I’ve spent many years dissecting the practice of writing. I know the mechanics behind the process at a psychological level. I know the many of the methods we use to achieve various effects. I know about the role of writing in our society and the inner-workings of the complex dialogue that occurs between writers both living and dead.

In short, I know why we write. I can also tell you that the reasons do not matter.

If I were to list all the reasons why we write, lay out my case, explain in detail all that makes a writer, it would not make you a better writer. It would paralyze you. It would make you seem very ordinary.

Of course, this is the challenge of writing itself, isn’t it? To make the ordinary seem extraordinary. To make the mundane worth of thousands of words. And yet, the paradox is that by explaining the deep and complex rules around writing, I would unravel the magic. I would soften the bonds of magic that hold you to the task. I would make writing seem simple, easy, and worse – unnecessary.

But today writing is more important than ever because we are in the process of giving up our humanity and to save it you must write.

Notice above that I said we are “giving up” our humanity. I didn’t say we were losing it or that it was being taken away. I said we were giving it up. It’s happening slowly, over a period of decades (if not centuries), but it is a willful process and it is accelerating.

In recent years, we have developed complex systems for encoding our behavior and preferences into the machinery of the world. We’ve enhanced this process by uploading art and supposedly random scenes from our lives. In response, powerful collections of data harnessed by truly unimaginable processing power are honing the world to individual specifications. Slowly but surely we are being fitted with gloves designed to ease our path in the world and by extension make us into highly efficient collections of data interfacing with other collections of data in predictable (and profitable) ways. Slowly but surely we are becoming less human.

Before you conclude that I’m going on an anti-technology rant, let me say that is definitely not the case. I love technology. I enjoy using it and I enjoy making it. No, I have no beef with technology.

In addition, the problem is not new. As I said before, we’ve been working on this for decades. Database marketing and direct mail have been around for years. Intelligence gathering goes back much, much further. We’ve spent a long time learning to slice and dice ourselves, but things are reaching a tipping point and Story is more important than ever.

So what does this have to do with writing? And why must you write?

One of the fundamental principles of humanity is that enlightenment happens at an individual level, and history shows that this transformation is most often achieved through the power of Story. In fact, Story is perhaps the most powerful of all human gifts. Without Story, Religion would have no staying power. Without Story, there would be little to motivate the human race of strive for anything beyond basic existence.

Story is our irrational advantage in the universe, and keeping it alive is a sacred duty.

As writers, we have a duty to tell stories. We have a duty to make our stories compelling, to impart wisdom, and yes to entertain. We are the stewards of humanity and the enlightenment or destruction of our species hangs in the balance.

This is why you must write.

This may be a heady thing to consider if you are writing stories about robots or bodice-ripping romance. It may very well make you cringe, but don’t despair. I’m not saying, “Nobel-level writing or GTFO”. In fact, it’s best if it’s not because most people have no patience for that sort of thing and your goal is to be read.

For example, John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row is one of my favorite books of all time. It’s simple. It’s human. It was decried by many critics as being twaddle, but they overlooked the power of Story and what it means to reach a wide audience with a simple message of the human spirit.¹

So, it is enough that you write and that you continue to write. It is enough that you work hard to tell your stories to the best of your ability. It is enough that you try to get your word out to as many people as possible.

The beauty and comedy of our present moment is that while we are close to willfully destroying our humanity through our own technology that same technology can also be used to unlock the enlightenment of humanity. Today, you are reading my words because of this technology. I am likely to be many miles from you, perhaps even many years from you (depending on when today actually falls from the publication of this post). Yet here you are reading my words, and hopefully finding inspiration to get back to writing your stories.

Humanity needs your work and this is why you must write. It’s really that simple. Without your very best stories, we will have a future which does not inspire. Without your stories, we will have a future that does not make us laugh. Without your stories, we will have a future that does not include you or the worlds to which you have born witness. Without your stories, we lose another piece of humanity and somewhere an individual loses out on a chance for enlightenment.

Write.

1. I also tend to think critics didn’t like Cannery Row because the book makes you feel all warm inside instead of grasping for the nothingness of an existentialist view of the universe. There’s a place for nothingness too, but that is a subject for another time.

At some point, every writer makes The List.

