writing advice – TROY P. ROACHE CONSULTING

Finishing Fear: How to get to THE END.

Some writers say the hardest part of the writing process is starting, but I’m not so sure. Yes, “starting” can be challenging for sure, but once you get over this first hurdle, it’s usually a profoundly powerful experience—one punctuated by a burst of inspired momentum that can last for hours. A while back I wrote about this idea in a piece called: “A Breakthrough Cure for Writer’s Block”. Please check it out when you get the chance.

But, today I want to talk about finishing that novel or story of yours because that’s what’s been giving me the greatest problem lately.

It seems that no matter how well my writing is going, whether it’s the final line of my novel or the remaining paragraphs of a chapter, I find myself putting on the proverbial brakes right before the end. It’s become a bad habit.

But why? What’s so hard about finishing? After-all, you would think that a writer would want to bring his story and characters to a satisfying conclusion? Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Now, I’m sure I just heard somebody out there say, “No way! It’s about the journey, not the destination”. “Art for art sake” and all that. And I’m not disagreeing—completely. To write well a writer has to be engaged, inspired and involved totally in “the process” of writing, writing without expectation, or without any worries about how it might, or might not, turn out. But let’s face it, if you never finish a story what do you really have? What was it all for?

Growing up, my friends and I would often go swimming off the Government Wharf in my home town. There was really only one way to get in—which was take a running leap off the end and dive head-first into the icy water. Depending on the tide, the dive could be a good ten to twelve feet high and there would always be somebody who would run the length of the wharf only to pull up short right at the edge. Everybody else would be jumping in and having fun. The fear of finishing your story is much the same thing. What’s the point if you never finish—if you never take that last, satisfying jump?

If you always get stalled at the ending you will never deliver a finished story, at worse. At best, your productivity is going to take a serious butt-kicking.

So, what’s the solution? Up until last week, I was sitting stalled at the 80,000 word mark of my 83,000 word novel. Had I suddenly run out of creative energy? Did all the words in the dictionary dry up? Did my Muse take an unscheduled European vacation? I doubt it. Then, what was the deal?

After a fair bit of soul searching and a pinch of honesty, I figured out the problem. I was afraid to finish my novel. I’m not talking about a kind of fear that had me breaking out into sweats or one that was keeping me up at nights—no, this was far more subtle. It was almost insidious. So much so that I wasn’t even aware there was a problem. But, once I became more aware how I was feeling–that there might be something wrong, I started to look for symptoms.

Here’s the three things that kept cropping up for me.

1) U-turning
I was turning about-face, near the end of story to reread, rewrite, or revise instead of simply crossing the finish line.

2) Extreme Perfectionism
I started to blame those “weak areas” in my story. The ones that were obviously affecting my ability to bring the story to a close. If I could just make them all “just right” the ending would magically fall into place, I told myself. So instead of finishing the final chapter, I reworked those tiny things that truly had no bearing on the ending. All the while, my novel remained incomplete.

3) Excessive Procrastination
I became incredibly susceptible to distraction. Any notion that popped into my head seemed a reasonable excuse for not finishing my novel. I told myself that I would finish it “tomorrow”. That this would be a good place to “bookmark”. Maybe a little extra research (surfing the net, checking Twitter or Facebook) would be helpful? Undone chores suddenly became a priority. Inexplicably, I felt that if I didn’t rearrange the spice cabinet immediately terrible consequences would transpire.

When I really stopped to take a good look at what I was doing I realized I needed to address this stuff—and fast. It took a bit of effort but I figured out a few things that really helped me push to the end.

They were surprising simple tricks that any writer can use. Here they are…

1) Be Conscious
When you find yourself getting close to the end of the story take a minute to reinforce your desire to finish. Be aware of any sudden urges to take a break, or backtrack. Then ask yourself if either is really necessary right now, in this moment.

2) Jump to the End
If you feel any hesitation, take drastic action and jump right to the last line, the last paragraph or even the last page and then work backwards. In goal setting, we are often taught to “think from the end”. Why not write from the end? Skip right over all the bull and stuff and cut right to the meat.

