Over the past year, writing has been hard. Despite the fact that I continually find small slices of inspiration and make declarations of a renewed work ethic, both in my head and on this blog, those small slices have been digested into nothing more than literary farts that will stink up even the most ventilated of rooms.
I do not profess that my life has been harder than anyone else’s, but I have found it heavy, and the rippling effect of those consistent stressors have served to rock the boat of my writing life. And for the life of me I cannot get the bloody thing to settle down and prevent me from puking over the side.
Today, I returned home from the Surrey International Writer’s Conference. After four days of professional development classes, long hours, late nights and large quantities of Scotch Whiskey, I feel vaguely like I’ve been drug through a knot-hole backwards. But with that exhaustion comes a sense of fulfillment. I’m not going to say my tank is full, or that I am completely energized and ready to do extraordinary things, because that is only going to be so much bullshit. But, without question, I have learned. And the lessons have been deep.
For those who have never been to SiWC, the board (well, specifically the coordinator, Kathy Chung) manages to convince some pretty heavy talent to show up. The classes are always fantastic, and I take something important away from them every year.
This year, for example, Chuck Wendig taught me that it is my duty as a writer to always be the best version of myself, and that sometimes writing can be compared to performing veterinary medicine on a surly animal. From Mary Robinette-Kowal I learned that if your book doesn’t have an emotional impact on you, you’re doing something wrong. And from Peter Rubie I learned that the most important part of storytelling was to figure out what it is that I wanted to say, then find a classy way to say it.
The most important lesson of all, though, came from a woman named Laura Bradbury. I have known Laura for many years, through previous attendance at the Surrey Writer’s conference. Laura has always been kind to me, and obviously talented, but in the past year her career has skyrocketed. The really amazing thing, besides the fact that she hit the top of Amazon’s bestsellers ranks, is that she built her career in the face of daunting adversity.
In her keynote speech this morning, Laura revealed that prior to her first novel being published, she was diagnosed with a rare auto-immune disorder. I cannot pronounce the name of her illness but the bottom line is that her survival depends on a liver transplant.
This little issue of her liver conking out makes all of my problems seem extremely manageable in comparison. I do not know exactly how I would behave in Laura’s circumstances, but I do not think I would have been able to do what she did, which was to persevere and succeed. After being diagnosed Laura wrote, then published her first book, “My Grape Escape”, which did phenomenally well, followed by its sequel.
During Laura’s keynote speech, I could not help but think of myself as a big sissy. I still believe the things I have faced over the last year have been difficult, and would test the mettle of anyone. But they are not insurmountable, and I have been allowing them to get in my way more than they should. If Laura could finish two books (and get a healthy start on a third) while considering the realities of her own mortality, then maybe I could pull up my boots and get back to work.
At the end of her address, Laura encouraged us to write bravely, to be word warriors, and to finish what we started. I think that is exactly what I should do.
As Chuck Wendig said: “Sometimes writing is easy, and sometimes it’s like performing an act of violent proctology on an angry goat.”
I think the important thing is to keep working, even on those days when your story wants to bash you with its ragged horns or kick you in the junk. Because no matter how bad things might suck, the stories still have to be told.
As always, thanks for reading.