Sometimes, when on line or in person someone will pose the question, “What’s the one piece of advice you would give to someone who wants to be a writer?” my answer will be: “Don’t.” I typically phrase it in a jesting tone, because I don’t want to come off as a curmudgeon (there’s plenty to time for that later), but I’m only half-joking. If I were pressed, I would add, “This is ridiculously hard work and it doesn’t pay well. If you’re looking to make money, literally almost any other job would work better.”
“But,” one might reply, “you do it.” Yes, I do, but my excuse is that I got the bug before I realized what I was getting into and by the time I learned, it was far too late. I mean, yes, I was once warned by a friend in the book industry that the chances of success were one in a thousand based on magazine rejection rates, but I heard what I wanted to hear (“You have a chance in a thousand!”) and pushed on. And on.
It’s because I’ve been through that wringer (and am still being wrung out) that I’ve adopted this philosophy. Seriously, if you’re considering a writing career, re-think your values. Now, before it’s too late. If you want my advice, you shouldn’t do it.
And the reason I say that is because if I, your mother, your high school English teacher, or even the editor of Tomorrow is Today spec-fic magazine can persuade you that you shouldn’t be a writer, then, well, you shouldn’t be a writer. (It’s like Holland Taylor to Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde: “If you’re going to let one stupid prick ruin your life… you’re not the girl I thought you were.”) The only reason you should be a writer is if writing is in your soul. If it’s an itch that cannot be scratched any other way. If you are so convinced that you were born to write that nobody can tell you otherwise.
Let me be (probably not the first) to tell you that for writers, rejection is a way of life. Every writer I know has tons, and gets them to this day (and I know people who’ve won Hugos and Nebulas). The road to what you call “success” is long and likely never-ending, because “success” is always one step on the ladder above you. it’s like the pyramids; you’ll never finish.
The pay? Laughable for short fiction. Even most novelists can’t make a living at it, and most are one bad book away from obscurity.
On the other hand, it is easier today to be published than ever before (and I’m not including self-publishing). When I started, there were three SFF magazines; today there are thousands. And there are compensations: First, the writing community is tight. They will root for you and you for them every day; it’s not a competition. We’re all on the same team. Second, the joy of a sale is wondrous, and when a fan meets you at a con or asks for an autograph, you feel like a millionaire.
But the bottom line is that you have to believe in you. No matter how many rejections, no matter how few of your friends and family seem to care (really, it’s a matter of not understanding what you do), and maybe worst of all, no matter how many of your peers seem to be passing you by, you have to push on because…well, because you have no choice. It’s write or die.
Or go watch Netflix. It’s your life.
We’ve all heard, “You don’t have to be insane to [be a writer], but it helps.” Actually, it probably doesn’t. What you need to be a writer is not insanity, but obliviousness. You have to oblivious to every negative thing around you and concentrate on what’s inside you. Sometimes you have to be oblivious to your family and friends. You have to believe in the face of all the odds. In another context, we’d say you need “faith.”
So, yes, if you ask me I’m going to tell you not to be a writer. Because if you listen to me and you quit, you were never meant to be one, and if you were meant to be one, you’ll ignore me and call me a curmudgeon. Go on; I’m a writer no matter what you say.











