by Stephanie Morrill
Stephanie writes young adult contemporary novels and is the creator of GoTeenWriters.com. Her novels include The Reinvention of Skylar Hoyt series (Revell) and the Ellie Sweet books (Playlist). You can connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and check out samples of her work on her author website including the free novella, Throwing Stones.
Something I both love and hate about writing is that it’s an ongoing journey. I’m never going to be a perfect writer. There will always be ways I can grow and deepen my skills. There will always be more practicing to do.
Which is why it deeply saddens me on the occasion that I come across a know-it-all writer … who has only been writing for a couple years. If that. They ask for advice, but they don’t want advice—they want validation that they should totally be published by now. They want you to critique their work, but when you do, they argue with every issue you bring up. You recommend a craft book or an online class that you took and found helpful, and they tell you they don’t need it; they’re already exemplifying all that advice in their manuscripts. Sometimes, in extreme situations, they offer paid critiques or have a blog that hands out writing advice … even though they’ve never even finished a story.
You don’t want to be that person, do you? Neither do I. And anytime I notice myself slipping into unteachable behavior, I try hard to shift my perspective and think What can I learn from this?
These are 9 behaviors I’ve observed in writers who continue to grow both as a writer and as someone who contributes to the publishing industry:
They keep reading.
There’s a sad amount of published writers who say writing makes them too busy to read, or that they just can’t enjoy a book because of their inner editor. Not only is this just not a smart move professionally (you’ve got to keep tabs on what’s going on in your genre) but it smacks of arrogance.
They keep learning about writing.
Even after being a professional for ten years, when I take writing classes, listen to podcasts, or read craft books, I almost always walk away with something I can apply. I’ve certainly sat through some writing classes that were so boring, basic, or biased, I walked out without having learned a thing, but that’s rare.
They spend more time writing than they do talking about writing.
Building onto that last item, it’s easy to slip into the trap of spending most your time
learning about writing and
talking about writing and
thinking about writing without actually, you know,
writing. I’ve definitely been guilty of this. When Jill and I were putting together
Go Teen Writers: How To Turn Your First Draft Into A Published Novel on top of maintaining the blog, I felt the balance tip too far away from writing. Maybe a season of life will look like that for you too, but don’t make it a lifestyle.
They don’t compare.
I don’t think we mean to do it, but us writers tend to group ourselves into different categories: Writers who haven’t been writing long. Writers who have written a few books and seem close to getting an agent. Writers who are self-published. Writers who have an agent but no contract. Writers who have a contract. Writers who are multi-published.
The danger with this comes when our perception of being “ahead” leads to us being jealous or angry when another writer who is “behind” us achieves something.
When Roseanna White and I met, we were in similar places in our writing journey. Both of us had loved writing for a long time, had written as teens, and we were both at the place where our writing was close to publishable. At the conference where we met, Roseanna walked away with an agent who was excited about her and an editor who loved her. I walked away with some mediocre leads and a very tired back. (I was quite pregnant.)
But in an odd turn of events, I wound up with a surprise agent and a three-book deal all within six months, while Roseanna had to bide her time for a few years while we waited for the first contract. Recently, contracts have been a struggle for me while they seem to tumble into her lap when she’s not even looking. If we’d insisted on comparing ourselves to each other all these years, we would have become two bitter writer friends. That doesn’t sound like much fun to me.
Nobody wins with the comparison game. We’re all on our own unique writing journey, and it’s best to embrace yours and learn from others when you can whether they seem to be ahead of you or behind.
They accept that all feedback is a gift.
At church a few weeks ago, my pastor talked about a time that he was deeply hurt by a critique. He went to his mentor, wanting what we would all want in that moment
—to be assured that the other person was a moron, and that he should just ignore the feedback. Instead his mentor told him, “All feedback is a gift.”
That’s rattled around inside my head these last few weeks as I go through the process of refining my manuscript with my agent. I don’t like having my mistakes pointed out. (I’m much more fragile than I would like to be.) I want to have caught all my errors, and I want my manuscript to be perfect. I’m learning to embrace this idea, though, that all feedback is a gift. It all reveals something—even if it’s just our heart or the character of the person who is critiquing for us—and we’re wise to be thankful for it even when it hurts.
They try something new with each book.
I used to think that as I wrote books, I would eventually land on My Perfect Book Writing System. A system that made my first drafts structurally sound and my edits organized and my hair from turning increasingly white. (When I picked McKenna up from school the other day, she had this huge grin on her face. “Mom! You have a white stripe in your hair just like Anna!” Why, thank you…)
But I think even if such a system exists—which I’m no longer convinced it does because book writing is just a messy, creative business—there would be a danger in it. When we think we have it all figured out, that’s when we stop considering how we can be better. I learned from bestselling novelist Angela Hunt to intentionally look for something new that I can try with each book. There are countless new things you could try. A character who’s darker than you normally write. Writing in first person instead of third. A different method of plotting. Present tense instead of past. More (or less) point of view characters. The list of new things to try is as limitless as your creativity.
They shut down thoughts like, “I should be published by now.”
I have been an impatient, pre-published writer. I would read published books that didn’t seem nearly as good as mine. Or writers who had written only one book were getting published when I was on my fourth and didn’t seem any closer. When is it ever going to be my turn? I should be published by now!
Have you felt this way before? Let’s say you’re right. Your writing is excellent and that editor truly just didn’t “get it.” But what do you gain from the mindset of, “I should be published by now”? Nothing. This thought—or variations of it like, “My book should be selling better!” or “I should have another contract by now!”—has never produced a single healthy thought or action.
What does produce something useful is the question of why am I not yet published? This question can actually produce answers that help you. Is your genre a tougher sell than others? Is the opening of your story not interesting enough? Or have you just not been able to access the right editor or agent?
They don’t tear down other writers.
As with the behavior above, it just doesn’t do anything positive for you. Maybe the book really does have a sucky plot and bad characters and a predictable ending. But if it sold to a publisher, or if it’s on bestseller charts, it’s smart to ask why. What is it about this book that reaches people? What can you learn from it?
They don’t burn bridges.
If someone in the industry—an agent, an editor, a published writer, or even an unpublished writer in your critique group—gives you a “gift of feedback” that you didn’t want, the wise writer says something like, “Thank you. I’ll think about that,” and doesn’t (publicly) get more emotional than that.
The people in the writing world are a very connected bunch. If you claim to my agent that I recommended she look at your stuff when I really didn’t, that’s not going to get you what you want. (Unless you wanted a sternly worded rejection from my agent. Then it will get you exactly what you wanted!) Writers, agents, editors, and everyone else who makes the book world go round talk to each other, so guard your reputation by being kind, honest, and considerate to all.
Even writers who are very careful with agents and editors often burn bridges with other writers. Sometimes they do it in the name of honesty. (“It just wouldn’t be fair for me to write you anything more than a 1-star shredding review on Amazon. My integrity is at stake here!”) We value honesty around here, but honesty spoken with kindness and grace will get you much farther.
What’s something you’ve done that has helped you grow as a writer?
