have previously mentioned in a few different blogs about my experiences as a writer during my education where I have encountered people who have dismissed or not fully understood what I do and why. These experiences are not the majority. I have by far had many more positive experiences, with people interested and curious and filled with questions because it’s such an unusual thing to encounter. On both sides, there is a common factor – that being not knowing (or in some instances, thinking they know) what it is that writers really do. Even amongst writers, I think it is a common part of the journey to learn as you go what the work really entails. This may sound rather silly. After all, how can a writer not know what the work of writing involves? I shall elucidate.
Very often the work of a writer tends to be reduced down to simply the act of writing. After all, that is what is in the name, right? Excuse me whilst I have a slightly hysterical chuckle. You would be forgiven for thinking this. It’s sort of like telling a teacher that their job is just sitting down and teaching. Very few jobs, particularly vocational ones, are ever “just” something. There will always be nuance that lies beneath the surface, which often can only be discovered by pursuing the task, or at the very least, doing some research about it.
Being a writer is absolutely more complicated than even writers can think when starting out (at least that has been my experience), and that is in large part due to the division of the work before publication and after (and in this instance I am talking just about book publication, as opposed to journalistic or technical writing). Whilst we all think that the work of a writer is in creating their manuscript (and it is true that this involves a great deal of work), the real job of a writer really does start after publication (and even that’s after the work of getting accepted for publication!).
I’ve only been published online, and haven’t yet gotten to the point of embarking on that uphill journey to publication, so I’m not really in a position to comment on the post-publication work of being a writer. That said, from what I’ve read, it can be summed up as mostly to do with the marketing of your book and getting it out there, which is vital to success. Writers, once they manage to finish a manuscript, and cross the hurdle of acceptance by a publisher (whether that is through cold submission, an agent, or self-publishing), must really become expert in selling and marketing their work. In this day and age, this means being an adept on social media, as well as networking in person. Very few realise this aspect of the job, as, after all, we are focused on writing – improving our craft and trying to produce a manuscript.
Learning By Doing
So, back to the writing side of things. In my experience, writing is one of those areas where the term practice-led research really is extremely applicable, or to be less academic in my terms, practice-led learning. That is to say, learning from doing. As we create, we are processing the knowledge we have picked up, and over time our style emerges and abilities evolve. Having an English Literature background has given me the critical and analytical skills required for some of the self-reflection and investigation that I think writing requires. We very rarely just produce something and throw it out into the public arena. There will always be a degree of vetting or editing, and this is where having that phalanx of analytical and theoretical knowledge can stand you in good stead.
In my opinion, the examination of our work that occurs in the editing process is probably one of the most crucial parts of the process. This is when we test our structure, characters, plots, and phrasing. Gaps that we might not have considered or noticed during creation can suddenly become evident, particularly when diving down various theoretical rabbit holes. Wobbly parts of the structure make themselves present, trembling as we move closer for some detailed inspection. Characters decide to change from your original idea (I do believe in the notion that characters, once they reach terminal velocity, tend to create and lead themselves). Editing is where all these things are given attention.
The first pass of creation is filling up the sandbox. Getting the words down on the page is a monumental task in and of itself, and it is oftentimes eased by relaxing into the flow, rather than attempting to simultaneously proof-read and tidy. This is one of my bad habits. Once built, editing is ensuring that your sandcastle has structural integrity and all the crenellations and windows your heart desires. It is the refining of the work, stripping back the excess and patching up the missing pieces to reveal the best version of the story possible.
Just as much as writing is an art and a skill, editing is an art unto itself, and from my experience when you find an excellent editing partner it can be one of the most exciting and transformative parts of writing. Getting experience in workshopping is one of the most important things I can recommend to any writer, but to young ones in particular. My first experiences with this were during undergrad, and many of those in my later classes joined writing groups so that they could continue to have that environment after they finished university. I particularly recommend choosing people who also have experience with writing, they will generally be more sensitised to the structural work that you are doing.
A fresh pair of eyes is almost always going to be a valuable experience. Different people read and interpret the same things differently, and apart from having a new and interesting ideas or interpretations that you might not have considered, they can also find gaps faster, and often cut to the heart of problems you might be turning a blind eye to. This is what the phrase “kill your darlings” (or “murder your darlings” to directly state the original quote by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch) refers to. Quite often those parts which are dearest to us, are the parts which have failed to grow, and no longer fit with the direction the piece has moved in. For my darlings, I remove them with care, and put them aside in a spare Word doc to be used (perhaps) at a later date.
Writerly Self-Awareness
But so much for editing. Writing comes before that, and I have taken a somewhat backwards or reverse engineered approach to this unravelling. My approach to the work of writing is to constantly try to improve my craft. This does not necessarily mean I am always examining my own writing, reading books on techniques, or seeking out classes. Rather, I will periodically check in with myself, compare my current work with previous pieces, critically examine it and see whether I am pushing myself and growing, and consider the intentions I have for pieces. This approach can be summed up as writerly self-awareness.
Self-awareness is vital to growth, whether it be personal or professional. Examining ourselves with a frank eye, seeing our strengths and acknowledging them, recognising our growth and the work that it has taken, and also not shying away from areas that require improvement or in which we have dissatisfaction, is the only method for consistent and healthy forward momentum in my opinion. Acknowledging the parts that require work or change does not constitute a value judgement on ourselves as a whole. It is only by identifying these difficult patches (I hesitate to call them weaknesses, due to the pejorative nature of the term) that we can then take action, to unlearn if necessary, and then seek to improve with fresh learning and perspective.
