Some Advice on Asking for Advice in Writing and in Life
I’ve started and erased the opening to this blog post so many times I think I’ve already written about six posts for the trash bin. My conclusion is that the problem is this is actually a very short piece with a fantastically long explanation. So I’ll start with the very short version and try to rein in the rest.
Writers can’t help asking for advice, but almost always that advice is dangerous if not downright detrimental. And, honestly, that’s true in most of life as well. The only one who can tell you that your writing is “right” or “good” is you. And you’re the only one who knows if you’re living your life correctly too, for that matter.
There it is, my thesis. Now to try to find a way to explain without eating up Marie’s blog….
By saying people should leave most advice lying right where they found it, I realize I’m spitting in the face of most of the Internet and a very large self-help industry. (Except that’s always bothered me. It’s self-help, but someone else wrote it. Which means that really, we’re all very interested in reading how other people helped themselves….) And I won’t lie to you: I’ve sought advice. I seek it every day. Like I said, this issue is complicated. The problem isn’t the seeking, I don’t think, so much as the taking.
In writing, the magic comes not from an author following a scripted list of steps, but in self-discovery. Writing is lonely and terrifying, and there’s always some idiot off in the corner with a drink declaring with a smirk that it’s easy, and you can’t decide if you want to break the glass and rake the broken bit over his jugular or fall to his knees crying and beg to know how, how is it easy? Because it’s frankly hollowing out your very soul.
The real answer, to me, is that the guy with the drink probably isn’t writing, or he’s lying, or he’s writing very shitty stuff. Oh yes, there are moments when the euphoria is high and we feel amazing and victorious. They’re the high points before the pits of despair where we feel like everything we do is garbage and we seriously doubt we will ever be worth more than the ripped up plastic bag hanging in the tree next to the rending plant.
Because that is the point of writing: discovering that pit and hollow in us, and filling it with words until we rise to the top and a story steps out. And, in my humble opinion, that’s one of the best courses of life as well. At least, it’s a good way to get out of a pit if you fall in one, which we all manage to do at least once or twice.
Life and writing both are not tests of how well we follow a set of checklists we can’t see and have to guess at, or checklists we feel in our bones don’t work. Life is not about correcting the wrongs with in us—or, at least, not correcting them by following someone else’s plan. Life is about that struggle, that swing between euphoria and despair. Life is about learning to ride both. About being strong during the dark times and glorious during the good times. There’s a Zen version where you can be centered no matter what, and some find that very enjoyable. Me, I have to confess, I’m kind of a junkie for the roller coaster.
So if you’re reading this and you’re a writer, stop reading the how-to books and taking the how-to classes and reading the how-to blogs. Or keep reading them but stop looking for answers and start looking for the parts that resonate so you can scavenge them and take them back to your cave and assemble your own advice. Read the rules and try them, try them all so you know for sure they work or don’t, or why you hate them, or why you love them. And write. Write and read and write and read every day, and stop hating what you write. Read your favorite book and stop thinking, “I can’t ever write like that,” because of course you can’t. It’s not you. But scavenge there too. Why is that your favorite book? How does it make your soul sing? Take that back to your cave, take whatever you find each time you read. And keep reading and writing and constructing.
If you’re reading this and you’re not a writer, same thing goes. If you’re depressed and sad or angry and lost or any other negative emotion, if you’re feeling alone and like your story, however you’re telling it, is going unheard or grates against the notes of the universe: scavenge. Look at advice and weigh it against your own experience and judgment. Face life as a god that knows all. Ignore those who judge you unless their judgments give you a flicker, a new direction to try. And live. Live, live every day of your life with passion, even if it’s a passion for quiet.
I’m closing with one of my favorite songs by Mumford and Sons, because they’re my go-to music when I can’t see my own road anymore. I’m a lyrics person, and the closing refrain of this one is one of my favorites. Set to the pulsing, soul-stirring music of Mumford and Sons, nothing gets me going more.
So if I have any concrete advice at all, it’s to listen to Mumford and Sons. Or whatever music or sound makes your soul sing. And listen to it a lot.
Love it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be
(Note from Marie: I can’t seem to embed any kind of video here like on COP, so please follow this link instead)
Sigh No More – Mumford and Sons
Heidi’s latest novel Nowhere Ranch is available now from Loose Id. Kinky cowboys!! Get it here.
Seanna Lea
/ February 25, 2011This is the moment where I drag out Nanowrimo. I’ve only “won” once, and even then I didn’t have a story. My plot hadn’t ended, there was no conclusion.
In not winning, I won something huge. I proved to myself without a doubt that writing is super hard work and that I should not just love my favorite authors but respect them for the difficult tasks they do so I could dabble and not feel like I needed to make every word count. I still like writing, but I’m unpracticed and undisciplined. I need to work on both until the words spill out like water when I’m on and ooze out like blood when I’m not, but still the words come. It’s a long road to get there, but reading about writing helps me along the way. Thank you, Heidi, for coalescing some of my thoughts in such a clear fashion.
PD Singer
/ February 23, 2011I don’t know if it’s advice I want to follow to the letter, but Ernest Hemingway said that to write, you sit down at the typewriter and bleed.
But you’re right, there’s nothing easy or step-by-step about it.
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 24, 2011If only it were. Sigh.
tinawiesen
/ February 22, 2011I adore your meditation (ish) posts, as you know. Obviously, you’re quite the prolific writer and have been working at your craft for a bazillion years, but more importantly, you fight the good fight at life. Sometimes, you even share that journey with more than just your loved ones; the successes and the failures. It took probably longer than you might have wished to get to that space, but you struggled and forged your own way. And, you still are.
