Writers are not their protagonists

I was talking recently with a new writer who was concerned that readers might assume that because a story's protagonist was in some ways similar to the writer, the writer was talking about himself/herself. Many new writers share that concern, so I thought I'd address it here. Four points are key:

1. Many writers create protagonists who are physically similar to them.

At Bouchercon, I've often heard the joke that mystery writers create protagonists who are exactly like them except a little taller, thinner, and in better shape. There's certainly some truth behind the humor, and the practice isn't limited to mystery writers, but it's also far from universally true. More importantly, a character's physical characteristics are usually their least important traits.

2. If you're doing a good job with your fiction, your protagonist is his/her own person.

Characters must be true to themselves. They must behave in ways that make sense for them, react as they would if they were real people, and so on. If every character in a book or story is just the author, then the piece is full of copies of a single person with many names and so will not be very entertaining.

3. You can't stop some readers from believing this.

Don't even try. Lee Child is a rangy, fit-looking, six-foot-five writer. Jack Reacher, the protagonist of his many fine novels, is a superhumanly fit, superhumanly strong, insanely great fighter and marksman who is also six-foot-five. I've listened to fans at Bouchercon confuse the two--while staring at Child. I don't know Child, but I'm pretty darn sure he's not Reacher.

No matter what you say, some readers will make this mistake--which leads me to...

4. Don't worry about this crap.

It's nothing but noise in the system. Tell your story the best you can. Make every character be as realistic a person as you can manage. Build real worlds. Stay consistent with the rules of those worlds. Do everything as well as you can, and ignore the rest. You can control what you write. That's all you can control.

Sure, some parts of you will seep onto every page. That's part of what readers want. There are no new plots, but there are constantly new writers delivering them. Trying to entirely hide yourself in fiction is a pointless, futile exercise, so don't bother.

Do your best. Ignore the rest.

If you want detailed critiques on your work

In my post about trusted readers a couple of days, I said I would later address the topic of what to do if you want detailed critiques of your work. The short answer for beginning writers is, alas, most likely to be a frustrating one:

Learn to live without it.

I say that because for most new writers, the people who are willing to give you detailed critiques are not competent to do so, and the people who are competent to do so won't do it.

In the first group are most of your friends, family, and other aspiring writers. I'm not in any way trying to say those people aren't good or smart or competent at their jobs; I'm sure they are all of those things and more. It's just unlikely that they have enough writing knowledge and experience to be able to help you craft your work into a form suitable for sale.

That said, there are always exceptions. Groups of new writers sometimes form and help each other sell their work. It's just rare.

The second group, the folks who could do a great job of shaping your work, are unlikely to do so because most of them are professional writers working in your genre, and those folks don't want to work on your book or story because doing so will distract them from their book or story. (There are many other reasons writers don't want to offer such advice; search the Web and you'll find many entertaining blog entries on the topic. I may even write one someday--but not today.) One of the best story mechanics with whom I've ever workshopped is Jim Kelly, and though this award-winning author is as nice a guy as you're ever likely to meet, I don't think he provides his editing services for free.

I mentioned workshopping. If you attend a workshop at which pro writers are working with beginners, such as the Clarion workshops, then you will get exactly this type of help--but you'll have to pay to be there. (Some workshops do have scholarships available.) You can sometimes find free or nearly free workshops at conventions--I participated in one at Worldcon in Montreal, where a group of beginners paid very little (I think; I just read some manuscripts and showed up and wasn't involved in that end of things) and received detailed comments from multiple professional writers.

So where does this leave beginning writers? Where we've all been: on their own most of the time. You can use your trusted reader to give you an overall sense of how you're doing, but the rest of the job remains your problem. As you sell, you'll meet other pros, and they might then be willing to give your work a look (or not).

Finally, in case you're wondering, yes, I probably could help you with your book or story, and no, I'm not going to do so. You could pay me enough to change my mind, but the fee would be far larger than what selling the work would net, so I wouldn't advise it. I'm not trying to be mean; I'm just swamped.

Speaking of which, I have a book to finish....

Time again for those beginning writer rules

While at Arisia, I ended up in multiple conversations with aspiring writers who were seeking the magic formula for success as professionals. I told them the truth: there is no such formula. I did give them a few basic tidbits of advice, and some asked that I post those tasty morsels here. Though I think they're obvious and available online from a zillion different places, I said I would comply with the requests. So, for those who asked, here are the few rules I believe might help you become a successful writer. Note the word "might;" there are no guarantees, and, in fact, the most likely outcome is that you'll fail. Hence the first rule.

