Becoming you – how to develop confidence as a writer

On a recent episode of Litopia’s Pop-Up Submissions, we intended to talk about writer confidence, then the show went in another direction. But it’s worth a proper discussion.

Litopia founder Peter Cox, who is also a literary agent, told me confidence is a major issue for his members. ‘Either it never gets a chance to develop, or gets fatally knocked by so much conflicting advice (thank you, internet). But without a sense of self-confidence, I don’t believe a writer can develop their own true voice.’

Voice

First, let’s define voice. It’s what makes you unmistakably you. Your style. Your thematic signature. The distinctive hue of your world. As Peter says, this comes from confidence.

Here’s my take.

I remember when I wasn’t secure about my voice and other distinctive whatnots. I regularly rebooted myself, to be like the authors I was reading, or to act on feedback from critique groups or other publishing people.  

I seemed to be a jigsaw. A bit of this and that. And changing all the time.  

But gradually, I discovered that if a technique or approach didn’t fit me naturally, I couldn’t keep it up. It was a strain, like clothing that was too restrictive. But sometimes a new thing did fit. I kept it, and once I used it, it changed anyway, bent to my own shape.

If you do enough of this…

…eventually you’ll know…

• Your writing style – whether it’s poetic or not, descriptively detailed or not, pacey or not, emotional or not.
• Your thematic signature. There will be certain aspects of life you’ll tend to write about, and certain characters – because those are your curiosities as a member of the human race.

Curiosity. Look closely at this word. It’s highly individual. It’s how your originality works. Originality also comes from confidence – when you know it’s okay to do what you’ve never seen before. 

You’ll also know what flavour of book you’re suited to write. If you like the conventions of the crime genre, or the horror genre, or paranormal, medical thrillers or historical romance, or whatever, write them. They are genuinely you. The readers who like those conventions will enjoy your enthusiasm. If you like the nuances and ambiguities of life, and metaphorical resonance, you have a literary bent. Write that. Perhaps you’re a mix of genre and literary; often they’re on a spectrum. Learn who you are and be that.

Muddling and fiddling

This sounds so inefficient and clumsy. Is it really a way to learn?

It’s the only way. Because writing isn’t just a technical skill. It’s an art as well, and the art is, arguably, the trickier aspect. It comes from a complex and unique source – our inner landscape.

This holds for other artforms besides writing. Recently I interviewed a visual artist who said he gets inspiration by meditating, by submerging in an inner world he doesn’t listen to in everyday life. Actors also do this kind of deep exploration. Just last week I met a manager at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. She said that much of actor training is about understanding themselves, and to an extent that most of us never consider. What they respond to, how they make others feel.  

Whether actors, artists or writers, we all create from this unique source. We find it by discovery, by dismantling what we do and rebuilding, trying on feedback or advice, listening for the change that rings true, that enlarges what we can do. Slowly it becomes an inner courage, to be who we are.   

When does this experimenting stop?

It doesn’t. There are always new things to learn as writers, readers and human beings. Also, each book goes through cycles of confidence – at least, mine do. I start in a muddle. After a while, some ideas sing well with it. Some don’t. I can treat feedback constructively, especially negative. I can recognise feedback that doesn’t align with my intentions, so it doesn’t demolish the work, which certainly happened a lot in the blundering days.

So that’s how I’d define confidence. How would you define it?

There’s a lot more about writing in my Nail Your Novel books – find them here. If you’re curious about my own work, find novels here and my travel memoir here. And if you’re curious about what’s going on at my own writing desk, here’s my latest newsletter. You can subscribe to future updates here.

Masterclass in writing style and voice – Ep13 FREE podcast for writers

What do we mean when we talk about a writer’s voice or style? How do writers develop this? How might they make it distinctive? Might it change over the years or even from book to book? How can writers learn style from other authors… without sounding like a copy or pastiche? How do you find your true voice, your unique voice?

That’s what we’re talking about in today’s episode.

Asking the questions (or most of them) is independent bookseller Peter Snell. Answering them is me!