The List is comprised of all the stories that you haven’t quite gotten around to writing. Entires may also include stories half written, sketched, completed but not “edited”, and “completed” but not sent. A writer may also choose to include appendices for concepts or fragments, lists of character names and/or places of interest, plot schemes, and bit of clever dialogue. Letters declaring grand plans are allowed but only when accompanied by their companion letters of dejected resignation to the hellfire of eternal procrastination.

We’ve all done it. Many have done it several times. Most have made the mistake of sending The List to other writerly friends who in turn respond with their own lists, which sometimes turns into a competition known as the Demolition Derby of Dead Tales.

After writing a list like this, you may feel elated. You may feel that you’re making progress as a writer because you have The List. Then, after careful consideration, you’ll probably feel like crap and come to the conclusion that you are a talentless hack without the magic dust that other writers have come to possess through fantastic and no doubt scandalous ways.

At this point, you will:

A. Fling yourself face first into a series of daring affairs with ice creams of all flavors.

B. Investigate the potential of attracting a supernatural muse, and failing that conjuring demons and/or contacting a race of extra-dimensional literary scribes whose sole desire is to help writers in this dimension actually finish their work and become stars of their respective genres.

C. Stare at the screen and ask yourself what’s next.

Of the three, A and B probably have the greatest potential as actual pathways to writing stories. B probably more than A, especially if you happen to have a particle accelerator at your disposal. C, on the other hand, is where you probably began the exercise anyway which means you’ve undoubtedly realized that you’ve once more come full circle and failed to write anything at all.

In any case, there’s no doubt you will find the whole process rather frustrating. Yet, rather than bind your soul in contract with an obliging entity, I have a better suggestion…

Take the list firmly in hand and tape it to the wall. Put it somewhere where you’ll be sure to see it. Even better if it’s somewhere near your favorite writing spot.

If you feel ashamed, use those feelings as fuel to write something better. If you feel intimidated, remember that you’re the one who wrote all that stuff in the first place. If you feel a sense of self-loathing (how can you not?), know that there is only one way to quell the rage: writing.

Ultimately, the list is a source of power. To be more specific, the list is your power. You are a writer and the list is the permanent reminder of this fact.

Oh, and if you’re heading to the store, please pick up a pint of Mint Chocolate Chip. It’s my favorite.

With so many many hats and masks and roles, life is complicated. There are responsibilities. There are expectations. There are even expectations of the expectations.

We writers take on an extra set of burdens by hitching ourselves to the multiverse inside our heads. We scribble and plot. We create whole civilizations. We illustrate the fine details of lives of those who have never existed; will never exist, except in our own minds.

And yet, the one thing we probably do more than anything else is futz about with trying to justify our writing in the face of life’s other responsibilities.

Here’s how the process often works:

1. Writer has an idea.
2. Write can’t stop thinking about the idea.
3. Writer messes about sketching or perhaps doing some actual writing.
4. Writer tell lots of people they are writing.
5. They politely ask about the subject or the story.
6. Writer then hisses like a scalded cat exclaiming that They could never understand.¹
7. Writer is filled with self-doubt and reminded of their deep reserves of self-loathing.
8. Writer stops writing altogether.
9. Writer expends considerable effort justifying or explaining not writing.
10. The formerly polite They now lose all interest because the only thing more boring to listening to someone talk about the writing they are going to do is listening them blame everything under the sun for not writing at all (including the They).
11. Writer takes the ambivalence of They as proof of disapproval and lack of support for the writer’s “writing”. This judgement also serves as a fine side dish to another heaping serving of self-loathing.
12. Writer decides that taking over the world is really the only option to find the time to write. Plans begin to take shape.
13. GOTO 1

[1] Step 5 usually takes place entirely inside the writer’s mind. In reality, they fumble about with some explanation (usually boring) to which the polite person replies, “That’s nice.” This is the cue for the aforementioned hissing.

After a lifetime of doing this myself, I have a simple bit of advice: Don’t do it.

