Sunday, June 24, 2007

the wind, and the waves

It’s so easy to get sidetracked in this writing life. Countless distractions and interruptions, whether internal, external, or what-have-you. Laundry seems a thousand times more important than clarifying my idea of a city in the book. Answering the phone is more urgent than rereading the dialogue I wrote several weeks ago. Hmmm.

Also, the publishing industry is terrifying. I kept bumping into statistics this week on how difficult publication is. It’s pretty near impossible. And, if you do get in, then you have to get people to recognize you! To want to buy your book. And you have to have enough people buying it that your publishing house wants another book from you. And then another. And another.

So, unless my writing style attracts a rich prospective husband, I can pretty much kiss goodbye my dream of living on fiction sales, right?

I suppose every occupation has its hazards, but I seem to be fascinated with difficult careers. In seventh grade, I was convinced that I wanted to be a rainforest biologist or botanist. Never mind that Illinois humidity and summer heat sent me rushing toward an air conditioning vent; I thought I could tackle South American rainforests. I had seen a picture of a scientist suspended on ropes halfway up a tree trunk, studying a leaf or vine or something, maybe a poisonous frog. It looked amazing, a welcome change from pre-algebra class and spit wads.

Then, my sophomore year of high school, a storm chaser gave a lecture at school that fascinated me. I’ve always loved thunderstorms, and I decided I wanted to get close to tornadoes, to understand how they work and what they do. Life-threatening storms sounded like fun. Of course, the lecturer did mention the time when a grapefruit-sized hailstone smashed through his windshield ... A slight deterrent, but for weeks I daydreamed about driving around Kansas, following the clouds.

Compared to poisonous frogs, and hail as large as my head, the downsides of the writing industry are slight. Ego-threatening, as opposed to life-threatening. (Though you do hear about the writers who kill themselves when they can’t get the right word or can’t sell their manuscripts. Yikes.)

The noise of the publishing industry can easily overwhelm me--I have plenty of insecurities for it to prey on. But this week, it reminds me of the New Testament story of Peter walking on the water toward Jesus. (No accident that Madeline L’Engle’s fabulous book about creativity is called Walking on Water.)

No matter what fears shriek at me, I know that I am supposed to be at home, writing, regardless of what comes next. I’m supposed to figure out how to make a sentence, and then learn how to string a bunch of those together. And to do this every day. (It takes a long time to learn!)

I’m trying to think of all those hopeless publishing statistics as so much wind and so many waves. Ultimately, if God is the one directing my path from Boat to Him, what do I have to worry about? So I’m ignoring the craziness of the industry. Respecting, but not despairing over, the amount of excellent books that are all around me. Letting my trips to Borders or Barnes and Noble inspire, not depress me, with the extent of the competition.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep walking toward my finished product, my book. These days, I’m working to tease my main character out of hiding. (I’m convinced that she is much more difficult for me to understand than a poisonous frog or tornado. Hmmm.) When I see her a bit more clearly, I’ll start that second draft… --jl

P.S.: Of course, do post a comment if you are filthy rich and are interested in marrying a broke fiction writer. Maybe we could work something out.

Posted by Jenn Langefeld on 06/24 at 06:30 PM
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