by Rachel Toalson | This Writer Life
We’ve all heard it before. There is this timeless advice that’s always given to writers. It sounds like this: Write what you know.
This advice is a little confusing. Should you only write what you know? Does that mean I have to always write from the perspective of a white female who fought her way through eating disorders and brain health issues and a father hole that nearly ate her alive? What does writing what you know even mean?
Well, “write what you know” means something different to me. Writing what I know means the whole world is open to me. Because if I don’t know it right now, I can learn it.
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Write what you know is simplistic advice, but the followup that people don’t often tell you is that you have the ability to know so much more than what you have lived. When we’re constantly learning, we can know a whole lot. I am curious about so many things in this world—right now those things happen to be extinct animals and fabled monsters and women who have made their mark in science. In the past, I’ve been curious about autism and the history of public libraries and the most famous haunted houses in the world.
My curiosity drives my learning. When I find myself insatiably curious about a particular topic—ghosts, say—I will research it to the ground. I learn as I research. And I know as I learn (I know that sounds funny. But it’s true.).
There are many, many ways we can learn what we need to know in order to write what we know. Some of my favorites include the following:
1. Take a trip.
My kids and I have been visiting railroad tracks every time we go on a trip. We are fascinated by railroad tracks. I have a great-grandfather who grew up on a railroad car, and I plan to write a story about him soon. But in order to do that, I have to know the tracks. I have to touch them and feel the cool metal beneath my fingertips. I have to walk their uneven path. I have to climb up the rocks that my great-grandfather would have climbed as a child.
Recently I returned to my high school track, which was also my middle school track, because I’m from a tiny town where we all share resources. I was writing the rough draft of a story about a girl who ran the 400-meter-dash. I wanted to run it again, to see what it was like. I had run it in middle school and a couple of times in high school, but I wanted to experience it, again, for myself, so I would have an accurate way to describe the way the body turns to mush when on the last stretch before the finish line.
This is how you learn and know. Travel and experience is one of the most enjoyable forms of learning.
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2. Talk to people.
This may stem from my past in journalism, but I absolutely love sitting across the table from another person and listening to their story. I love collecting information from the interesting people I meet. I enjoy hearing about history from a person who has actually lived it. In college, I did an oral history of a Vietnam veteran, and it was one of the most enjoyable projects I’ve ever done.
If I find myself obsessed with World War II, I’m going to find someone who lived through it and listen to his or her stories. If I want to know what it was like raising a blind child, I’m going to find someone who did. If I can’t write another page of my story without knowing what it’s like living on the streets, I’m going to head downtown and talk to the homeless of my city.
People can help us learn and know.
3. Read books.
Books are fantastic resources for going deeper into any subject. I know we have google now, and you can find anything online, but if you want to learn the nuances of whatever subject you’re writing about, a book is the better way to go. The Internet only has so many resources, and I know google is trying to become the search engine of the world by including all the information from books you would ever need, but there is nothing like diving into a long book to get the whole and complete story. Sure it takes a while. But you will retain that information and have it at your fingertips any time you decide to write what you know.
Pursue knowledge, and writing what you know is not a limit at all. It’s an endless possibility.
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Week’s prompt
Write what comes to mind when you read the following quote:
“Self-development is a higher duty than self-sacrifice.”
—Elizabeth Cady Stanton
by Rachel Toalson | This Writer Life
Lately we’ve been talking about the voices that hound writers during their writing. We’ve already talked about three voices that writers will likely hear at any stage in their writing career, including the I Can’t Do This Voice, the Who Would Even Read This Voice, and the This is Terrible Voice. Today I’d like to talk about the You’re Wrong voice.
I’m going to break this one down into fiction and nonfiction, because I believe it hits writers differently across those two mediums.
Fiction
So for fiction writers, the voice is a little ridiculous, right? Because fiction isn’t true. So there’s not really a way to be wrong, is there?
Well, actually there is. I’m going to talk about this in more depth at a later date, but as fiction writers, we also have a duty to our readers. I might feel a little more strongly about this than other writers, because I write for kids. But my duty to my kid readers is this: truth must be included in my fiction. If I decide to write a tale that takes place during World War II, it is my duty to get the facts of that time period straight. If I decide to write a story about an autistic boy, it is my duty to my readers to make sure I write about autism accurately and honestly. If I decide to frame an entire young adult story around mental health issues, I better get it right.
