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Most of us start out writing because we feel a yearning, a call, a really strong desire to be a writer.

We have stories inside us burning to be told. We see the world in a slightly different way, and we want to share how we see people and events, all wrapped up in a spell-binding story.

Then What Happens?

Somewhere along the way, I’ve noticed, the calling often becomes a career mindset. It might happen with the first sale, or it might not happen until years into publication. With me, it happened after I’d had two or three novels published by Atheneum.  Status became more important than telling a good story.

Warning: this can happen to you too! Be aware of the signs and what can trigger it.

A Common Story

With me, it was financial need. It was the 80s during the farm crisis, and we were in danger of losing our Iowa farm. Suddenly sales were crucial. Advances had to be bigger and bigger. I began to worry more about whether I needed an agent than if my current book was better than the last one. Achieving excellence took a back seat to making money.

I wish I had seen it coming. Getting back to your calling-your love of storytelling-is a lot harder than maintaining it in the first place.

An Agent’s Perspective

Literary agent and author Donald Maass (in The Fire in Fiction) suggests that writers are either those who desire to be published, or those who desire to tell stories. They may start out the same, committed to making it as writer, to being the best storyteller he/she can be. He says that over time a writer’s real motivation will emerge.

Admittedly, I took the ICL course with a hopeful eye of staying home with my children and having a career too. But did that necessarily mean that I had to change from being a storyteller to a status seeker? No, I don’t think so. I think your calling and career can co-exist within you-but only if you guard your writer’s heart carefully.

What needs to stay in the forefront? A pursuit of excellence, for one thing. Keeping the writing fun for another.

Warning Signs

What are some signs that you’re moving from a storyteller to a status seeker? Maass gives some insightful signs:

• The majority of status seeker writers seek agents and publication years too soon.
• When rejected by an agent, the status seeker writer immediately offers the agent something else from his desk drawer. (Not something better-just something else.)
• Status seekers grow frustrated with rejections, thinking landing an agent is a matter of luck. Storytellers know that something is missing from their writing and they work on it.
• Status seekers ask how they can just make their stories good enough to sell. A storyteller is more concerned with making his story the very best it can be.
• With a first contract status seekers are very concerned with what they are getting for blurbs, advertising and promotion. Storytellers have a more realistic grasp of retail realities; they promote some, but then get to work on the next book.
• Status seekers go full time too soon, relying on advances for their living. Storytellers keep their day jobs for as long as it takes.

More details are given in his book to distingui

In one of my favorite writing books (Escaping into the Open: The Art of Writing True by Elizabeth Berg), there’s a chapter on writing myths that the author says you should ignore.

I was reading the list and nodding and “Amen!”-ing my agreement all the way up to Myth #8. It said to ignore the warning that “you have to be disciplined to be a writer.”

Shocking!

I recoiled. Such blasphemy! How could she claim that writers didn’t need self-discipline? “Everyone” knew you needed to discipline yourself to write every day, to study markets, to read in your field. How could she say that? It went against my deeply ingrained beliefs.

And yet…as I read on, her words resonated with me much more than I would have believed possible. If you don’t need to be disciplined, what do you need? She wrote:

“What have to be is in love. With writing. Not with ideas about what to write; not with daydreams about what you’re going to do when you’re sucessful. You have to be in love with writing itself, with the solitary and satisfying act of sitting down and watching something you hold in your head and your heart quietly transform itself into words on a page.”

Major Paradigm Shift

Hmm…You don’t have to be disciplined–but instead, you have to be in love with the act of writing. For some reason, that rings true for me.

Of my 34 published middle-grade books, I can’t think of a single one that I had to “make myself” sit down and write. Yes, I ran into occasional rough spots. Yes, sometimes I felt physically or emotionally shot, so writing wasn’t as much fun on those days. But I didn’t have to discipline myself to write. In each case, I had a story I was burning to tell, and I couldn’t wait for naptime when I could immerse myself in my fictional world–where I could make life turn out like I wanted, like it should be.

Fueled from Within

In the early years, the inner passion for writing fueled me–not discipline imposed from the outside. I think Ms. Berg just may be onto something here! Maybe on the days we can’t make ourselves write, we should check our passion quota about our current project.

Passion for writing versus self-discipline–I think I need to investigate this further! Is it one or the other–or both?

How about You?

What does “being in love with your writing” look like for you? Can you describe one of its attributes? If so, please leave a comment!

Are there untouchable topics in literature? No, of course, not. But there are topics that are difficult to do well, or it feels like you are preaching.
You know the ones: alcoholism, abortion, medical ethics, underage drinking, etc. These are hard to put into a story or novel and have it work.

Dealing with Flash point, Difficult Topics

I’ve been listening to Mary E. Pearson’s novel, The Adoration of Jenna Fox and she does a stunning job of addressing medical ethics. It’s reminiscent of Peter Dickinson’s 1989 novel, Eva, but takes the discussion in new directions. Here are some of the things she does right as an author treading lightly.

Character. The novel works because the character is front and center. This is above all a character novel, with all the ethical dilemma from the medical “miracle” taking place within the character. She IS the ethical problem and has to resolve how she feels about herself. So, it’s not a theoretical issue; it’s an issue of identity.

Voice. Written in first person, the character’s voice is stunning. First person was a good choice, because it allows the reader to experience the dilemma along with the character. The voice never falters, it’s flawless.

Backstory. The bane of any sort of difficult topic is the mountain of data, the historical arguments, the cultural context. It is a trap, though, for the unwary author who tries to insert all this back story into the novel. Pearson walks that fine line between planting necessary information, but putting it in naturally.

All sides are presented fairly. Pearson populates the story with a variety of characters who represent the various points of view about this question of medical ethics. This is perhaps the hardest thing to do in a novel dealing with issues that set off fireworks in our culture. It’s easy to include stereotypes, believe cliches. Instead, Pearson creates fully developed characters who are passionate about issues, but are conflicted by the dilemma that confronts them. The grandmother, the friend at school, the mysterious next-door neighbor — each has a life perspective to bring to the story that enriches the conflict, without cheapening it.

Are you passionate about some topic facing our culture? I’d recommend you read this book just for pure enjoyment of Pearson’s language and storytelling. Then, re-read it, study it, as an example of how to do it right.

It’s sold movie rights: we can only hope they do the novel justice.
Also see the website for the book, Who is Jenna Fox?