Rainer Maria Rilke

Success

Today I thought I’d share a bit of encouragement with my fellow writers. I don’t normally give writing advice. Primarily because I’m not pulling in 5 figures a month, or have a mailing list of 60,000, or receive critical accolades from dozens of book critics, or been approached by a major publishing house offering me a 7 figure advance for my next book.

Whatever I might have to say on the business side of writing, or on the mechanics of writing, has been said by many others more qualified than I. And I can’t see the advantage in serving up twice fried hash.

However, what I can offer is encouragement. Because I do know what a little bit of encouragement can do to help keep the hands on the plow so the field can be planted.

My writing mentor is Anthony Trollope. He offers sage, timeless, and practical advice, along with inspiration for all author wannabes.

Are you struggling with whether or not you should even be a writer? Rainer Maria Rilke has the answer in his first letter to the young poet. The advice is profound.

Today, I want to talk about success. Particularly, what it means to be a successful writer.

At various times I’ve asked myself, Am I a successful writer? I mean, I’ve written 30 books and am lucky to make $300 in a year. Nobody who’s anybody has discovered me and promoted me and let me ride his or her coattails to fame and glory. And I thought getting recognition in the poetry world was tough!

So am I successful? A successful fiction author? After much thought, my answer is YES!

Of course that “yes” is according to my definition of success. And everyone’s definition is different. I’ll tell you a story to illustrate what I mean by success.

In 1989, when I was 36, I decided to write a novel. I’d never tried a novel and wasn’t sure I could write one. So I thought I’d give it a try and see if I had the makings of a novelist in me.

For over half a dozen years I’d been sitting on my sister and brother PI duo, Tina and Harry Wright, and decided they deserved to be in a novel.

Over the course of a year, I wrote my novel. When completed, I garnered a couple rejections. Then I took a long, hard look at what I’d written. Well, I had written a novel. So now I knew I could do it. I could write novels. I also realized my first attempt wasn’t overly good.

I took stock of my life at that point in time. I was working in an emotionally draining job. I had a family. And I realized I didn’t have the emotional energy to rework the novel, or to spend another year writing a new one.

With a sad heart, I put the typescript away.

But I had to write!

In those days, there was no indie author movement. Traditional publishing was king. An iron-fisted despot. Self-publishing was for losers and the vain. Fiction markets were few and far between, those that paid money that is. There were plenty of small zines that would take your stories. Zines with a circ of 50 or 100 readers at best. Payment was usually 2 contributor copies.

I knew writers who submitted to such zines in the hope of earning publishing credits and a chance at the big time. None of them made it.

After some soul searching, I decided to switch from fiction to poetry. The most important thing in making this change was giving up my dream of making a living from writing.

Because there is no money in poetry.

No money. Period. Nada. Zip. Even those who are lucky enough to have a publisher publish a book of their poetry don’t make money on it. Poets themselves have told me this.

In the world of poetry, there is no money and no hope of money. The last poet who supported himself with his poetry, near as I can tell, was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. So if there is no money to measure success, success has to be measured by some other marker than cash.

In fiction, the marker is obviously money. Quitting the day job. Living from one’s pen. Poets, however, must come up with some other currency to measure success.

Poets, pure and simple, write for the love of writing. Secondarily they seek prestige and name recognition. Prestige from other poets and the few readers of poetry that are out there. And the thought that when their name is mentioned someone will recognize it. That’s it.

Poets never get rid of the day job, until they retire.

And I am proud to say that I made something of a splash in the micro-poetry world that I chose to write in. I won a few contests, got accepted in some “name” zines, and garnered a bit of name recognition. I was a “success” in the poetry world.

The other day, on Twitter, B. Bernard Ferguson tweeted the quote below. There was no attribution, so I don’t know if the quote is original with him, or copied from another source. Whatever its origin — it’s a beauty.

To all who ever doubted they would become a successful writer…the moment your written words resonate with anyone, including yourself, YOU became a “successful” writer.

I learned the message of that quote writing poetry. Touching another person’s heart and soul — even if only your own — was payment enough.

One man I know, older than I, read one of my poems and told me it helped him understand and come to terms with the dysfunctional relationship he’d had with his father. And I’ve been fortunate to have others express similar comments. That, my friends, is payment enough.

Now I write fiction which has always been my dream, my first love. I don’t make much money. If folks read those free books I gave away, I might have a thousand people who have read my books. But what counts is that I’m having a blast. I’m doing what a mere 25 years ago was impossible — because the technology didn’t exist. I’m writing and publishing books. A dream come true.

