Motivation And Such.

Last post I mentioned I was lacking motivation in my writing at the moment. I'm kind of sad to report that hasn't improved.

I currently lack motivation for a couple of reasons of which I'm well and truly aware, although I choose not to go into any detail here. I've spent a bit of time reflecting and looking into why I feel this way, and I must admit to not knowing what to do about it. Apart from, you know, just writing.

But I want my heart to be in it. And writing just for writing sake becomes little more than exercises that lack soul.

I work in education, and continually I hear teachers give students examples of athletes as role models in their academic studies. Just this week I heard about Michael Jordan who was cut from his high school basketball team. I would like to point out the speaker also mentioned Edison, Einstein and The Beatles who were all told at some point they wouldn't succeed. And yet it seems athletes are the examples we most often use. I've done it myself.

Last week I was told about a runner, someone who is, for the very first time, undertaking one of those iron-man thingies where they run, swim and cycle ridiculous distances. This runner, who is a friend of a friend, committed himself to finishing this event. And so he woke at 4.30 every morning, ran kilometres, trained hard, focused on where he needed to improve, controlled his diet - all the things athletes do when they are training towards something.

I have much admiration for people who commit to something like this.

I considered this as a role model for my own motivation. But as I thought about it, the less it works. While there are certain similarities, the analogy between creative and athletic endeavours doesn't satisfy me enough to be useful.

An athlete like the runner mentioned above, has a specific date and event he is working towards. I'm sure he has a goal time he would like to achieve, but I'm almost as certain he'd be happy just to finish the event. And should he not achieve either of those goals, he would be able to measure how far he fell short and what he would need to do to complete it next time.

But a writer like myself is writing a bunch of short stories,  one after another, sending them out and hoping to make a sale. And there is no second place. We either sell the story or we don't. IF we don't, we get a rejection, and it's rare they contain detailed feedback on how close we got to a sale. More often it's a generic No, Thanks. There isn't a single event we are working towards, where we do the same thing over and over and over to improve in preparation. (No, rewriting doesn't count.)

That's not to say we don't have goals. To sell to this or that particular market, to sign an agent, to make a three book deal - whatever. But so much of this stuff is outside our control.

All we can do is keep writing, hoping we improve, listen to the feedback we do actually get and then remember much of it is subjective. It's all about trying to tighten our techniques while keeping the stories human and relatable.

And a lot of this is undertaken blindly, hopefully progressing by feel or self realisation. Unlike runners, we don't always have the indicators that we're shaving seconds off our time, or getting a faster start. Or even improving.

Maybe I need a coach or a mentor.

Be A God.

"If you want to succeed at writing, you make it happen."

We're sitting in a restaurant on the banks of the Bosphorus. We're in Turkey, in Europe. Across the river, less than a kilometre away is still Turkey, but it's in Asia. There is a gap in the land opposite, the entrance to the Black Sea. Ships emerge and enter at regular intervals. I sip my beer again, as Erdal continues.

"You're a writer. I'm a writer. We're gods. You're writing, and you need a town." He mimics typing. "You create one. You need a person. You create one. You don't like someone." More typing. "You kill them."

We pause. I'm thinking. Erdal is drinking his raki.

"You want to be a successful writer? Be a god. Make it happen."

I first met Erdal Güven in Japan twenty years ago when he was the Asian Bureau Chief for The Hurriyet. We soon became good friends. I have fond memories of evenings spent in his company in the streets of Tokyo. Since then he has become a respected author, both fiction and non-fiction, in his homeland.  We lost touch for a few years, but reconnected. And now I'm in Istanbul, we're catching up.

"You want it? You write it. It's all up to you."

My wife nods sagely. I'm still deep in thought.

"But it's not that easy," I counter.

"It is that easy, and that difficult," he says. "After all, it's only words."

Rejection And Success.

The rejections are mine. The successes are not.