Stream from the widget below or go to our Mixcloud page and binge the whole lot.

PS If you’d like more concentrated writing advice, try my Nail Your Novel books. If you’re curious about my own creative writing, find novels here and my travel memoir here. And if you’re curious about what’s going on at my own writing desk, find my latest newsletter here and subscribe to future updates here.

How to ignore an editor’s suggestions and still fix your novel

When my agent took my second novel Life Form 3 he mostly adored it – but felt the main threat took too long to develop.

A publisher was interested so we had a meeting. In a creative, convivial afternoon, we brainstormed ideas. I took reams of notes. But in the end I did nothing they suggested. Not one thing.

They were right

At home I made a beat sheet (one of my all-time lifesaving revision tools, explained in Nail Your Novel). It had been a while since I’d read the manuscript. The beat sheet showed that too much of the first half was atmosphere instead of story. My esteemed colleagues were right that it was slow.

They were wrong

But they were disastrously wrong about how to pep it up. ‘Let’s have a character on the run, a threatening political movement in the wider world of the book, another sub-plot to keep characters busier’… All sorts of plot fireworks, all out of kilter and unnecessary. I knew the central character had a compelling major problem and that the action must come from that, not from a carnival of chaos around the edges.

So how did I fix the book?

What was I thinking?

As always, the best insight came from examining why I wrote the story the way I did – made possible by the beat sheet (left, with fortifying accessories). I included those slow scenes for a good reason – to introduce ideas and threats that would emerge later. I’d made them strange and intriguing, but I now saw they didn’t have enough momentum in themselves. They didn’t immediately generate interesting situations.

I’d known I was in trouble
I had even suspected they were weak, so I’d tried to solve it with false jeopardy. I confess I made the main character worry that nasty things could happen. I now clutch my head in shame – these extended periods of worrying were not jeopardy, they were nothing darn well happening.

I even realised this, and tried to atone by making the main threat bigger. In hindsight it creaked with desperation.

Agent and publisher were nice enough not to say any of this. Perhaps they didn’t notice or mind. Perhaps only I knew how bad it was, because I knew my desperate motivations.

Unpleasant as it was to examine my writerly conscience, the answers helped me decide what to keep, what to add and what to adjust.

Better. Stronger. Faster.
I returned with a leaner, stronger Life Form 3. A really compelling read, said my agent – not noticing it was actually longer. He didn’t give a hoot that I’d ignored his suggestions. He didn’t even remember them. Unfortunately the publisher’s imprint closed that month – so Life Form 3 was out in the cold again. But that’s another story.

Editorial suggestions

Some writers hate it when editors, beta readers et al make suggestions. I don’t – I welcome them as oblique illuminations from the surface to the murky deep. And if you’re new to the writing game, or need to fit an unfamiliar genre, there’s much that a savvy editor can do to guide you.

But you mature as a novelist by understanding your own style and your individual ways – which includes how you handle your material and second-guess your own process. In a talk given at BAFTA, screenwriter, playwright and novelist William Nicholson said it’s the editor/producer’s job to tell you something’s wrong, and the writer’s job to find out what that is.

Before you act on revision notes, reread your manuscript and examine why you wrote what you did. This is how you stay true to your novel – and how you come into your own as a writer.

Thanks for the camel pic Loufi

In my next post I’ll discuss in detail how to add jeopardy to a story. In the meantime, let’s discuss –

Have you had detailed editorial advice on revisions, and how did you approach it? Do you appreciate it when editors chip in with changes they think would improve a book?

You can find my beat sheet in my book Nail Your Novel: Why Writers Abandon books and How You Can Draft, Fix and Finish With Confidence.  A second Nail Your Novel is under construction – if you’d like information, sign up for my newsletter.

And – spoon tapping on glass – this week I had an email from CreateSpace telling me that demand for the print edition has been so high that Amazon placed a bulk order so they have enough stocks for Christmas. Who says indies are killing print? 🙂