In 2018, I ran away and joined the circus.
That’s what writing is. You spin and you twirl. You create an illusion, a trapdoor, an escape pod. You fly out of the cannon and jump through hoops. You explore the greater truth by creating world out of nothing in the hopes of capturing that elusive thing we call imagination.
So what has the year been like living at the circus?
Learning the craft
For a trapeze artist to be able to perform a summersault and catch the swing without falling to the pit, she spent countless hours practicing. Same thing with writers. Anyone can be a writer. But a decent one? That’s a different story. To get there, one has to write. A lot.
There’s a dimple in my couch from my habit. It is where I sit (usually with my cat next to me), imagine, and type. I think of writing as an excavation of sorts. You know something is there, buried deep underneath the dirt. You just have to dig it up. Sometimes with a shovel. Sometimes with a spoon. Rarely with a digger. But you’re not going to get at it without doing it.
In my first draft, I’m an archeologist, discovering a lost world. With each rewrite, I imagine myself with a pickax and a brush, chiseling off packed dirt and debris to reveal the things beneath. The novel I finished earlier this year underwent 4 complete revisions. Each time, I learned more about the characters, their motivations, and the path they take. And behind my collection of short stories, Shadow Play: Ten Tales from the In-between, there are many more too terrible to share. I am a spoon digger.
Writing is leaping through the air and failing over and over again in an attempt to achieve one good jump. The kick in the head is that, afterward, you’re still unsure whether you’ll catch the bar the next time.
Finding the tribe
Writers are oddities. David Mamet (Pulitzer prize winner) said we’re like beavers, our teeth always itching to take down a tree. So true. Writers write because we have to. Because not doing it feels unnatural. For some, it’s a way to quiet the monsters within. For others, it’s a way to make sense of the world and to make peace with our conscience. Some even do it for money, although it takes a special kind of optimism to think one can make substantial money from writing (at least from the outset.)
Social media has been a blessing to writers. It’s a place we find likeminded people who will commiserate with us about the difficulties of the craft, who understand why we want to quit for the hundredth time but will never let us, and who will celebrate our wins and tell us when we can do better. We learn from each other.
Writers on social media, as a whole, are the most supportive people (one of my favorite groups is Indie Author Coalition.) Some of the writers I’ve met on the Internet, I would hug them to death if I ever met them in real life from adoring them so much. Honestly. You know why? Writing is not a competitive field. The learning curve is steep. And people get better with age and experience. So there’s a lot of information sharing and kumbaya-ing around the light of the computer screen within this community. I love my freaks.
And it’s so necessary because…
Dealing with the industry
The industry is so difficult to break into and it has a way of breaking your spirit. In the traditional publishing path, there are so many gatekeepers between you and the readers. Once you have a manuscript, you need a literary agent. To get an agent you have to convince a complete stranger via email to read your eighty-thousand words that they may end up hating. Once you’re lucky enough to catch the eye of an amazing agent, you then have to work together (preferably in harmony) to polish your manuscript in order to convince a publishing house to pay you, a no-name writer, a sum of money to publish it. This process can take months, if not years.
And the hard reality is your manuscript may never sell.
If or when it does, then your manuscript will go through a multitude of editors who will polish it until the publishing house feels it’s shiny enough to be released into the world.
After which you’ll face yet another hard reality that your book may never sell.
This process is not for you? Okay, there’s self-publishing. This bypasses the agent and the publishing house. Sounds good right? But you’ll have to be prepared that you are now the agent, the publicist, and the publishing house. You’re responsible for everything from editing to market research, to book cover to typesetting (even when you can pay someone to do it). You’re the one pushing the ‘publish’ button. Having done it myself for the first time, it is a finger-biting and exhilarating moment. It is all on you.
Oh and don’t forget the fun of book marketing…
Writers LOVE book marketing, never. Even ones who like marketing (hello…) It’s different when it is your art. Many view it as a step above sticking something sharp into their nose and pulling their brains out. You’re the charlatan, the snake oil seller, the pimp of your book baby. Okay, I’m exaggerating. But it is a lot of work—a balancing act between telling your potential readers that your book exists and annoying them to death with it. How do you share that your book is worth their time without sounding like an egomaniac? I’m still testing various ways, but none of which is hard selling. People hate to be sold to.
Are you a writer who dreams of having bookstores carry your book? Do you want a book signing? When you self-publish, it becomes your job to go there, meet with the powers-that-be and convince them. Do you want the library to carry it? It is also your job to go there, and…you get the picture. But it’s not impossible with a search engine, a phone, and time. I recently went to two local bookstores. One of which ended up carrying my book because they believe in supporting local authors (Thank you Verbatim Books). Local libraries also have donation program. You can donate your book and see if they’d want to carry it.
Dealing with the business side
There are costs associated with being a writer. In my self-publishing path, I’ve spent money on a laptop, ISBNs, copyrighting, marketing, book cover design, writing classes, and printed books (including shipping, which is insane btw.) This does not include the countless hours spent writing, thinking up ideas, researching, attending classes, and marketing. So far in my very young writing career, this business is bleeding, red as blood.
Does it mean you cannot make money out of writing? No. There are Facebook groups dedicated to sharing information on how to make writing into a lucrative career (like 20booksto50k.) It works for some, especially those writing in specific genres or to market, which is to say they give their readers exactly what they think they’d want.
While I am still trying to discover the type of writer I am, I know I am a spoon digger, scratching at the dirt bit by bit in order to unearth something beautiful I believe lies beneath. Knowing I would never be able to write enough books to sell in bulk, I knew I had to be smart in other ways. And that’s in how I choose to market. Amazon Marketing Service has a program in which authors can advertise their books using a set of keywords. They charge per click. The idea is to marry a good ad with a set of keywords that will result in a good average cost per sale. It’s not perfect. But it can work if you know how to wield the tool. There are so many resources new writers can use to arm themselves with knowledge. Search and learn.
Finding a home
After a year in the circus and spending time behind the curtains, do I still love writing? Oh, yes. There is a sense of wonder I still get from the process of creating worlds, from having people and images appear out of thin air, from trying to solve the puzzles of their lives. Although I feel I am still wandering from tent to tent, trying to find just the right place where I belong. It may not be the glitzy Cirque du Soleil kind with glittery costumes and perfect make-up. It may be more like “Carnivale” the Depression-era circus with patched up tents and dusty outfits. But there is a romance to it. And perhaps real magic hidden within. I’m okay with that.
I look forward to jumping into the unknown of 2019 and see where I land. Like Neo, I choose the red pill.