The Power of a Writer's Faith

Faith is a powerful force. It's not an empty concept and has nothing to do with wishful thinking. Faith is a true, unshakeable belief. This post is about having faith in our stories.

There's only one way to get through the slog of the first draft, the pain of editing, the angst of showing our work to someone for the first time, the horror of rewriting and more editing, the agony of querying, and so forth. We need to believe in our work, or else the part that makes the story unique and special will slip away.

Not everyone will like our stories. We may have to go through hundreds of agents in the hunt to find someone who is interested in representation. We might have to suffer a barrage of doubts, not only from ourselves but our families, our critique partners, our friends. If we have an unshakeable faith in our story, a deep understanding of it, and a determination to stick to that vision, then it's that faith which will carry us through to the end.

If we don't have that faith, then we're easily tossed about. We end up tweaking the life out of our stories because they're never good enough. We'll be easily swayed by every single suggestion a critique partner gives us, every voice-changing advice a friend offers us.

Writing those unique stories requires a powerful bravery to stand firm against the onslaught, especially when rejections start coming in from industry professionals.

So no more floundering to please others. Advice is simply that: advice. Weigh it carefully, understand where it's coming from and why it's being given, then consider it some more and either take it, or dismiss it based on what you believe is right for your vision of the story. Your vision.

How do you maintain your faith in your stories? Do you struggle to know which advice to take and which to ignore?

I wrote this post for the Insecure Writers' Support Group, founded by Alex J Cavanaugh. We post on the first Wednesday of every month.

If you'd like to join, then check it out here.



The Liebster Award—Thank you to Emaginette who gave me the Liebster Award. To accept it, I'm supposed to answer a few questions. Instead I'll answer just the one: If you could write with any color of ink, what color would it be? Purple. I write all my first drafts in longhand with my purple pens so I go through a few, but do you know how hard it is to find purple pens in Australia? It's easy to get them in multi-colour packs, but I don't want all the other colours. I just want purple.

First Drafts & Revisions: It's Okay to Make a Mess

As some of you may know via Facebook, I've been going through some kitchen renovations. Most experiences lead my strange brain to writing and these renovations were no different.

My kitchen BEFORE

This is what my kitchen used to look like (minus the clutter). Now think of this kitchen as the first draft of a manuscript. It doesn't seem so bad. Everything is in its place. The sink, the oven, the cupboards. Does it all work? No. My oven should've been committed to the ground a long time ago. The range hood made a horrifying sound as if it chewed on nails before it spat them out. The sink was vanishing under rust, and the doors were threatening to fall off every time I opened them. So, while this kitchen looks complete, it's far from it. So too with first drafts.

DURING the renovation

First drafts need to be worked over. They often need to be ripped apart and put back together again--especially drafts born from unplanned ideas. Even drafts that come from detailed outlines need to get messy before the writer can produce magic. Sure we could paint the old tiles, we could disguise the ugly with pretty words, but more often than not we need to get into the nitty gritty. We need to pay attention to the details and not skim over dodgey sections in the hope that no one will notice. In renovations it's the details that make all the difference. Same with writing a novel.

The crazy thing is, renovators know before they begin a task to expect the dust, the rubble, the hard work. They know they have to make a mess before they can make magic. Writers, for some reason, tend to shy away from the mess. They place an unrealistic pressure on themselves to achieve perfection on every word they write. If they don't reach perfection, or something close to perfection, then they think they are hopeless writers, that their project will never be good enough.

My kitchen AFTER

Well, that's malarkey. Mess is good. Mess gives us the freedom to experiment, to try something new, to make space for something better.

What gives you the courage to make a mess with your writing? Have you been tempted to pass over the details?

NOTE: This post was written for Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writers' Support Group #IWSG. I've posted early because there's been a death in the family and I have a lot of travel to do for the funeral. I'll try to do some blog visits before I leave, but if I don't make it to you, then I'll be back next week and will catch up then. 

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