Similarly, it is not arrogance to acknowledge our achievements and strengths. A great deal of the propulsion experienced in life is a result of chasing a goal. Frequently, however, we forget to enjoy the achievement once we attain it, but rather are focused on reaching for the next. It would be like putting in the effort to climb a mountain, but not even stopping to appreciate the view and the work it took to get there once you reach the top. We should not charge past the peaks of our successes, or devalue the journey and effort it took to reach them.
But why am I talking about this? This is beginning to sound more like a motivational seminar than a discourse on the work of writing. I mention this because it is important. Knowing your strengths as a writer, knowing what you do well, is a huge part of being able to continue to replicate these features in the future. Further to that, knowing that we are skilled in particular areas helps build confidence, so even if we know there are things that we may need to work on, there is still a sense of satisfaction and achievement to help carry us through. This is why I teach students the importance of telling their peers which parts of their workshop pieces they did well, in addition to pointing out the parts that could be improved. Both are important to know.
Research, Research, Research
It can also be thoroughly valuable to think laterally about your work as a writer. Being primarily a high fantasy author, I have the flexibility to control every aspect of the worlds I write. Whilst this means that the world(s) literally are my oyster, it also puts a huge responsibility of creation on me. Fantasy worlds require an internal logic and structure just as much as our own reality does. For me, this more often than not results in a large amount of research into foundational aspects of things. That is to say, understanding biology, physics, chemistry, technology, and how geographical formations are created. Awareness of the work and research involved in my particular genre helps me build up a base of knowledge and understanding that I can draw on, which will subtly inform my work, building in a sense of natural authenticity.
It is very easy to initially dismiss research as an aspect of a writer’s work when thinking about it in passing. In reality, however, for many writers, research will consume a fair portion of the time we spend “writing”. Whilst some of this may be procrastination in the form of research, being well-read in many seemingly erroneous areas does form an important part of the work of writing. This is not solely for fantasy authors, either. If you write a piece set in the real world, depending on how tied you are to concrete pieces of information, you may find yourself researching train timetables for a journey from London to Scotland (I say this from experience). Research is often key.
To take this notion one step further, I have a piece of advice. Study some psychology if you can. By this I do not mean you need to go off and do a whole degree. You could watch some documentaries or read some articles, just to get a grasp on some of the basic foundations of how people tend to operate. But why am I saying this? I have previously mentioned that one of my biggest tips for improving dialogue is to people watch. This falls into that same vein, but refers to character creation as a whole.
Understanding how people operate on a psychological level can greatly inform your character creation – how you think about their motivations and reactions, what their relationships are like with others. I suggest this because during my undergraduate degree this is exactly what I did for this exact reason. I wanted to be able to understand people well so that I could create realistic and human characters, complete with natural and understandable flaws and frailties. Our ability as writers to read people accurately, and intuit about them, can be a powerful one, and certainly not something to be underestimated. Deliberately seeking to improve these skills and awareness will feed through into your work without your realising.
In the arena of writing, reading the work of others can also help build our awareness. I have found that the more you engage with the critical thinking aspects of the work, the more your mind will naturally attune to such things when engaging with the work of others. Seeing how others do particular things can give you ideas for your own writing. There is a caveat in this, however. Just because someone else does something well, it does not mean that you need to replicate it for your work to be good. Whilst it can be an interesting experiment or writing exercise, it is important to remember that what works well for one person’s style or genre is not always transferrable.
In addition to this, if you are a genre fiction writer (think historical, crime, fantasy, sci-fi, romance, et cetera), it can be worthwhile looking up the common tropes and audience expectations associated with your genre. TV Tropes is a good starting resource for such exploration. Generally speaking, you will find that you are already subconsciously aware of such things, either from reading or writing in the area. Whilst these features take the form more of guidelines than strict rules, it can be a useful exercise for drawing your attention to the structure and features of your work. You may even wish to subvert some of the common tropes of your genre.
The Broad Brushstrokes of Creation
All that I have discussed so far does, of course, relate more to knowledge that has a trickle-down effect into the writing that ends up on the page. Yes, the work of writing is having the discipline to sit down and get yourself writing. To have the awareness of what is a conducive environment so that the hurdles to success are lowered. We do not have external accountability built in with our tasks the way your usual nine-to-five job does. It cannot be underestimated how much it can take to do a job that you are not being paid for, especially when that job is fitted in around another for which you are paid so that you might survive in society, and all the other responsibilities and aspects that life entails. Doing a job for your love of it means slogging through the hard days, as well as breezing through the easy ones.
That said, it would be a fallacy for me to say that writing is “just” writing. The streams that feed into the act of writing that I have touched on above are all part of the complexity of the work of writing. And I have indeed just barely scratched the surface of them. As a craft there is so much more to writing than simply setting pen to paper. Naturally, the vast majority of people are unaware of such complexities. But I believe it is important to discuss and share these things. I have seen many examples of artists and creators having their work devalued because we live in a time where we have become used to things that are cheap and disposable (think fast fashion), rather than lasting items of quality which generally come with a heftier price tag. It is very easy to cheaply buy knock-offs, and art theft is something that many independent creators have to deal with on a daily basis.
By sharing the effort that goes into the creation of the media and art that the public consumes and purchases, creators teach their audiences about the time and skill that is involved in what they are buying. It is very easy to look at a finished product and feel like we are being overcharged. Does $30 for a book sound like a lot? Yes. Does it still sound like a lot when you discover that the author who wrote it will receive perhaps $1 of that? With knowledge, our perspectives begin to shift.
Writing takes work. A great deal of work. And very often there are very few tangible rewards along the way. But the work of writing is also so much more than that. I believe that I’m lucky to work in an industry where improving your craft and growing your skills also involves an opportunity for your own growth as a person. So as hard as the work of writing gets some days, it’s always going to be something that I come back to, even if I have to take a break and down tools for a few days, a few weeks, or even a few months. It cannot be underestimated just how much work the work of writing really takes.
