Writers Need the Guts to Fail

By the standards of the average Triond writer I am probably ancient. I remember the Big Bang and the war between Michael’s angels and Lucifer’s angels.

Also, I am the author of 15 books; novels, memoirs and one book written for hire as a glorified ghost, though my name was on the cover as “with” the minor celebrity who couldn’t write her own book. I have been writing a newspaper column for a major daily almost 20 years and I’ve lost count of the magazine articles I’ve published.

So why am I writing for Triond? The answer is — for several reasons: I write more than I can ever publish in my books. my newspaper column and my blog because I write for the same reason a spider spins webs and with the same diligence; another writer I know, the author of several novels, writes here and told me about it; but the main reason is to take me out of my comfort zone.

You know what a comfort zone is, don’t you? Everybody has a comfort zone — even serial killers. A comfort zone is a place where the tension goes away. Once a week I write my newspaper column with the assurance it will be published, even though I am a freelancer, not an employee.

About once a year, give or take a few months, I write a new book with relative certainty it will be published. My books have been released by publishers from New York City to Nashville and smaller houses in-between.

I’ve never made the New York Times bestseller list, but I haven’t given up hope. For most of my career I have had a day job. In fact, in my wide circle of writer friends only three have ever made any real money.

Oh, you thought all published authors were wealthy or, at least, well off? You are dead wrong. The big money from books is in movies and television. A book that makes an author wealthy by itself is like a lightening strike. I happens, but seldom.

You will either write because you can’t help it or you’ll never be an author. Yeah, I know, it stinks and you would rather not hear about it.

Back to getting out of my comfort zone, though. The place I am talking about is the opposite of comfort. From time to time, I submit a piece to a publication where I’ve never published, a place where I am as likely to be rejected as accepted.

For instance, last year I received a letter from a literacy group announcing I had been named to their hall of fame for my fiction. There was no cash prize, but I was only the fourth winner and the very famous Cormac McCarthy won the first one. It flushed me with adrenalin.

A few minutes later, I was at my computer, getting ready to let all my friends know about my new award — hoping, of course — at least some of them would be envious. When I opened my e-mail, I saw a familiar name; it was from a magazine to which I had submitted a piece a month earlier.

The editor of that magazine thanked me for my effort, assured me his rejection was no reflection on my work and wished me well for future pieces I might write.

In ten minutes, I had received the glory of victory and the agony of defeat. It had been ten years since I was rejected and it felt no better when delivered by e-mail than the old-fashioned way, back in the days when I once papered my room with rejection slips.

So here I am out of my comfort zone. Since I am writing under a pseudonym, a rejection will be less public but no less painful. A real writer is in competition only with him or herself. The rest of the goodies are just extra.

I have a lot to say to young writers. Let me know if you’re interested in hearing about them.