Mistakes New Writers Make and How You Can Avoid Them, Part 2
Sometimes the best way to master a skill is to first identify what not to do. So here they are, more common mistakes new writers make (and what you can do to get around them):
Closing your ears to feedback. (Also known as the «They just don’t get it» syndrome.)
You’ve heard about how important someone else’s feedback is to your work. So you wisely show your work-in-progress to literate people, instructing them to be «brutally honest.»
And then you sit back and wait for heaps of praise, since you know in your heart that your manuscript is done and your friends and family can’t help but love it.
But what happens when your readers point out problems or weak spots?
Too often new writers immediately dismiss constructive criticism without even considering it. This is a mistake. Before you ignore everything your first readers say and chalk it up to «They don’t understand me,» remember that editors and agents are real people too, and they might hold similar opinions. True, the issue may be that you’re writing in a genre that your readers are not accustomed to, but it also might be that your intended meaning isn’t on the page yet.
What to do instead: Don’t act on anything immediately. Ask your readers to put their thoughts on paper so you can reflect on them later. As much as possible, try to practice the healthy mindset of «constructive detachment.» Even though handing over your work made you feel vulnerable and exposed, keep in mind that your readers are commenting on the words you strung together on the page, not on you. After several days, you should feel cooled off and emotionally distanced enough to at least consider the comments.
Indiscriminately incorporating feedback into your work. (Also known as «trying to be tofu.»)
Tofu takes on the flavor of whatever is in the skillet along with it. So, in a sense, tofu doesn’t have a strong flavor of its own; it only borrows those of the ingredients around it.
That’s all well and good for tofu, but you, dear writer, are not tofu.
One of your most valuable tools is your unique writing voice. If you only strive to take on the flavor that others suggest, you’ll never develop your own. And creating your own voice means incorporating suggestions that make sense to you and putting aside the ones that don’t (no matter who they come from).
Remember: You own your writing. Don’t ignore your own instincts and write a certain way just to appease others.
What to do instead: Hold onto your artistic vision. Balance suggestions from others with what you believe is best for your work. Reject advice that doesn’t resonate for you.
Sending things out too soon. (Also known as the premature submission.)
Enthusiasm is a glorious motivator. When we write something we’re on fire over, it’s natural to want to get it out to the widest audience…right now. But it’s not the wisest move.
You may absolutely adore something on the day you write it, but when you look back on it a week or a month later, you spot major flaws you hadn’t noticed at first. When we’re in the all-is-love creative stage of the process, we can’t be in the let’s-fix-this-baby-up editing stage at the same time. Creating and revising use different sides of the brain and therefore would cancel each other out if they pulled up chairs at the same conference table. But you need the editing part of your brain (the part that winces at awkward phrasings or plot holes) to work on your manuscript before you send it off to an editor or agent.
Because there are a finite number of agents/editors out there, you don’t want to make a habit of sending things off too soon and earning a reputation for submitting half-cooked material.
What to do instead: Only send your very best work, writing that has been worked on both with the easily-infatuated eye of the creator-in-progress as well as the more dispassionate eye of the editor motivated to revise. Only the distance of time can give you the latter perspective.
Taking rejection personally. (Also known as the «I’m not cut out to be a writer» syndrome.)
What happens if you follow all of the above steps and get a crushing «NO» in return?
It will happen. Rejection is an unavoidable part of writing for publication, and accepting that will make you a more determined writer.
Too many new writers internalize rejections and abandon their goals when their manuscripts are returned. Don’t let this happen to you.
What to do instead: Acknowledge rejections as proof that you’re a writer, that you’re fully in the game. Read books like The Resilient Writer and Rotten Rejections to drive home the point that declinations are inevitable, no matter what your level of expertise. Don’t waste valuable time and energy attributing some mystical power to rejections. Just get your work out there again and realize the only person who has the power to get you to stop writing is you.