3) Take a Neutral Approach
Try writing free of any per-determined outcome or ending—either positive or negative. Don’t worry what the ending is going to look like or how good it is going to come off. Just write, one word after the other until you reach the end. Set aside your opinions of how the writing should be going, or how fast.

4) Be Courageous
You’ve worked really hard to get this far in your story. You’ve overcome plot problems, crazy dialogue, tired clichés, sleepless nights and maybe even the occasional caffeine overdose only to quit now? I don’t think so! This is your story—beginning, middle and end.

5) Think like Your Hero
What would your hero do at the cusp of attaining the goal? Would he go for it with all
his might, or would he go have a coffee? Maybe cut the grass? No way! When the
goal is in sight, the hero always goes for it! And so should you.

Finishing anything is a big deal—it’s not always easy—believe me, I know. Writing is no different. No wonder it almost always comes with fear. But, the ability to recognize that fear and move pass it is what separates the writers with finished, readable stories from those who only wish they could.

Did I miss something? How do you push to the end? What tricks have you learned to finish that published and award-winning novel? I’d love to hear your views. So please drop me a line or two. Til next time, back to writing!

Troy

A Breakthrough Cure for Writer’s Block

New or experienced, amateur or professional—all writers get blocked. It not only slows productivity and kills deadlines but it can also squash our sense of self-worth, sending even the best writer into a tail-spin of fear and doubt. At its worst, it can end a writer’s career before it starts.

No wonder we hate it so much! But what if we have the wrong idea about writer’s block? What if it’s not some dreaded disease that targets unsuspecting scribes as they stare hopelessly into their blank computer screens? What if it is something totally different?

What if writer’s block is necessary, inevitable and vital to the creative process? What then? Well, with just a slight shift of perspective, we might start seeing it as the cure to stalled creativity instead of the cause.

And before you get the idea that this post is just another one of those “positive thinking” articles that tries to get you to see the glass as “half full”—think again.

We are actually going to explore what writer’s block is, what is actually happening when we hit these creative walls, and how NOT to be defeated by them. Then, I’m going to tell you how to use writer’s block to supercharge your writing.

First you have to understand one simple rule:

You cannot create anything that exists outside your current field of reality. That includes your writing.

Now, stay with me. This is powerful stuff and it’s far more practical than it sounds.

You might think that such a rule would have a limiting effect. After all, it’s not like you can change reality, but you can expand your reality to include your writing goals.

You might have writer’s block right now. That next line, paragraph or chapter might seem well out of reach, but it doesn’t have to stay that way—especially if you use the power of writer’s block against itself.

This has changed the way I write, decreased my stress, reduced my self-doubt and dramatically increased my productivity. It has been, in a word, empowering.

The great part is that it’s so simple!

Nowadays, I kind of look forward to getting blocked because I know it’s a signal that a breakthrough is just around the corner.

Before we go any further let’s go back to the above rule for a minute and have a closer look at what “your current field of reality” means and it how relates to what we are talking about.

Essentially, your reality is your belief system—all the things you believe are possible for you. Your belief system develops over time through your experiences, education and other information gathered—including your beliefs about your writing.

Anything you have experience and confidence in doing, is a part of your belief system because you have already done it.

Writers face a unique challenge. Every time we begin a new piece, a blog post, story or book it represents a completely new landscape. Yes, we may have written a post or story before, but we have not yet written this one.

By its very nature a new piece of writing is new. We have yet to build it into our current reality. So logically, we will not be able to write the piece until it is within our belief system.

So we hit the inevitable wall, (writer’s block) which represents the leading edge of our current belief system. This will be the farthest we can go at that moment.

Unfortunately, it is here where many people quit, thinking that they can’t do it—that the thing they are trying write is impossible—at least for them.

The truth of the situation is that they have simply hit the outer edge of their belief system—the boundaries of their current reality.

Here’s the cool part: That outer edge, that boundary is not fixed. It’s constantly expanding, pushed out ever further by our ongoing creative energy (our experiences, knowledge, accomplishments and even our failures).

But, because we are always positioned at the leading edge of our reality, we have to allow some time to pass to let that energy “catch-up”. This is creative growth—this is where people break through the boundary and have a “breakthrough”.

