The Writer's Con Game

March 14, 2007

Gar Haywood has an interesting guest blog over at Murderati where he talks about having confidence in your writing and having that manuscript in a drawer that you love and nobody else seems interested in.

I don't trust my own judgment enough to fight for this thing.
And I know what you're thinking: Who the hell does trust their own judgment? The writer has yet to be born who isn't shackled to some extent by insecurity. Self doubt is as much a part of our makeup as a need for wide-spread acceptance and, yes, the cash to pay our mortgage in perpetuity.

Nevertheless, it seems to me that the people who achieve large-scale success in our business tend to have a very healthy appreciation for their own work, if not a downright, pathological determination to see it take over the world. You talk to these people, you read and/or listen to the interviews they do, and what you hear is someone who doesn't give a rat's ass what their agents, editors or critics have to say, and probably never did. Their inner-voice has told them that their stuff is worth every penny of a six-figure contract and a fifteen-city book tour and, by God, they aren't leaving the room---or sticking their manuscript in any goddamn drawer---until they get it.

I often wonder about this. I suspect these people just fake it better than the rest of us. I suppose it's pretty easy to delude yourself (okay, perhaps believe is a better word) that you're a better writer than everybody else just because you got so much money, etc. I wouldn't discount luck and I suspect that in their heart of hearts, they don't either.

Still, if we're all totally insecure about our writing--from aspiring writers to neophytes to old pros--I wonder how we can find the confidence to keep sending it out. Doesn't every rejection letter feel like another nail in your creative coffin, confirmation of every single doubt you've ever had? Yes, I suck. I know it and now you're telling me to my face.

Somewhere along the lines you've got to convince yourself (and as a result, I think, the rest of the world) that you're pretty damned good. Of course, it helps to have success. A short story published, a novel published, a good review, a fan letter. Once we get published, we tend to cling to these confirmations when the wolves howl at the door and the voices from beneath the bed mutter how talentless we are, how can we believe anyone would pay to read our writing.

It makes us pretty damned bipolar, I think.

I'm a pretty strong believer in two old adages, though. One is the old alcoholics' creed: fake it 'til you make it.

The other is: believe it and you can do it.

Do you believe?

Best,

Mark Terry