May 2024: Revision Reflections
Motivation and Swim Buddies
For most of my writing life, ambition has been my motivation. I wanted to be published, I wanted readers, and I wanted recognition. And although it took determined effort and persistence, I was fortunate. I broke into children’s publishing when agents were not required. Editors were open to unsolicited manuscripts and provided personal feedback if it was warranted. You could gauge your success according to the type of response you received: postcard (the worst. It meant you hadn’t made it past the first reader), form letter with an actual signature, form letter with a penned note (“Not this, but keep at it!”) and the coveted personal letter with a revision suggestion. Then, we did not talk of “R&R’s,” we knew a personal letter was permission to resubmit.
I was blessed to publish when editors had the time and inclination to nurture manuscripts from rough drafts to polished gems. My writing education was not self-taught, but rather editor-taught. I honed my craft under the guidance of editors who believed in my ability, especially my knack for revision. This invaluable mentorship is not lost on me.
Additionally, more often than not, I wrote under contract. In other words, I pitched an idea to one of my editors and received not only a greenlight, but an advance to write the book. Both the interest and the financial support fueled my writing. And with these came a third gift: legitimacy. Yes, yes, many a best-selling writer continues to sell their work in this way (though I know far fewer of them). For a mid-list writer like me, this was everything.
The common question of how I maintained discipline as a writer was easily answered: deadlines and obligations. With editors (and later agents) eagerly awaiting my work, I wrote with purpose—to publish, to connect with readers, and to strive for recognition. However, the landscape of motivation has shifted dramatically in recent years.
Flashforward to today and most of these extrinsic motivations have disappeared. Due to a collision of circumstances: retirements, changes in editorial focus, and perhaps (though no one has told me this, I can surmise . . . books that didn’t sell well) I no longer have an editor waiting for my next manuscript. I am no longer certain the stories I’m writing will be published or will find readers. My desire for accolades has taken a backseat.
And yes, I’m faced with the existential questions we all face in later years: Has my time come and gone? Is it time to make more room for younger, hipper, more diverse writers? Are there better things I could be doing with my hours? But I think that the current state of the publishing industry, for reasons I won’t go into here (who needs to reinforce all of the bad news of late?) has caused many of us, of all ages and experiences, to ask: If you knew your work wasn’t going to be traditionally published, would you keep writing?
There was a time when I doubted it. However, experience has reshaped my understanding of what truly nourishes and sustains me as a writer, and not surprisingly, most of those aspects of the writing life are within my control.
I’ve learned that continual growth is a reward on its own. I suppose it’s the same with anything: playing a guitar, wielding a tennis racket, gardening . . . The more you improve, the more you take joy in your craft. For the first time in my career, I am showing up to the page for the sheer pleasure of experimenting, sharpening, discovering. But is it enough? Enough to keep me going?
Some days.
Other days are harder to maintain forward propulsion. I am easily seduced and then beaten down by the tiniest hints of good news: a movie option (it’s happened before), a nibble on an anthology (which turns out to be a pass), a book loved by my agent out on submission (crickets). Is there anything more disheartening than the constant waiting? (When I was truly young, younger than young, I used to say that by the time a boy said he loved me, I no longer cared. Sometimes waiting on industry professionals makes me feel the same way.) Nothing kills motivation like dashed hopes.
I’ve been working on an adult novel. (My brain likes the idea of a new path—which is why I have written everything from board books to young adult novels—but in this case, the path to publication is even more obscure.) Recently, I hit a place of stagnation. I typically stall because I’ve lost confidence, and this time was no exception. I’d begun to let the voices of imagined editors or reviewers creep in and rob me of my courage. I let a few days go by without writing (rare for me) and then, as it so happened, I attended a conference where I met up with a fellow children’s author who is also writing an adult novel. Having agreed to trade manuscripts, I asked if she would be willing to read mine before it was finished.
Is there anything more disheartening than the constant waiting?
The moment she gave me her enthusiastic yes, was the same moment I no longer needed her (yet). As I reviewed what I wanted her to know about the story, I was simultaneously feeling the power of the idea and what I still had to accomplish in order to make it work. I wanted to accomplish those things before she read it. I wanted the story to communicate on its own behalf. All I needed was the promise of a trusted reader.
Ack! How many times would I relearn this lesson? Writing, an act we consider to be solitary, is in fact quite social. During those long writing spells, when I am like Diana Nyad, crossing a vast sea without any land in sight, what I really need is a swim buddy.
There are many ways of finding swim buddies and at different times in my career, and at different times during the same book project, I’ve needed different things. Sometimes my Zoom writing buddies are enough to keep me going. We sign on at the same time every day, say hello, then turn off our cameras and write in each other’s company. There’s an unspoken commitment to one another that keeps us showing up and our brains have become habituated to the routine. Recently, Jane Kurtz referred to this as a form of “body doubling” (a technique frequently used to assist those with ADHD) where we do what is expected of us in the company of others. It’s great for getting the words on the page.
