Loving your work

This seems to be a perennial argument I have over and over with people in my life, especially my parents. I know millenials are uniquely subject to criticism about this, but there has always been a debate about just doing a job for the paycheck versus finding something that you love to do. Of course, the ideal is the latter but most of us settle for the former. And some of us actually don’t believe that you can love your work or every aspect of it.

Whenever I had this conversation with either of my parents, it always turned into a lecture. About how they handled their careers. My mom always told me that if you were bored at your job, you weren’t paying enough attention. There was so much to find interesting, you just had to dive in. If something is boring on the surface, go digging deeper. Find the interesting aspects, the cool stuff that hides underneath the surface. She told me that no matter what job she had, she always loved it and found it interesting. And challenged me to do the same. 

I tried. My first job was a part-time office job at the university alumni office. The hours were flexible and my co-workers were great, so I liked the job. But there was no way around the fact that it was the most mind-numbingly boring hours I spent at university, trying to stay awake while sticking stamps on envelopes and putting labels, stuffing letters to alumni for donations. Or filing papers. And doing it all over again the next day. At least now I would probably have listened to an audiobook; at the time I only thought over and over again how much I disliked the job. But I found ways to make it more interesting. I learned everyone’s coffee and tea preferences and brought them a cuppa just the way they liked it. They were thrilled and I was happy to have an excuse to get up and move around. I helped organize piles of marketing materials and brochures that were stacked in open boxes and strewn around various cupboards; I managed to corral the spread-out mess into neat labelled magazine holders in one cupboard. The entire office came to admire my handiwork and applauded; they had never imagined that the ugly mess could be transformed. I had no idea that I had a hidden talent for organizing, I was simply trying to get out of doing even more filing. Eventually I got promoted and answered the telephone and dealt with the mail. But the job never really became particularly interesting. 

Some years later I had another part-time gig, this time organizing photos of stamps for a professional collector who bought and sold items on eBay. It was equally mind-numbing, and I passed the time listening to audiotapes for the upcoming bar exam I was swotting for at the time. Nothing had really made this job any easier, but it did get better when I was allowed to do it from home after I sprained my ankle and could no longer walk to work. 

Other jobs I have had may have certain interesting elements, but I never really loved the work. I am not even sure I loved most aspects of the work. According to my dad, there are always some parts of the job that are tedious and boring. Maybe you enjoy talking to customers, but you don’t like the paperwork and admin part you have to do. Or you like doing research and writing reports but you hate the weekly team meetings. My dad always said you have to be prepared to handle the parts of the job you don’t like or find tedious, in order to enjoy the parts you do like. While that makes sense, it is also eminently practical. Too practical for my romantic notions of life and work. 

You see, for a period of time I had a job that I loved. I know its rare, but I enjoyed every single aspect of it. Sure, there were parts that were more interesting than others, meatier. But I even managed to love the grunt work, the tedious boring busy work that typically people hate and put off. I too put off things, but more because I was afraid or didn’t know enough or simply procrastinated. But when I actually sat down to do the work, I loved every second. 

For a few lucky years, I got to spend the majority of time running an indie publishing house. I wrote my own books, edited them myself and managed the entire publishing and marketing process. I did my own design work, managed social media accounts and reached out to bloggers, working on getting reviews and crucial marketing pushes. There was a steep learning curve and I was constantly out of my depth. But I loved every second. I loved staying up till 2 am, formatting the manuscript so that it would go out to the stores on time for launch day. I loved fixing every single error that prevented my file uploading and checking every single link to ensure that the reading experience was smooth. I loved making 20 versions of my book cover and getting an informal poll to see which one worked better. I loved receiving emails from bloggers who agreed to review my book. ( I liked slightly less sending out emails to bloggers that went unanswered). But there was no aspect of the work I found tedious, or boring, or sleep-inducing. I wouldn’t have outsourced the work even if I had the budget to do so, I loved every minute. And when it became clear that I was not making the kind of money I needed to and I had to move on (or at least get a day job and relegate this to the margins of my life), I still hadn’t lost my enthusiasm for the work. Or my desire to get better enough at it that one day it might be a viable concern. 

I enjoy my current job, most of the time. There are many aspects of the job that has improved my life, not least the fact that I spend my days talking to actual human beings and interacting with others, instead of spending all day along asking myself if I should use Garamond or Cambria for that heading. I get to do work that is mostly interesting and work with intelligent people with varied backgrounds. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that there are many tedious and less palatable aspects to the work as well. This is probably what my dad referred to when he said all jobs have aspects that aren’t fun, but you simply have to do them anyway. I get that. But I also know what it is like to do work that you love completely, with no exceptions. And I’m not sure if you can always have that, but it sure would be nice to have it again. 

Lessons Learned From Marc Jacobs' Masterclass

I recently gifted myself the all-access pass to Masterclass, which lets me watch all the classes for the period of a year. I initially bought it because I wanted to take the classes taught by writers such as James Patterson and Shonda Rhimes, but I was immensely surprised how much I am learning from creatives in completely different fields. 

Although I have heard of prominent fashion designers of course, my knowledge of fashion is limited to gawking at the gorgeous dresses on the Oscar red carpet and watching The Devil Wears Prada. Just out of curiosity I decided to start watching Marc Jacobs’ Masterclass, and I was so hooked, I raced through the course in about a week. 

While I have no interest in becoming a fashion designer, I was surprised at how much of the advice is actually applicable to writers and those in creative fields other than fashion. I thought I would share a few of these lessons.

1. Be obsessive about details. Marc Jacobs is obsessive with the details that go into his clothes, whether the type and position of button or the type of stitching. He not only ensures that the more obvious elements such as the cut and style and fabric type come together to create a beautiful garment, he focuses on the smallest details, so that each garment sends exactly the right message or is pulled together in exactly the right look.