So, as you can see, this voice does have something to say to fiction writers. It’s just that when the voice stems from fear, we’ll have to silence it.
Here’s how we can do that: Cover all our bases. If you’ve covered all your bases, you’re not going to be wrong. But what are the bases you have to cover?
Base 1: Do the research.
If your story needs any kind of research, do it. Put in the work. I read an article recently about fantasy and how many fantasy books have protagonists who happen to hop on a horse while they’re running from the enemy, and even though they’ve never ridden a horse before, they can miraculously ride a horse perfectly. This is not possible. The article reminded authors that even though they may be writing fantasy or fiction of any kind, they owe it to their readers to get the details around the story correct. So determine what those details are for your story. And put in the time to do the necessary research.
[Tweet “We owe it to our fiction readers to tell the truth about our story worlds. Research is important.”]
Base 2: Plan your story well.
I know how some feel about the idea of brainstorming, but I also know, from much experience, that brainstorming helps me tell a more accurate, more linear, more enjoyable story. When our stories have holes or questions, readers lose trust in us. We can fix this by brainstorming well, or even with a partner.
Base 3: Learn your craft.
Never stop learning. You owe it to your readers to continuously improve, and this is an often underrated way to defeat the “You’re Wrong” voice. It’s actually a way to defeat all the voices we’ve talked about. When we’re secure in our writing, the voices cannot sway us—at least not for long.
Nonfiction
The You’re Wrong Voice gets a little louder when we’re talking about nonfiction—especially when it comes to essays and articles that are philosophizing or teaching. It’s easy to look at our point of view in a particular essay and agree with the voice. It’s easy to look at an article in which we’re teaching something and wonder if we haven’t quite learned all we need to know to be writing something like this.
Some ways to beat the voice when writing nonfiction include these:
1. Do your research.
That’s right. It’s the same for nonfiction as it is for fiction. When you’re writing an essay about eating disorders, make sure you have the correct information about eating disorders—even if that information never makes it into the essay. Equip yourself to know so that you form your opinion from fact. And then the voice has nothing left to say. Because of:
2. Remember that your point of view is your view from a point.
I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but it’s worth repeating. We come from all different backgrounds and childhoods and worldviews, and no one will ever completely agree with another, because no one has ever lived another’s exact life. So our ideas, our opinions, are not wrong. They’re just views.
3. Remember how much you know.
Remember that someone can always learn from what you know. When I’m writing a teaching article, I often wonder what authors farther along in their journey would have to say about what I’m writing. But I also have to remember that I know more about this, today, than someone else does. And I should help those people, today, rather than waiting until I know more tomorrow. We’ll never know all there is to know in the world. We have to share what we know right now, and then keep learning.
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Week’s prompt
A picture is one of my favorite ways to generate inspiration. Look at the picture below. Write whatever you want for as long as you can.
Photo by Scott Webb.
by Rachel Toalson | This Writer Life
There are so many negative voices a writer must face and overcome. Today I want to talk about how writers can eliminate the “This is Terrible” Voice.
This is a persistent voice. That’s about the only good thing I can say about it, and only because persistent is a favorable quality, although not exactly favorable for an annoying voice that torments writers at every stage of their manuscript or creation development.
That’s right. This voice will show up at every stage of creation. It doesn’t matter if you’re almost done or if you’re only just beginning. This voice will, at some point or another, make its presence known.
What the “This is Terrible” Voice boils down to is what writers in the past have called internal editors. These are the editors that hound you when you’re in the process of writing. They dog your heels even if you can outrun them with your typing speed. There is always a voice in the back of your mind telling you this—whatever you’re writing—is terrible.
What’s important is that the voice remains in the back of your mind rather than in the forefront. So we’re going to talk about two different reasons why this voice can hinder even the most seasoned of writers.
The first is perfectionism. I suffer from this condition myself. I want everything I write to be perfect, the first time out. I’m not quite as bad as I used to be, because now I fully understand the process of writing and how perfection, if it can ever be achieved, is only reached in the revision. Usually multiple revisions.
But if you’re still in the beginning stages of your writing career, or you find that perfectionism is so loud and distracting that you can hardly write, here are three things you can do to eliminate the “This is Terrible” voice—or maybe just make it grow quieter:
1. Let a little of the pressure off.
I know this is easier said than done. We all want our writing to be flawless and wonderful. But the reality is that the first time we put it down on paper is only about one-tenth of the process. The sooner we can accept and understand that, the less likely that this voice will persist.
