This author’s note originally appeared in the January 23rd edition of my email newsletter. To sign up for my newsletter, click here.
Every week, when I sit down to write the author’s note for this newsletter, I try to come up with something that you’ll find genuinely interesting or insightful. I don’t want to talk about myself too much, since that tends to get boring rather quickly, and I also don’t want to talk too much about writing, since for non-writers that also tends to get boring. Most of my fans probably aren’t professional writers, and those of my colleagues who do subscribe to this newsletter probably just want to keep tabs on what I’m doing and aren’t themselves fans (except for you, J.R. Handley).
Then again, since you’re someone who 1. actually opens the newsletter, and 2. bothers to actually read it, you probably do have some interest in both me and my writing. So I hope you’ll indulge me, because the thing that’s on my mind this week has to do with a couple of blog posts I read by Kristine Katherine Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith.
I have tremendous respect for Kris and Dean. Their opinions on writing and publishing had a huge impact on my decision to jump into indie publishing nearly nine years ago. That said, their advice has been a mixed bag: some of it ranks among the best writing and publishing advice I’ve heard, but some of it has sent me down the wrong path, sometimes for years.
On Wednesday, Dean wrote a blog post where he explained his big secret:
It actually boils down to one simple thing… I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. Or of my writing, or methods of writing.
I just flat don’t care.
In other words, the grand key to understanding all of Dean’s writing and publishing advice is this: don’t give a damn about anything else except having fun.
All of a sudden, everything began to fall into place; both his good advice (don’t let agents scam you, trust your own voice, don’t let writing groups boss you around, don’t devalue your work) and his bad advice (never revise anything, never read reviews, do all of your own covers, write everything quickly, don’t outline anything, don’t actively promote your books). It all comes down to his core philosophy of not giving a damn.
But is that really the best approach?
Dean’s advice is very good for writing a certain kind of book. But the kind of books that I want to write are the ones that I like to read: books that really stick with you, either because they get you to think deeply about something, or feel deeply about something in a way you’ve never felt before. And I may be wrong, but Deans approach of not giving a damn seems like a terrible way to write those books.
Another thing that Dean always talks about is “critical voice.” Basically, all writers have two voices in their head: one that understands story and makes you want to write, and the “critical voice” that tells you what’s wrong with everything and makes you want to give up writing forever. Maybe he’s right about that. But does it necessarily follow that the only way to write anything is to get your critical voice to shut up?
For the last few years, I’ve been developing a new method for outlining my books. I used to think that outlining is terrible because it takes all the fun out of writing—in other words, exactly what Dean says. Instead, outlining helps me to keep my “critical voice” in check, because when something is broken the outline helps me to see where the problem is, and how to fix it. It also helps me to eat the proverbial elephant one small bite at a time.
Is there a useful place for “critical voice” in the writing process? Can giving a damn actually be the key to writing a better book, or making writing fun again?
This past week, I was writing a new scene in Star Wanderers from Noemi’s point of view. It takes place during the events of Fidelity and Benefactor, when Mariya’s father loses his job and the family doesn’t know what they’re going to do. It felt like a slog until I realized that the conversation between these two characters, Mariya and Noemi, offered a really interesting chance to explore questions of faith, doubt, and the problem of evil. Suddenly, the scene really came alive for me, and the key was asking myself “what can I offer my readers here? What will they take away from this?” In other words, giving a damn actually made the writing more fun, not less.
A few weeks ago, Kris wrote a really interesting blog post where among other things she said:
If a writer isn’t afraid of what she’s writing, then she’s doing it wrong because she’s not stretching herself. You should always reach just a bit, go a place you haven’t gone before.
I like that. And if I didn’t actually care about what you or others thought—if it was all about myself and “having fun”—I don’t think I’d ever really stretch myself as a writer. Or perhaps I would, but not in the right way. I’d be like one of those bodybuilders, with massive pecks and teeny tiny legs.
All of which is to say that I think I finally understand now why Dean Wesley Smith’s writing and publishing advice is so hit-or-miss. And also, that I understand a little better how to write the kind of books that made me want to write in the first place.
Joe, absolutely agree with you. I admire Dean (and Kris) and find a great deal of their advice helpful and encouraging. And pig-headedly stubborn fool that I am, I am absolutely following much of Dean’s advice to do it my way.
Dean is right that you have to believe in yourself enough to do things your way, even when the world says you are wrong. I think too many authors look to others for validation and that path leads to discouragement and ultimately giving up.
But sometimes it makes sense to listen to others. Sometimes, if you keep on hearing the same things over and over again, it makes sense to modify your views. And just listening means you may find your own path instead of blindly following the herd — I look at this like the argument about breaking the rules when it comes to writing: You need to know the rules first before you decide how and when to break them.
And while I admire Dean’s approach to a great many things, I do insist on doing things in ways that work for me and not for him — so I do outline and revise, for example.
And yet I think he is correct about the importance of freeing the inner voice to play while you are writing and enjoy the process. The interesting thing for me is that I find editing as playful and joyful as writing — it feels like my chance to put those little touches that make a story sing.
Ultimately, it comes down to looking to others’ advice as possible guidance and using it to find the work flow and business model that works best for you — and everyone’s path and process is going to be an individual, different journey.