I somewhat hilariously sent out a paragraph at the very end that I intended to cut, but upon rereading it I've decided to include it here:
"I have a friend who won a HUGE award and she still talks about how the book didn’t sell, even though she’s a person who has wisely and beautifully criticized the ways that our culture treats commercial hits as successful now while treating quality work that isn’t popular or lucrative as a big failure. That’s not how the written word is supposed to work. You’re not supposed to believe that the value and weight of a work of literature can be measured by how many humans purchase it."
My main point here is not that my friend is uniquely fucked, it's that *all* writers have a bad habit of taking their gifts and their hard work for granted. We measure ourselves with whatever ruler will sting the most when we smack ourselves in the face with it.
It's inescapable. It keeps us writing. Understanding the pure despair at the center of who we are is a kind of mandatory prerequisite for getting up in the morning and doing more, more, more work to be seen, understood, loved. Accepting that it's absolutely sick at some level, that it's absurd and stupid and pointless, that it's about loneliness and love and desire, can be a source of self-hatred. But conflicted, ambivalent, bewildering feelings live at the center of all passion. You don't get to be passionate or driven or inspired without facing your darkness, your fears, and your shame. IT JUST IS.
Are all writers suffering like that? I wonder. I write because I love it. I write because it's *fun.* I write because I was inspired by my mother and then an amazing college mentor and by all the terrific books I've read (and taught).
I don't feel despair at my core. I don't expect to be loved for my work. I'm thrilled that I've had more success than I expected and sad that I've also had more failures ditto. And I don't take my work for granted.
I'm deeply pleased that I've had a career of 40+ years and that during the pandemic, I had a burst of energy and memories that has led to nearly 90 essay and short story pubs or acceptances in 3 1/2 years.
I measure myself against the work I've done before and hope to do as well as what I think is my best.
I think a good platform to spring from when young, is an immense help. We don't all have to come from places of disapproval, from trying to prove we are good enough, from trying to prove we are loveable.
I love that you feel the fun, that you feel good about your achievements. I think we can accept each other - all of us - those of us who were ignored or put down, and those of us who were encouraged, and those of us who received mixed messages.
The art is the art of being and of reaching that sweet acceptance.
Well aren’t you an enlightened man. I am a miserable pleb, high school dropout, chronically unemployed, and what money I do make is spent on booze. I don’t have the luxuries that you have to be able to accept and be happy with who I am… I absolutely hate myself and yet stories come to squat in my mind, not really giving a shit about the mind they possess. But these stories express a nasty tongue when neglected. It’s not fun for me! I feel like I’m possessed… but then again I’m off my meds and hateful because of it, so I’m sure my already despairing mind is just expressing delusions. And that, to me, is the crux of the problem. What if you’re just delusional?
Add me to the list please - or at least share the Substack. Reminded me of the infamous quotation from the South Sea Bubble era public offering in which a company that advertised itself as:
“For carrying-on an undertaking of great advantage but no-one to know what it is” . They ended up raising a good deal of money…
"It is a salutary discipline to consider the vast number of books that are written, the fair hopes with which their authors see them published, and the fate which awaits them. What chance is there that any book will make its way among that multitude? And the successful books are but the successes of a season. Heaven knows what pains the author has been at, what bitter experiences he has endured and what heartache suffered, to give some chance reader a few hours’ relaxation or to while away the tedium of a journey. And if I may judge from the reviews, many of these books are well and carefully written; much thought has gone into their composition; to some even has been given the anxious labour of a lifetime. The moral I draw is that the writer should seek his reward in the pleasure of his work and in release from the burden of his thoughts; and, indifferent to aught else, care nothing for praise or censure, failure or success."
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) English novelist and playwright
Thank you for that perspective. I often walk through thrift stores and used book stores, amazed at the piles and piles of books. And I wonder, “Who am I, to write another book that no one will read?” And then I remember, I am writing for me.
Dear one. This happens to SO. MANY. of us. This is not an ad, but I do a podcast where I interview authors and artists. The stories we all share about this exact thing is actually something that bonds us together...now.
I remember my first publication date like it was yesterday and not a dozen years ago. There was little fanfare, and hoopla, and it was crushing to see that some authors got an ad on the side of a bus, and some of us were lucky for a magazine mention. Then the book faded into obscurity, and I had to move on to the next one.
