, which meant I had no idea how long “Gone Girl” is actually going to be. I was reading, shrugging every now and then, convinced it’s an okay book and that I know everything that’s going to happen. Then it got to its (obvious) ending. I thought. Because the book didn’t end and since that moment I had absolutely no clue what is going to happen next. No more spoilers.

What I am planning to rip off: I love the fact that the book doesn’t end when you expect it to, although I don’t know how to do it with a book that isn’t an omnibus. Perhaps I’ll switch to 8pt type on the last 50 pages or so.

10/10

“Sharp Objects”, “Dark Places”

The readers of my blog told me not to expect those two to be as good as “Gone Girl”, and they weren’t. Again, I guessed how “Sharp Objects” would end, it’s an interesting study, but not so much a story. “Dark Places” is more interesting and built in very unusual surroundings; it’s hard to guess and sometimes hard to read. But I’d recommend this one.

What I am planning to rip off: I have to build more relationships between secondary characters, because the first draft basically goes “the inn owner was called Gu∂run”.

7/10 and 8/10, and if not for having just been spoilt by “Gone Girl” I might have scored them better.

3) “The Year of Our War” by Steph Swainson

Unfortunately I can’t read this, although the beginning sounds interesting. There are Insects in it. With capital I. Described in lots of detail. I don’t do insects. The lead seems a character that I’d like to write about; “The Game of Thrones” got me used to avoiding cliches of “The Bad Ones” and “The Good Ones”. Unfortunately “The Year of Our War” is not going to teach me anything more, because there are too many Insects, and the writer proceeds to describe in great detail “thick yellow fluids” and “still convulsively moving appendages” (I am not checking if those quotes are correct, soz). That’s where I have to stop. Dead human bodies, rivers of blood, brutal rapes, massacred bodies, torture, eating brains with a spoon – no problems there. Insects – too much.

4) “The Hours” by Michael Cunningham

It went fast, the book is short and I almost memorised it… almost…

What I have learned: there is very little actual story in this book. Reading it to research the way it is written, rather than what it is about, made me understand why the movie was successful; there’s no need to cut (almost) anything to fit in allotted time. But how much detail is in there? Where I would write “he looked at the clock”, Cunningham will write “she looked at the clock, with its plain green face, locked in a black bakelite sarcophagus”. Everything is described like that. Plus the bonus, where Clarissa (who is played by Meryl Streep in the movie) is wondering if she just saw Meryl Streep. Delicious. This isn’t in the movie, so you need to 1) watch, 2) read and 3) giggle a bit.

What I am planning to rip off: not too much, since my first draft already has 186 single-spaced Word pages and if I describe everything in detail I will end up with a trilogy of three 800-page books, but I intend to create all the buildings in The Sims, not to accidentally repaint the walls or add additional floors 100 pages later.

11/10 – this is my favourite book ever. And it makes me want to give a fifth try to “Mrs. Dalloway” by Virginia Woolf; somehow I never managed to advance past page five, but maybe this time…

5) “The Secret History” by Donna Tartt

I don’t spoil anything by saying it’s a book about murder of a kid called Bunny, because it’s mentioned, like, on the second page. (Out of 15000. It’s a BIG BOOK.) The fact that someone dies isn’t what the writer is most concerned with, though. What she is interested in is psychology, relations between her characters, motivations etc. And there’s the fact that she created a small, claustrophobic group of students who both are and aren’t a part of large university.

What I have learned: there is a tiny continuity error. I’d never notice that had I been reading the story instead of the ‘shop. (I’m not going to tell you what it is, because this is something you don’t forget once you found out.) Which is why I intend to write everything about my characters down. If I mention that doctor’s wife’s curtains were adorned with little roses, which she wasn’t really fond of, but the fabric was on sale and the colour almost matched with the peach-coloured walls, I am going to write all that down. There are also a few of those bits that Hitchcock would call “a gun hanging on the wall”. The gun does not appear anywhere further. This is perhaps intended to throw the reader off a bit, but it resulted in me waiting for something to happen with this arc until the last page. Nothing happened.

What I intend to rip off: not much really. My book is already set in a claustrophobic environment, Tartt shows me how she has managed to pull it off, which is interesting, but not necessarily useful. It is, though, the sort of atmosphere I want to build, and “The Secret History” does it well.

8.5/10. If you like crime stories full of unexpected twists and turns, this is not for you. If, on the other hand, you are heavily introverted – like me, like watching rare birds and find pleasure in discovering psychology of intelligent people who don’t reveal everything, this book is for you.

Thank you to everyone who recommended those to me!

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