By the time I realized the art of writing a novel was something that could actually be learned, I had already written three (awful) books. When I was about halfway through my fourth book, I happened to be browsing the bottom shelves at the library, where I pulled out a book titled How to Write (And Sell) a Christian Novel by Gilbert Morris. I checked the book out, polished it off in one or two sittings, and closed the back cover to the realization that my writing—and my life—had changed forever.
I checked out a few more books from that bottom shelf, but around the third or fourth one, I decided they were all the same, and, anyway, I had it all figured out by now. So I quit reading and buckled down to finish writing Book #4. It was also awful.
This is about when I started thinking, Hmm, maybe I don’t know it all yet. Maybe I should keep reading those bottom-shelf books after all.
The more time we spend studying our craft and the more we learn, the easier it is to lose sight of our own fallibility.
We master a little corner of the craft and immediately start feeling like Superman, floating out there in space, complacently smiling down at the world, congratulating ourselves for saving it once again. We read a novel by another author, start picking out the mistakes (which, only a few weeks ago, we were making ourselves), and smugly pat ourselves on the backs for being experts compared to this poor fool.
The truth is we probably do know a good deal about the craft. We’ve studied, we’ve grown, maybe we’re even experts. But the moment we start thinking of ourselves as experts (explicitly or otherwise) is the moment we lose a little of our wide-open learnability. A naïve, arrogant, deep-down part of us starts to think we understand it all.
Luckily, every time I start falling into that trap, something eventually comes along that bangs me upside the head and leaves me with the star-spangled reminder, “I don’t know anything!”
We all need to experience this painful, shocking, overwhelming epiphany every now and then.
This epiphany can leave us feeling a little abashed, a little ashamed, and, ironically, more than a little exhilarated. Stone walls and iron chains fall away. New vistas explode, and unexplored horizons stretch to infinity. Blind spots flicker into view, and, even as the painful awareness of our writing weaknesses caused us to wince, we can laugh with the excitement of realizing that being able to see our problems means we’re halfway down the road to solving them.
Success, knowledge, and experience can sometimes lead us, unwittingly, to the stuffy cell of complacency. In a life—and an art—that demands openness and curiosity, this is death in a box. No matter where we are in our writing lives, no matter how many bad stories we write, no matter how many good stories we write, no matter how much we’ve learned or how much we’ve mastered—we still don’t know anything.
None of us can be experts at writing, anymore than we can be experts at life. Our journey toward mastery is a never-ending road, and the moment we start thinking we know everything, or even most of everything, is the moment we stop traveling forward. Never stop learning, never believe you’ve achieved mastery. Always remember that your next big revelation is around the corner, waiting for you so long as you keep looking for it.
Here’s to the journey. Here’s to not knowing anything. And here’s to never mastering this beautiful, crazy art of the written word.
Wordplayers, tell me your opinions! Have you ever made the mistake of assuming you had mastered an aspect of writing, only to discover you hadn’t? Tell me in the comments!
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About K.M. Weiland | @KMWeiland
Great post! I tell my students that no matter how much we talk about writing and read what other’s have said about writing, th eonly way to really learn is to actually write. The screw-ups are pretty important to learning, I agree.
-Miss GOP
http://www.thewritingapprentice.com
I agree with pretty much everything you’ve said! In terms of writing I assume I know nothing and I simply do it for the love of writing. In terms of life there are times when I have to remind myself “You don’t know everything.”
The older I get the more I realize how little I actually know.
DWD
creyola.blogspot.com
The bit about reading craft books is dead on. That feeling of superiority as you are reading along and nodding about how you already know everything they are saying is heady — but it rarely translates to the page. Starting and completing new projects and consistency, for me, are how I’ve been able to improve. But there’s still a long way to go 🙂
I will never master the craft of writing. That assumes once I master the craft I’ll have nothing left to learn, which of course, isn’t true. I will, however, continue to improve my craft and at some point I expect to be pretty good at it.
@Miss GOP: Practice makes perfect. Studying the craft is hugely important, but, when it comes right down to it, the only way we really learn is getting our hands dirty by actually writing.
@Catherine: There’s a country song that goes “life’s a dance you learn as you go.” Writing’s pretty much the same.
@Bluestocking: We can be masters – in theory. But once we actually sit down to write, everything changes. Every story is a new adventure, so even if we’ve mastered one story, the next one is a new adventure.
@Mshatch: That’s the attitude we all need to have. If we can be confident in the skills we honestly posses, without overestimating them, we’ve found the best balance possible for a writer.
Interesting post. You’ve made me think about the practical side of my writing.