I was just talking to an author friend at brunch on Saturday about this. (She's 25 books in, and has taken a long hiatus from writing). First, there's publisher math: they produce a lot and reap the benefits of what they sell and it doesn't matter if it's Book A or Book Z. They're shockingly agnostic in that way. You can't take it personally. Second, there's author math. We do what we do and it's scraped up into the maw of capitalism and hope for the best, but the odds are not in our favor.
The hard part? Most of us have learned to separate our art from the product. That helps.
The best advice I've gotten and heeded was to write the next one. It increases, but does not guarantee the likelihood of success. But it also helped me focus on the part that I love (most days).
George Orwell breaks it down nicely in his short essay 'Why I Write'. At the end he says "All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist or understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane. I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed."
This is a great answer. The same thing happened to me – the funny thing was, my only goal my whole adult (and much of my young) life had been to publish a novel, and suddenly that shifted and publishing a novel wasn't good enough, especially when I made no money from it, it got no attention or sales and my friends were getting £100,000 book deals.
I was lucky to get, if nothing else, an out-of-nowhere award for it which rescued me from the depths of the 'I am a failure' loop, but I know if it weren't for the award, I would feel terrible, on a daily basis, about a novel I worked my ass off to write for *years*. Which is so sad, because getting published is all I've ever wanted! So I both completely empathise with the writer and appreciate Heather's response. This bit, especially:
"But the truth is that we are ALL humbled every day, often in the exact ways we fear the most. Life was designed to humble us. It’s that simple. And if we want to create, to soar, to reach for greatness, to touch the sublime, we are also going to crawl, and suffer, and feel pure despair." And we're going to keep on writing!
The market now is insanely competitive, worse than ever in my long career: three million books published every year in the U.S. and most don't even sell 1,000 copies. But we authors can be surprised: a book I expected very little of has sold over 300,000 copies and been translated into many languages. And one of my other books didn't sell a lot of copies but it got me invited to do between 50-60 well-paid speaking gigs in the US, Canada, and Germany.
Conversely, books that got raves in the NYT or DC Post didn't do as well as I thought they would. It's a crap shoot and all we have control over is the work itself and how we feel about it. Writing is an art and it's a business--and the business side can be heart-breaking at times. If a book isn't doing well, it's best to keep moving, keep writing.
I publish music and no one listens besides me my students and maybe a couple hundred people. Will I stop making music? Am I any less amazed by my creations because no one listens? Nope. I make music for the art and love of it. I’d love it if people listened and gave me feedback to help me grow and I’d love if they loved it but the fact is the market is too saturated. It’s the same issue.
Right on. I agree that the market is saturated, competitive, and also, at times, disturbingly social-media driven. I mean these things are crystal clear. Everyone wants to write, make music, create. It's obvious. I would only add that EVEN IF THIS CONTINUES TO GET WORSE AND WORSE, it shouldn't change anyone's attitude about the value of what they make or the meaning of what they do.
Because if you've found a way to touch the sublime, you choose that. You do hard work to feel that magic. And you recognize that no matter what shifts take place outside your door, you're still going to be showing up for what you love.
My friend and I have a music project that I truly love, that only a few dozen people have ever listened to. We worked on it while we were being moms of small children, and going through complicated life stuff. The project is classic folk songs done in a dark, crunchy chip-tunes style, with vintage electronics. (If that sounds fun to anyone, search "synth widow graveyard dirt" on Spotify or Bandcamp)
Anyway, I'm proud of us for making it because it's exactly what we wanted to do, and we took up some space in a world that doesn't make space for us. We didn't really have the bandwidth (no pun intended) to promote it, but making the record was an anchor for my soul.
I'm a slow developer so my first, my debut novel - yep I am going to name it - The Seasonwife - came out last year. I'm sixty four.
Writing is the loneliness of the writer as a nature-loving hermit, to the hermit being paraded, blinking and bewildered, before the public. It's obsessing over one poor Good Reads review rather than the fifty who 'got it'.
Writing is to worry that I spend so much time a fictional historical past I'm not living my real life in the present. I love my family I need to spend time with real people... but then the past beckons.
I write myself into the belief that if I turn the right key, we will all - the whole world including the despots - learn from the past, and unlock the secret to a better future.
The ride is escapism, the ride is 'woman's search for meaning'. The ride could end abruptly. If I take too long to deliver a whole lot of other books will be lost in the labour.
As a child I read to escape, and now I write to show that we can navigate our way of the darkness. I want to write women who do this. We must keep on encouraging each other to be and feel and do this.
What I have achieved, what we all achieve, is being. Staying for the long run, to the finish line and beyond.