As an author, this level of attention to detail means going beyond ensuring that your research is accurate or that your story has a satisfying ending. It means creating a bibliography that is different from the usual list of references that every author includes, perhaps telling a story about the references you included and the interviews you conducted. Jeff Goins did an unusual take on the standard bibliography in Real Artists Don’t Starve. It means ensuring that even your secondary characters are interesting and full, not mere cardboard cut-outs included to prop up the main characters. Jane Austen’s most memorable characters were actually secondary characters, such as Mr. Collins or Mrs. Bennett. 

2. Iterate. One surprising thing I learned from Marc Jacob was that he doesn’t simply get a flash of inspiration, draw a sketch and get a garment stitched from that sketch. In fact, his clothes are the by-product of months of iteration. He might start with a wisp of inspiration, but that gets added to and transformed with each step in the process, honed over several months of back and forth, until finally he is happy with the result.

This is actually really good news for a writer. Often, we get stuck and aren’t able to write because we believe that we need to write something that closely resembles the finished article or chapter. Most professional authors don’t work that way. They start with a draft that stems from the original idea, but isn’t anywhere close to what they wanted to say. By working with a piece of writing, shaping and editing and honing the words, they are able to get the piece to a place where is publishable. It may not be perfect, but it is often a completely different piece of writing than the initial rough draft. 

3. Get inspiration from different sources. Marc Jacobs shared his sources of inspiration, which were really varied even within a single collection. He took ideas from earlier eras of fashion, Hollywood, certain types of music, stylish women he admired and from many other sources. 

As an author, I find inspiration often from the most varied sources. And sometimes when I am stuck, I find doing something completely different like reading a book I normally don’t read or watching a different type of television show can spark something. 

4. Collaborate. Marc Jacobs mentioned his collaborators throughout the class. He talked about how his collections are invariably a group effort, with input coming from the pattern makers, other members of his team, even the models who help them to fit the clothes. 

Similarly, as a creative professional, we can benefit from working with others. Writers often get a new perspective on their piece from an editor. A musician can get useful feedback from a producer that gives their album an added edge. Some directors help actors bring out their best work on screen. Working with others can help us take our work further.

5. Be passionate. The most important lesson I learned from Marc Jacobs was how passionate he is about fashion. Even after working in the industry for years, he is excited to create clothes and put out collections. He loves the work, the day-to-day, through the inevitable ups and downs that come with doing anything creative. Not everyone will love everything he does, but through it all he loves the work and that shone through every lesson.

Much Ado About Writer's Block

Much has been written about writer’s block. In fact, I have spent countless hours searching online and seeking out books that will help me to overcome being blocked. Over time, I have realized that writer’s block is really another name for perfectionism. You can’t out anything down on paper, or type anything on the screen, because everything you can think of to say sounds wrong even before you’ve written it. The longer you sit in front of the blank page or screen in front of you, the harder it gets to put something down, and eventually, you just get up in frustration, telling yourself that you are blocked. 

Incidentally, I am a master at writer’s block. I spent years planning the first chapter, the first scene of a memoir that I wanted to write. This was going to be my first book, my most important book. If I didn’t nail the first scene, then the book wouldn’t come together. I never thought of writing the chapters I did know how to write, and simply putting the initial chapter in place later. Eventually, of course, I did employ that approach, and wrote other books; but because of that thinking I lost years of writing time. 

Perfectionism in writing is an insidious thing. It creeps up in the guise of “standards”. Who wouldn’t want to write well? Or ensure that they do a good job?

But there is a difference between having standards and perfectionism. Having standards means you care about quality, maybe you go over your work one more time, you take extra care while editing, you strive harder to get better as a writer. Perfectionism tells you that you have to get it right in one draft. There is no room for improvement, no room for error. With that attitude, no wonder we freeze up when faced with the prospect of having to write a first sentence. We stare at the blank page, aware of the importance of that first sentence and think - “This has to grab the reader. This has to be witty and entertaining and shed light into the mysteries of life”. No wonder we are paralyzed. 

How do you get away from perfectionism? You remind yourself that what you’re working on is just a draft. I had a professor in law who introduced our class to the concept of the ‘zero draft’. This was the stage even before the first draft, which even though it has the word ‘draft’ in it, most people including myself, associate with the final or near-final version of something. That way, having a zero draft gives you a chance to write an unpolished, messy draft. Ever since, I always started my academic papers, and later my books, with a zero draft. 

Which hasn’t stopped me from having several other drafts as well. When asked how many drafts a piece of writing might need, writing coach Hilary Rettig said, “As many as it takes”. 

I think the best way to combat the tendency towards perfectionism in your writing is to give yourself permission - permission to write something that needs to be edited. Permission to write something that isn’t quite finished yet. And permission to write and publish something that isn’t perfect, but is something better - it represents you. 

Making Time to Write

Time is the one resource that you can’t renew or get back, as the saying goes. We all have the same 24 hours in a day, its how you use it that counts. We have all heard these cliches about time, and yet that is because they are true. As anyone who falls in love will testify, no matter how busy you are, you make time to call or text the person, you plan fun things you want to do together, you daydream about them all the time. You make the time for what you care about essentially. 

In Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert said that your relationship to your art must be like that of a secret lover, you steal time away when you can, you think about them and look forward to the next time you see them. It's exciting and passionate. 

Time is also relative. The main reason we think that we probably don’t have time to write is because we think that we need to have “large swathes of uninterrupted time, like bolts of fabric” (Julia Cameron). The reality is that you can write in snatched or stole time, like meeting your lover in the stairwell for a spontaneous make-out session. I’m writing this chapter in longhand on a crowded bus on my morning commute to my day job. In fact, I once wrote half a book longhand on the back of one-sided printed paper during my daily commute to college on the bus, while juggling a full load of classes, a part-time job and several extracurricular actives including being the editor of my college law magazine. I was busy, but I had a commission from a publisher to write the book, and as a fledgling writer, that’s all I had ever wanted. How could I let my dream slip away? With the deadline looming, I spent every spare minute jotting down sentences and paragraphs, racing to get the book done in time. 

