Yesterday, I sat for hours polishing a story for a flash fiction contest I wanted to enter. When I finally stood up, my tailbone hurt, my legs were stiff, and I had a headache from staring at the screen so intently. But it felt good to finish something… and it feels good to be writing.
I have no idea if this particular piece will be picked up for publication. The odds aren’t good. I have close to ten times more rejections letters than acceptance letters at this point. That’s okay. There will be more and I will learn something new with each rejection. I used to get very disappointed with each rejection, but I’m glad I can view them differently now. Each one makes me try harder and write better next time.
What’s different about the latest piece is that it’s the first story I’ve written that has nothing to do with the Secret Service. Thus far, my writing has mostly been about my experiences on the job or influenced by it in some way. It’s easy to talk about the job because it’s generally a topic people find interesting.
Not long ago, I had a virtual speaking gig for a small local group. It was short, and I told the abbreviated version of my personal story. I typically ask for feedback when I speak because public speaking isn’t something that’s ever come naturally for me.
The group wanted more fun stories about the job. I’m not upset with that feedback. I get it. Trust me, it’s easy for me to tell the fun stories. In fact, I wish that’s all I had to take away from my story thus far. I wish I didn’t have to deal with some real problems while on the job. I wish I had it all together, and I wish my story didn’t include eating disorders, divorce, depression, etc.
But that IS my story, and the more challenging personal one is the one I’ve chosen to tell. It’s the one that matters more to me as a woman.
Writing and telling my story was something I needed to do even if no one chose to read it or hear it. I’m aware my story isn’t for everyone. The book’s bad reviews are evidence of that. People want to be entertained, and I won’t always be able to live up to that hype on the stage or on the page because my message is a more serious one.
I once heard the writer and actress Phoebe Waller-Bridge say that a writer should write to move people and not just to impress them.
Write to move people, not impress them.
I have had that quote displayed around my house from time to time. I think it applies to speaking, too. I want people to leave my speaking gigs with strong convictions to self-reflect. Who are you becoming? If you don’t like that person, then do something about it. Sometimes that message is received well. Other times, people just want to be entertained with exciting stories.
Telling a story – verbally or in writing – is really an amazing process. I’ve grown to appreciate the process because it’s taught me a lot about myself.
This week, I’m reflecting on what the writing process has taught me. Rather than focus on negative reviews or my lingering fear that being a female Secret Service agent is the only thing that will ever be interesting about me, I’m going to look at what I enjoy: writing.
1. Premature editing delays progress.
The perfectionist in me likes to edit as I go, but I no longer do it. My first drafts are disorganized chaos. Laurie Wagner, a writing coach and teacher, advocates for “wild writing,” and I credit her with helping me get out of my perfectionistic writing funk. My best ideas have come from rambling “wild writes.” I’ll set a timer (usually 15-30 minutes), and then I write whatever comes to mind about the topic I want to write about. There’s no order. There’s often no rhyme nor reason. But when the timer goes off and I read what I’ve written, I always walk away with a clearer picture of what I want to say.
I’ve learned that I often find clarity in the chaos when I overlook the wayward or absentee commas and just keep going.
2. First drafts are garbage, but at least you have something to work with.
My writing mentor, Lisa Fugard, taught me this great lesson. Similar to wild writing (and life in many ways), we rarely get it right the first time. I’ve learned that when I look at my work as a messy whole, I can make sense of the process. I can see where I’m going and what needs to be adjusted to make the second draft a little better.
3. Word choice matters.
The poet Maya Stein is a wizard at word choice. Poetry typically utilizes fewer words, and Maya’s class taught me a lot about making them count. And just like life, choosing my words wisely is always a, well, wise choice. I see it like this: wild writing is like the thought process that needs to happen before we speak aloud. Think before you speak, as they say. Sometimes wild thoughts allow us to process what really matters in the end, so when we do speak, the message is clearer. Once words are “published,” it’s hard to take them away. Take care in choosing them.
4. Sometimes I need to walk away.
I have always written better in the middle of the night. It’s quiet and peaceful with less distractions. But I haven’t always had that luxury because writing is not my full-time job right now. I’ve had to adjust and write when I can. But no matter how hard I try, there are some days where it’s just not working. The words aren’t flowing. The ideas are hiding, and I’m just not feeling moved by anything on the page in front of me. Sometimes the best answer is to walk away and try again tomorrow. I’ve learned this is hard for me to do. I have had to separate my attitude in exercise, for example, from writing. If I have a six-mile run planned, and I feel like quitting at mile five, I’m going to force myself to finish because I’m not a quitter. I don’t like doing anything half-way.
Walking away from the page for a period is okay. When I have a bad day, in general, I usually say, “I’ll try again tomorrow.” Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it yet. I think that line came from Anne of Green Gables. There’s clarity in a pause and a reset, and that goes for both life and writing.
5. Recognize my road blocks.
What’s stopping me? Nine times out of ten, fear keeps me from writing. What other people might think stops me from saying what I really think or writing what I really want to write sometimes.
The Secret Service gave me some great content to write about, but there’s this fearful feeling deep inside me that wonders if I can still be a writer if the law enforcement theme in my life begins to fade from some of my writing. Submitting a story without the Secret Service undertones was scary because I kind of feel like moving on to fiction and telling my own made-up stories is going to be telling.
Am I really a writer, or am I just a woman with some fun life experiences she wrote down because there’s a demand or interest for those particular experiences?
I want to be a good writer. I want to tell one hell of a story and create the most interesting characters and take people to another place with my words. In reality, it’s what I have always wanted since I was a kid. I was just too afraid to go all in from the beginning.
Time is often a writer’s friend. It’s not the road block I always thought it was. It takes time to write well. As impatient as I am, and as much of a motivated go-getter as I am, writing has taught me to pause and learn to appreciate the time-consuming process of the craft. I read books and stories differently now because I’ve glimpsed the process.
I’ve also learned this about myself:
I’m a better and more fulfilled person when I’m writing than when I’m not. To me, that means writing needs to continue being a big part of my life. I stopped writing after college. I started again after the Secret Service. I found myself again and made sense of the messy first draft of my life by writing Agent Innocent. When I read the finished manuscript now, I think of so many ways I could have written portions better. I always think, “There’s so much more to say!”
If I break my life up into “Draft One” and “Working Draft Two” where Agent Innocent and those experiences are Draft One, and “Working Draft Two” is the present, the drafts don’t look very similar. That’s the beauty of the process, the passing of time, that makes each draft a little better. Time passes, clarity alters words and behavior, and, like life, there’s continuous editing and creating and adjusting to get better with each season of life and each draft on the page.
Embracing the typos until next Monday-ish,
Mel