If you can possibly not write, then don't write. It's a mug's game, so back away from the table if you can. There's nothing particularly special or magical about writing.

If you must write, then write. Write as often as you can. I recommend at least once daily. Write no matter what happens. Writing is amazingly special and magical. (Yes, this contradicts what I wrote above, but you shouldn't be reading this if you can possibly not write, so one ray of encouragement seemed reasonable and appropriate.)

Finish what you write. Fragments and clever scenes and nifty images are fine for impressing your friends, but no one's going to buy them from you.

Try to sell what you write. Hey, you said you wanted to be a professional; professionals get paid to write.

Unless someone with a job is supporting you and giving you health insurance, don't quit your day job. You have to assume you'll make precious little money after you're a success, and essentially none before it.

That's it. Those are the big rules. There are zillions of smaller rules, but if you don't learn the ones above, their smaller cousins won't help you.

Don't be surprised, by the way, if it takes you a long time to figure out which of the first two rules you're going to follow. The gap between when I first sold a short story to a professional market and when I accepted the second rule above was about 23 years and 1 month.

You'll probably either learn faster than I did or never learn.

Good luck.

Focus

When I lose focus, I try to remind myself of these basics, which I think every writer should keep in mind.

Write.

The work has to be enough reason enough to do it.

Write.

If you can possibly not be a writer, do something else. Otherwise...

Write.

No matter how much you want to win this or that award, ignore them to the best of your ability.

Write.

It's not a competition. The world has plenty of room for many wonderful writers.

Write.

You'll never stop wanting everyone to love your work.

Write.

Most folks won't.

Write.

Time to take my own advice.

Why so many more people want to write than do write

I'm risking a blog theme with this and the previous two columns, but I figured I might as well reveal this dirty secret of writing while I was addressing the job.
The answer is simple: it's way cooler to have written than it is to write.

Writing is not an exciting activity to watch or, often, to do. You sit alone, you stare into space a lot, you concentrate hard, and you type or take pen to paper. Stamping labels on green bean cans might be less intellectually demanding, but it's also more active.

Having written, however, you get to show off your creation, discuss it, hope for praise (and cringe at criticism), and generally be a writer. Ooh. Aah.

As I've said before, if you can possibly not write, don't.

If you must write, however, then shut up and do it.

As I will now.

Why so many writers don't want to discuss works in progress

Last night's entry prompts an obvious question from friends, family, and acquaintances of writers: if talking about your writing is so tempting, why don't you discuss it with me? Most of those people, as well, believe it or not, as almost total strangers, would be happy to discuss works in progress with writers, to offer their inputs, to make available their services for proofreading or story development, and so on.

So why don't more writers take up people on these offers?

The answer is simple but harsh: we don't want their input. In fact, in many cases, we not only don't want it, it has the potential to infuriate us. If it's bad input, it's distracting and a time waster, because now you have to explain why it's bad. If it's good input, at certain moments it can be quite useful, but at others it can be devastating, because sometimes all that keeps a writer going is the belief that if he or she can just hold together a bit longer the fragile world web in his or her head, it can make it onto the screen/paper/whatever. An idea that points out a flaw can trash that whole world.

Now, with a complete draft in hand, that same idea might force a major rewrite, but it's now a useful idea, one that you're applying to something real--a manuscript--to create a better draft. It's no longer a nuclear bomb headed at the ethereal creation in your mind. (Put differently, critiques may be useful and important, but timing matters.)

As best I can tell, the union of all of these behaviors means that writers are frequently unfair and even unbearable on the topic of their work to those closest to them. I try hard not to be that way, but I know I sometimes (often?) am. I've seen a lot of artists of all sorts use their art as an excuse to be assholes, and I don't believe in that excuse at all; no one has a right to be a jerk. Of course, all of us sometimes are.

If nothing else, maybe these two entries will help explain some of the behaviors of writers--and remind those of us who are writers to keep trying not to put our friends in these difficult positions.

Ellison's advice for writers

The dread is heavy upon me tonight, so I'll keep this short and get back to the novel.

I've heard Harlan Ellison say on more than one occasion that if you can possibly do anything other than writing, do it, stop writing, move along.

I used to think he was too harsh.

Now that I write every day, I completely agree with him.

You've been warned.