It's a great piece Michael. I highlighted so many great lines and found the whole piece was a highlight. I felt flat yesterday, that 'is it worth it' feeling so I danced, and the dancing shattered the floor, the dust became glitter, the lust for life - and writing - returned. Those of us who can't live in boxes need to find the way out of the box.
I wrote a comedy/play in college that still embarrasses me to this day. I deleted the hard drive of the computer it was written on to try to forget the shame, but now it’s like a ghost cuz it still haunts me even though I can’t remember a single line from it. I write jokes and didn’t tell/show my husband until we were married for like 9 years - and I trust him! He’s my best friend! Heather nailed the writers’ dilemma with this post - rejecting my work is like rejecting ME. Much respect to writers and artists - so much rejection to wade through :(.
Heather…. And I thought *I* was funny! I am a writer, and in the inimitable words of Robert De Niro, “Are you talking to me?!” Sometimes I am truly a princess, I mean God damn royalty, and sometimes I am that little spec of Who that Horton hears. Except he doesn’t. I love you already. Yes, I will keep “righting.” 💝
Heather-we love you. And your writing. Actually we don’t really know you, so we love your writing. You nailed it on this post. Musicians and visual artists and dancers and I could go and on- let’s just say somewhat sensitive creatives creatures—all experience these feelings. And it’s getting harder ( to make money) but easier to get your art/ writing/ music out to the world.
I write and play music and perform because I have no choice. Doesn’t matter to me if anyone pays.
I somewhat hilariously sent out a paragraph at the very end that I intended to cut, but upon rereading it I've decided to include it here:
"I have a friend who won a HUGE award and she still talks about how the book didn’t sell, even though she’s a person who has wisely and beautifully criticized the ways that our culture treats commercial hits as successful now while treating quality work that isn’t popular or lucrative as a big failure. That’s not how the written word is supposed to work. You’re not supposed to believe that the value and weight of a work of literature can be measured by how many humans purchase it."
My main point here is not that my friend is uniquely fucked, it's that *all* writers have a bad habit of taking their gifts and their hard work for granted. We measure ourselves with whatever ruler will sting the most when we smack ourselves in the face with it.
It's inescapable. It keeps us writing. Understanding the pure despair at the center of who we are is a kind of mandatory prerequisite for getting up in the morning and doing more, more, more work to be seen, understood, loved. Accepting that it's absolutely sick at some level, that it's absurd and stupid and pointless, that it's about loneliness and love and desire, can be a source of self-hatred. But conflicted, ambivalent, bewildering feelings live at the center of all passion. You don't get to be passionate or driven or inspired without facing your darkness, your fears, and your shame. IT JUST IS.
Are all writers suffering like that? I wonder. I write because I love it. I write because it's *fun.* I write because I was inspired by my mother and then an amazing college mentor and by all the terrific books I've read (and taught).
I don't feel despair at my core. I don't expect to be loved for my work. I'm thrilled that I've had more success than I expected and sad that I've also had more failures ditto. And I don't take my work for granted.
I'm deeply pleased that I've had a career of 40+ years and that during the pandemic, I had a burst of energy and memories that has led to nearly 90 essay and short story pubs or acceptances in 3 1/2 years.
I measure myself against the work I've done before and hope to do as well as what I think is my best.
I think a good platform to spring from when young, is an immense help. We don't all have to come from places of disapproval, from trying to prove we are good enough, from trying to prove we are loveable.
I love that you feel the fun, that you feel good about your achievements. I think we can accept each other - all of us - those of us who were ignored or put down, and those of us who were encouraged, and those of us who received mixed messages.
The art is the art of being and of reaching that sweet acceptance.
Well aren’t you an enlightened man. I am a miserable pleb, high school dropout, chronically unemployed, and what money I do make is spent on booze. I don’t have the luxuries that you have to be able to accept and be happy with who I am… I absolutely hate myself and yet stories come to squat in my mind, not really giving a shit about the mind they possess. But these stories express a nasty tongue when neglected. It’s not fun for me! I feel like I’m possessed… but then again I’m off my meds and hateful because of it, so I’m sure my already despairing mind is just expressing delusions. And that, to me, is the crux of the problem. What if you’re just delusional?
That's impressive!!
Hi, could we get the name of the novel 'no one cares' about, so we can purchase it please?
I will ask for a link but the LW might not want their identity to be made public. We will see!
Yes please, now I NEED to read it
Now everyone wants to read it 😀
My thought exactly!
Yes! I want to!
Adding myself to this list!