Your voice matters. The questions you ask, not just for yourself, but of your readers as well, matter. Especially the big one of ‘why’. Know thyself, right? You inspire people to have the courage to look inside of themselves and strive to be the best person they can be. Not emulate you or their heroes, but discover the uniqueness of their own voice–the power in it; whether in life or writing.
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 24, 2011Hugs at you hon!
Chris
/ February 22, 2011When I saw the post title, I immediately started listening to Sigh No More. Awesome album!
Alex Beecroft
/ February 22, 2011This is very true. I’m a sucker for advice, hoping that I will find some piece of advice that makes writing easier. But far too frequently I can’t make that advice work for me and I have to fall back on the things that I know work for me. And it does sometimes make me angry to watch new writers worry that they aren’t doing it right because they aren’t following the latest bit of advice from some internet pundit who may never have written anything in their life.
I always reckon that if someone’s writing is beautiful, if I love it and I love the way their mind works, then I’m more inclined to pay close attention to their advice. But frequently I find that those people are doing exactly what you’re doing here and saying “love the words and steer your own craft.” We’re all too different for there to be one perfect way for all.
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 22, 2011Yes. I’ve tried so very, very many times. The only writing books I like are Bird by Bird and The Courage to Write. Well, and a few craft ones, but I only like them for ME. I only rec them to people who salivate over craft or want to struggle with it.
I think it can be worth it to try to use a method until one can find her one way. But the idea that any method or set of rules is right for all people is very silly to me. And I do think so in life and in writing.
Ella Jane
/ February 22, 2011EXCELLENT post! Should I follow your advice, which is to not follow your advice? Or not follow your advice and so follow your advice? Now I love it when the world is made so much more understandable.
Seriously: thanks for a truly brilliant, uplifting, empowering post. And Mumford & Sons rocks.
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 22, 2011LOL.
Hey, gorgeous, I saw your GR review of Nowhere Ranch! Dude, I wish I were as smart and awesome as you said! Thank you for the kind words.
Ella Jane
/ February 22, 2011You talking to me??? *checking behind shoulder* Crap! I thought authors weren’t supposed to read the reviews left by readers – something about mental health or creative karma. Well, how naïve of me. In any case I do think you TOTALLY ROCK. Glad if I made you smile and keep those books coming! *now gonna go check what the heck I wrote because am sure Heidi has me confused ‘cause I’m no chummy reviewer, I’m fearless, me*
Oh, and Haley WOULD make a great protagonist… sure she’s a girl (a blatant case of Nobody’s Perfect-itis), but you know, she could write m/m romances, and have a cool pal gal named Marie. 
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 22, 2011I loooove reading GR reviews. Especially the bad ones. I’m slightly crazy.
Haley would like to take over the earth, I’m quite sure of it.
Marie Sexton
/ February 22, 2011I’ve always said, writing is just like parenting. Read every book you can get your hands on, and then ignore them all. Or, as Heidi said, take what you can use and ignore the rest. In the end, the only thing you can really do is whatever gets you and your babies through the day with the least amount of tears.
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 22, 2011Yep. The right answer is the way that works for the people involved.
Josephine Myles
/ February 22, 2011Yep, that sounds good to me! I’ve tried all kinds of things and read loads of writing books, but it’s working out what will fit my own needs and ways of thinking/writing that’s the important thing. There’s so much advice out there – the trick is figuring out what to ignore…
My stories surprise me. I’ve learnt now that it doesn’t do me an awful lot of good to plan on paper first. There are weeks when I need a notebook, and others when I most certainly don’t. I have to write a few scenes before I know who the characters are because you can guarantee no matter how they appear in my head, the minute I start writing them they do things I could never predict. I enjoy it, but it’s scary. It’s a good thing I enjoy being scared.
BTW, I loved Nowhere Ranch! Especially because of the sheep – weird, but true
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 22, 2011I had so much fun putting the sheep in! I learned a ton too. We had sheep briefly when I was a kid, and I still remember my dad swearing about them. He quickly went back to hogs and cattle.
Yeah, my stories are always going in places that scare me to death. I always end up sweating and praying I can get out of the damn thing with it still making sense.
Tam
/ February 22, 2011What a champ. Pulls a blog post out of thin air.
As you said, asking for advice is not the problem, it’s attempting to follow ALL of it at the same time against your better judgement. Get advice, then pick and choose. I do write a little for fun and I tried to use an outline once and I’m sure tons of authors could tell me why I should and how useful it was and how it would make my life simpler and my story better. I loved making that outline. *stares wistfully off into space* I had the whole damn thing planned out. I got to page 10 and it resembled nothing in the outline. I was completely on a tangent which turned into 150 pages of tangent. Two choices, go back and FORCE the damn thing into that outline, he WILL be meeting the hero at X if it kills him, or just say “Wow, that method sucks for me”, moving on. It’s no masterpiece but I’m pretty sure it would suck hardcore if I’d tried the former. Although I did use all the cool names and personality/physical traits I came up with in my outline, so not a total loss.
I have your book and looking forward to it. Hopefully I can get to it soon.
Heidi Cullinan
/ February 22, 2011I write outlines about 2/3 of the way in when it feels like my cart has not only come off the rails but is going at ninety downhill towards a chasm. I push pause and carefully construct a new, safe road over the chasm. I feel so much better. And then I resume writing and we go right back off the nice new tracks and head back toward the chasm. I haven’t died yet, though, so I suppose I’ll keep on pressing my luck.