I recently had two stories rejected from markets that I thought were a sure thing. The stories are good, the writing sits squarely amid the best I've ever done, and both stories fit the guidelines like a well worn glove. Unfortunately, the editors / slushreaders disagreed.

It's been a very long time since I felt down about a rejection. I usually just cop it on the chin, send the story straight out and forget about it. But these two stories were with markets that I really want to break into. And I've suddenly realised these rejections are bugging me more than I should let them.

One of the markets I find frustrating, as they usually have a rapid rejection process but this time took four weeks. I take this to mean they weren't initially sure - but I received no comments back so I don't really know. (And yes, they are rapid - my best ever effort with them was 17 minutes! - which I thought said more about the slushreader than me. Especially since the critique (two words) made little sense.)

The other market I at least received some comments from (even if I disagree with them - hehehehe), but I find that market a little frustrating too, as the last time I was rejected there they then published stories which were clearly outside their own guidelines thematically.

Still, they can choose whatever they want to buy. For some reason my story didn't grab them, and I just need to accept that.

On the other end of the spectrum, I continue to publish reviews with Dark Matter. (simply email 'subscribe' to darkmatterfanzine@gmail.com) Elsewhere I have a story on hold, my friend Gitte Christensen has a story on hold at a pro-market, and a whole bunch of Australians and New Zealanders made the Locus recommended reading list for 2011. In fact, we're proportionally over-represented, considering our population.

Lucy Sussex for "Matilda Told Such Dreadful Lies"
Kim Westwood for "Courier's New Bicycle" 
Kaaron Warren for "Mistification" 
Alison Goodman for "Eona" 
Karen Healey for "The Shattering" 
Jo Anderton for "Debris" 
Margo Lanagan for "Yellowcake"
Tansy Rayner Roberts for "Love and Romanpunk"
Jack Dann and Nick Gevers for "Ghosts by Gaslight"

and the following short stories:

‘‘Dying Young’’, Peter M. Ball
‘‘Catastrophic Disruption of the Head’’, Margo Lanagan
‘‘Memories of Chalice’’, Peter M. Ball
‘‘The Shaddowwes Box’’, Terry Dowling
‘‘Breaking the Ice’’, Thoraiya Dyer
‘Mulberry Boys’’, Margo Lanagan
‘‘Boumee and the Apes’’, Ian McHugh
‘‘The Patrician’’, Tansy Rayner Roberts
"All You Can Do Is Breathe’’, Kaaron Warren

Ah yes, Spec-Fic is very healthy down under.  That doesn't mean I can't wallow in self pity though.

Success, But Not For Me.

I belong to a casual collective of writers who occasionally meet up and talk about writing. (and the weather, and music, and film, and politics...)

One of these writers has recently had some success as they've sold a few short stories. And good luck to them, congratulations and so on.  I'm really pleased for them - they deserve their success.

(Yes, I know 'they' is for more than one person, but I'm trying to keep this genderless.)

But what I don't like is how this person thinks they are now Stephen King. They think they've finally made it.  They keep talking about how they've only taken the first step, but their comments and attitude suggests otherwise.

Now this is a person I actually quite like, but recently I've tried to avoid them. They tell me about how I can have success too by writing a particular way, to hang in there, and to just do what they did.  And to make it worse they're telling everyone that they're a professional writer.  Even seeking (and giving out) tax advice on making claims and deductions for writing.  All on the basis of a sale of two stories.  Hmmm, I spoke to my taxation friend who advised me that the Tax Office is not happy with 'hobby' claims unless you're earning substantial revenue - over $5,000 or so.  I don't know who their advisor is, but I'd tread carefully.

I know in this person's heart they're just being encouraging and supportive, but since they are lording it up so much and in everyone's face, it's coming across as superior and condescending.  I thought about pulling them aside and having a quick chat about it, but I'm not that close to this person and there are better people to do it. And then someone else did speak to them about it.  And was told they were just jealous and bitter.

Hey, if you're going to have success, remember you might need to use those same rungs later on the way down the ladder.