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2. Remember that you are a growing writer.
The writer I am today is not the writer I was yesterday. I am better today. I will be even better tomorrow. This is true for you as well. So when perfectionism descends upon your mind, remember that of course this isn’t the best you will ever do. You are still learning, and you will always be learning. We continue learning and growing and improving our entire lives, which means no manuscript will ever be perfect.
Now, disclaimer here: Don’t let this “I’ll be a better writer tomorrow” keep you from sharing your work with the world right now. Don’t use it as an excuse. You will never share anything with the world if you’re always waiting until you become a better writer. This is a journey, not a destination.
3. Read a bad book.
There is nothing like reading a bad book—and there are plenty of these out there—to make us feel like maybe it’s okay if our book isn’t perfect. At least it’s better than this.
The second reason the “This is Terrible” voice comes around is because of our insecurity. Writers have so much insecurity, don’t we? I know I do. I read a really great book, and I think I’ll never be able to do that, which makes me, inevitably, look on my manuscript in progress as not a work of art, but trash.
And that, in turn, makes me a little angry. (It’s also not true that I will never be able to do that, because of the constantly growing thing. I may not be able to write a book exactly like that one, because I’m a different person. But I’ll be able to reach my own genius. And so will you).
Here are some ways you can eliminate the “This is Terrible” Voice when you’re feeling insecure:
1. Remind yourself, again, that it only gets better from here.
If you’re consistently practicing your writing and telling stories and crafting essays, you’re not going to get worse. You’ll be consistently improving. So that gives a little hope for today.
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2. Remember that it gets easier every time you do it.
This is for the insecurity about publishing or sharing work with the world. The first time I decided I was going to blog, my hand shook as it hovered over the publish button. I didn’t know what would happen. Would people read it? Would they respond? Would they think it was terrible? I almost didn’t publish it. I’m glad I did, though. I’ve been blogging now for four years, and I can say, with certainty, that every time I’m ready to hit the publish button, I don’t even think about it anymore. It’s gotten a whole lot easier.
3. Do your part to learn and grow.
I’m of the opinion that we should never, ever stop learning more about our craft and the mechanics around book writing and creativity and running a writing business. I’m constantly reading books and scouring web sites with valuable resources. I want to always be growing, because I don’t want to ever be satisfied with the skills I have at any moment in time. We can always improve. And our improvement will also lift our self esteem.
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Week’s prompt
Write as much as you can, in whatever form you want, on the following word:
Talking
by Rachel Toalson | This Writer Life
Today I’d like to talk about how to battle the “Who Would Even Read This” Voice. This is a particularly annoying voice for those of us who write personal essays or memoirs, but it does occasionally hound fiction writers as well.
The origin of this voice is usually the fear that we are the only ones. This has been a persistent voice over the years for me, especially as our society has grown more adept at hiding the struggles that we have and pretending like we are perfect people. If we are authentically writing personal essays and memoirs, it will become clear very quickly that we are not actually perfect people. But there don’t seem to be many out there like us (there are).
The origin for fiction writers is a fear of failure, which leads us to a fear that we are writing a terrible book. (And trust me, we’ve all heard it at one time or another.)
I have three scenarios where this voice comes to visit (but there are likely more.)
Scenario 1: When a writer is undertaking the composition of a personal essay or a full-length memoir, which I’ve already mentioned.
We are terribly afraid that what we’re writing is just another notch in the minutiae of the Internet. Everybody has a blog, right? Everybody writes personal essays. Why in the world would someone want to read ours?
Well, if you’re crafting your personal essays and memoirs correctly, the answer is actually a lot of people. We like to read about people who are both different and the same as us. So either way, you’ve got an audience. But the trick is to thread your stories with some truth that could be universal to at least a small group of people. Thread your story with a why or a what was learned form the situation, and it becomes instantly better. Thread your story with emotion—which is universal—and you’ve risen above the minutiae.
To combat the voice in this scenario: Remember that sharing your experience is one of the most valuable things you can do.
In a world where humanity likes to hide the imperfect, those who show themselves to be exactly that (imperfect) will have a huge impact.
