Breaking The Surface, Catching A Wave...

With October winding down and November fast approaching, it occurs to me that November is National Novel Writing Month. I have, of course, been aware of this fact for weeks. It has bobbed in and out of my consciousness for days now, as I battled this cold or flu or plague that I’ve been suffering. Due to the fever and congestion and coughing my lungs up, my days have all run together over the past week or so and this medication-induced brain fog has not been conducive to memory building skills or the decision making process. However, when my wits were about me, I found myself debating with my newly resurfacing inner writer as to whether or not I should take part in the novel writing challenge this November.

It’s a brilliant concept: write a complete 50,000 word novel between November 1 and November 30. Thirty days and nights of literary abandon, as they say. It sounds exhilarating and liberating and adventurous. It also sounds frenzied and hectic and terrifying, especially to someone like me who has been away from the proverbial writing desk for many, many years.

Once upon a time, I was a working writer who consistently produced publishable work. I racked up a fairly impressive collection of publishing credits during that time. Then, over the course of a few short years, I began to feel the tug of a dark current born of too many life-altering events in too short an amount of time. I gradually became submerged in a continuous wave of anxiety and depression and the words simply stopped flowing.

Thankfully, I’ve recently begun to swim toward the light. With the support and encouragement of my friends and family, I’ve gradually been able to start writing again. I’ve been working on finishing an abandoned young adult paranormal romance story and plotting the outline for a partially written middle grade supernatural mystery that stalled after three chapters. I’ve been regularly posting to this blog. But am I ready to commit to a big project, like writing a complete novel in a month, just yet?

Some days I feel energized and eager to drag out that dusty old outline for my middle grade vampire novel that has been languishing in the dark recesses of my filing cabinet for the past dozen or so years. Other days I’m skittish and fear that attempting to write that particular story before I’m ready - before I’m back in full prime writer mode - might completely destroy all of the lingering possibility that still exists for this book which has been growing and taking shape inside me from the night I first conceived of it, practically fully formed, so many years ago. Although I have a detailed outline for it and I know these characters very well, I’m not sure I’m ready to risk it in my current weakened and vulnerable state. This project is too near and dear to my heart and I fear that, if I fail to live up to the task, it will be a major setback that I’m not sure the newly resurfaced writer within could recover from.

So, as I sit here today with my thoughts swimming through a sea of Musinex and Nyquil, I propose a compromise to myself. Yes, I want to get back into serious writing. Yes, I want to once again feel that sense of accomplishment that comes with finished pages adding up at the end of the day, ever nearing that finished project goal. Yes, I want that remembered thrill of an acceptance letter and yet another publishing credit. But do I want to officially commit to the National Novel Writing Month’s challenge of writing a 50,000 + word novel in a month? No, not officially. Not yet. I do, however, unofficially accept my own personal challenge of finishing my 30,000 word middle grade supernatural mystery by the end of November.

Who knows? I might just surprise myself and actually accomplish that goal. I might finally break the surface and catch a wave that will carry me closer to my writing goals.

In keeping with this vein of self-doubt and insecurity, the following is a short article I wrote years ago on some of the fears many writers face from time to time. It first appeared in the Fall 2001 issue of Once Upon A Time: A Magazine for Children’s Writers and Illustrators, Volume 12  #3.


A MATTER OF TRUST By Kelly Gunter Atlas

Recently, a close friend of mine and fellow writer noticed the pile of completed manuscripts sitting on my desk collecting dust and cat hair.

Incredulous that I had finished work just lying around, he asked, “Why haven’t you sent these out?”

My guilty brain quickly scanned, and then recited, the customary repertoire of excuses: 
   
“They aren’t polished enough yet.”

“I haven’t had time to do the market research.”

“I’m out of envelopes and address labels.” 
   
He recognized immediately that this was nothing more than calculated subterfuge and he called me on it. I was forced to admit the truth:  I suffer from Fear of Submission. And I’m probably not the only one.   

The very word submission has psychological connotations. My rational mind understands that it’s merely an act of presenting my work to others for consideration. Yet there is this underlying recognition that the word also means “yielding to the action, control, and power of others.” And, although I’ve had publishing success in the past, this fear still seeps into my subconscious from time to time and it can be paralyzing. 

I believe this fear stems primarily from a blending of other, more accessible fears, not the least of which is the fear of rejection. When we write with honesty, we pour our innermost thoughts, feelings and philosophies onto the page. Presenting these intimate parts of ourselves for others to judge, and then accept or reject, kicks the anxiety level into high gear. When our work is rejected, we feel as if we, ourselves, are being judged and then rejected as not good enough.

Another fear, discussed less but equally as important, is the fear of success. Once we succeed, the pressure we sometimes put on ourselves to continue to perform at that level can be enormous. And this pressure can stifle our creativity, bringing about the very decline in quality that we fear the most.

In other words, it’s a vicious circle.

When these two fears are combined, they create the fear of submission. If the work is not circulating among editors, then it can neither be accepted nor rejected.  

The bottom line is trust. Psychologists use an experiment to test a person’s level of trust. One person is asked to stand with his or her back to another and then allow themselves to fall backward, trusting that the other will catch them before they hit the ground.

Submitting your work to an editor is very similar. You must learn to trust not only in your own talents and skills as a writer, but in the experience and professionalism of the editors to whom you submit your work.

We may never be able to completely vanquish these fears. But understanding their causes can go a long way toward recognizing them and toward keeping them under control.