I have a whole bookcase of writing craft books, all of which I have read and some I have reread. I also have an MA in Creative Writing and I run my own Writers’ Circle. But I still sometimes write rubbish. It’s like learning to play the piano (which I am doing); I could have a whole shelf of books about how to play, but the only way I am going to learn is practice. But there’s more; I have to practice correctly, and maybe this is where writing sometimes falls down. It is a craft so doing it is important, but doing it right is also important.
Imagine a piano student or piano expert sitting at a keyboard and saying, “today I’m just going to bang out the notes because I want to bash x,000 notes in the next hour.”
How many writers say virtually the same thing when they sit at their keyboards? Maybe we should learn from a pianist. Prepare, warm up, stretch, think about what we are going to do and how we are going to do it. Then sit down at the keyboard and write, but control the way we write and think about the way we write as we go on, rather than just bash out x,000 words an hour and hope it turns out good.
I have never been at that point, but when I started writing I knew absolutely nothing about “learning the craft”. I was under the impression you either had it or you didn’t and the words you wrote would just be good. I do fall into complacency once in a while and this is a good reminder to pull out those how-to books and study up again.
There comes a time when the craft books become a hindrance rather than a help. The whole objective is creativity, not following a formula. Although necessary and valuable to learn the “right” way to write, experimentation and freedom to break trendy rules play big in making a novel spark and crackle to life. Being released from the mundane rules to play with words only works after we know and realize we’re breaking them. That freedom allows us to do our best work. JMO.
@Christopher: Fabulous points. My aunt (who is a horse trainer, not a writer) had a saying about how perfect practice makes perfect. If we’re doing the wrong things over and over, we’ll never achieve mastery.
@Jan: The great thing about writing is that it’s almost entirely learnable. We can start from a place of utter ignorance, and, if we’re committed to learning, we can only rise from there.
@Nicole: Absolutely – plus, you only have to read about two craft books before you start running into the contradictions. Every author had his own take, and, at some point, we have to start developing *our* take.
Good post. I have fallen into this trap before but I can’t remember a time when it was in writting (okay, take that back, can’t remember that in my book writting but can in my school papers). There is a lot I have to learn and I like reading other people’s advise on writting. I blend those things together to create my own system of writting and when I hear something good that I haven’t done, I try to start doing that to. Like, recently, I had a way of making a outline for the book I was writting but then I heard about this other way and it is so much better to what I was doing before that I will be putting this new stuff into practice. By the way, I like you blog and it is very helpful in its advice.
Our writing processes need to be able to continual evolve. I’ve found that, with every story I write, my process has to adapt in a slightly different way. Every story has its own demands, so we have to be flexible enough and open enough to meet them. I’m always on the hunt for the next best way to adjust my writing routine. It’s always exciting to find a new trick.
This is one of those posts that whacks me upside the head. Painful, but necessary! Thank you for elaborating on humility without actually ever saying the word! 🙂
Wow. Your post sounds familiar. I guess there may be a few writers who are prodigies, just like there are people born knowing how to play the piano without one lesson. I’m not one of those writers, things would be easier if I were, but I’m not, so I have to live with my disability. I’m constantly learning, by reading novels, books on the craft, and blogs on writing. I’ll probably never know it all, and that may be a good thing. I never want to stop learning. I want to be able to read a sentence or paragraph by one of my favorite authors and think, “Oh! So that’s how it’s done!” Discovering is part of the “magic”, the fun, the thrill of writing, and I’d never want it to stop.
Agreed! As Hemingway said, “We are all apprentices in a craft where no one becomes a master.” It’s so easy to think we know everything about writing–until we realize we don’t. 🙂
@Rachelle: Since writers tend to be particularly thick-skulled, we usually need extra hard whacks!
@Lorna: Honestly, I don’t know if there *are* any writing prodigies. I’ll read an amazing book, close the back cover, and think, If only writing came as easily to me as it obviously does to this author. Then I’m sure to read an interview with that author, in which he talks about how he struggles with the craft just as much as I do. Writing is never easy, no matter who you are or what you write.
@Keaghan: One of my favorite Hemingway quotes!
Excellent post. I wish I had known, in school, how exciting it is to learn.
I know. It breaks my heart how many children don’t realize how exciting learning is until long after they’re finished with school.
I can honestly say I’ve never made that mistake. I leap for joy when something small clicks, or when I finish a first draft scene and know what I need to to do it in revisions. Or when I figure out why my character was acting out of character. And when I stretch a small scene out for all it’s worth and get most of the senses in on the first past. And when I catch myself using weak verbs and replace them with strong ones.
But I don’t assume I’ve mastered anything.
Good for you! That attitude of openness and that enthusiasm for learning is the mark of an author who’s going places.