Don’t defend your right to write. Don’t explain why you need to write. Don’t even both to justify the amount of time you’re going to spend writing. It is a futile effort. As you can see above, you’re mostly fighting against yourself, and that fight takes precious energy and resolve away from the act of writing itself and feeds it to the ever-hungry and impatient Imp of Self-Loathing embedded deep within your writer’s brain. Ultimately, the defense of writing is really your own inability to come to grips with the fact that you are the one who controls what you do. Any argument to the contrary is bullshit and part of #9 above.

I don’t need to point out that is is much easier said than done. Also, if I start to list the reasons why I’m actually gearing up to serve some tasty vittles to the Imp of Self-Loathing.

Really, don’t do it. Just know that life is complicated. It’s complicated for everyone, not just you, but you have choices. Some may say it takes courage to write in the face of this truth, but it really takes something else…

Which is Writing

My least productive writing years (which I would argue that I’m living through right now) were the years where I spent incredible mental energy trying to justify the time I spent sitting in the sun with my laptop or a notebook and a pen, utterly failing, and doing whatever was “expected” of me.

In other words, I was not writing, and this is not how one becomes a writer.

One becomes a writer by writing and one does that by actually writing. If you took my list of steps above and stopped at #3 and looped around and around and around again, you’d eventually find that a sizable amount of writing would pile up. Some of it would be good and some of it would be shit, but that’s the way it works.

I can say that this works because I’ve done it. My most productive writing years have been those where I basically told everyone to fuck off (including myself), that it was none of their business when or how long I spent writing, or even why or what I was writing in the first place. I didn’t think about any of that crap. I just put my butt in the chair, my fingers on the keys, and I wrote. Some days it was good and some days it was shit, but that’s the way it works.

How to Screw Everything and Just Write

I’m going to remind you of one of the most important lessons in writing:

Show Don’t Tell

This is the thing we’ve all heard a hundred times and while the reference is usually about the style of our writing, this time I’m making it about the act of writing itself.

In all your attempts to explain your writing (the work, the need, etc), you are telling. You are not showing. If you kept your mouth shut, sat down, and actually wrote, you’d be writing. If you did that, you’d find that it’s pretty obvious to everyone what you are doing and they couldn’t refute that you are doing it. If you did that, you’d find that your work would begin to pile up. If you did that, you’d find that you were spending a lot of time writing.

If you spent a lot of time writing, you’d be screwing everything else and writing.

This is writing, and writing is not complicated. In fact, writing is utterly ridiculous. It defies logic and all sensible thought. It is wasteful and inefficient. It is impractical and insane. And yet, writing is essential because it produces the bedrock of the human experience.

The product of writing encapsulates ideas and gives meaning to otherwise meaningless drudgery. It is entertainment. It is escape. It is religion and war. It is truth and lies. The product of writing is chronicle of the human race devised one word at a time by untold minds separated by time and space. It is a magical beast and it is yours and mine.

So I’m not going to give you permission to write. You don’t need that. You don’t need courage or the faith of others. You don’t need a reason or any other validation. What you need is to focus on the work and let the rest sort itself out.

Now, show yourself what you’ve got.

I’ve had characters who seemed to know exactly which way to turn or just the right thing to say at precisely the right moment. To some of you, this may seem like a blessing, but in fact it is a curse.

When the hero of your story knows all the angles, that’s when the story’s taken a turn for the worse.

It starts small. Maybe some insight that only you (the author) should really know. This minor indiscretion like this may not seem like a big deal. You probably don’t even notice it.

You keep going along on your merry way, writing the scene and unfolding the tale. It all becomes so easy. You’re practically whipping through the pages, and that’s when you notice that it has indeed become all to easy. Your hero is no longer in danger, not really. They’re no longer making mistakes or taking the wrong turn. They read each situation so perfectly they never misstep.

Stories that fall into this pattern become predictable. The next turn of the plot is already on the lips of the main characters and even worse the crime (if there is a crime) has already been solved. There’s no reason to proceed. You might as well close up shop and head home because the crisis/trouble/what-have-you is all over.

The story, ladies and gentlemen, has become boring.

The Hero Must Be Wrong

To be fair, as the writer you should have an inkling of what’s coming up in the story unless you’re one of those terribly lucky savants who just writes and writes what they see and never have a clue of what’s around the next bend. There is another word for this type of writer: liar.

