Monday Musings 5-3-21

Recently, a writer I know decided to throw in the towel. In this industry of rejection, the criticism, slow growth, and slew of ‘no thank you’s’ wreaked havoc on his psyche. I get it. I really do. The artist’s life isn’t for the faint of heart. Putting a piece of ourselves into the world makes us vulnerable. I’ve written a lot about this unexpected vulnerability because it certainly hit me hard. Here’s an oldie but goodie on that topic if you’re interested: Handle with Care - Author Inside.

As artists, we have to balance our fear of rejection with confidence. We have to accept criticism and still persevere. It’s a balancing act, and we can easily fly right off the scales. To be at all comfortable navigating this writer’s life, I think we also have to be comfortable taking risks.

We all take risks in our lives, even if we don’t recognize them as such. We risk our hearts when we fall in love or send a child off to spread their wings. We risk stability when we change careers or pursue a seemingly far-fetched dream. Of course, risky behavior can certainly turn destructive if it’s not tempered. So, how do we know if taking a particular risk is healthy for us? I think the answer to this question is quite individual, but I believe we have to assess whether or not we truly have the heart for it. If the answer is no, that has to be okay. But if our answer is yes, or even maybe, the journey will challenge us to find an inner balance between humble and bold.

Maybe creativity thrives in that sweet spot where courage meets perseverance.

“Don’t listen to those who say,“You taking too big a chance.” Michelangelo would have painted the Sistine floor, and it would surely be rubbed out by today. Most important, don’t listen when the little voice of fear inside you rears its ugly head and says, ‘They’re all smarter than you out there. They’re more talented, they’re taller, blonder, prettier, luckier, and they have connections.” I firmly believe that if you follow a path that interests you, not to the exclusion of love, sensitivity, and cooperation with others, but with the strength of conviction that you can move others by your own efforts—and do not make success or failure the criteria by which you live—the chances are you’ll be a person worthy of your own respects.” – Neil Simon

Monday Musings 4-27-20

I’ve used this space several times to talk about vulnerability. When I first started writing, and had to let other people read my stories, I was nervous. What if I really had no talent at all? Was I kidding myself? Did I have the resilience and mental fortitude to manage the criticism and constant rejection that comes with the deal? Would I run out of ideas?

Six years later, my science fiction series has won numerous awards, I manage a writer’s blog for a publishing house, I’m invited to speak on panels, podcasts, and webinars, I’m in the midst of publishing another series under a pen name, and I’m drafting my seventh novel. Progress. Validation. Proof that maybe I have the chops for this. And yet… that vulnerable feeling is never far away.

During this world crisis, many of us feel as vulnerable as we ever have in our lives. We might get sick. Someone we love might get sick. We might not have a job to go back to. There are so many things happening over which we have very little control - and they’re scary things. In order to weather this storm, we have to dig deep. We have to find a way to swim in the discomfort without drowning in it.

I’ve had to forge a new relationship with my feelings of vulnerability over the last several years. I recognize now that vulnerability is not weakness. I may feel exposed, but I do what I have to do anyway. I may feel afraid, but I put one foot in front of the other and move forward. I may have a day when I’m so mentally and physically exhausted that I throw in the towel, but the next day I try again. I’ve come to recognize that vulnerability and courage are two sides of the same coin.

“Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage.” - Brene Brown

We don’t have to pretend to feel good when we don’t. It’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to feel vulnerable. We just have to keep showing up.

In other news, Writer’s Digest is hosting its annual Science Fiction and Fantasy Virtual Conference May 15-17. I’ll be doing a one-hour presentation on character development. If you are an aspiring writing, this conference offers a lot of bang for the buck, and you can participate from the comfort of your home in your Star Wars pajamas if you’d like!

Monday Musings 2-18-19

I’ve been working on Equinox edits for a couple of weeks now, and if I want to make my release deadline, I have to keep my nose down and finish. For the last three days, I haven’t moved much from my spot on the couch. There are printed documents strewn everywhere, laundry piled on the kitchen table, and I’m wearing the same pajamas I had on three days ago.

It’s funny, but I don’t really mind. I know this state of suspended reality isn’t going to last. Eventually, the rest of my life will need to be tended to and I’ll be more than ready to get back to it. For now, though, my full focus is on finishing this story and I’ve enjoyed giving it my full attention for the home stretch.

This feeling of being so connected to something you’ve made, and realizing you’re almost ready to share it with the world, is a strange and wonderful part of the creative process. It’s also a time when I know most writers and artists feel pretty vulnerable. We’ve poured ourselves into our work and we have no idea how that work will be received. When I finished writing my first novel, Horizon, I wrote an entire blog post on this subject: Handle with Care. Here’s a little snippet that captures the sentiment:

Any artist in any field understands that to share our work is to be vulnerable. We’ve risked opening our hearts to strangers - with words, in images, with a paintbrush, on a stage. We’ve put something of our private selves out into the world. Even my stories, full of spaceships and evil villains, myths and magic, have some of the real “me” in them. People who know me well will recognize those pieces. But it’s worth it to tell the story. And I’m learning to make peace with the discomfort.

As I finish this last round of edits for the last book in this series, I’m more confident in myself as a writer and in my craft. My skin is definitely thicker when it comes to criticism, but there’s still a moment of hesitation, a bit of discomfort and fragility. What I’ve learned, though, is it’s a pretty universal feeling among us artsy types. When I’m feeling it, I have a whole community of people who encourage me. When I have a chance to offer that encouragement back, I do. And I really am learning to make peace with the discomfort.