As I write this, I am on a bus passing by Singapore’s breathtaking skyline - a picturesque grouping of iconic buildings that feature in every tourist’s photograph album. And yet no one around me has looked up from their phones to give this view a passing glance. If pressed, most people would probably respond that they don’t have the time to enjoy the view. But they are on the bus, captive, which won’t go any faster or slower than it will. Maybe what they mean is not that they don’t have the time, but that it isn’t a priority, it is more important to check that email, send that text or watch that funny cat video. Or maybe its just a habit, to do those things on the bus instead of seeing the view. 

How we spend our time then is a matter of priorities and habits. If you want to write a book (or play or short story), you have to prioritize it, perhaps over other things, at least while you are writing the book. And you have to create good habits that support your writing. 

This post is an excerpt from a book I am working on about writing your first book. I will be posting more installments intermittently on this blog. I would love comments or questions!

Update: This book is now out to purchase on Amazon (or read for free as part of Kindle Unlimited)

The Myth of the Messy Creative

We have all heard about how truly creative people are supposedly messy, and its a mark of a creative genius if they live in piles of clutter. I bought into this myth, or rather used it to justify being perennially disorganized and cluttered. Who am I kidding - I continue to use it to justify my being incredibly messy. But unlike before, I no longer buy into the myth. 

I’m not really sure whether there are studies that prove this myth one way or the other. And if you are a messy person who doesn’t want to change how you work, far be it for me to pass judgement. However, as someone who has struggled with being organized and corralling my clutter my whole life, I think there are a lot of benefits to working in a neat space. And this coming from someone who basically used a big plastic box in college to store my clothes in lieu of actually folding them or hanging them up when they came out of the wash. I dumped everything in the box, and rooted around in it every morning when looking for something to wear. Needless to say, that wasn’t a great system. 

And I used only a slightly better system for organizing important paperwork - the put-it-somewhere-and-forget-about-it method. I would dump unopened correspondence, flyers for events I wanted to attend, and even free vouchers for food that I wanted to eat in a pile on my desk, and when that pile grew larger, I would just gently push it all to the back to make more room, ignoring anything that mysteriously fell behind my desk, only to be retrieved months later when I was moving out. Its a miracle that I even managed to hand in anything important on time, and definitely missed out on a lot of great opportunities. I do not recommend this! 

In subsequent years, I have really tried hard to learn how to get better at being neat and organized. I have read books and looked up systems that promise that I will turn into Martha Stewart. While I haven’t become an expert at any of this, I have picked up tons of tips to help the organizationally challenged. 

Firstly, why even bother trying to be neater? Why not just embrace that this isn’t an area of strength and live with it? 

• I often find that even if I let things slide while I am in the midst of a project or unusually busy with many things, neatening up helps me to close out a long and draining project, by putting away the detritus that accumulated while I was in the midst of working on it. 
• I also find that when I’m feeling particularly challenged and a project isn’t going as well as I would like, organizing things helps to get me back on track. This might be because neatening things on the surface helps me achieve a calmer state inside me. Or it could have something to do with the energy or chi of my space. 
• It helps reduce the distractions in my environment - seeing many different projects strewn around makes it harder to focus on the project at hand. 

So how exactly am I going to help you become more organized, at home or in your office? While I am not going to try and change you overnight into a neat freak, I will give you one huge tip that can help you in your organizational efforts: the rule of 80-20.

If you’re unfamiliar with this concept, its an economic term that basically describes a phenomena that often 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes. In simple English, things aren’t symmetrical or equal - a few people own a large proportion of the wealth, a few actresses get most of the Oscars and you use a few items in your home more often than the others. 

If you take the 80-20 rule and apply it to organizing your home or your office, you will realize that you wear some clothes more often than all the others combined, or some kitchen tools more than all the others, or some files in your office more often than everything else. 

How does knowing this help? It allows you to organize your space in such a way that everything you need regularly can be kept in an easy-to-access space, or kept close to hand. And the gadgets and files and handbags that you need only sometimes, can be put away - maybe in the cabinet that is harder to access, or in the top shelf of your cupboard that you need a step-ladder to get to. 

Ever since I had this epiphany of the 80-20 rule applying to organization, I realized that every room of my home violated it. I had the easiest to access drawers in my kitchen full of spices and utensils I almost never used. I kept files and papers I hadn’t touched in over six months on the table in my study. The most convenient hanging spaces in my cupboard were used for single-occasion dresses that I needed twice a year. No wonder I was disorganized - I hadn’t considered how I used my space. 

Faced with the challenge of keeping a neat dressing table, ask yourself: which items do you use most often? Put those on a pile to the side, and put everything else away. Voila! You’ve just made it easier to keep that dressing table neat. If you have a kitchen counter filled to bursting with gadgets, put away everything that is not used at least once a week. Stationery on your desk: do you really need six boxes of staples? Keep one and put the rest away. 

Why I love this method of keeping things neat - it doesn’t require you to remember complicated rules or buy special label-makers. You just ask yourself - what are my most easily accessed areas, and am I only using them to keep things I use most often?

I have been using this system myself and even converted my mum, who is much, much neater than me but still struggles with keeping everything contained. If you use this method and find it useful, email me or comment below and let me know. Better still, send me a photo! 

What I'm doing instead of writing

I had been really busy for the past few months with non-writing work, and had barely managed to squeeze some writing in here and there. Mostly I edited, and put together paper copies of books and other publishing things. I wasn’t really doing a lot of fresh writing. 