Honestly, if you don’t realize what’s coming up you’re only fooling yourself. You most certainly know what’s coming and you must always be on guard to make sure that your characters never get wind of it.

The hero who is wrong has so much to learn. The hero who is wrong gets into trouble, becomes trouble, creates tension and crisis. The hero who is wrong is the tension at the very center of your story, and it is the unraveling of this tension which fixes the problem.

By the end, the hero turns out to be right but only after seeing exactly how wrong they have been. This is how they grow, and it is usually painful. Much more painful than we experience in our own lives, which is why we read in the first place.

So if you’re struggling with a story that’s become dull, take a look and see just when the hero was last wrong. Look for the place where the hero does something right or has a good hunch. Ask yourself if this is really the right time and what might have happened if in fact the hero had been wrong.

Do People Die When the Hero is Wrong?

God I hope so, and so should you.

There are few events (if any) that lead to the sort of crisis that befalls a hero when another character dies. This is especially true if that death was caused by some error or miscalculation on the part of the hero.

Certainly, this doesn’t mean that characters should be dropping like flies (unless you’re George RR Martin), but you shouldn’t be afraid to kill off someone and place the fault of that death squarely on the shoulders of your hero. It’s the ultimately wrong, which makes it the ultimate right in terms of the development of your story.

We Can’t Take Our Eyes Off of the Wrong-Headed Hero

And here we come to the real reason for being wrong: it’s irresistible.

What I’d like you to do now is go back and think about the stories you love and consider all the points in which the hero was “wrong”. How did you feel? Were you frustrated because you could see the error of their ways when they could not? Were you angry because something bad happened?

Good! This is exactly how you should feel. In fact, feeling is the whole point.

When we feel for the characters, we care about them. We worry about them. We can’t stop reading about them. Feeling is the whole point because it’s the reason we actually finish books (unless we’re reading them for spite or because they’ve been assigned).

Of course, I could be totally wrong about all this, but I don’t think so.

I’m sitting at the cafe right now. The place is packed, even for a Saturday.

This is about the time I’d normally feel like escaping the joint, getting back up to my studio and focusing on a story. This is when the second espresso would kick in and I would feel my writing superpowers activate.

If I look into this memory, I can see the soft glow of the lamp waiting for me. I can see the desk I no longer own. I can see the ancient dining table to one side of the room covered in books and drawings, the pale light of a gray day filtering in through the gauzy curtains. I can look around this room and see all the art tacked to the walls. I can hear the raw silence of the dance hall of the dead all around me.

Yes, it was pretty awesome, but I don’t have that studio anymore. I don’t even live in this town. In fact, I live in a completely different world… It’s so easy to slip into a new reality. It happens before you even know you’ve left.

Recent studies show that we are always forgetting. Memories are not permanent structures. They’re recreated from scratch every time we exercise the power of recollection, and the perceptions of experience change with each etching.

Of course, we writers already knew it was possible to change memories. They can be short-circuited or supercharged, removing pain or energizing their intensity. After all, this is basically how stories are written. This is our superpower.

A writer takes a memory (real or imagined) and builds out from this, creating a reality which exists entirely within their own head. Over time, and with effort, that reality becomes more and more intense. Depending on the depth of writer’s determination, this story may even become a reality which others are willing to experience.

At the center of this concept is one of the most important questions a writer needs to ask:

Am I willing to live in this world? Is there enough here for me to revisit it over and over again, draw out characters and their lives, wander the streets, chronicle the battles and muddle through the boring bits between? (hopefully leaving the last on the cutting room floor so that others will be willing to live in the world as well)

What is interesting is that even though I’ve lived through many different realities I’ve never stopped being a writer. I’ve never stopped viewing the world through the eyes of a novelist, imaging dialogue for every face I’ve seen, histories for every every object I’ve touched, and futures for every place I’ve been.

I’ve often felt that this ability to reshape reality, this otherness, is a curse or a defect, but I know that it is also a gift, and as with all gifts there are responsibilities and obligations, which is mutually exclusive of the responsibility to edit Proustian paragraph-length sentences which stretch on through multiple commas and semicolons (and parenthetical diversions disguised as cleverness).

In the end, most people have to live with the reality they are given, but as a writers we can change ours whenever we like. Don’t forget this. Strengthen that memory through practice and your superpowers will only increase.

