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A dependable source of professional and creative advice, this weekly series features anecdotes, insights, tips, recommended reading and viewing for writers, and more from leading agents and editors.
During a particularly gloomy period in which I struggled to write creatively or even read for pleasure, I was heartened by an essay I edited about how writing fanfiction made one a better and happier writer. In “The Last Fanfiction I Ever Wrote,” Hannah Cohen suggests a value outside of striving for a prestigious literary career: “When I connected with other fanfiction writers, it wasn’t out of a coy expectation to network with people who would eventually publish me.
You don’t have to sign with the first agent who reaches out, or take the first offer that is sent to you—if one door opens, it means other doors are available. You don’t have to be a 30 Under 30. Find supports within or outside of the industry, like grants or fellowships, that can give you the opportunity to develop your project until it’s where you want it to be. Ask for the writing and revision time you need. Take the time to understand the traditions and conversations that you want to publish within or subvert.
I tend to like projects that are guided by an author’s curiosity and that share new ideas, philosophies, and experiences in order to create a better understanding of human nature. I was drawn into nonfiction editing for these reasons, but also because I like the idea of being part of the book-crafting process from the beginning. To have that sense of collaboration with an author, sometimes for years. To obsess over revisions together.
How many times this week have you admonished yourself for not writing enough? We’ve all heard about the famous authors who wrote every day for hours on end, who stuck to rigid word-count or page-count quotas. Forget those authors. At least, forget their torturous processes. Go easy on yourself. Know that, as you live your life, you are constantly gathering material. That day you flopped on the couch to binge-watch some guilty pleasure and let dust gather in the corners of your living room while dishes languished in the sink?
Please be a positive force, outside of your immediate work, in the wider literary culture.
So many of the books I feel most proud of when the dust has settled, and that I truly feel will stand the test of time, are those on which both the writer and I engaged deeply with the editing process.
While some words, plot threads, and entire character arcs inevitably deserve to be left behind, writers don’t always look closely enough at what’s working—those elements of the manuscript that should be developed, expanded, or simply appreciated. So try this: Complete your next round of self-revision with a highlighter instead of a pen. Mooring yourself in the successes of your draft can help focus the direction of your narrative and reinvigorate your efforts. Once you have a clearer idea of where you’ve succeeded, you’ll see better where you haven’t. (Time to bring out the pen.)
Many years ago I contacted the widow of a well-known war veteran to see if she wanted to write a book. We had a lovely conversation over coffee, but it had been only a few months since her husband’s death, and she told me later that she wasn’t ready. I said I understood and wished her well.
Four years later I was sitting at my desk when my phone rang. It was the widow. “I’m ready to write the book now,” she said. Two years after that her book was published.
Reading has always been a pleasure for me, something I do alone that can bring me joy, escape, knowledge, catharsis. But as much as I love it, there is always other work to be done. I can tell I’m really into a manuscript when I feel almost guilty reading it. Shouldn’t I be doing something else? Isn’t there work on my never-ending to-do list that must be completed? Have I neglected my family? What day is it? If this happens while I’m reading a manuscript in revision, I know it’s close to being ready to go out to editors.
There are a lot of things I miss about publishing conferences: dishing advice to writers, connecting with authors, and traveling to interesting new places (even if I didn’t always get the chance to leave the conference hotel). But catching up with industry peers while sitting down and eating terrible cold sandwiches and warm, flat soda…perhaps I miss that the most. The comradery. The insider industry knowledge. And sure, the gossip.
