Keeping It Going

Many years ago, many years ago, I was standing in a high school bathroom, the one in the math wing I referred to as my office, and I told a friend of mine my goal was to play guitar like Jimmy Page. His response? I’ve never forgotten it: “Mark, you’ll never play like Jimmy Page.”

Man, that hurt.

I turned towards him and said, “Watch me.” And walked away.

Flash forward several years. I wasn’t able to accomplish it, because my values and goals suffered a reordering process , and I spent a lot of time doing other things, things I needed to accomplish more immediately, and a lot of things I thought were expected of me. But had things been different, I’d like to think I would have become one of the great guitarists  because I have something to offer. I also have a quality (or fault) that some others with ambition don’t have.

Cue the Man Behind the Curtain: what is it? Stubbornness. Good old dogged, determined, in-your-face, kiss-my butt, persistent American stubbornness. Tell me I can’t do something? Get out of the way and bring your camera — you’ll want pictures.

Fast forward several more years. I went back to something I also used to do during high school: Writing. And as the years and stories have gone by, I’ve learned that writers need one thing beyond all others.

Talent? Innate ability? Well, that helps, but nah. Writing can be learned. Education? Well, that’s another topic entirely, isn’t it?

The one, single thing writers need, more than any other tool is stubbornness.

Oh, you can call it something else. In fact, you can call it any damn thing you want. Some say motivation or thick skin. Others, persistence. Others, that je ne sais quois that keeps a writer going when she’s down. But it’s stubbornness. If you don’t have it, get it. I have learned that’s what it takes to be a writer.

You need it because there’s an inherent difficulty involved in any creative activity, and that is rejection. They always tell you, “Remember, we’re rejecting your work, not you personally.” What these feel-good types neglect to remember is most of us are the work, dammit! Where do they think we got our ideas from, outer-freaking-space? Harlan Ellison’s Scranton Idea Factory?

So every time I get a rejection, even after 22 long, hard years of doing this, I die inside just a little bit. Every time I get a rejection, even one that says, “Hey I like your writing, but this ain’t working for me,” I need to have my writer tantrum, as Nick Kaufmann calls them. Sometimes for a ten minutes, sometimes for a full day. The length of my writer tantrum varies directly with the length of the work. When my three-book piece gets rejected the first time, I’ve decided I”m going to spend the day in bed with potato chips watching my Firefly DVDs and have people bring me Big Macs every four hours.

And what will get me going again? That sheer stubbornness of will the Brits call bloody-mindedness.

And still, there are days when I want to quit. There are days when I look at the quantity of computer files, both finished and unfinished, the stacks of paper littering nearly every room I’m associated with. I look at the quantity of rejections as compared with the meager acceptances, and I literally look in the mirror and ask that guy, “What are you doing? Do you realize how much it costs to write? The small, almost hidden costs of printing, copying and mailing? The costs in family time, associations with friends, and yes, sometimes even work status? Look at it. What do you have to show for it?”

We all ask ourselves these questions. Some ask them every day. It’s that reaction I call the “screw-you” reflex that’s going to get you through it. Sure you’ll have days of depression. Sure you’ll have times when you want to quit and do something more upbeat, like shoveling poo underground. Sure you’ll have your writer tantrums.

But here’s the secret to getting through: allow yourself that depression. Get it out. Go off your diet. Watch too much TV.

But that’s only half the secret. The rest of the secret? Let your stubbornness kick in, get the hell over it and go  back to work.

That’s what it’s all about. It’s not about how depressed you get. It’s about going back to work.

Make sure you do. You’ve got books I want to read.

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