Tag: challenges in writing

Stop Being Bad: The Redemption Arc in Storytelling

The story of the redeemed villain is a common and provocative trope in storytelling. It’s always fascinating to witness how a thoroughly evil and vile figure can turn around and repent of their ways. We like to see these tales play out and watch what happens next. It appeals to us.

Maybe the villain is likeable enough that we don’t want to see them die, or maybe we even see a little bit of ourselves in there, and hope that their redemption means there’s hope for us, too. Whatever the reason, a villain’s redemption is a major story beat, and should be treated as such. Which, in turn, means that writers should seriously consider it before going through with it. Is it the right move for the story? Is the villain truly redeemable, that is to say, is it a logical and fitting step in their growth as a character? Are they willing to seek redemption? Most importantly, can they be redeemed in a way that the audience finds natural and believable?

It’s easy to fall in love with a good villain and not want them to die. So, some writers just … give them an out. The villain evades consequences, sobs a few tears, gives a dramatic monologue, and skips on over to the side of good. And are welcomed with open arms. But is that how it would actually play out in the context of the world you’ve written? How bad is your bad guy? Did they blow up a planet, or just steal a few pies? If it’s the former, do you really expect them to be immediately welcomed and trusted by the heroes?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about a villain-hero team-up. Sometimes, good guy and bad guy have to work together, usually against a worse bad guy, but the villain remains clearly villainous, just currently motivated by shared interest. To be redeemed, a villain must be penitent. And to be penitent, a villain must truly feel remorse. And in feeling remorse, a villain must show a change in action and motivation.

A redemption arc is character development. The character will not be the same person at the end of it. Indeed, we writers should seriously consider this fact. If the villain was likeable because of their villainy, then redeeming them may in fact hurt them as a character. They’re no longer a villain. Will that take away what made them interesting and engaging?

On the other hand, you could have the villain redeemed through the classic act of self-sacrifice. It worked for Darth Vader, didn’t it? But, and hear me out, I think this is a bit of a cheat. Imagine how different things would have been for this classic movie villain if he had survived and had to stand trial before the people whose friends and family he had slaughtered. He would have to face his daughter Leia over the destruction of Alderaan. He would deliver himself into the hands of the Rebel Alliance he had hunted down for the whole trilogy. He’d have to live with the memories of his crimes. He’d have to do more than gasp a few words to his son as he lay dying to convince us he was truly changed. He would have to make his redemption stick. An interesting thought, no?

Redemption arcs are fascinating. They offer an incredible opportunity to explore facets of a character that usually aren’t. How and why does the villain do what they do? What would make them stop doing it? Can they stop? Do they have doubts? Do they value something greater than their current goals that they would give up their desires for? These are the sorts of questions that can help you figure out if your villain is a candidate for a moral turnaround.

The most important question to ask is: Does it serve the story? We are talking about fictional characters, after all. They’re not real people, they’re figures in a narrative that we as writers have the responsibility and privilege to manage and direct. Redemption and repentance in real life is quite another thing entirely, even if they do inspire our work. Real life is fuzzy. We can’t truly know other people’s motivations. But we can know exactly what motivates the characters we write, and so we can answer this question with confidence: Can my villain stop being bad?

If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.

My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Image Source: “THE Supervillain’s Lair” by nicknormal; Licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Is It Possible to Be Too Ambitious?

It’s a question worth asking if you’re a writer.

We all have big dreams, and big dreams involve big projects, lots of planning, blood, sweat and tears. Writers want to be known, and they want to put out their best possible work into the world. That takes time. And as we are all acutely aware, we don’t have all the time in the world.

So, is it possible to embark on a writing project that is too ambitious? Can we overreach ourselves and fall short?

In the end, it depends on each one of us.

Ambition is not in and of itself a bad thing, mind you. The desire to improve and grow is a natural and good thing for a writer. But writing and publishing also require a fair dose of humility. We are not all going to become the next Hugh Howie or Brandon Sanderson. And they only reached the heights they did because they worked really hard for a really long time to get there. So, how hard are you willing to work? Just as important, how hard are you able to work? Time isn’t infinite, and you might genuinely be limited by work schedule, family, and other things that pop up in life. If you try to expend time and focus you don’t actually have to spare, yes, you are being overambitious.

What about experience? How many books have you written before? Planning to write an epic trilogy that will sell a thousand copies when it’s your very first published work? Maybe you want to back off on that plan for a while. Write some smaller books first, find your voice, build up your skill. The story of the one-off novel that becomes a literary masterpiece is very alluring, but let’s not assume it’s going to happen to us.

