I was putting together my goals for July, and found myself
thinking back to earlier days and the way my goal setting has changed—and stayed
the same—throughout my years as a writer. Everybody works differently, but I
suspect there are few writers who succeed without setting any goals. And I have
a suspicion that setting the wrong kinds of goals can be disastrous as well.
Whether the goal-setter is thinking too big or too small, the way we approach
progress and mileposts can hamper us. Or inspire, on the other hand, if we do
it wisely.
First of all, it’s good to have an idea of what motivates
you and gets your creative juices flowing. The sad fact is, there may be long
stretches of time where you’re not receiving a lot of positive feedback and
outside rewards for your hard work. So figure out if a special meal, a night
out with friends, or a new book might give you some much-needed joy. And then
think about ways to earn that enticing reward.
Dorothy is absolutely right--but the wait can be excruciating
Break it down
The rough draft of your 300,000 word fantasy opus is
probably not going to sell right off. And even if it did, you still have to
write the damn thing first. You’ve got your maps, and the ominous
prophecy-thingy, but now what? Shockingly, opuses don’t get written in one
sitting. And you’re going to struggle.
So maybe your goal list should include something other than 1) Write epic fantasy novel. Maybe you
need to figure out how to get there.
Figuring out the best approach is a learning process. Maybe
you’ll outline thoroughly and break it down into scenes. Maybe you’ll calculate
how long you’d like it to be and plot the major turning points and where they’ll
need to occur. Maybe you’ll be pantsing the whole way and set a daily or weekly
word goal. Be prepared for the trial and error you’ll need to work out your
best method. Remember: everyone finds themselves stuck from time to time. It’s
not a sign of failure, so much as an indication that you need to rethink the
process.
Best rest stop ever, or best rest stop OF ALL TIME?
Whatever path you take, set smaller goals that mark out the
way. Just like you wouldn’t drive from Boston to San Francisco in one marathon
session, you’ll need figurative hotels and rest stops on the story trail, too.
Treat yourself when you’ve set the hook in the opening chapter, or when you’ve
finally slogged through the flabby middle part of the story and see the end in
sight.
Branch out
When I started, the general advice was to begin with short
fiction and break into the market that way before trying to sell a novel. That
advice wasn’t terribly helpful then, and is even less so now, but there’s a kernel
of value. You may have a natural form that works best for you—I’ve been most successful with poetry
so far, and my stories all want to turn into novels—but it’s not wise to limit
yourself to only one thing, however comfortable that feels.
Learning to write better poetry has taught me about rhythm
and pattern in language, about finding images that are vivid and unique, about
compressing the necessary details and deleting what doesn’t move the piece
forward. Working on short fiction has made me think about satisfying beginnings
and endings, and how to convey emotion to the reader in a shorter space. And
longer pieces have their own needs and structural concerns, calling for much
deeper thinking on matters of theme and plot and characterization. All of those
things are valuable parts of a writer’s toolkit. Even if poetry requires a
different mindset than fiction (like thinking in a different language, as one
writer puts it), I can use what I’ve learned in every aspect of writing.
There’s value in trying different genres as well. Too often
we find ourselves locked into one particular type of story, but taking the risk
of writing in a different field can bring new life to all of a writer’s work. Anyone
who reads voraciously can think of favorite authors whose work grew stale over
the years, as they trod the same ground again and again. So don’t be afraid to
experiment. Write in a point of view you’ve never tried before, switch to a
different verb tense, or even give that genre mash-up you’ve been dreaming of a
shot.
In other words, don’t forget to have fun. Otherwise, you
might as well be making widgets in a gloomy factory.
Build it up
The longer I write, the more clearly I see how much I still
have to learn. There are ideas I have that I can’t work on yet, because I just
don’t have the knowledge and experience to convey what’s in my mind and heart.
(I know some of you are saying that I should try anyway—and you’re right, to a
point. There’s value in taking risks, but there’s also value in gaining an
awareness of the gaps in your skills and exercising patience.)
So one of the things I’m working on consciously (and
semi-conscientiously) right now is to gain a better understanding of what makes
good writing in various areas, to study writers who are good and work on
incorporating those skills into my own toolkit. To accomplish that, I’ve set
goals to read anthologies and collections and think about the stories that seem
particularly effective. I’m critiquing regularly for other people, too. In the
past, I’ve worked as a slush reader, and that was an enlightening experience.
You know how editors will say, “I don’t ever want to see stories with X
[vampires, zombies, sappy love stories]!” There’s a damn good reason for that. And
you will understand, when you’ve read through every possible permutation of
boring, sloppy, unimaginative vampire story that your fellow writers can come
up with.
When I was an editor, it was stories about people losing it and killing their spouses. There's a lot of spousal rage out there. Seriously.
In short, there are a myriad ways in which you can build and
expand your writer’s toolkit. One of the terrifying things about this work is
that there’s so much more to learn. But that’s also the wonderful thing about
it, too. I will never reach a point where I know everything about writing. As
long as I want to, as long as I work at it, there’s always another mountain to
conquer.