Scenario 2: When fiction writers get to the sagging middle of their story—or when they’re wrapping it up.
Sometimes the voice comes to visit because we’ve fallen out of love with the story we started to tell. Sometimes it happens because we’re just having a bad writing day and nothing we put down on paper really makes sense.
I believe it’s important to finish what you start, so when I get to the sagging middle, I try to power through. This is so I can show the voice we talked about last week that I can actually do this and finish something. The story can always be reworked. But a story that’s unfinished will remain unfinished.
To combat the voice in this situation: Give yourself permission to write badly.
Hey, you know what? We’re not going to crank out the perfect words every single day, not even when we’re on the final draft of our book. Some days we’ll write badly. There’s always tomorrow.
[Tweet “We’re not going to crank out the perfect words every single day. Some days we’ll write badly.”]
Scenario 3: Right before you’re going to hit publish.
You could be hitting publish on a blog post or on an entire book. You could be hitting “send” on an email to an editor or an agent. You could be showing your work to anybody in the world, and this voice will creep up behind you and ask its annoying question.
To combat the voice in this situation: Go ahead and hit publish. Go ahead and send it.
The wonderful thing about publishing and sending is that you get better the more you do it. So maybe this query letter isn’t as good as it will be after a few rejections. Maybe that blog post isn’t as perfect as it will be after someone writes a nasty comment. Maybe your book will undergo many different manifestations even after it’s published. The point is to be brave and hit the button anyway. Every time you show the voice that you will win this battle, it will get quieter.
Next week we’ll talk about the “This is Terrible” Voice that is closely related to this voice, so stay tuned for that.
Week’s prompt
Write what comes to mind when you read the following quote:
“We all live every day in virtual environments defined by our ideas.”
—Michael Crichton
by Rachel Toalson | This Writer Life
If you missed last week’s blog, I talked about four of the voices writers will hear in their career. I promised that I would talk about each voice in more detail, so today I’d like to approach, with caution, the I Can’t Do This Voice.
This voice has many different manifestations. Sometimes it’s the voice that says we’re not actually equipped to do this, for whatever reason (probably several). It is the voice that tells us we don’t have enough experience, or we don’t know enough about what we’re trying to write. Sometimes it likes to remind us that we have never actually finished a manuscript or, really, anything of note.
Regardless of which manifestation you hear, this voice boils down to I Can’t Do This.
When this voice visits me, it can most often be traced to the doubt within me. Sometimes it comes from other people in my life—like a creative writing professor I had in college who took an instant dislike to me as soon as I walked in the door, and I him. He did not say encouraging things while I was in his class, and some of those things have stuck with me. I daresay many of us have stories that go about the same—whether or not it was a writing professor who first planted in our heads that we might not be able to do this.
Sometimes, in my most unguarded moments, this voice rises up from my past. I come from very humble beginnings. My family was poor. I should not have gone to college, because my parents couldn’t afford it. I went on scholarships, but I constantly battled the voice that told me I would never be anything more than poor. Passed over. Forgotten.
The I Can’t Do This voice, as you can see, is powerful.
This voice typically comes out to visit in three different scenarios.
Scenario 1: When we are doing something new.
Most often, I Can’t Do This visits me when I am writing in a genre or a style that is completely new and unknown to me. As writers, we need to have permission to experiment. This voice doesn’t like to let me.
I encountered it most recently when my email subscribers, after a poll, told me that they would like to see a thriller written by me. I had never written a thriller before. I didn’t really have much interest in writing a thriller. I don’t really even read thrillers. But because they asked, I did. As soon as I got started, the I Can’t Do This voice started shouting.
How to slay the voice in this scenario: Give yourself permission to be bad.
The first draft of my thriller was terrible. The second draft isn’t much better. It’s now sitting in a file on my computer, waiting for probably four to five more drafts before it will even start taking any kind of logical shape.
No one has to read that first draft. No one has the rest the next two or three or four. We don’t have to let anyone read what we’re writing until we’re ready. So we can write badly. In fact, it’s good for us to write badly. Give yourself permission to.
[Tweet “Give yourself permission to write badly the first go round. Take a little pressure off.”]
Scenario 2: When we’re smack dab in the middle of a really involved project.
Typically these really involved projects have about a thousand steps to them. I look at all those steps, and I shake my head and say, Nope. I don’t think I can do this, thus inviting the voice to agree with me
How to slay the voice in this scenario: Chip away at one step at a time.