And today the self-published stigma, while still present in some circles, is fast disappearing. There are truly excellent self-published books out there. Eat your heart out Big 5!

And along the way of my fiction journey, I’ve touched people. Not a lot, but more than I could have 25 years ago. These folk love Justinia Wright, or Pierce Mostyn, or Bill Arthur. I’ve given them enjoyment and at times something to think about. I’ve helped them enter a different world than the one they live in day to day. I’ve helped them escape boredom, the pressure of their jobs, and even pain. That’s something to think about.

If I never make 4 or 5 figures a month, I will at least leave this life knowing that what I wrote touched other human beings.

I’ve been successful. And that is payment enough.

Share This!

Writing’s Purpose

Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who read your work, and enriching your own life as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy.

(Stephen King, in On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft)

One of my favorite inspirational books is Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke.

However, as with anything written by the human hand, it is not perfect. Because people aren’t perfect.

In the first letter, Rilke tells the young poet

Perhaps you…are called to be an artist. Then take that destiny upon yourself, and bear it, its burden and its greatness, without ever asking yourself what reward might come from outside.

Rilke is saying essentially the same thing as King in the quote with which I began this post.

In a discussion I had with the late Jane Reichhold (who was a premier American writer and translator of haiku), I mentioned that it seemed to me the flaw in Rilke’s advice to the young poet was that Rilke himself was published and famous — and that he was telling the young unpublished poet to not worry about getting published or famous.

Jane’s answer was simply, “And there you have it.”

In other words, it’s easy for the famous and those who are wealthy to tell the rest of us — Don’t worry or concern yourself about fame or wealth.

To my mind, that touches a bit on hypocrisy.

For the record, Jane Reichhold encouraged me to pursue publishing and fame, if I could get it. And there you have it.

Mind you, I don’t disagree with Rilke or King. But I don’t wholly agree with them either. After all, Rilke is one of the most famous Twentieth century poets and King is a multi-millionaire (and he made all his money writing).

Writing is very much about enriching the lives of others. Writing is very much about getting happy. It is also a calling, and if we’re called to it I believe we must follow that calling and not look back.

But for Mr King to write, “Writing isn’t about making money” — when, I repeat, he’s a multi-millionaire — is just a wee bit hypocritical. Keep in mind, he didn’t self-publish his books and give them away. He got a contract with a publisher and made a lot of money.

Nor do I think King is in the majority among those who currently practice, or have in the past practiced, the craft of writing fiction.

I doubt Shakespeare would have agreed with him. Bill wrote for money. I don’t think Nathaniel Hawthorne, or Louisa May Alcott would agree. They wrote for money, especially Alcott — and she made no apologies for doing so.

Anthony Trollope boldly declared his whole purpose in writing was to make money.

Edgar Wallace (he created King Kong) was in the same camp. So was Rex Stout, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Murray Leinster, Ray Bradbury, Robert Heinlein, and my late friend Jack Koblas.

Robert E Howard wanted to be a writer, he told HP Lovecraft, because it gave him freedom. What he didn’t tell Lovecraft was that a large part of that freedom was not having to work 9 to 5 to make money. Because Howard very clearly wrote for a paycheck.

Salinger didn’t like the publicity success brought, but he didn’t turn down the money. He ultimately became a recluse. Writing didn’t make him happy, apparently.

I think King is on the money about enriching lives. The books and stories I remember most are those that in some manner enriched me, usually by bringing me joy. As a reader, I want my books to bring me some manner of joy and happiness. To enrich my life.

As a writer, I want to enrich the lives of others, as well as my own. Very much so.

But I also want money, and I wouldn’t mind a little bit of fame to go along with that money. I want people to read my books and I want them to smile when they see or hear my name. Like I’m an old friend who always brings them a gift.

And I don’t think there’s anything wrong in wanting that either.

Would Shakespeare have written all those plays and enriched generations — if he hadn’t made money? We’ll never know. But he did make money and he kept on writing. That we do know.

Louisa May Alcott’s father, Bronson Alcott, was a thinker and totally inept at providing for his family. Louisa wrote because the family needed to eat and pay the rent. But millions have been enriched by Little Women.

I could go on naming author after author who has enriched our lives. And virtually all of them wrote for money. And I’m glad they did.

In the end, writing is about enriching lives. I’ve enriched a few lives with my poetry. It’s a good feeling. There’s no money in poetry. But there is fame. The poets who are the most successful enrichers, the ones who have the largest readership — are also the ones who are famous to one degree or another. If you can’t be rich, you can at least be famous.

