Out of commission with a sinus infection, though I am trying to get things done. Each writer has a journey of development that cannot be mapped out too far in advance, and each one is different. You can follow examples, you can plan, you can have goals. But the journey has no end state, no final destination until you bite the biscuit. As such, everything is a work in progress, with ebbs and flows, peaks and valleys, and highs and lows.

Some writers never worry about their work and how it progresses. Others obsess over every detail. I think both can be harmful in the extremes. I’ve run from each pole and back again over a decade.

There are a handful of truths about this profession. Read a lot. Write a lot. Read outside your comfort zone. Experiment to grow. Learn from the masters. Follow your interests. Write the story only you can write. Etc. But one I need to hammer down is that my path and journey is my own beast. I can’t follow anyone else’s lodestar in terms of process or career. I can steal the bits I like perhaps, but I’m running my own race. For some reason, many writers (myself included), find this hard to feel. Rationally it is easy to swallow, but harder to get it into your marrow. We compare ourselves to others.

One of the best things about the Odyssey writing workshop was that Jeanne Cavelos wanted you to write the best stories only you could write. She had no interest in you becoming a carbon copy of someone else, or writing template fiction. Her compass for helping you do this through revision and critique is astounding. I try to hold on to those lessons and keep moving forward, reminding myself that for good or ill I best write my own stories and not compare myself to anyone else since no one else is trying to write my stories. Jeanne’s ethos is shared by Kate Wilhelm, the Grand Dame of Clarion, in her book Storyteller. I read this passage every now and then to keep my own compass steady in the wake of every writing post I read about production, sales, and critical praise that make me feel like I’m at a snail’s pace wading through ice cold molasses.

“Our students often worked furiously to try to keep up with one another in output, in reading, in playing and frequently failed. They were trying to work with the wrong rhythm. We reassured them as best we could. If another writer is comfortable writing a story a week, and you cannot do that, don’t fret. Take ten days, or two weeks, or whatever your personal schedule required. Some writers can finish a novel in three months; others need three years, even longer. They all have their own rhythms. You will find yours. You will deplete your well of inspiration and in its own time, it will refill and be ready for you to draw on again. There is little point in trying to force it to conform to a faster pace.” From Kate Wilhelm, Storyteller, Small Beer Press, pg. 154.

Such advice helps quell the fears and doubts that occasionally rise about what kind of writer one is becoming and helps keep your compass pointing strong in the direction of your interests and desires. Writing may have competive aspects, but at its core it is a one person dog and pony show.

Time to fill that damn well again. If you haven’t, read Steve and Melanie Tem’s The Man on the Ceiling. Brilliant.

JSR

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