But I had set aside time this month to get back into it - swathes of time to be filled with working on several book projects that I have been putting off for the right time or at least enough time. And now I have it. 

But I am not writing. 

What have I been doing instead? I have been sorting out my closet. And my cupboards where all my cosmetics and toiletries and odds and ends are kept. The other day I re-arranged the entire kitchen. I have also set up really pretty corners and spaces in my room  - prettying up with stuffed animals and decorative cushions. 

Still not a word. If you don’t count the page and a half I wrote the other day at McDonald’s with an ice-cream sundae. And I don’t really count that. 

I should be stressed out and annoyed and to some extent I am. I am worried that all my precious writing time will be used up and then other work will come in and life will intervene and I won’t get my books written. But at the same time I trust that part of myself that knows what it needs to write. And I think right now this is exactly what I need to do. 

Some writers clear out their desk when they have finished a book. I usually need to turn around everything in my house. Once I re-arranged all the furniture in my study, moving massive filing cabinets and the desk that came in two pieces and the huge bed that took up all the space in the middle of the room. I found that moving things around actually gave the room a new lease of life - suddenly the space looked bigger and flowed better. And I started a new book right after that. 

Today I went through files that I had refused to look at for more than 5 years. I just lugged them from apartment to apartment, assuming I would need to keep it all. I threw out bunches of paper and felt lighter than I have in a while - letting go of old interests and curiosities. 

I’m making way for the new ideas and projects instead. 

I trust that when I am ready, I will start working on the new books. In the meantime, I am clearing house. 

Ten Minutes a Day (and a Challenge)

This morning, after days of feeling guilty about not doing any exercise and basically feeling like cr*p, I decided to spend one minute doing some yoga. Now I am not a yoga expert, I have attended, over the course of a couple of years, maybe 15-20 classes. Depending on my current fitness level, I can do most beginner poses with ease, but pack too many of them into a one-hour session, and I will be looking desperately at the clock, willing it to move faster. 

I’m giving you this background to establish my credentials as not fit and not great at yoga, and in fact this morning, all I could remember was about 4 1/2 poses, that I executed clumsily. Even that minute or 90 seconds of yoga instantly eliminated my aches and pains and feeling of stiffness, and I felt loads better. And instead of feeling guilty about not doing anything, I started to look forward to the next time I would do yoga. 

Now I know that ten minutes a day isn’t going to make me the most fit person around, but it is a great start. And it is much easier to convince yourself to do ten minutes of something, even when you’re busy or tired or uninspired. 

I read recently in Tools of Titans (Tim Ferriss) about a meditation teacher who recommends that you take just one mindful breath a day. It’s the same concept. Anyone can take one breath. Its not that hard. 

So why am I writing about yoga and mindfulness instead of creativity? Because I think the same principle can be applied to being more creative. I know many people who say they would like to write a book, or do something creative that requires a large commitment of time. On hearing that I have written books, people invariably say, I would love to write a book, if only I had the time. It is true that I have been fortunate enough to have had large chunks of time that I could devote to writing. But that wasn’t the case for my initial books and it wasn’t the case for my most recent one. 

In fact, I finished my most recent book several months behind schedule and it got derailed several times. I raced to finish it while I was juggling a new job in a completely new industry, settling into a new (old) city and dealing with health issues. The way I finally finished it - a few minutes of writing a day. 

I often had only 10-15 minutes of time after my long commute home, and many days I would tell myself - “I’m too tired”, or “I will get to it tomorrow”. I thought I wasn’t inspired, or that I needed to not be falling asleep with exhaustion in order to write. And the days went by, the end of the year got closer, and I was no nearer to finishing. 

I was starting to panic, because I had imposed a deadline of publishing the book within 2017. It had already been delayed enough, and I didn’t want to delay it any further.

So I started working on it for 10 minutes at a time. Some days I spent 10-15 minutes editing an essay on my morning commute. I carried my work and personal laptop, and found I could edit a few paragraphs each way. On other days I came home and spent 15 minutes editing before dinner.

Progress was slow - most of the time I despaired that I was any closer to finishing, because I was only working on a few paragraphs at a time. But one at a time I finished editing 8, then 9, then 11 essays. I had 3 essays left and about 10 days before I would have to submit the book to be in time for publishing in December. I figured I could handle it, and get the work in in time.

And then I realized I had two important work projects due on Monday, and I would have to work over the weekend to get it done in time. And I had planned to complete the essays that weekend as well. 

I panicked, then determined that I would work on all of the projects. I got my work assignments and the essays edited. In 15 minute increments. In between my work projects, I edited the essays, putting in 15 minutes on them before going back to my work assignments. Over the course of that weekend, I made substantial headway on my projects, which ultimately got handed in on time. And I completed my book. 

I realize that everyone’s life circumstances are different, and sometimes it just isn’t possible to squeeze anything else in. This experience however made me realize that I don’t know how much more I am capable of accomplishing until I am pushed, until I have no choice but to challenge my assumptions of what I can and can’t do.

And that’s why I have set a big challenge for myself for 2018 - to write much more than I have so far, and to really stretch my capacity. If I can achieve it, it would be amazing and an example of how much we really can stretch. If I can’t, I probably would still get more done than I have previously, and learn a lot from the attempt. So I win no matter what. 

If you’re reading this at the end of December / beginning of January (or at any time really), I encourage you to set a challenge for yourself that seems like a big stretch, something that makes you feel excited and nervous in equal measure. Share your goal or keep it to yourself, but don’t hold back. After all, you will win either way. 

Positive Psychology for Writers

I have been reading a few books on principles that derive from positive psychology or as some call it “the science of happiness”. And I was thinking of how I could apply some of it to my own life, and I was wondering if there are ways that writers specifically could use positive psychology. So I thought I would share some of my thoughts. 