At this stage, J.K. Rowling can afford to do pretty much anything with her books. She could even give them away for free. Not that she is, but she could.

No, what’s starting up is a grand experiment to see if an author can claim a direct relationship with readers on a mass scale, removing traditional distributors (bookstores and Amazon, yes they are different things) from the middle.

I’ll say up front that I don’t have a lot of faith in this particular approach. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Rowling. She has enough raw content to lock up the channel and certainly enough mass. The problem is that Pottermore, Inc. has gone after this in a really short-sighted way that speaks to ego and naivety.

Babes in the Woods

Despite having an all-start cast working on Pottermore, it really does look as if they’ve been rather naive.

At a high level, the entire Pottermore process is too complicated. Just take a look at the giant FAQ on the Pottermore site. And keep in mind that this gripe about the process is coming from someone who is extremely technical.

Next is the depth of the partnership with Sony. Sony has clearly paid a pretty penny to be a prime main sponsor. A Google search for Pottermore yields a paid ad from Sony. The Pottermore site pushes the Sony eReaders ahead of all others. But here’s the thing, Sony has basically failed at each turn in the digital content wars.

The final issue is really the strength of Amazon and Apple. To buy on either of these platforms, you need to purchase from their respective stores. This means that both Amazon and Apple are going to get their cut (Apple eventually as they’re not signed on yet), but ultimately consumers will reject the Pottermore process because it is simply inconvenient. It’s much easier to open up the Kindle store on your Kindle and say “Accio, Chamber of Secrets.”

The Echo Chamber of Egos

Let me say first that I love Harry Potter. I read all the books, even when they turned bad. I rejoiced when they turned good again, and I raged when the last book turned into such a mess. Still, I never stopped loving the Potterverse and the characters Rowling created.

However, my biggest gripe about the Pottermore experiment is that it is incredibly ego-centric. For example, instead of focusing on how awesome things are going to be for readers and fans, the entire project seems to preoccupied with talking about “revolutionizing digital publishing”, the exclusivity of the shop, and the technical accomplishments of the team behind the store.

Let’s break it down by site:

Pottermore

Pottermore.com is the main content site for the project. It is “currently in beta” meaning that there is no actual content there for fans. In addition, instead of opening with a picture of harry Potter we have a video from the author and a rendered scene that is really more about the author. If you’re part of the beta, you can log in (one assumes from the blog content) share your own fan art and participate in discussions about Harry Potter.

Pottermore Shop

shop.Pottermore.com is the main store for the project. I’ve already discussed the problems with the purchase process, but let’s look at the site itself. The front page of the site looks to be more of a business proposal rather than a unique shopping experience.

For example, why not way out on the edge and design something that feels like Diagon Alley (the wizarding shopping area featured so often in the books)? Create something immersive and rich that features more than just pictures of eBooks. Why not sell actual Potter merchandise, including high-end replicas and Pottermore exclusives? But to stay focused on the books, what I don’t see here is a real launching gem which is exclusive content. What’s on offer is the same, wonderful books of the series, but what about The Tales of Beedle the Bard?

What’s really ironic here is that Amazon has a great example of how to treat this sort of content: www.amazon.com/beedlebard. They wrote a thank you letter to the author and posted great pictures of the extra special volume that was auctioned off. They made it special. They made it about the story.

John Green: King of Author-Reader Relationships

It’s probably not clear from the comments above, but I do believe it’s possible for authors to create deep and meaningful relationships with their readers. I think about authors like Neil Gaiman, John Scalzi, and of course Cory Doctorow.

But I also think about John Green.

Haven’t heard of John Green? Then you’re probably over the age of 25. The only reason I know about John Green is because my oldest son is an omnivore of fiction and forced me to read The Fault is in Our Stars, which was an amazing book.

That said, Green is perhaps the best example of how to build powerful author-reader relationships online. As half of the Vlogbrothers video blogging duo, Green regularly dishes funny monologues to his faithful audience on YouTube, but aside from the self-effacing humor there’s one common thread I found running through all of the online work: excitement about the work with no sense of ego.

