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| Photo by Sarah Lyn Eaton |
1)
The first step in being a writer is to write.
2)
The second step is to finish something.
3)
The third step is to let someone else read it. This is the stage for beta
readers, where I want to know if the story makes sense? Did you enjoy it? Did
you care about the characters?
4)
The next step is a hodgepodge of waiting for feedback and getting sick waiting,
of wanting it and not wanting it at the same time. It’s where the artistic
crisis of faith comes into play and you doubt every word you wrote and you’re
not sure anyone will like your story, EVER. That feeling never truly goes away,
for any artist, but it does lead you to…
5)
Believe in yourself, that this is your path, or let it go and find another.
Which you’ll consider for half a day, seriously, until you remember there is no
other path.
6)
Accept that no story will ever be perfect from the gate and learn how to edit
yourself, how to craft your story the way you want to tell it. I often have
multiple people reading during this stage, where I get a little more insistent
with my questions. If all you give me is “I liked it” you might as well kiss me
with death-lips. I’m glad you liked it. But there are a lot of good writers out
there. I want you to want to read it again. And I repeat this step until I am
satisfied.
7)
The fourth step is to send it out, pray to whatever deities you believe in, and
cultivate fortitude. There will be way more rejections than acceptances. If,
like me, you aren’t sure about the market for your stories, you might start
with smaller non-professional paying anthologies, magazines, and e-zines before
submitting to professional markets. Seriously, I thought I understood how many rejections
might come my way. I was wrong. If you’re lucky, you’ll get helpful feedback
with your rejection. But when publishers have to sort through hundreds of
stories in a timely manner, you can’t expect it.
This
last step is where dreams can wilt.
I
started sending stories out to non-professional paying markets while I
practiced my story crafting. It’s very common to be offered $30 for a 6000 word
story when the going rate is .06/word professionally, which would be $360.
That’s a $330 pay cut for the experience and exposure. And I get it. Start-up
publishers would like to pay more but can’t, though they still want the talent
to come in build their reputation.
So
far, I have sold my stories for a split share of royalties, because at the end
of the day, if someone wants my story, I want them to have it. That’s the
reason I chose this path. To share my stories. Not to make money (hopeless
artist). But I am hoping that along the journey, that will happen as well
(hopeful artist).
It’s
what we all hope.
I
submitted a story for consideration to an e-zine that can only pay $15 a story
right now, but I had an early story that fit their theme and I would be happy
to be included- and ecstatic to get $15 for my writing right now! A lot of
publishers hope you will sell them your story for exposure, which is good, but
it’s like asking a band to come play for a night in your club for exposure, or asking
an artist to paint a mural on your building for free because people will see
their work. And it is exposure. Which you can do once in a while. And most
artists I know do it more than once in a while. Because the path is more important
to us. Too bad the taxman didn’t feel the same way.
The
last 6000 word story I wrote was the child of three days of story crafting and
world building and question answering and outline/draft typing, stopping only
to eat and sleep and clean the cat litter. It was followed by five days of
exhaustive editing and fleshing out. I kept track. I was working ten hour days
to finish a story that will maybe, eventually, earn me money. The more I write,
the shorter each step gets, and the better my work gets, which will hopefully
mean more stories will sell. It’s a strange teeter-totter.
Where
the Fundraising Part Comes In
Many
writers and young publishers have turned to the world of fundraising to procure
the funds needed to produce a new book, hopefully including payment to the
authors, too. Fundraising is similar to ways in which artists have historically
been aided. Those patrons who enjoyed the art, music, literature, or theatre,
etc. but could not do it themselves would pay artist’s bills while they
produced for the pleasure of the discovery.
To
be an artist means you make difficult choices as you pursue your craft, each
step of the way fighting society’s expectations of and for you. So why should you
give some of your well-earned money to artists? Because what would this world
be like without art? Without Beethoven or Eric Clapton? Without Shakespeare or Tony
Kushner? Without Walt Whitman, Maria Ranier Rilke, or Mary Oliver? Without
Meryl Streep or Sir Ian McKellan? Without Vincent Van Gogh, Mary Cassatt,
Kandinsky, Michelangelo, or Andrew Wyeth? If you go to the movies, you already
support the arts!
And
you could help support and encourage the birth of my next story.
The
way these campaigns work is, if you feel inclined to donate, you become a
patron of the arts and what is known as a “backer” with several rewards that
include offering you a reserved copy of the book by helping in advance. The
money is not taken from you until the campaign is over. If we don’t reach our
goal, you don’t lose any money, the book doesn’t get funded, and we probably publish
it anyway, because our stories are our children and we want to set them loose in
the world. And then we hope for royalties after the book sells.
You
could be a revolutionary. Donations start as $1 but for just $12, it also gets
you a copy of the finished book, plus a book mark featuring art by Jennifer
Campbell-Smith. You may think even a dollar doesn’t matter, but to a starving
artist trying to find their way in the world, every dollar counts. You can’t
lose. Either you ultimately don’t have to fork any money over, or you become
one of the people who made the birth of a new work of literature possible (something
you could brag about).