If it’s too much to plan on brainstorming all the characters and the plot on the same day, do one character a day. Chipping away at a story sometimes allows for the deeper story to unfold.
I encounter this voice often when I am working on my middle grade series, Fairendale. This is a very involved series with a cast of characters that’s about as long as George R.R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire series. It’s massive. Sometimes it feels like I can’t do it. But I chip away, one thing at a time.
[Tweet “Break involved projects into little steps to keep the I Can’t Do This voice at bay.”]
Scenario 3: The instances when we find ourselves completely overwhelmed with everything.
And I mean everything—home, kids, work, people depending on me, deadlines, you name it. There’s a whole lot in our lives, every single day. We’re not going to get at it all.
How to slay the voice in this scenario: Re-evaluate and give yourself permission to cut away all the unnecessary.
If something is taking up mental and emotional space that you don’t need, get rid of it. If you think you need to do everything and do everything well, change your perception. We will never be able to do everything. We have to let some things slide or that voice will win. We won’t be able to do it all.
[Tweet “We won’t be able to do it all as parents who write. So re-evaluate and cut out the unnecessary.”]
Next week I’ll talk about the Who Would Even Read This voice. For now, give yourself permission to write a bad story, chip away one step at a time and re-evaluate what’s really important in your life so you don’t feel the need to do it all.
Week’s Prompt
A picture is one of my favorite ways to generate inspiration. Look at the picture below. Write whatever you want for as long as you can.
Photo by Joshua K. Jackson.
by Rachel Toalson | This Writer Life
Today I wanted to talk about all the voices that writers must face. In the next several weeks, I’ll be breaking each of these voices down and sharing practical tips for how to abolish them.
I say abolish, but I started this blog with the intention of telling you the truth about The Voices. And if I’m telling you the truth, I must say that these voices will probably never go away. But we can be stronger than the voices that come bombarding us in our weak moments.
All The Voices, at the heart of them, boil down to self-doubt. Some of them are the same across the board, and by that I mean across nonfiction, fiction and poetry. Some of them are more prominent in particular genres. Some of them are louder in our weaker areas. Some of them may not bother us at all. We’ll talk about all of that in the weeks to come.
But, for now, I’m just going to introduce you to them, even though I’m pretty sure you already know them.
There is the I Can’t Do This Voice.
There is the Who Would Even Read This Voice.
There is the This is Terrible Voice.
And there is the You’re Wrong Voice.
I’m sure there are more voices, but these are the voices that visit me the most when I’m writing, thinking about writing, on the brink of hitting “publish,” when I’m lying in bed at night and my mind won’t turn off because creative work is difficult to turn off.
Now. I have written stories for decades. I have self-published eighteen books this year alone. I have a book out on submission with traditional publishers. And yet I opened my laptop yesterday to brainstorm a series that people already love, and I could not hear my own thoughts for the shouting. My heart pounded. My throat dried out. My fingers shook.
This happens to all of us. So what I first want you to know is that you are not alone. It doesn’t matter where you are in your writing journey—you will fall prey to the voices at some point. They are relentless in their pursuit. But they won’t win unless we let them.
[Tweet “The voices of doubt we face as writers won’t win unless we let them. Don’t let them.”]
The voices stem from many different things: wounds in our past, things others have said about us or our writing, our own expectations, the nature of being a writer and the pervasive fear of humiliating ourselves. These voices can paralyze us if we don’t know how to battle them.
But there are some ways to face them head-on and let them know that they will not win your heart. In the next few weeks, I’ll be detailing exactly that—-how to battle the voices that can keep you from realizing your full potential as a writer.
When we’re so entrenched in our writing lives, we can often lose sight of the fact that most writers battle the same voices we do. They make it look so effortless, don’t they? So, for now, I want you to know that you are not alone.
You can do this.
Someone will read it.
It is not terrible.
And you are not wrong.
Exercise:
Write down the voices you hear in your head when you announce that you’re going to write something or publish something or you’re simply thinking about writing or publishing something. (And don’t worry. I’m not asking you to write them down so they win. This is so you will win against their attack. We first have to know our enemy to defeat him (or her).)
Week’s prompt
Write as much as you can, in whatever form you want, on the following word:
Bad luck