Whenever John Green discusses his work, he gets excited about it like a fan might. There’s no pretension, just pure and honest joy at discovering the work and a graciousness that it’s well-received. Green gives and then gives some more, and when there’s nothing left to give he brings his brother in to help him find a bit more to give… Such as when he decided to sign over 150,000 copies of The Fault is in Our Stars.

Love of the story. Love of the readers. No ego. The writer lives to serve.

I think this is the most important thing the folks at Pottermore need to consider. Are they serving the story? Are they really helping the author to serve the readers? Or is it just a bit of machinery to advance their careers in publishing and fire a volley over the scary behemoths of Amazon and Apple?

Frankly, readers don’t care about that. They care about awesome stories set in awesome worlds. They care about characters and plot. Anything that distracts from this and creates a barrier between the reader and the story is just a massive distraction and a waste of time.

I’m sort of slack-jawed at this post by John Furrier on Forbes.com: How A Startup Powered Hunger Games Into A Global Social Phenomenon – A Money Machine.

The central idea of this post is that the success of the Hunger Games movie is based on perceptions of the film in social media. Furthermore, there is one particular startup that is responsible for making this possible.

Bullshit.

There’s really no other way to put it, and obviously I’m not the only one who found this ludicrous.

Comment from Liam Flemming:

Seriously? So a book that spent 100 weeks on the NYTimes bestseller list before September 2010 and had a viral buzz for years was turned into a blockbuster and social media is supposed to get credit? I would say traditional media had a much, much larger role in this movie to the point that it was getting overhyped. US Weekly and E! were covering every single cast pick 18 months ago non stop because the BOOK was billed as the new Harry Potter and Twilight. Once again Social Media trying to take credit for a good product that people care about. “People were social about a terrific product which they love!” oh what a surprise.

What’s really amazing is that Mr. Furrier is sticking to his central thesis while getting chomped to pieces in the comments:

My point and article was a “startup helped” it not was the sole reason. Yes the book was a success and that was the core “driver” in it’s success. In the marketing world they call that “an activated” audience. The social media formula leveraged that and then the studio used that data to tweak their marketing promotional plans to align with and satisfy those fans and loyal “Hunger Games” activists. In other words the studio didn’t “blow it” and instead “maximized the experience” for all.

Mr. Furrier either needs to adjust his alcohol intake while writing. In other words, if he’s drinking while writing he should stop and if he’s not drinking then he really ought to consider picking up the habit.

The Hunger Games is a success because it is a damn fine BOOK. The movie is a success because Suzanne Collins is a fine author who cares about her characters and the stories they have to tell.

A letter I received today.

We’ve decided to hold an intervention.

I’ve been rummaging around in your head for the last decade and I’ve gotten to know a lot of people you’ve left here. Some of them are good people. Some of them are bastards like me and some of them just wish they were. There are a few who go on for pages yet still feel like shadows. There are some, no longer than a few words, who I know better than I know myself. There are some you ought to have killed off early, and some you didn’t keep around long enough…

Ok, I can only take so much of that crap. Let’s cut the flowery lead and get right to the point, shall we?

We want you to write. All of us.

We don’t really give a damn how you do it. You can write it in blood if you want, or you can be a bit more practical and use the keyboard. You can write about any one of us or pluck someone new out of the slush and give them the run of the stage. It really doesn’t matter.

Just sit down and bang something out. It’s what you want to do anyway. Really. I’m the one on the inside, so I know what I’m talking about.

Sincerely,

Burt Thompson

On behalf of:

Paul, Renee, Kyle, and that squinty kid I shot
John Skelton, Lydia, and Kitty
The Entire Snarkie Family and the City of Swellington
Duane and Rosa
Simeon Drake
YASBN and Mia
Barbara, Ali, and Ella Schilling
Lenny and Anders, Dragon Bob, and that bitch Sharon
Martin Ustoff
20Chan and bad_karma
Jeremy Shade, Count Spatula, and everyone at dinner
Brian and Rachel
Dick Branford, Davis and Shirley Watson
Charlie D, Dolly, and Lu
Clay and Roy and whatever got hold of them way out in space
Liz, Prometheus, and all the goats who had to die
Julian and Cleopatra
Walter, Katia, and Hans-Joerg
Jessica
Azul Flores and Hawaii Jumbo
Dmitri and General Tanaka
Joe and Kleiner, Seamus Reilly, John Doe, and Gracie
Carl, Tom, Grandfather Henry, and the Albany Cutter
Eleia and Quitoxyl
Phineas Orleans, Ben Shoals, Miss Chaldea, Old Joad, and Truman

P. S. Kip Frazier wants me to remind you, “You promised all of us something if we danced our dances. Now it’s time to pay up, Mister Writer Man.”