First of all, as I understand it, positive psychology focuses on positive emotions and how to increase them. Now I am going to make the assumption that if you are a writer, you chose to do it because it makes you unhappy. Unlike many other professions, writing isn’t full of obvious perks like a company car and the corner office, so usually people choose to be writers for intrinsic reasons. So then, writing is supposed to make you happy. If it already does, that’s great, and you can skip further to my next point. If it doesn’t, then a good question to ask is why.

But first, does it matter if you are happy while writing? The culture is filled with examples that connect writers to negative vices - the alcoholic writer, the solitary writer who refuses to engage with people, the starving artist who can’t make ends meet. None of these connotations are positive, and sometimes we believe that’s the only way to be a serious, professional writer. Then there are the quotes - “You just need to stare at a blank piece of paper till drops of blood start to form on your forehead”. Not exactly encouraging a positive outlook. 

Positive psychology states that optimism and a positive mindset are more conducive to creativity than pessimism and being negative. You have more ideas, you are more original when you are feeling positive. So obviously, that’s something to aim towards, right?

The other thing I learned from positive psychology is that we are happier and more productive when we focus on our strengths. This might be obvious, but I often find that I obsess a lot more about my weaknesses than hone in on my strengths. I keep thinking of all the things I can’t do, what I am not good at. I can’t do social media, I am not great at marketing, I can’t popular fiction like XYZ author. I focus on my low sales figures, all the aspects of marketing I am not doing, all the platforms I am not on. I read a wonderful book and then fret because I could never write in that genre. 

However, positive psychology states that focusing on your strengths can make you feel better about yourself and you end up succeeding more. So ideally, I would be focusing on the aspects of writing that I enjoy and am good at. Write the book I want to read. Successful indie author Joanna Penn has said that she always thought that writing literary fiction was what she was supposed to do, even though what she loved to read were thrillers. She ignored her initial instincts, and today she is a USA Today bestselling author of Dan Brown-esque thrillers. 

To me, focusing on your strengths means being honest with yourself about what you are good at, what you can become better at, and what you are better off outsourcing or just forgetting about. Write the books you really want to. Hone your craft and get better at your writing, but only in the areas and subjects you really care about or are interested. And outsource anything that you absolutely hate doing so that you can spend more time on the aspects of writing you love and get better at that. If Facebook really isn’t your thing, don’t force yourself to do it. Spend time on writing a lovely author newsletter and send that out every month instead. If you can’t get the hang of converting your books to print, outsource that and start writing your next novel. 

Another aspect of positive psychology is gratitude. This is something that I personally struggle with a lot - I find it hard to be grateful, especially when I am focusing on all the lack in my life. Like the poor sales of my books, or how badly a certain book is coming, or how I wish I was doing better on social media and improving my author platform. However, changing how you think can change not only your mood but also your environment. There is so much to be grateful for if only we take the time to see it. We have the opportunity to write a book and put it out within 24 hours, and have readers from around the world read our books. We can get our books in different formats, and even translate them into other languages. Instead of honing in on poor sales or slow promotion campaigns, we can choose to be grateful for every reader that buys our books, and every follower on social media. We can celebrate every fan email or positive mention of our work online. We can be thankful for every reader who took the time to post a review. It can be hard to stand out as an author and get our work noticed, but we are lucky to have so many opportunities that were unavailable even 10 years ago. Let’s savor every good thing instead of only complaining or worrying about the bad. 

I am also learning from positive psychology to be less critical of my work. To be able to see the good parts, or at the very least, to reserve judgement while I am still in the draft stages. To edit with a light touch. To be optimistic about the merit of my work, instead of giving in to the voice that says that my work is terrible, that no one will read it, that writing the book is a waste of my time. I am trying to remind myself that this is only a draft, I can always do it over. I try to remember all the good things people have said about my work, instead of fixating on the negatives. None of this is easy, but all of it is worth it.

Whether you call it the law of attraction, positive psychology, optimism or being a dreamer, anything that makes it easier and more pleasurable to write, is worth trying, in my opinion. Focus on the positive aspects of your writing, give more time to your strengths, be grateful and try to cultivate a more positive mindset. Your writing and your environment can only improve as a result. 

Be Good or Getting Better?

I am reading a book by psychologist Heidi Grant Halvorson on achieving goals. And surprisingly, it teaches a lot that is useful for a writer. 

In her book “Succeed: How We Can Reach Our Goals”, Dr. Halvorson talks about having two ways of setting goals - be good or getting better. Be good goals are about proving ourselves, while getting better goals are about improving ourselves. The way we set the goal influences how we approach the goal, and whether we succeed in achieving it. It also influences our level of stress and the journey we take towards making the goal happen.

All of this is very abstract, so I will try to give a concrete example. Let’s say you are working on a book, your first novel. You get an idea, you are very excited. Then as you are writing, you notice that it’s no longer flowing as well, you seem to keep getting stuck. You write a scene and then compare that scene to your favorite books in that genre and fall short. You start to question yourself - what ever made me think I could be a writer? I am just kidding myself. You are stressed out, taut, irritable. Your family is secretly hoping you give up on this dream of being a writer if this is how you will be the whole time. You wonder what you’re doing wrong, and go on forums that talk about writer’s block and read quotes that describe writing as opening a vein. 

What is going on really is that you are approaching your writing of the novel with a be good perspective. You want your book to be good, after all who doesn’t, and you are mentally comparing your performance of writing with that of successful, published authors, and seeing yourself falling short constantly. 