Mr King’s statement is very noble sounding. But it’s as much a fiction as are his books.

As a reader, I want writers to make money. Making money means people are buying their books. Which most likely means they will keep on writing.

Ask yourself, you readers, how many books do you read by writers who don’t sell anything?

I asked myself that question. It started me on a crusade to champion the underdog. Those writers who aren’t getting the readers they deserve.

Today I pretty much eschew bestsellers. Those authors don’t need me. Or you, for that matter. But many excellent writers, whose books aren’t selling, do need you. They need your and my support so they will keep writing and can enrich many, many lives.

Every Monday on Facebook I post the Book of the Week. Singing the praise of an undiscovered gem. Take a look at my Facebook page and discover some very good and even excellent books and authors. Let’s help some writers make money.

Comments are always welcome. And until next time, happy reading!

Share This!

We Are The Boss

no masters only you the master is you
wonderful no?

—Ikkyū (trans by Stephen Berg)

The past two weeks we’ve been learning life lessons from Zen poet and monk Ikkyū. Two weeks ago we learned we are happy. Last week we learned we are the truth. This week Ikkyū let’s us know we are the boss. We are the boss of us. No one else is.

Today’s poem is simple. Ikkyū first tells us there are no masters, only us. Last week we were told to put aside the books of the masters because we are the truth — not them, nor their books. Today we see that there are in actuality no masters. Let me repeat that. There are no masters. Only me. Only you.

There is no authority. There’s only me. Only you. There’s no teacher. Only me. Only you.

As Zen master Tetto Giko put it:

The truth is never taken from another.
One carries it always by oneself.
Katsu!

There is no truth outside of us. Katsu! (The traditional cry when one achieves enlightenment.) That’s why there are no masters, because in truth there’s nothing to teach. There are people who think they are masters. But they can’t teach you or me anything, because the truth is already inside us. You and I are the masters. No one made us masters. We’ve always been masters. We just never realized we were. And that’s why we let others be the masters.

We aren’t free because we are always looking for some authority to tell us something, or give us permission. We aren’t free because we don’t realize we are the authority we’re looking for. We’re the master we’re searching for. We are the one to tell us something, to give us permission. We are our own authorities.

Rainer Maria Rilke told the young poet in his first letter to him that we must look deep inside ourselves for the answer. If I want to know if I’m a poet, or a writer, I must find the answer within. No one outside of myself can tell me if I am or not. And that goes with anything, not just writing.

Any authority figure only has authority because we give it to him or her. And it doesn’t matter who that authority figure is. Granted, it may be expedient for me to grant someone temporary authority. But if I grant someone full and complete authority over me, I’ve just made myself a slave.

Ikkyū is telling us we’re the master. Not the slave. We are free. We don’t have to be anyone’s slave: mentally or physically. We don’t have to be in bondage to priests, or ministers, or gurus. We don’t have to be in bondage to governments, or employers. We don’t have to be in bondage to parents, or spouses. We are free. We are the masters.

But with freedom, with being a master, also comes responsibility. And it may be expedient to not always exercise our freedom, to be the master.

Advent is the celebration of God coming to his people to be in them in the New Covenant. In effect, the New Testament writers are saying the same thing as Ikkyū. There are no masters, because I am the master.

If God is for us, who can be against us? And since God is in us, then we ourselves are surely the masters. Truth is in us. Authority is in us. Power is in us.

And that’s why Ikkyū tells us “wonderful no?” Of course it’s wonderful. I’m free from the masters. You’re free from the masters. Because there are no masters. You and I are the masters of ourselves.

May this holiday season be a time of enlightenment for you.

Comments are always welcome, and, until next time, remember — you’re the boss!

Share This!

Guest Blog Post by Alice E Keyes

Today I have the privilege of having writer and soon to be author Alice E Keyes as guest blogger. I met Alice on the 8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks forum some time back and then in the Twitterverse and on G+.

I very much enjoy her artistic imagination and how it comes out in her fiction. I look forward to the release of Miss Winsome and the Scientific Society later this year. And now, here’s Alice!

When CW asked me to do a guest blog for his web page, I wondered what I could possible blog about. My own blog has gone from laborious and naive posts on the writing process to occasional flash fiction and snippets from works-in-progress. When I read CW’s “What’s Cooking?” post, I was inspired to write this blog post.