Add me to the list please - or at least share the Substack. Reminded me of the infamous quotation from the South Sea Bubble era public offering in which a company that advertised itself as:
“For carrying-on an undertaking of great advantage but no-one to know what it is” . They ended up raising a good deal of money…
"It is a salutary discipline to consider the vast number of books that are written, the fair hopes with which their authors see them published, and the fate which awaits them. What chance is there that any book will make its way among that multitude? And the successful books are but the successes of a season. Heaven knows what pains the author has been at, what bitter experiences he has endured and what heartache suffered, to give some chance reader a few hours’ relaxation or to while away the tedium of a journey. And if I may judge from the reviews, many of these books are well and carefully written; much thought has gone into their composition; to some even has been given the anxious labour of a lifetime. The moral I draw is that the writer should seek his reward in the pleasure of his work and in release from the burden of his thoughts; and, indifferent to aught else, care nothing for praise or censure, failure or success."
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) English novelist and playwright
Thank you for that perspective. I often walk through thrift stores and used book stores, amazed at the piles and piles of books. And I wonder, “Who am I, to write another book that no one will read?” And then I remember, I am writing for me.
Exactly. It's a tough biz. Hard game.
Dear one. This happens to SO. MANY. of us. This is not an ad, but I do a podcast where I interview authors and artists. The stories we all share about this exact thing is actually something that bonds us together...now.
I remember my first publication date like it was yesterday and not a dozen years ago. There was little fanfare, and hoopla, and it was crushing to see that some authors got an ad on the side of a bus, and some of us were lucky for a magazine mention. Then the book faded into obscurity, and I had to move on to the next one.
I was just talking to an author friend at brunch on Saturday about this. (She's 25 books in, and has taken a long hiatus from writing). First, there's publisher math: they produce a lot and reap the benefits of what they sell and it doesn't matter if it's Book A or Book Z. They're shockingly agnostic in that way. You can't take it personally. Second, there's author math. We do what we do and it's scraped up into the maw of capitalism and hope for the best, but the odds are not in our favor.
The hard part? Most of us have learned to separate our art from the product. That helps.
The best advice I've gotten and heeded was to write the next one. It increases, but does not guarantee the likelihood of success. But it also helped me focus on the part that I love (most days).
Lovely, lovely, advice. Thank you.
free
George Orwell breaks it down nicely in his short essay 'Why I Write'. At the end he says "All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist or understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane. I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed."
The essay can be read here: https://www.orwellfoundation.com/the-orwell-foundation/orwell/essays-and-other-works/why-i-write/
Love this, thank you!
https://michaelmohr.substack.com/p/george-orwell-a-life
This is a great answer. The same thing happened to me – the funny thing was, my only goal my whole adult (and much of my young) life had been to publish a novel, and suddenly that shifted and publishing a novel wasn't good enough, especially when I made no money from it, it got no attention or sales and my friends were getting £100,000 book deals.
I was lucky to get, if nothing else, an out-of-nowhere award for it which rescued me from the depths of the 'I am a failure' loop, but I know if it weren't for the award, I would feel terrible, on a daily basis, about a novel I worked my ass off to write for *years*. Which is so sad, because getting published is all I've ever wanted! So I both completely empathise with the writer and appreciate Heather's response. This bit, especially:
"But the truth is that we are ALL humbled every day, often in the exact ways we fear the most. Life was designed to humble us. It’s that simple. And if we want to create, to soar, to reach for greatness, to touch the sublime, we are also going to crawl, and suffer, and feel pure despair." And we're going to keep on writing!
Feel ya. Took my 15 years to get my first novel published.
The market now is insanely competitive, worse than ever in my long career: three million books published every year in the U.S. and most don't even sell 1,000 copies. But we authors can be surprised: a book I expected very little of has sold over 300,000 copies and been translated into many languages. And one of my other books didn't sell a lot of copies but it got me invited to do between 50-60 well-paid speaking gigs in the US, Canada, and Germany.
Conversely, books that got raves in the NYT or DC Post didn't do as well as I thought they would. It's a crap shoot and all we have control over is the work itself and how we feel about it. Writing is an art and it's a business--and the business side can be heart-breaking at times. If a book isn't doing well, it's best to keep moving, keep writing.
Yes. So true. And many of the books the industry swears are brilliant are terrible.
I publish music and no one listens besides me my students and maybe a couple hundred people. Will I stop making music? Am I any less amazed by my creations because no one listens? Nope. I make music for the art and love of it. I’d love it if people listened and gave me feedback to help me grow and I’d love if they loved it but the fact is the market is too saturated. It’s the same issue.
