How to Get Started as a Writer Even If You Feel No One Has Your Back
It’s hard to write without moral support, but this might help
Writing is one of the most-cerebral vocations you could pursue. You can’t space-out and go through the motions with writing. We must be present at all times. If we’re not present, there’s no story.
To frost the cupcake, not only must we be fully-present to write, we’ve also got to write with a clear conscious. If there’s something going on in the non-writing part of our life (and we all have things), these goings-on affect our ability to tell a good story.
This is the artist’s struggle.
Not only do we fight with ourselves — doubting our confidence, doubting our work, doubting our ability to serve readers — but we also contend with family obligations, friends/family doubt… even the dog may look at us sideways.
We know we want to be a writer someday. Or maybe we want to be a full-time writer, so we can write more than we do today. Either way, there’s some self-work we’ve got to do before that book comes off the assembly line as a best-seller.
How are we supposed to get started when we feel no one’s got our back?
Step one is find your support
You have support. Even if you can’t find it at home, you’ve got a community where you hang out. Maybe it’s here, online. Maybe it’s a close friend, or someone at work. These people exist. Even if the support isn’t human, there’s always the dog or the goldfish. Seriously. I’m not being flippant. I’ll explain more in a minute.
We all write alone.
Even if you write with a co-writer, or in a crowded cafe. Even if you share pages with your writer’s group, you write alone. The words can only come from one melon at a time. Today, it’s your melon.
Therefore, we can’t rely on our support system to do the work. We need the support system as a reminder to get working. To practice our craft every day until we can’t imagine not writing.
Find your support.
You need at least one living thing with whom to share your progress. Human preferably, but I know not everyone has the luxury of close friends. I hope you do, but it’s OK (for writing) if you don’t.
I find it best to use my support structure as a way to check-in. To let them know I’m still writing — working on my craft. That tiny piece has lifted me from some dark days. I have no idea why it works, but to have one person (or fish) to whom you can say, “Bubbles, I’m working on this amazing story right now. I can’t wait to share it with you when I’m done,” can make all the difference.
Step two is write with the door shut
This is a metaphorical door Stephen King mentions. We don’t share our work in its infancy, because the writing is too fragile. Writing is such a strange vocation. We take big chunks of ourselves, write them as best we can — even while filled with self-doubt — and we share the writing for public criticism once we’re done.
Public criticism is the only way books work.
Yet, we’ll never know if a piece of writing is good enough until our readers vote with their wallets and feedback. We can’t be commercial writers and write books only for ourselves. The game isn’t played that way.
The danger in sharing early, is that’ll we’ll never finish the book.
We get excited about the concept in our head. We want to share our first pages with someone close to us. But that person doesn’t have all the inner-monologue and future-thinking you have about your book. You share the pages. She raises an eyebrow and says, “Cool. This is, err… interesting. So, you want to be a writer, eh?” You walk away feeling deflated and defeated, as you toss your idea in the digital trash.
We write with the door shut.
As you develop thicker plates on your writer’s armor, you may share pages with other writers. But don’t share the early bits with anyone. Architects, designers, and artists make napkin sketches before they begin the real project (and even those take multiple renditions).
Our first writing attempt is the napkin sketch. When we share the sketch with others, we can’t deliver the full picture. We’ve got to flesh-out the story before it’s ready for a bigger audience besides you.
Step three is write your face off
Not everyone is good at writing. But the barrier to entry is zero. All you need is paper and a pen. If you want to get fancy, grab your phone or laptop. That’s it. Hemingway has less access to writing tools than you do right now.
The only way to become a better writer, is not to self-judge your work to death, but to write more.
No one has spare time. We’re all dying a little every day. Don’t use the saggy “I don’t have time excuse.” If you don’t have time to write you don’t want to be a writer. Writers are compelled to write. Not because of money or notoriety, but because they can’t imagine not writing.
You may not be a good writer…. now.
But writing is just as much a technical trade as it is an art. The biggest stumbling block I’ve seen with most new writers is they aren’t writing. We’ve got to fail a lot before we learn what we don’t know. Without prolific writing there’s no failing. Without the failing we don’t uncover what we don’t know.
Sure, Mom might’ve loved your stories in middle school.
But the world is a cold place. There is so much competition among writers now, you’d puke in your shorts if you really knew how bad it was (I suggest you stay naive here, it’s better that way). If we want our books to stick, not only do we have to take charge of self-promotion, but we’ve got to write really good books. No matter the genre.
We improve by writing our faces off.
Not only will your ability to handle criticism improve, but your ability to self-edit will grow. Ray Bradbury is famous for saying no one can write 52 bad short stories in a row. This is true for you too. Sure, your first book will be terrible. It’s part of the process. Write it out of your system. Throw it away. Start the next one. The second book will be better.
It doesn’t take much support to keep writing.
Check-in with your designated support person often, but don’t share you work. Keep yourself accountable to your craft. Write every day. Release your work to the world only when it’s ready.
We’re waiting for you.
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August Birch (AKA the Book Mechanic) is both a fiction and non-fiction author from Michigan, USA. A self-proclaimed guardian of writers and creators, August teaches indie authors how to write books that sell and how to sell more of those books once they’re written. When he’s not writing or thinking about writing August carries a pocket knife and shaves his head with a safety razor.

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