Yes, you have talent. I have talent. We all have talent, and we can sharpen that talent into something great and memorable. But desire is no substitute for talent. What we want and what we have to work with are very different things. If you don’t have the experience, get it. Then write your magnum opus.

Overambition is overreach. It is to push yourself beyond your capabilities. Writing is like exercise. You flex your storytelling muscles every time you do it. That helps you build bigger muscles that can handle a bigger workload and more complex stories. It’s discipline. Weightlifters don’t start off with 400 pound weights when they begin their training. They work their way up to it.

Is it possible to be too ambitious? Yes. But the measure of that ambition changes over time. What is too ambitious now may be achievable ten years later, because in ten years you’ll be a better author. Keep writing. Keep stretching your limits. Shoot for the moon, but don’t assume you’ll get there on your first shot.

If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.

My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Hard Times: Facing Down Discouragement

Feeling down in the dumps? Feeling like nothing you do is right or ever will be? If not, don’t worry, you will.

I’ve detected a pattern to discouragement in my life. It likes to come at certain times. I wonder if that’s true for everyone.

I find that nighttime is the worst for me. A couple of hours before bedtime, when I start to tire and my mind starts shutting down, fear and worry slither into my brain.

I need to start thinking about this. I haven’t done that yet. Do I have enough time to complete my book? Do I have enough money to pay for editing and publishing and marketing? Is it even any good?

It’s inevitable. For the writer, it can be debilitating. We work hard to finish our projects. We march on with stubborn determination to see our dreams through to the end. And we dread … not failure exactly. Inadequacy. Anyone can write, but can we write well? Or is it all just crap that would be better off hidden away in our computer’s hard drive, or better yet, in our own minds?

Even worse, what if it’s a good story, but nobody knows it exists? The unnoticed, inconsequential curiosity of the online store.

The night is a quiet and still time. My brain has time to process all these fears. When the excitement of the actual writing process stops, these nagging thoughts are heard most clearly.

But we don’t have to listen to such fears. They come, they stay a while, and then they leave. Yes, they do leave, if we press on regardless. Discouragement isn’t something we always have control over, but we can control how we act in response to it. Feelings of worry are not eternal. They only have real power to influence our life and work if we give them permission. Emotions run up and down. I look at my work today and feel it’s my best yet, and look at it tomorrow and cringe in disgust.

To continue writing in spite of that hollow feeling, to trudge along, to persevere through grim thoughts, this is is what we must do. Night isn’t forever.

Fear debilitates. Depression paralyzes. Writing is a joy for me, but I don’t feel excited about it all the time. Not 24/7. I have rough spots. I have times where I wonder if I should just leave it all behind. And I wait. I don’t act on those impulses of giving up, because I realize that they don’t last.

Writing is a marathon. Like athletes, we tire. We can feel inadequate and unable to rise up to the challenge. Write anyway. If you feel like crap, write. If you feel like nothing is coming to you, write something. A paragraph, a single sentence, anything so that you can say that you wrote for the day. Persevere. Be stubborn.

After night comes morning.

If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.

My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Image Source: “Dead Joshua tree (Yucca brevifolia); Covington Flats” by Joshua Tree National Park; Public Domain Mark 1.0.

Every Story Has Its End … Hopefully

What makes a story a story? What’s the fundamental element that every story has in common, regardless of genre, author, era, or medium? What is something that every, absolutely every, story must have in order to be a complete and whole narrative?

The answer: It ends.

“Oh, well done, Jake,” you might be thinking. “Congratulations, you jumped online to state the mind-numbingly obvious.” Well, yes, it is obvious. So obvious, in fact, that it curves back around to becoming easy to forget just how important it is that stories have conclusions. And, in fact, a lot of people nowadays seem to have forgotten that it’s important for the quality of any story, whether a book, a comic, a movie, a video game, or whatever, that it eventually comes to a stop.

Every narrative has a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is the basic structure. So, unless you’re going for something avant-garde, this is the way that every story is written. You start at the beginning, work your way to the end, then stop. Obvious.

Why is this so important? Because a story that never ends ceases to be a story.

Endings are important. Maybe they’re even more important than beginnings. Endings wrap up the plot. They give closure to the characters’ arcs. They tell the audience that that’s all, folks. Whether or not they satisfy us, endings close the loop. They give a story its shape, like how our backbones keeping us humans from being floppy, wiggly things squirming on the ground. A writer works her way toward the ending. And when she gets to the ending, she knows that there’s no more. There’s a boundary there, a limit that gives focus to what she writes, because she knows that she shouldn’t go beyond the finish line. Writers need their stories to end.