And of course, there are critique groups. Anyone who has ever had a steady critique group knows they can be incredibly helpful at providing deadlines and regular feedback, as long as there are agreed-upon protocols, and the group dynamics remain in balance. (Unfortunately, if certain understandings are not put into place, they easily devolve into a dysfunctional family system where insecurities worsen. But that’s a topic for another newsletter.)
But above all, I need a trusted reader. A reader who doesn’t simply listen to snippets of my work, but is willing to give it a deep dive. Someone well-read, incredibly knowledgeable about the writing process and how story works, someone who recognizes that positive feedback is as needed and as valuable as analysis.
I began this post by saying how lucky I was to come up in a time when editors were not as burdened as they are today. But truth be told, even then we writers would yearn for a time before ours . . . The time when editor Ursula Nordstrom nurtured some of the most influential writers in children’s literature: Maurice Sendak, Ruth Krauss, Margaret Wise Brown, Syd Hoff, and E. B. White. This from Harper Collin’s website says it all: “Nordstrom had a simple philosophy regarding new authors. As one colleague said, ‘Anyone who called, anyone who got off the elevator, anyone who wrote in, could be seen and heard.’ She always answered her own phone, and on hearing another ringing, would cry out, “Answer that! That might be the next Mark Twain.’”
Who amongst us wouldn’t have loved Ursula Nordstrom as a swim buddy?
Yes, publishing has changed, and editorial roles have changed, and it will continue to evolve in ways we can’t predict. Deep down I know, more likely than not, I will continue to search for creative paths into that world.
But I also know I won’t be wading in alone.
In community,
Jennifer
Announcements:
Online Theater Camp for Writers w/ Special Guest, Chris Tebbetts
We’re delighted to be offering our very first special quest Zoomie, featuring the amazing Chris Tebbetts!
ONLINE THEATER CAMP FOR WRITERS answers the question: What do acting, directing, and improv have to teach us as writers? Whether you are noodling ideas, have a manuscript in progress, or just want to have some fun looking at your writing in a new way, join Chris for this two-hour interactive workshop. Participants will be invited (but not required) to submit scenes from work in progress, which we’ll “produce” using volunteer actors from the class. Other topics will include improv for writers; creating character from an actor’s perspective; and thinking like a director on the page. Please note that this workshop is introvert- and extrovert-friendly. No performing required!
Wednesday, June 26 2024 from 7:00 to 9:00 pm EDT
Tickets are $30 (plus non-refundable Eventbrite fees), which includes 30-day access to a recording of the event
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Chris Tebbetts is the co-author of the #1 New York Times bestselling MIDDLE SCHOOL series with James Patterson, as well as the bestselling STRANDED series with Jeff Probst from TV’s “Survivor.” Chris is also the author of two YA novels: ME, MYSELF, AND HIM and M OR F? (with Lisa Papademetriou); the bestselling adult thriller 1ST CASE; and a forthcoming audio drama for Audible, also with James Patterson. He came to publishing by way of theater, which was his primary creative outlet from age ten to thirty, including a decade as an NYC-based stage manager, director, choreographer, and producer. Find out more at www.christebbetts.com
The Writers’ Book Club: We Mostly Come Out at Night Launch Celebration!
There’s still time to get your tickets for the launch celebration of Rob’s brand new YA speculative anthology, We Mostly Come out at Night: 15 Queer Tales of Monsters, Angels & Other Creatures!
Come join anthology contributors Shae Carys, H.E. Edgmon, Michael Thomas Ford, Val Howlett, Sarah Maxfield, Merc Fenn Wolfmoor, and Rob as they talk about their stories, their love of monsters, and celebrate the launch of this exciting new anthology!
Wednesday, May 22, 2024 @ 8:00 pm EDT
Tickets are FREE
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Writing With Pride: A Two-Night Mini for Young Adult Horror Writers with Rob!
Rob is delighted to announce that he will be teaming with the incomparable Anna-Marie McLemore to teach a two-night mini webinar on Writing Queer YA Horror as part of the Highlights Foundation's "Writing with Pride" series.
Young adult readers love horror novels because they are safe spaces to explore humanity’s fears. For many queer and questioning readers, YA horror is a safe space for much more.
Join young adult authors Anna-Marie McLemore and Rob Costello for this short course for writers looking to create space in their horror and fantastical books for queer and questioning teens.
Tuesday, June 11, 2024 (7pm – 8:15pm Eastern)
Thursday, June 13, 2024 (7pm – 8:15pm Eastern)
Tickets are $59 (Recordings available until July 31, 2024)
Click the image below to find out more and register:
