Into the Fire

If you like to read “rants”, hop over to literary agent Rachelle Gardner’s blog (http://cba-ramblings.blogspot.com/) and read the posts and comments for Tuesday and Wednesday. Oooohh, baby. Yes, of course, I got mine in—was there ever any doubt?

Writers are an obnoxious lot. We come in all sizes, shapes, and colors. We are joyful, sullen, self-deprecating, boastful, pitiful, admirable, shy, outgoing, drama kings and queens, invisible, transparent, incognito . . . and sometimes unforgiving of others in our field.

It’s not uncommon for yet-to-be-published writers to read a novel and proclaim to family and friends, “I can write better than that!” or “How in the heck did they get published?” or “What’s so special about this book?” Oh, come on! You’ve said it yourself, haven’t you? Well, several rejections later of your masterpiece, you realize all the intricacies of getting a book published, and you feel embarrassed for your comparisons. The embarrassment might not change your true opinion of what you’ve read or are reading, but you now know it isn’t all about the writing, there are at least 794 million different opinions as to what is “good” writing, and you forgot to factor in the God-quotient when you did your preliminary assessments of the industry and its authors. Humiliation begins the process of becoming humble. Geez.

Unforgiving writers are the most critical of the craft. They’re also notorious for making adamant statements about what is right and wrong writing. They usually insist that critique groups are beneficial because they enjoy their own, sometimes not realizing that there are actually people out there who can’t wait to tear apart a manuscript using the “rules of writing” as a hammer and sickle with very little understanding of what makes up a good story. The unforgiving writer has bought into the locked box theory of what every novel should look like and have no use for the opinion that the public can support more variety in genres and formats.

You know, there has been a justifiable stigma attached to self-publishing. In the past the books produced looked inferior and no doubt read that way, too. Who knows? Since most of us wouldn’t touch one with a ten-foot pole, how would we actually know if the writing was good, bad, indifferent, or promising? My first one would definitely be revamped—by me—if I had it to do over again. But—and this is a critical “but”—the people who read it were not “unforgiving writers”. They were ordinary people of various ages and occupations, and those who committed to finishing the book—hold onto your chairs—enjoyed it. Some even loved it. Believe it or not. And not all of them were “horse people”. The unforgiving writer views a self-published tome with a barely disguised nose in the air, perhaps not realizing that the very same process used to create commercially published books is now used at the more reputable custom publishers.

Are you an unforgiving writer? Do you criticize novels you’ve never read? How ‘bout the ones you’ve finished which seemed . . . well, somehow less than the best . . . did you trash them? Are you set in your ways and intolerant of others’ efforts and adventures in style, those who don’t conform to the current trends? Why? Really. It’s a legitimate question. What makes you a capable judge? Even sterling and impressive educational qualifications don’t change a reader’s opinion of a book they like. Who cares what you think? You can fault it, compare it, describe its lousy failings, but if someone really likes it, what difference does it make what you think of it?

In the publishing business money talks. Sales trump all else. The people who demonstrate an infectious interest in a book to make it popular or controversial enough to sell impressive numbers ultimately make the decision about “good” books. Sometimes it has nothing to do with the writing.

Father, we need to pay attention to what you have to say, to what you have for each of us, and to be unconcerned about the walk you’ve ordained for others. It’s all between you and me, Lord. I need to follow you wherever you take me and not question your designs for others. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please remember the Kristy Dykes’ family in prayer.*