One of my favorite pieces of fiction is the newspaper comic Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson. It’s just fun, brilliant writing and art. It was also very successful. So successful, that Watterson could have kept it going for a long time. But you know what he did? He didn’t. When he felt that he had told every story he needed to, he chose to end the comic. Isn’t that something crazy? To end an ongoing serial at the height of its popularity? Not many people have the courage to do something like that. But the final Calvin and Hobbes comic is something special. It sums up the spirit of the work and ends on a high note. Waterson knew that his story needed its conclusion.

He was tapping into something ancient and mythical, believe it or not. All the great sagas of the ancient world have endings. The epic of Gilgamesh ends with the hero’s profound growth as a person. The tales of the Norse gods end with a world-ending bang in the form of Ragnarök. The Trojan War didn’t go on forever – it reached its climax in one final, bloody battle. In more recent times, J. R. R. Tolkien tapped into that same epic tradition with The Lord of the Rings. It’s a doorstopper, but it does have its finale. He understood what the ancients did – a saga isn’t truly a saga until it’s all over. The fates of the heroes and villains are fulfilled, and an era is finished. The world moves on.

If a story goes on forever, eventually it ceases to be a story. It’s just a never-ending spewing of words and scenes that melt into each other and lose all meaning and purpose. The story falls apart. The narrative goes astray, and the characters lose their very nature simply due to existing for too long. There is no tale to tell, just a desire to keep a dying horse trotting forward for as long as possible, and it becomes painful to experience.

Well, now, aren’t I getting melodramatic? Maybe it’s time to end this post. Before I do, here’s one last thought: Consider a franchise or story arc or series that went on too long. I’m sure you can all think of at least one. It had an end … but then it kept going. It’s still going, perhaps, and shows no sign of stopping. But you wonder why. Why doesn’t it just stop? It’s past its glory days, and you recall its height with bittersweet nostalgia. You may not even enjoy it anymore. It’s not the same. It’s lost the spirit and tone that made it fun in the first place. It’s clearly a walking corpse kept going by sheer inertia – and maybe by the creator’s desire to milk as much money out of it as possible. It should end. It needs to. But it didn’t and suffered for it.

The best stories are the ones that know when they’ve reached their stopping point.

What do you think? What are your thoughts on stories and endings? Feel free to share!

If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.

My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Overused and Old Hat: Why I’m No Longer a Fan of Quipping

We live in an age of quips. Quipping has gripped modern entertainment. Quick, glib, clever one-liners are all the rage nowadays. You see it in blockbuster movies, television, comic books, and general writing. Pithy turns of phrase to sum up a situation, shove humor into it, or just to show off how clever the writer is.

And like anything in excess, people eventually become tired of it. One-liners aren’t bad in and of themselves, but I feel that overexposure to any style of writing can sour people against it. Like eating ice cream and pizza three meals a day for a month, something you originally enjoyed now just leaves you feeling sick and disgusted.

Humor is very important. Without it, a story can feel lifeless and dull. But humor comes in many forms, and we aren’t limited to the simple quip. I’m not saying that quipping is bad in and of itself. James Bond can get away with his cheeky one-liners all day long. But variety is the spice of life. More importantly, not every story needs that type of writing.

Maybe I should start from the beginning. What is quipping?

Dictionary.com defines “quip” as “a clever or witty remark or comment” or “a sharp, sarcastic remark; a cutting jest.” And that pretty much sums it up. Quips are one-liners, punchlines, and statements to show off a character’s biting wit. They can be used to characterize and flesh out the tone of a story, but modern writers, especially in film and television, have become obsessed with this one form of humor. What happens when you’re exposed to one, and only one, type of funny for ten years? It becomes boring.

What’s worse, writers can fall into the temptation to constantly strive to outdo themselves and each other. Stories lose their focus and become quip-a-thons. What wacky thing will the hero say next? And how will it completely disrupt the otherwise somber tone of the scene? Because that’s what a poorly used quip can do: It destroys the mood. Too often, I watch movies that are afraid to end on a quiet note. The tone needs “lightening up” with some funny, silly observation. And suddenly, the characters aren’t taking anything seriously. And if they aren’t, why should the audience? Main hero in mortal danger? He makes a quip, and it’s just a big joke, no reason to be on the edge of your seat. A scene of exposition establishing the stakes? Sum it up with some pithy, self-aware remark that illustrates the characters are more concerned with pointing out cliches and proving how clever they are than getting the job done. Guess the audience shouldn’t care, either.