CW has become a great online writing friend who has been encouraging me to finish a novella, which I started in November 2014. It’s July and I’m a good nitpicky rewrite and line edit away from self-publishing it. He has inspired me from his own self-published books to his recent editing of said novella.

The people online and in person, who have given me eureka writing moments since I began scribbling ideas and scenes in a blank notebook, have been an unforeseen benefit in my pursuit of publishing a book. When I first started writing, I wrote for the creative outlet. I hadn’t painted or drawn in years and my brain begged me to do anything creative. The notebook would come out when I was waiting for my children to finish up an activity or when the idea of doing housework was abhorrent to me. The wacky tidbits were strange, odd, and what I wished I could find in novels being sold.

Noodling around on the Internet and looking at the growing world of self-publishing vs. traditional, I discovered NaNoWriMo which was already three days into the writing month. Yes, I’m another author propelled into writing a complete novel in a mere thirty days or in my case, twenty-seven days. When I finished 50,000 words on November 30, 2009, the joy was indescribable. I actually finished something I started. I thought the premise of my novel was good, but I was unsure of my writing abilities.

Writing in school was tortuous for me. The amount of red corrections on my papers would make me cry. I worked so hard on every essay, story, or poem. I would reread and rewrite to catch the typos and other mistakes. Because of this experience, I sought out ways to have people read what I had written for free. I didn’t ask my husband because he doesn’t read fiction except on rare occasions, nor did I ask friends, because I was too embarrassed my stories might be bad. Really bad. I went to Goodreads and found a couple of beta readers to go over, what I thought were, four carefully edited chapters. Their critiques were a rude awakening and made me realize I had a lot of work to do.

There are countless blogs telling you to not publish before you have had your manuscript read by an unbiased editor and to have that done after each rewrite and then finally have a line editor go over it for the typos, grammar, and misspellings. I couldn’t afford the editor’s prices for these services, so I started to post chapter by chapter on Critique Circle. This started to improve my writing and I had little eureka moments, but comments like, “it needs more emotion,” or “you have a lot of awkward sentences” confused me. I put chapters through edit programs and I had a few more eureka moments. My writing improved and the critiques I received at Critique Circle also improved.

Along the way, I met other writers struggling to improve their work. CW was one and when he asked if he could edit, Miss Winsome and the Scientific Society, I was nervous. He had become my friend and I had read a couple of his novels. What if it was another critique telling me my writing abilities were sophomoric or worse that he would wonder why he had spent his valuable time on such bad work? His edit was thorough and explained why trying to use third person point of view wasn’t working and then gave detailed instructions on how to change the problem. His edit was the most helpful I had ever received even above “professional” editors who would look at a few chapters for free to see if you wanted their services. I had another eureka writing moment.

I now feel that my first self-published book won’t be a sophomoric self-published effort, but something that might have a chance in the saturated indie book market. My slow and steady education on writing a novel has been fraught with disappointment, but the friendships I have made along the way will keep me motivated to find the next writing eureka moment and push me to achieve the goal of becoming a self-published author.

My advise on the need to getting your work edited before you publish is you don’t have to find a professional and expensive editor. The editor you need is someone with an understanding of grammar and an understanding of what makes a novel an enjoyable read. That person can be a spouse, a sister, or friend but never someone who belittles your efforts, tells you everything is great, or gives you vague, unexplained critiques.

What Alice is saying was said by the great German poet Rainer Maria Rilke over a hundred years ago to a fledgling poet. Once you’ve decided you can do nothing but write, then structure your world so that is what you can do. The importance of supportive people, who will give you honest appraisals cannot be overestimated. Neither can our listening to the advice these people give us.

Thanks, Alice! Looking forward to the release of Miss Winsome and the Scientific Society.

And now here is little bit about Alice herself:

Alice E Keyes will be publishing her debut novella in 2015. Yellowstone National Park is the location for the steampunk dime store novella and has played an important part in her life. Her mother spotted a cowboy there and decided he was the one. Alice graduated from Montana State University in Bozeman, Montana and she now lives in Cody, Wyoming, both of which are a mere hour’s drive to the first national park. Though she has left the Rockies, once to student teach in England and once to meet her husband in Maryland, their mountains, streams, and towns call her back. She lives four blocks from public land where her favorite mountain biking trails are located. Besides biking and writing, she spends her time with her husband, son, daughter and two Britney dogs.

Connect with Alice at the following places:

https://aliceekeyes.blogspot.com

https://twitter.com/aliceEkeyes

http://on.fb.me/1CjnS8d

Share This!