Now let’s see another way to approach this. You sit down to write your first novel, excited, but aware that you probably have a lot to learn. You don’t have an MFA and didn’t take any fiction writing courses in University. So all you have is a story or the beginning of one, and a trusty laptop. You start writing and come to a point where the story breaks down, or it feels like every word you’re typing is the wrong one. You ask yourself what you’re doing wrong. Then you realize - this is your first novel. It couldn’t possibly be that great, or that easy to write. You decide to pause and get some books on craft, and devour them. Maybe you take an online writing course with a good instructor. Now with some knowledge, you get back to your book. And you realize that while it’s still hard, the scenes still seem floppy, at least you know what a scene is. You have a good idea of where this story is going. You can see that already you have improved so much. And you decide that no matter how terrible the writing is, you will power through and finish a draft, even if its very very rough. And you do. The whole time reminding yourself that it is a first novel, your first draft, and allowed to be terrible. You have some sleepless nights wondering if you can get to the end, but by and large you are not too stressed out. You even smile and laugh on occasion. You tell people about this crazy thing you are doing as an experiment, just to see where it will lead. 

At the end of a few months of less than agonizing work, you have a rough draft of your novel. And then you go back to those books on craft, and revise the whole thing. Pulling out scenes ruthlessly, working on the motivations of your characters, agonizing over every word choice. But you can see through the process, that no matter how hard it is, the book is getting better. And you are improving as a writer with every hour you spend. This is how you tackle writing with a getting better perspective. 

Notice some differences? Notice that both writers start with the same overall goal - to write a first novel.  But the first writer wants their work to be instantly good, to be comparable with that of seasoned authors who have honed their craft over millions of words. While it sounds silly when I point it out, I know this isn’t so unusual. In fact, I was doing this just yesterday. I am working on a book of personal essays, and recently started reading a funny memoir by writer Jennifer Weiner - Hungry Heart. I haven’t really read many of her books, but this one is really good. So good that I am unable to get back to working on my own book at present, because I am so deflated by the thought of my own paltry language skills. But I forgot, until I wrote this post, that she has many best-selling books under her belt, and many more years of writing. I should aspire to be a good writer, even a great one. But I shouldn’t let that aspiration for tomorrow stop me from putting down the words today. 

Be good is a great goal for certain situations. If you have practiced for years and are going on stage to perform, by all means have your goal be to be as good as you possibly can. Aim to give a flawless performance. But if you are walking into dance class or acting class or poetry writing class, for the first time, or the fiftieth, but you are going to learn a new routine or try a new form of the skill, then walk in with an attitude of getting better. Aim to learn, to improve, to start wherever you are and build from there. 

If you are a newbie writer, by all means look up to your writing heroes for inspiration. But don’t forget to come back down to earth, and remember that you starting with a different mound of clay than them, and you don’t yet have a potter’s practiced hand. But that is no excuse to fear the clay - work with it, make it your own, put in the time. And maybe one day you will even be sitting right next to one of those heroes, working the clay with the same level of confidence, with the same skill. And your finished pots will be just as beautiful. 

Deliberate Practice and Becoming a Successful Writer

The Myth of Talent

I have been reading a book by noted psychologist Anders Ericsson called Peak: Secrets From The New Science of Expertise, and I had lots of insights, especially applicable to writers and other creatives. 

While the book focuses a lot on elite athletes and performers, and the techniques that help them get to that level and beyond, I think it is equally helpful for anyone wanting to be a writer or painter or film director, starting out and wondering how to achieve their dream.

I don't discount the role of luck and fortune and timing in achieving success for those in the arts. Not every talented person will make it. Not every book will be a bestseller, or every deserving movie get an award. But what about all those people whose heart is set on writing a novel and getting it published, but they keep getting rejected? Or those who want to paint or learn a musical instrument, perhaps just as a hobby, but fear that since they didn't start as a child, it is too late for them to pick it up? Or maybe they just believe they lack the "talent" for whatever pursuit they aim for?

The word "talent" actually really bothers me. It has ever since I read the book The Talent Code and realized how much of what we think as miraculous, innate ability, is simply the result of hours of hard work and practice. Peak underscores this. The skills of elite musicians and athletes and mathematicians can be attributed to years of focused practice that honed their skills and abilities, which an outsider seeing what they can do, often tends to attribute to some magical quality that they must have been born with. But there is no gene that selected people come into the world with, that enables them to become chess grandmasters or golf pros or tennis champions. Even Mozart practiced for years before he became a truly original composer of classical music. 

But What About Twilight?

Unfortunately, the world of publishing is quite different, at least from the outside, from the world of Olympic athletes and Carnegie Hall concert pianists. While you wouldn’t expect someone who started playing the piano three months ago to perform at the world’s best venues, or a gymnast with six months of training to make the Olympic team, we routinely hear of debut authors whose book hit the New York Times list or has sold a million copies. 

Which is why, whenever I read research that debunks the myth of talent, a small voice in my head would pipe up - “But what about Twilight? And 50 Shades of Grey? And the Harry Potter series?”

There may be debate about some of the books that make it to bestseller status, but I am quite clear that J.K. Rowling’s bestseller series are some of the best books I have read, with obvious mastery of the craft of storytelling. How did they do so well then?

I have been doing some research, and many of the authors whose books I admire actually did write for years before their most famous work hit the bestseller lists - either with previously published books that went under the radar, or writing for years before being published. In other cases, the first book showed promise, but subsequent books in the series or by the same author actually improved, showing that the author got better with each novel under her belt. 

And of course there is a whole host of other factors, such as timing, savvy marketing, and the reverse effect - that many really good books don’t get the spotlight they deserve. That is a suppose the problem of the arts, you can’t exactly rank every author or painter in the way you can athletes or chess players. 

But there is one lesson that stood out in all my reading, and the primary take-away from Peak. No matter where your talent level currently lies, you can get better with practice. With the right kind of practice. 

The Promise of Deliberate Practice

Without giving a lecture on the subject, the definition of deliberate practice or the kind of practice that Ericsson claims improves skill at a fast pace, is that you work on improving specific aspects of the skill, with full concentration, working just outside your comfort zone. The essential components are that you identify your weaknesses, find ways to practice to improve them, and get feedback so that you know whether you are getting better or closer to the desired outcome. 