Can you tell I really don’t like this style of humor?

I used to. I enjoyed Marvel movies. I liked Arnold Schwarzenegger’s cheesy one-liners. But overexposure soured me against quips. No, let me revise that statement. It soured me against every main character in the story using quips. That’s the biggest gripe I have against the style, because it makes every character basically the same. Oh, sure, they might have different motivations, different backstories, different personalities, but they all sound the same. Same remarks, same puns, same tendency toward glibness. They all react the same way to a situation. And that is, I emphasize again, boring.

That being said, there are stories I enjoy where quipping is used. I like The Dresden Files, and the protagonist’s tendency toward wise-guy remarks. And I don’t mind James Bond’s use of hilariously callous puns after killing someone. Heck, I enjoy the Marx Brothers’ old films, and Groucho Marx is a machine at quipping. A bona fide master. And you know why I can tolerate these examples? Because they are the only characters in the story who rely on quipping for humor. They stand out because of it. Other forms of humor are used by other characters. Rather than being the default fallback for extracting humor, their smart-aleck words are used to define their character and place in the story. It’s part of who they are.

What’s that old saying? If everyone is special, nobody is. I don’t know about that, but I do think that if everyone is funny in the same way, than nobody is funny at all. Put some variety into your story’s humor!

If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.

My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Image: “Dear Old Hat” by Muffet: Licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Writing Characters You Don’t Agree With

Writing characters require us to dive into their heads and figure out their backstories, beliefs, and personalities. It’s a fun diversion in and of itself to discover a character, much less to incorporate those discoveries into a greater narrative. Learning more about our protagonists can make us as attached to them as we hope our readers will be.

But what about writing people who are … less than agreeable? Or worse, who don’t share our values and principles? What about writing those whose motivations and beliefs are diametrically opposed to our own? What is it like to dig around in the head of someone who we don’t agree with?

It can feel almost like a betrayal of ourselves. He can’t say that, I don’t believe in it! She can’t do this, it’s not part of who I am! But putting yourself into your writing doesn’t necessarily mean you are your writing. You are creating a world with words, and that world will be filled with a motley mix of individuals who all possess their own strong personalities.

This can apply to antagonists and villains, but really, it includes any character you write. They play roles in a story, and sometimes those roles require them to be someone drastically different from yourself. Can that be awkward? Sure. Maybe there’s the nagging feeling in the back of your head that writing a character who deviates from your own worldview is somehow condoning things you don’t agree with. But if the story demands it and it develops your world, then it must be done. It’s not betrayal, it’s the mark of a maturing writer. I write people who do and say things I don’t personally find tasteful, but which do fit their own personality. I’m not that person. They’re a work of fiction, after all.

Besides, characters who disagree with you are likely to disagree with other characters, and that creates conflict. And conflict is how you keep a story going.

Even if you don’t agree with a character, they’re still yours and serve a purpose in the story. So, roll up your sleeves and figure out what to do with them. The first thing is to put yourself into their shoes. Think like them for a bit, practice seeing the world through different eyes. How do they feel about this thing or that other individual? How do they feel about your protagonist? Why?

Learning a bit of empathy and a bit about other worldviews certainly helps, as does reading good literature and learning from example how other authors write. It’s valuable to learn how to write characters whose voice and opinions don’t echo your own. Why? Because it is too easy to put yourself into every character and have everyone essentially act and believe as you do. And that makes a story boring and predictable.

And besides, for all that characters have a habit of taking on a life of their own, you are ultimately the final authority here. Like a director herding meddlesome actors, you learn to work with your cast and guide them toward your vision.

Ultimately, story is king. It comes first, and we do what we must to tell it. It’s all part of growing as writers.

If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.

Why Writers Must Learn to Kill Their Babies (Less Morbid than It Sounds)

Okay, let me explain…

When I was taking film classes in college, my professor explained a key lesson that every writer must learn. They must learn when it is necessary to kill their babies.

You have an idea. It’s a brilliant, shining idea that came to you in an incandescent flash of inspiration. A magnificent idea that is the beating heart of your story. It is your motivation and driving force. The story would not exist except for this one concept.

It could be anything. A single scene. A character. A set piece. Even a single line of dialogue. Whatever it is, it was amazing enough to make you sit down and write.

It is your precious baby.