How strange is that?

Every unpublished writer thinks about self-publishing, and frankly it wasn’t all that long ago that this was the normal route a scribbler took to get their work in front of the world. After a brief intermission, wherein giant publishing firms took shape, we seem to be returning to times where authors will be more and more responsible for managing their own work from beginning to end.

Of course, many authors will tell you that this has always been the case anyway but why quibble? There’s a romantic dream of the way the world of publishing works, and who am I to squash it?

Well, to be fair, I’m just the sort of person who would do such a thing…

So, without further ado, I bring you the 2012 Six Question Self-Publishing Survey. This results of this survey (with names changed to protect the innocent) will be published in a few weeks. If you have a few moments to spare I would really appreciate your very special comments below.

Note: If you are one of the bajillion RSS subscribers reading this post, please drop by the site to fill out the survey. It’s just 6 questions!

I don’t really want to go back and look at how long it’s been since I sat down to Write (yes with a pretentious capital ‘W’). I know it’s been months, but to be fair it’s really been years. Sometimes I look back to my best writing days and see it as another lifetime. A human life is made of many little lifetimes, overlapping yet often so distinct as to be held as a perfect memory separate from the whole.

For me, the little lifetime was six years. I locked myself in a room nearly each and every day and wrote for several hours. I wrote two novels, several stories, a few stubs of tales as yet untold. And yet, millions of words are not enough to be a writer.

It’s true that writing is hard work. Frankly, it is impossible to come day after day to the page and expect to release your best work. You must take what the writing gives and be happy that it gives at all. You must also show up.

Some writers, when faced with the prospect of not writing, will say things like:

“I would rather stop breathing than stop writing.”

“I would die if I wasn’t writing.”

“I cannot live without writing.”

But the reality is that you will not die nor will you stop breathing. You won’t stop living or stop feeling alive. You will still be a writer, you will simply not be writing.

This may sound sad and depressing but not as bad as you might think. In fact, it becomes rather pleasant after awhile because you stop worrying about all those things which only exist in your mind. You stop tending the universes there and the characters and the stories.

Not writing, after a time, is as pleasant as a warm bath.

As I said above, I’ve been in the tub a long while now. My skin is well past pruning. It’s withered and white. Soft and rubbery. My muscles are weak from buoyant caresses. My bones do not feel capable of holding my weight, and oh how that weight has grown.

Yes, it is pleasant in the bath. Pleasant and dreadfully dull.

Getting out of the tub, especially after you’ve been in it for awhile, is a painful experience. First, you must gird yourself against the atmospheric effects. Then you heave yourself out of the water, for there is really no graceful way to exit a bath. Even though you have prepared yourself mentally, you’ll find that your limbs have forgotten how to support your weight. A curse for the chill that wasn’t in the air five seconds before and a hustle for the towel. You’re focus is entirely on the goal of drying off quickly all sense of relaxation gone.

If you think about this, you’ll stay in the tub a bit longer. You’ll use your toes to fiddle with the nobs and eek out that last bit of hot water from the tank. You’ll sink below the water till it nearly touches the edge of your nose, knowing that if you fully submerge you’ll be freezing when you come up for air.

This is what the latter stages of not writing feel like. You know the chill is spreading. The water has long since stopped steaming. You wouldn’t be surprised if ice began to form near the edges of the tub, slowly closing in on you, forcing you to pull yourself into a tight embrace around your fear of emerging.

But like the warm bath, you know that even your fear cannot last. The water will be flat and cold as the grave. Your eyes, held shut against the inevitable, will open wide and you will clamber from the tub like a scalded monkey. Teeth chattering, you’ll wonder why the hell you ever got in there in the first place.

And maybe, if you’re smart, you’ll get back to work.