Great Post! Once again, you have given the green light to all writers reminding us it’s OK to be human. Everyone makes blunders. You learn, you grow, you go on. This is life – sometimes, it’s easy to forget there is no such thing as perfect. Whew! Thanks K.M. 😀
It’s a green light I’m giving to myself as much as anyone. Complacency can be so easy to fall into, without even realizing it. We all need to be shaken up a little now and then.
Most of my writing life I felt inadequate–you know, the editor on the shoulder whispering doubts in the ear–but books on the craft helped jump start me. What keeps me going now is the sense of discovery, what’s going to be on that page when I get to the end? Oh and–like others have said–practice. Those times of playing with words, experimenting, stirring the imagination, pieces that will never see publication. The key is in having fun, and learning as we go. We’ll never have all the answers…
Honestly, I think one of the most exciting things about writing is that there will always be *something* to discover. Every day brings the possibilities of jaw-dropping new discoveries. It’s like living on a safari!
As a writing instructor, I’m reminded on a daily basis of how *little* I know about writing. It’s humbling when I get that question I can’t answer or when students don’t buy the answer that worked last semester. It’s deflating when a student essay follows my advice to the letter and turns out boring. And it’s pure delight when a student essay breaks all the rules–and succeeds anyway.
Perhaps there are degrees of experts. My students rely on me for some expertise, and they pay my salary to give them what I know. But no one ever earns a “black belt” in writing.
Wonderful post, KM.
I tend to think that the person who learns the most in a teacher/student relationship is the teacher. Speaking for myself, I started learning so much more, so much more quickly once I started blogging about writing and editing for others.
I’d like to meet the writer/author who has never been humbled before… It has to happen to all of us or we’ll never get better! No one can possibly be born with an innate ability to write a novel, we have to learn it over the course of many years of reading.
I’ve thought I’ve mastered things in the past. Thankfully, my critique group was (un)kind enough to point out my pitfalls, and I could learn from them! Any writer who hopes to get anywhere must be willing to listen to instruction, as well as mentor others. Sometimes, I learn a lot just from critiquing other people’s work since I’m NOT emotionally involved in the writing.
Great post, as usual.
I knew little about ‘creative writing’ craft as all of my training was in business writing – a necessary requirement of working for the Ministry of Justice. Every document had to be accurate. Every sentence and word had to convey the exact meaning without any ambiguity, and there could be legal repercussions if you screwed up.
I undertook a Certificate in Creative Writing and later a Diploma in Creative Writing to further my academic studies and to try something completely different from what I had been used to. I always liking writing adventures and creating characters, but had never attempted anything serious.
Being exposed to different types of creative writing, and having to post all written material online for fellow students, tutors, and course coordinators to read and provide feedback was a bit daunting at first, but not really embarrassing. I had all my written work critiqued and assessed when I worked for the Ministry of Justice, so you got used to any criticisms and corrections that had to be made.
I’ve read different books on the creative writing craft (mainly to do with character development and works on comic books, graphic novels, and screenplays), but always rely on a A4 writing pad and a pencil, scribbling away notes, ideas, and paragraphs each day. Not always coherently mind you.
While you can master technical aspects of writing (screenplay and scriptwriting being the obvious examples), I don’t believe you can every truly master the writing craft.
The best you can hope to achieve is to get to the stage where you create literary works that are recognized by your style, and that readers are willing to invest their time in exploring your creative genius (or madness).
@Liberty: I was just talking to someone on Twitter about how important it is for writers to stay humble. Without humility, we not only lose the ability to see our faults and better our work, we also start to lose that wide-eyed curiosity that helps us see – and write about – the world in unique ways.
@J: Well said. Even if you can master the technical side of writing (and, I don’t believe you can every fully master it in all its nuanced wonder), you can never master the creative side. Creative manifestations – whether they’re novels, songs, or paintings – are too ethereal for us to ever completely understand or grasp.
For many years (decades perhaps) on of my mantras concerning knowledge is: “The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.”
That maxim is even more true in the information age, when we literally have the combined knowledge of the world at our fingertips. But there’s no physical way anyone can study or read all that information, so I try to choose wisely the information I think will benefit me the most … which is still a nearly impossibe task, but at least seems manageable.
Time management is crucial – especially on the Internet. It’s so easy to be overwhelmed by all the information. We can get caught up in unnecessary minutiae instead of spending our Internet minutes as wisely as possible, pursuing information we’ll be able to retain and apply to our lives.
“There are three rules to writing a novel. Unfortunitely, no one knows what they are.”