You finish the first draft of your story. You’re very pleased with it, especially how you incorporated your idea into the overall work. You send it out to readers for feedback. And the unexpected happens. They’re dubious about your baby. They don’t like it. They say that it doesn’t mesh with the rest of the story. In fact, it’s holding your story back from its full potential. It’s a liability.

Without realizing it, as you wrote and developed your setting, characters, and plot, they outgrew the original idea. That concept you love so much is no longer the plot’s beating heart. It is a tumor that threatens the quality of your narrative. The scene is out of place and unneeded. The character is completely detached from the rest of the cast. The set piece is just a waste of words. The line of dialogue is silly.

For the sake of the story, you must kill your baby.

If that sounds grotesque, it’s only to communicate how strongly writers can feel about their stories, and how painful it can be to remove something that can feel so personal to you. It’s a necessary culling that must be performed for the good of your writing. It is a sacrifice, one that almost every author must make at some point or another. And for those who aren’t willing to make the sacrifice, well, their story suffers for it. The readers might, too.

The lesson here is that something that seems like its working at the beginning of your project can become an utterly awful proposition by the end. A chef likes garlic, so he adds a ton of garlic to his casserole. Then he tastes the final product and gags. It was a good idea at the time, but …

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Measure Your Writing: Fewer Words are More than Enough

Image: “Stack of Copy Paper” by Jonathan Joseph Bondhus; licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.

So, you’re writing your book. You feel pretty good about it. You got your first draft done, you send it to your beta readers, and the feedback starts trickling in. You take in the criticism and start your second draft. And you notice something odd. Many of your changes entail removing words, cutting out extra sentences, and shortening descriptions. Your word count is growing smaller. What gives?

Writing involves a lot of things. One thing I’ve discovered it needs is measurement. I don’t mean whipping out the tape measure to guess how thick your paperback will be. I mean making sure that every word matters. If your sentences go on and on and on then you’re going to bore your audience to tears, if you don’t just outright confuse them. On the other hand, using too few words can lead to your readers scratching their heads if you leave out important information. A writer is like a sculptor. He carves out the unnecessary material and leaves behind exactly what is needed to make the piece complete.

My first draft is the phase that I like to call “vomiting words.” Because that’s what I do. I get all my words out, regardless of whether they are good or not. First drafts are always garbage. There’s no helping that. But too many is better than not enough. There’s always plenty of time to parse things down later.

So, how do you make the most of fewer words? Here is what I’ve learned.

  1. Be simple. Don’t try to write fancy. Purple prose is like nitroglycerin. It blows up in your face at the slightest mistake. Don’t write “his face stretched into a wide, dour grimace.” Just write, “he grimaced.”
  2. Synonyms are your friend. There are single words out there that mean the same as three put together. Why waste space? Rather than “ran very fast,” you can use “sprinted” instead.
  3. Details matter to the plot. Readers expect the descriptions and conversations you include to have significance. So make sure everything you include in your final draft has a point! Don’t waste time on things that are irrelevant.
  4. Last, and certainly not least, don’t underestimate your readers’ intelligence. Unless you’re writing for three-year-old’s (and even then…), don’t treat your readers like idiots. They can fill in blanks for themselves, especially regarding mundane things. You don’t need to explain how someone puts on a shirt, or go into gross detail over the interior of an office building. Chances are, people already know. Let them exercise their imagination a little!

Of course, there are exceptions to these. There are always exceptions. And some stories are going to be longer than others, regardless. The point is not to trim everything out until only barebones, dry description remains. The point is to make your writing readable and coherent. Sometimes, you will have a very long and colorful description of a character or scene. If it’s appropriate for the story’s tone, or describes something that isn’t common knowledge, or the details will become important later on, have at it. But don’t overdo it. The point isn’t writing a lot of words. It’s writing just enough words.

The gods and beings of ancient myth never went away. They just moved on with the times.

My book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is currently available on Amazon.com. Venture into the world of the Greek god Hermes, a world filled with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, magic, and trickery. It’s a tough job, being a god!

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Lessons I Learned Writing My First Book, Part 3: Perseverance

Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty …

Do you like doing pushups? What about arm curls? Or squats?

Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty … eighty-seven …

They can take a lot out of you. How often have you been tempted to stop halfway through your exercise routine?

Ninety … ninety … ninety-FIVE … Ninety … SIX.

Or have you only gone as far as you could before the burn set in?

Ninety-NINE … ONE … HUNDRED.

Perseverance is when you keep going even when your body and mind don’t want to.