Right on. I agree that the market is saturated, competitive, and also, at times, disturbingly social-media driven. I mean these things are crystal clear. Everyone wants to write, make music, create. It's obvious. I would only add that EVEN IF THIS CONTINUES TO GET WORSE AND WORSE, it shouldn't change anyone's attitude about the value of what they make or the meaning of what they do.
Because if you've found a way to touch the sublime, you choose that. You do hard work to feel that magic. And you recognize that no matter what shifts take place outside your door, you're still going to be showing up for what you love.
My friend and I have a music project that I truly love, that only a few dozen people have ever listened to. We worked on it while we were being moms of small children, and going through complicated life stuff. The project is classic folk songs done in a dark, crunchy chip-tunes style, with vintage electronics. (If that sounds fun to anyone, search "synth widow graveyard dirt" on Spotify or Bandcamp)
Anyway, I'm proud of us for making it because it's exactly what we wanted to do, and we took up some space in a world that doesn't make space for us. We didn't really have the bandwidth (no pun intended) to promote it, but making the record was an anchor for my soul.
This piece NAILS the writer's dilemma better than anything I've read in ages! I feel so seen!
SAME!!
Agree!
Check this out. https://michaelmohr.substack.com/p/writers-versus-the-world
Let's get down to the important part: How pretentious was the note you included when you forwarded this to your group chat? Me, I went with Prufrock:
... when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
Thanks for pinning me to the wall to give me a thorough look, Heather. It's literally what every writer wants, as you put more eloquently. <3
I'm a slow developer so my first, my debut novel - yep I am going to name it - The Seasonwife - came out last year. I'm sixty four.
Writing is the loneliness of the writer as a nature-loving hermit, to the hermit being paraded, blinking and bewildered, before the public. It's obsessing over one poor Good Reads review rather than the fifty who 'got it'.
Writing is to worry that I spend so much time a fictional historical past I'm not living my real life in the present. I love my family I need to spend time with real people... but then the past beckons.
I write myself into the belief that if I turn the right key, we will all - the whole world including the despots - learn from the past, and unlock the secret to a better future.
The ride is escapism, the ride is 'woman's search for meaning'. The ride could end abruptly. If I take too long to deliver a whole lot of other books will be lost in the labour.
As a child I read to escape, and now I write to show that we can navigate our way of the darkness. I want to write women who do this. We must keep on encouraging each other to be and feel and do this.
What I have achieved, what we all achieve, is being. Staying for the long run, to the finish line and beyond.
Sounds like Seasonwife is a great debut novel. Congratulations, you have one more reader.
Thank you so much, Jack, readers like you spur me towards writing the next novel!
Yes. I wrote on this here: https://michaelmohr.substack.com/p/writers-versus-the-world
It's a great piece Michael. I highlighted so many great lines and found the whole piece was a highlight. I felt flat yesterday, that 'is it worth it' feeling so I danced, and the dancing shattered the floor, the dust became glitter, the lust for life - and writing - returned. Those of us who can't live in boxes need to find the way out of the box.
I wrote a comedy/play in college that still embarrasses me to this day. I deleted the hard drive of the computer it was written on to try to forget the shame, but now it’s like a ghost cuz it still haunts me even though I can’t remember a single line from it. I write jokes and didn’t tell/show my husband until we were married for like 9 years - and I trust him! He’s my best friend! Heather nailed the writers’ dilemma with this post - rejecting my work is like rejecting ME. Much respect to writers and artists - so much rejection to wade through :(.
Heather…. And I thought *I* was funny! I am a writer, and in the inimitable words of Robert De Niro, “Are you talking to me?!” Sometimes I am truly a princess, I mean God damn royalty, and sometimes I am that little spec of Who that Horton hears. Except he doesn’t. I love you already. Yes, I will keep “righting.” 💝
Yep. We writers are like that. https://michaelmohr.substack.com/p/writers-versus-the-world
Heather-we love you. And your writing. Actually we don’t really know you, so we love your writing. You nailed it on this post. Musicians and visual artists and dancers and I could go and on- let’s just say somewhat sensitive creatives creatures—all experience these feelings. And it’s getting harder ( to make money) but easier to get your art/ writing/ music out to the world.
I write and play music and perform because I have no choice. Doesn’t matter to me if anyone pays.
I do this for myself. Always have. Always will.
Brilliant. Thank you.