For writing fiction, that might mean choosing a specific aspect of craft to hone, such as writing more compelling characters, and revising your manuscript or writing a fresh story where you specifically aim to improve your characterization. You read craft books and take writing courses that help you get to the next level. 

While this is generally something most authors aspire to anyway, a student of deliberate practice might make it an integral part of their approach. They might constantly seek feedback (from teachers, trusted readers, other authors) to hone in on their weaker areas, and seek to address them one at a time in each upcoming story. They might take courses specifically targeted to whichever aspects of storytelling they feel they need to beef up. They never get comfortable, always taking on a harder and harder challenge, pushing the boundaries of what they are capable of. 

And I believe that this approach can help a veteran author of 10 novels as much as a beginner thinking about their first. Many more people want to write fiction that actually attempt it, and I think a big part of it is due to this myth about talent. As a fledgling writer, when I tell people that I am working on a book, most people wistfully tell me they would love to write, if only they had the talent. For many this wish might be on par with me wishing I could sing better, even though I am not ready to sign up for singing lessons and devote 3 evenings a week to practicing scales. But for others, many like me, they might be harboring a strong, secret desire to write, but are held back by the belief that they don’t have the talent. 

No matter where you are as a writer, you can improve. Authors like Dean Wesley Smith say this in every blog post, others believe it because they have experienced it. Sometimes when we see amazing art out in the world, in the form of incredibly made movies or books that stay with you long after you close the page or plays that bring those who never watched a play into the theatre, we think that that person who created this couldn’t possibly be someone like me. I couldn’t possibly do anything as beautiful as this. As I watched the Academy Awards last night with tears streaming down my face, I was inspired by the diverse range and strength of talent on display. But I reminded myself that all of them had started out, nervous and unsure, facing the camera or the blank page for the first time, and put in years of dedicated effort to get where they are today. And while yours and my efforts may not guarantee us an Oscar, my new understanding of deliberate practice convinced me that steady effort at my craft would guarantee that I too could look back years later, and be amazed at the difference in the quality of my work. The years go by one way or the other. I would rather that I spent them aiming for something just outside my grasp, even if I never quite reached it, than wishing that I had had the courage to try.

So in the words of Benj Pasek and Justin Paul ( La La Land):

“Here’s to the ones who dream,

Foolish as they may seem”. 

The Positive Gift of Creativity (or a Love Letter to Art)

Last night I was watching the BAFTA awards, which had many funny and interesting and nostalgic moments. But a couple of speeches really stood out for me. 

(Spoiler alert) The first was actress Emma Stone’s speech on receiving her BAFTA for Best Actress (La La Land). She spoke about the positive gift of creativity, and how it can make a difference, especially when times are hard. Many of the other recipients spoke in the same vein. The movie’s producers talked about the same thing - how important it is for people to keep producing art, and to keep giving us experiences on screen that remind us of our shared humanity.

I have been reading this book by psychologist Anders Ericsson - Peak. And among the many things I am learning from this book, was this giant insight (it wasn’t technically in the book, but the pieces fell into place while reading it) - you need to write and keep writing, and with each story, you become a better writer. Now this seems so obvious, until I parse this out a bit more. 

I am working on (or rather am supposed to be working on) revising my first novel to publish it. I am putting it off and not working on it, because I am scared its not very good. Which is quiet likely since its my first novel. And yet, the point of writing it and putting it out there isn’t so that I can put out a great novel. Because that’s not very likely, right off the bat. The point is to become a better writer. I will become better just through the act of writing and finishing. And with each story I write and publish, I will get even better. And one day, maybe not too far away in the future, I will write a story that will remind those who read it of our shared humanity. And make them cry or laugh or both. 

I believe in the power of art. I always have. But at the same time I don’t believe in the power of my art. I don’t think that I can write all that well, and the more scared I am, the less likely I am to do the work, the work that will make me a better writer. 

On one hand, I put Art on a pedestal. Art with a capital A - everything that is beautiful, moving, full of emotion. But in order to be an artist, with a small a, one has to remove some of that power. One has to claim that power for oneself. No one becomes an artist, small or big, successful or otherwise, in one day, with one piece. You have to hone your craft, no matter how much talent you are born with. And being afraid to experiment, being afraid to play, that stops you from developing your craft and honing your talent. 

Although that is easy to say, I have found that it is difficult to do. Fear stops us. Fear gets in our head, telling us that we are stupid to even think of writing a book, painting a portrait, performing a play or whatever. How do we stop that fear? I have read lots of books and tried lots of techniques, but at the heart of it all - love.

I know I know - corny. But on Valentine’s Day, maybe you can indulge me. Remember why you wanted to do it in the first place - write, paint, sing, act. Remember what it feels like to watch a performance, see a painting, read a story that mesmerizes you. And for the love of that feeling, go for it. It is important to love the people in our life and to express that love, but I think it’s just as important to love our art, our creativity. To love the fruits of that creative expression, no matter how rough-hewn and unpolished for the moment. And I believe that for the love affair with your art to count, you have to nurture that love, give it time and patience and loving care, spending every moment you can steal with it. Like Elizabeth Gilbert says, have a love affair with your creativity. And watch it love you back. 

What's The Real Goal For Your Book?

I have been working on a book that is much harder than I thought it would be. For some reason I thought it would be a quick diversion, something of a palate cleanser between harder and more involved projects. It is not really turning out that way though.

And I think one of the problems I am having is that I don’t really know what I am trying to accomplish with the book. Or even if I do know, I forget or get confused while I am actually working on it. I’m in the editing stage at the moment, which is usually the stage that takes me the longest, when I try to corral my rough ideas into shape. In this case, I am struggling because I guess to some extent I didn’t really think the book through, and while I am editing I feel like I am constantly fighting something, but I just didn’t know what.