There’s an element of stubbornness in persistent people. They refuse to give up or go home when things are looking down, when the weather is cruddy, when they just want to curl up and sleep the afternoon away. Perseverance is the tenacious insistence on never leaving a task half-done.

Writers need to persevere. We need to never give up no matter the circumstances. How many books have been left half-finished, never to be read by others? How many books have never been written at all?

The most important thing, I’ve found, is to focus on the end goal. It’s easier (not easy, mind you, but certainly more bearable) to stick with it when you know how close you are to the end. And as I look back, I see how quickly that work time passed. Rather than focusing on present difficulties with drafting my book or stumbling over writer’s block, I quietly focused on the goal of finishing and publishing. It really does help.

Sometimes, I felt like I had nothing worthwhile to say, or that nothing I did say could measure up to other authors. What do you do during such times? You motor on. Perseverance is, quite simply, never giving up.

There’s a lot of books that will never be written. I take satisfaction in putting one more out into the world.

The gods and beings of ancient myth never went away. They just moved on with the times.

My book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is currently available on Amazon.com. Venture into the world of the Greek god Hermes, a world filled with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, magic, and trickery. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Enjoying my blog? Don’t want to miss a single post? Subscribe for updates on when I post and follow my writing career, musings on fiction and storytelling, and reflections about life in general!

Lessons I Learned Writing My First Book, Part 2: Discipline

You’re running at a steady pace. You’ve been running for the past thirty minutes. Sweat streams down your back and drips from your brow onto your nose and neck. The marathon is halfway done. Only halfway. Your thoughts stray. You think of a cold glass of water. You think of resting – just for a moment – and catching your breath. Or maybe longer than a moment. You ran half a marathon. That’s good enough.

But you don’t stop. You keep running. You stumble and nearly trip. You regain your balance. You find your rhythm again and keep running. You feel out of breath. Now, the temptation to stop feels more like a necessity. Can’t finish the marathon if you can’t breathe. You feel like you’ll faint from exhaustion.

You remember your breathing exercises. You’ve trained for this. And you find your second wind. A burst of new energy propels you forward. You keep running. At last, you reach the end.

Marathons are a discipline. They take training, practice, and the determination to finish what you started. Writing is the same way. Crafting a book isn’t a quick sprint. It’s not a pole vault or long jump where you throw all of your strength into a few seconds of exertion. Writers must pace themselves and must be willing to get up every day, sit down at their computer, avoid the temptation to get hooked on Youtube or Facebook, and write their word count for the day.

For all that we exalt discipline and admire it in people, it’s not exactly the most well-practiced quality. We like people who accomplish great things: maybe build a skyscraper, or paint a masterpiece, or simply make a million bucks. We look at those people and we think how much patience and hard work must have gone into their achievements. We see the results of discipline, and think we should give it a go, but so many of us just can’t push ourselves. Why? Because discipline sucks.

Writing is a marathon
Runners at the start of the 2012 Borgess Half Marathon//Simon A. Thalmann//Licensed under CC BY 2.0.

It’s a slow-burning candle. It isn’t fancy and it isn’t glamorous. The results of discipline are glamorous. That fancy skyscraper, that painting, those million dollars. Wowee! I want that! But putting in the work is a pain.

Writing isn’t exactly a glamorous, exciting process either. Silently typing away at a computer doesn’t make for a great show. It’s not something you show off to others. “Look, Bob, watch me write my story! Isn’t it so cool?” Yeah, nobody’s going to care about the process. They want to see the end product.

Do you want to write? I mean really write, as a lifelong hobby or career? Do you envision yourself as a published author? That vision is the end result of discipline. You must train yourself to write on a schedule that works for you. Every day, every couple days, whatever you find works best. And then you must train yourself to be consistent about it. It’s not always pleasant, especially starting out, but it does get easier over time.

I have a day job. I had to find the time to write. Frequently, coming home from work, I didn’t want to. But I did it anyway. And the end result is, I wrote a book! I published it! I accomplished what I set out to do!

I don’t meant to scare away any of you potential writers out there. But writing can feel like a chore at times. Even so, when we set our minds to doing the things we love, we’ll make the time and effort to do them. But it does take dedication. Dreams are all well and good, but they’re nothing without action, and discipline demands action. Even a dream job has its drudgery, right?

And it’s sweeter in the end, to run toward your goal and finally reach it after a long, tiring run.

The gods and beings of ancient myth never went away. They just moved on with the times.

My book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is currently available on Amazon.com. Venture into the world of the Greek god Hermes, a world filled with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, magic, and trickery. It’s a tough job, being a god!

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