Picture it this way:

Imagine you are floating downstream in a river. The surrounding water represents your current belief system (the reality of what you believe you can write). Within that flow of water resides all your current creative energy, made up of your past and present writing experiences, the successes and the failures.

That energy moves along with you and allows you to accomplish your writing benchmarks and goals. Since those benchmarks and goals are within the water flowing immediately about you, you will have no trouble reaching them—they may even seem easy.

But, just up ahead there is a dam. The dam represents the outer limit of your reality, everything before the dam resides within your current beliefs regarding what you can (or can’t) write. When your creative energy hits the dam (the outer boundary of your reality) it’s blocked. That’s writer’s block.

But it will only be held back for a short time. As the creative energy builds behind the dam it will eventually spill over, creating a new boundary—a new reality of what is possible for you.

If you go away and give things a rest (take the break) whenever a block happens, you are allowing that energy to catch up and overflow past the problem. When you come back to the work, after a break, you will be amazed that the solution often presents itself.

That block which seemed very real just a short time ago is now gone. The solution to the problem is now a part of your reality.

Leonardo da Vinci once said: “Every once and a while, go away and take a relaxing break, and then when you come back to your work, your judgment will be better—because remaining constantly at work will hinder your power of judgment. Move some distance away, because then your work will appear smaller, and more of it can be taken in at a glance, and any lack of harmony or proportion… will be more effortlessly seen.”

The solution is to give yourself a break, and allow the creative energy to break through the block.

By walking away, and allowing yourself a break you actually open yourself up to a “breakthrough”.

I’ve broken it down into five steps…

1) Seek out new writing experiences and set new exciting writing goals. Try newer, bigger stuff. Be fearless.
2) Write. Write and write some more. This builds creative energy.
3) Anticipate writer’s block—it’s inevitable. Don’t fear it. Appreciate the block when it happens. It’s signaling a pending breakthrough.
4) Step away. Give the energy time to expand the reality of what you believe is possible for you and your writing. When you come back, you may very well find that the block is gone.
5) Repeat steps 1 through 4.

Do you agree that in order achieve our dreams and goals they must first be inside our belief system and that belief system is essentially our reality? I’d love to hear your opinions. Please leave me a comment. Thanks for dropping by.

Passion vs. Fear: A Cautionary Tale of Superheroes & Villains

Passion is a funny thing. Go looking for it and you’ll never find it, but let it find you and it’s virtually impossible to avoid. And once you do find it, passion can fuel you to great heights, allow you to do astonishing things—things that others can’t even imagine. In this way passion is kind of like a superpower. But in the comics (as everybody knows) a great strength must have an equal or even greater weakness. So if passion is a superpower, then fear is its kryptonite.

Twenty-five years ago in early Spring I picked up a copy of The Amazing Spider-Man. I had read comics before, of course, but there was something special about this one. It moved me like no other story had. I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. My mind started to race with possibilities. In that moment I realized that I wanted to tell stories—fantastic, heroic stories about extraordinary characters doing extraordinary things.

Simply put, my passion had found me.

After that my every waking thought was focused on comic books. They were the first thoughts that got me up in the morning and the last ones that carried me off to sleep at night. I thought about them in class, at church, at the dinner table—everywhere!

It wasn’t long before piles of notepads filled with my stories and ideas started to collect under my bed. I envisioned myself working for Marvel Comics pitting the forces of good against hordes of evildoers in worlds I had created. My passion grew stronger every day until it was like an invisible shield protecting my dream from anything that might jeopardize it. As it turned out that shield would come in very handy.

One day I told my cousin that I wanted to become a comic book writer. He looked at me with a strange expression and said, “Why would anybody pay you to write a comic book? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He walked away laughing.

His words stung but my passion was strong. Just like a hero’s superpower, passion had protected me and my dream, but I had suffered my very first bout of doubt—however small. At this point it had not yet become full-blown fear, but it had made a ding in that invisible shield.

Even so I was determined to make my dream come true and pushed even harder, learning everything I could about the comic book industry. Finally I found a news release from the publisher of Marvel Comics—Stan Lee, himself! It was all about how to submit a comic book script. I couldn’t believe it! It was like I had struck gold—detailed instructions on the whole submission process.