And then it hit me. I couldn’t figure out what the goal was. I think each book or painting or piece of art you work on has a goal. Or rather you have a goal for it. It could be simple - I want to tell this story. Or it could be a grand ambition - I want to win a prestigious award. Or it could be altruistic - I want to help people lose weight, or get a better job, or become happy. You could have multiple goals. Knowing what your goal is makes it easier, you have something you are aiming to, something to work towards.

I am struggling because I didn’t explicitly name this goal. And therefore I defaulted to my usual goal - which is to have a perfect book. And that never works out well of course, because nothing is perfect. This book is a follow-up to one of my previous books, which I wrote with the goal of just putting down everything I learned about study skills, in the hope it would help someone. I approached it with a sense of play and fun, and that is most probably why its my most easy-to-read, accessible, relatable book. 

And yet for this book, I complicated it. I was trying to write it quickly. And perfectly. I was trying to do a good job. Instead of trying to simply write a book that hopefully helps those who read it. That hopefully creates some sort of value. And a book that I enjoy writing. 

So far, I have to admit, I haven’t really enjoyed writing this book. But I think that’s not really the fault of the book or the subject, but the way I was approaching it. With an impossible tight deadline. With a lot of expectation and stress. 

I hope to change all that, now that I realized this. I am planning to write down what my goal for the book is, and to keep it where I can look at it every day till I finish - reminding me that all I want to do is write something that is helpful. The book has already helped me, even though that hadn’t been my intention. I do think it can help others too, but I have to lighten up a bit. Not take myself and it so seriously. 

I really think, regardless of what your goal is for a given project or creative endeavor, it will help to clarify it for yourself. In words. Be clear what you’re trying to do, because its far more likely that you will achieve it. And you never know, you might be surprised when you clarify what you were trying to do for yourself, that you were actually going in a completely different direction. Fortunately, it is never too late to turn around, to start afresh or just to tweak your approach. Being creative means being flexible. That’s something I am learning all the time, whether I want to or not. 

We Know More Than We Think

My mom used to always tell me to write fiction - she thought I wrote beautifully. I didn’t really pay that any attention, after all she was my mom. She was hardly objective. I told her I can’t write. Then when she insisted, I said I couldn’t write fiction. I had no ideas. She said, “why don’t you try writing short stories? You wrote such lovely stories as a child”.

I rolled my eyes. My mom really didn’t get it. I wrote silly stories about Scrooge and Daffy Duck in third grade. You could hardly call that publishable fiction. And I didn’t think that I had gotten much better in the intervening years. Mostly because I hadn’t tried.

Now before this sounds like one of those stories about Tiger Moms dragging their kids to practices everywhere - I really did want to be a writer. Mostly this was a secret dream, but given the number of writing reference books in the house, and the fact that I regularly brought home piles of books from the library with titles like “Write Your Novel This Year” and “Your Novel Writing Companion”, it was hardly difficult to surmise that what I wanted most of all was to write fiction.

But I am a firm believer in having rational dreams, and it was clear to me that if I wasn’t actually doing any writing, then all the books on writing in the world couldn’t transform me into a successful novelist. And besides, I wasn’t sure if that was really what I wanted to do. Be a novelist. Maybe I wanted to write non-fiction. Yes, increasingly I felt, that was my calling instead. It felt doable.

I discovered self-publishing and dug out the books and book-like things that I had hidden in my hard drives and published them. I wrote a new book, and got great reviews. I even started telling people I was a writer - I wrote non-fiction. Most people didn’t know what that meant, so didn’t ask too many questions. I still brought home books on fiction writing, I just treated them like the cookbooks I brought home - sort of like a fantasy exercise, where you imagined how the apple tarts and quiches would turn out instead of actually making them. I also read everything I could about others who were successful fiction writers - read their blogs, listened to their podcasts, took notes on their advice. Its just that I didn’t really believe that I would be following it particularly.

After all, I didn’t have any ideas. I wasn’t a fiction writer. This despite the fact that since I was about 10 years old, I couldn’t go to sleep without telling myself a story. Sometimes it was a new one, sometimes the continuation of the one from the night before. Usually I fell asleep in the middle of the story. For years, I had been making up stories for myself. Stories where I fell in love with handsome princes, travelled to exotic countries and fought the forces of evil. But these weren’t real stories. Not like the ones in books or written by talented authors. I told myself I was just an amateur who had no business getting in the ring with the pros. So I refused to even put on a glove.

Until one day I decided on a whim to test myself. To finally write something after signing up for Nanowrimo for years and then chickening out. Last year I decided to write a novel (or at any rate 50,000 words of it) during the month of November. I announced this intention to my immediate family. And for some reason, I kept at it, despite not being able to write for half the month due to family trips and festivities. I raced during the last ten days of the month, taking my iPad to Starbucks and the local library to coax a few thousand words out. I wrote terrible scenes and had a blast. I tried to remember every trick I read on the Nano forums to inflate word count, even throwing in a few recipes the protagonist was supposedly cooking. Anything to get closer to that magic number.

When the month was up, I had made it. Just under the wire, with about 3 hours to spare. I wrote 50,000 words of fiction.

But I still didn’t really think of myself as a fiction writer. I thought that was it - that one novel. Besides it was terrible, so I shouldn’t really be setting too much store by it anyway. Real fiction writers were good. Real fiction writers had lots of ideas. Real fiction writers didn’t inflate their word count.

A year later, I don’t think that book is so worthless. I plan to edit it and publish it myself, and let the readers decide how good or bad it really is. And I plan to write more. Because I have so many ideas. I still don’t know whether I will ever be as good as the authors I grew up admiring. But that’s the thing. I don’t need to be them. I just need to be me, the version of me that writes. Fiction.