–No clue who said that, but I think it’s some of the best advice ever. Absolutes are the bain of writing textbooks–I quit one called “Story Engineering” because I was sick of the put-downs for seat-of-the-pants writers
Whew, overconfidence is a slippery slope. I find each new project creates different blind spots in my writing. I think you have to be ever vigilant to keep skills sharp.
@Galadriel: I love that quote. Artists benefit from guidelines, but the moment we lock ourselves into a position of absolutism is the moment we limit our creative choices.
@Leslie: My own experiences mirror what you’ve said about individual blind spots. Just when I “master” the blind spots of one project, I move on to the next book and discover I have to learn to overcome a whole new set of obstacles.
Whew. Was I ever glad to read this article. When I have had some of my work “professionally” critiqued, the most frequent comment is for more information in various parts of the story. I always thought that particular “more information” would detract from the story, but who was I to disagree with professional writers.
Oops. Pls forgive the tortured tenses in that previous comment. That’s what happens when one adds words in a sentence and doesn’t read the whole thing again.
The input of objective outsiders – particularly professionals – is always valuable, since their experience can help us see around our blind spots. But, at the end of the day, we have to trust our own instincts. Our stories are our own, and we have to do what we’re convinced is right for them.
I love nothing better than reading writer books. Even though I have been writing for years and am published, I inevitably find some grain of knowledge that makes me sit up and take notice.
I have found though that these books contribute immensely to procrastination. I can sit and read writing books all day and ignore my characters’ pleas for attention.
But like I said, in the end, it is all worth the while 🙂
I love writing books too. Discovering how other authors approach the craft, vicariously commiserating with their struggles, and getting pumped with inspiration for my own work is a blast.
@K.M Weiland: Definitely agree with your advice about trusting your instinct. Irrespective of how invaluable the input and advice of objective outsiders is, you need to be happy with the story you’re crafting even if your literary labor of love flies in the face of conventional wisdom, current trends and commercial potential. If everyone wrote to a certain genre or type, then there would be a lot of authors we would never have heard of today. Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’ and Vladimir Nabokov’s ‘Lolita’ are two of many examples.
(J Hansard trying his Google Account)
If an author doesn’t love what he’s writing, chances are good that no one else will think very highly of it either. If he loves it, the world may not love it with him, but he’s certain to find (at the very least) a few rabid fans.
Hi Katie,
I am all over the map on this subject. I am a big believer in your main premise, that the only way to improve is to seek out your worst critic and subject yourself to their analysis if only as an intellectual exercise. The Marine Corps calls that “breaking them down to build them back up again,” theoretically in order to improve their basic character (or, in our case, our writing skills). I know someone who constantly gets told that she is pretty and talented and anyone who criticizes her gets the bum’s rush out of her life. Consequently, she will never improve.
Yet, I always keep a corner of my creativity in a “safe room” where no criticism is tolerated. Tolkien himself could not breath life into the stories I have in my head – only I can do that – and the main impediment to make those stories come alive in your head are the words I choose to put on the page. Every word is a suggestion, every phrase an idea and every paragraph a scene – that is where I need to constantly subject myself to the scrutiny of critics.
Eventually the process of self-improvement has to end. I have to “settle for well enough” (to quote my grandmother) and launch the story. Now I have the problem with which you led your article: My earlier writings do not hold a candle to what I have become as a writer. I am tempted to rewrite those earlier stories using the toolbox I have now; but no, those stories will have to hold their own against my body of work when (and if) there is an accounting at writings’ end.
Eventually the process becomes its own reward. Should I ever reach a point where I think I have attained perfection as a writer then I have written my own epitaph and there will no longer be any stories to tell. I hope I never reach that point. I welcome your comments . . .
C Brooke
I agree with you. My premise here isn’t so much that we need to subject ourselves to constant criticism (although that certainly has its place) as it is that we need to be constantly open to refinement. Refinement doesn’t always come from criticism; sometimes it’s just a matter of being humble enough to wake up one morning and realize we could be doing something better.
Yes, thank you – I should have said that seeking critical opinion is “one of the best” ways to improve, not “the only” way. Constant introspection is a task I perform to a fault so this thread resonated within me immediately.
As you know I am a new subscriber to your newsletter and I already value it as a resource. You are a breath of fresh air in the Advice to Authors cottage industry and I look forward to seeing your name in my inbox.
C Brooke
I’m so glad you’re enjoying the e-letters. They’ve been a lot of fun to put together.
Editing and coaching has kept me humble, I think. There’s always a new question, a new angle, a new approach to think about. Story theory is just that–theory. It evolves and deepens as we grow as human individuals and societies. We just need to keep an open mind. ♥️
Truth. As a teacher of writing, I’m the one who always learns the most.