All I had to do was send in my idea and wait for the job offers to roll in! I could see myself in the Marvel bullpen: pitching stories, making deadlines, working with artists to bring my words to life. I visualized my name under the coveted words “Written by”. I imagined kids all over the country waiting to read the latest issue of Spider-Man or The Avengers by yours truly. My passion was never stronger. But, the ding my cousin had made hadn’t really gone away. It was a hidden crack, waiting to reveal itself.

Now I should mention that, at the time, I was unaware that over 99% of submissions were rejected at the point of entry by the submissions editor. But to be honest the idea that an editor would ever reject my story never occurred to me. So I happily sent off my first submission to New York. If this sounds like arrogance, it wasn’t. It was pure passion—a love for what I was doing.

Six weeks later an envelope arrived in my mailbox bearing the Marvel letterhead. Heart pounding, hands shaking, I opened it and read the words…

“Congratulations. I have reviewed your submission and I have forwarded it to the appropriate editor. Good luck.”

I couldn’t believe it! I had all but been accepted—and on my very first try. At seventeen years old, I was going to be a writer for Marvel Comics! Then I made what would become a fatal error: I told my father.

“I did it! I’m going to be a comic book writer and work in New York,” I said waving the letter in the air.

My father looked at me with doubtful eyes and shook his head. “Now don’t get your hopes up. Nobody from around here has ever been a writer.”

It wasn’t just what he had said but the look in his eyes that shook my resolve. It was a look that spoke of some hidden knowing about how dreams end up in the real world. And in that instant all my joy, all my excitement vanished. It was as if my father had popped my birthday balloon.

Now, my father wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t a cruel man nor would he have ever hurt me intentionally. In his own way, he was trying to protect me. He didn’t want to see me disappointed. But in that moment, the dent in my shield buckled under the strain of this newest blow and what had only been a doubt was now fear. And for the very first time I feared that my dream might not come true.

What if the editor didn’t like my story? What if it wasn’t good enough? Dad was right. Nobody from our little town had ever done anything like this before. What made me think I was any different?

I went from expecting an acceptance letter to dreading a rejection. My energy had totally switched. I was now focused on what I didn’t want to happen instead of being focused on what I wanted to happen.

Sure enough, that editor never did call me.

After that I sent in more and more submissions, but not with the joy and excitement I had once had. Now I sent my submissions in desperation; desperate to prove that I could do it—that I was good enough. And with each submission came a new rejection. My fear deepened. At one point I actually started to send in ideas expectingto be rejected.

In time, my passion faded—having been poisoned by fear. And slowly I just stopped submitting.

But passion is a hard thing to keep down. After a few years I tried again. Though I still got rejection letters, I started to get hand written comments and suggestions from the editors—words of encouragement and advice. They wrote things like: “Keeping sending in submissions”, “I look forward to your next idea.” “Don’t give up.” These letters went on for nearly a year. Long enough for doubt to creep back in. That doubt morphed into fear—fear that it was taking too long, that they might never accept me.

Had I not been in “fear-mode” I might have realized just how close I was to breaking into Marvel. In later years I would learn that I was just a submission or two away from an offer.It still hurts to think about it.But fear makes you run away from things. Passion allows you to run to them.

So I decided if they didn’t want me I’d start my own company, write my own characters and worlds.

By now I was married and had a new baby. My wife and I worked on the company together. My day job wasn’t bringing in enough and the company was draining away our savings. To say fear was back would be an understatement.

I was excited that I was finally pursuing my passion, but I didn’t know then that passion can’t be pursued. It can’t be forced or compelled. But we pushed on.

Finally the first book was done. We paid a small fortune for printing and advertising space with Andromeda Distributors, the largest comic book distributor in North America. I drove from comic shop to comic shop promoting the release. I made appearances on local television and radio.

Then there was nothing left to do but wait for the first orders to come in.We figured if we could just sell 500 copies, we could pay the expenses and the upcoming rent. Who couldn’t sell 500 books in all of Canada and the US?

A week later the order arrived from Andromeda. My wife waited with growing anticipation for me to open the envelope. I ran my finger down the orders to the bottom total. I saw, but didn’t quite understand, the number 7. I blinked, trying to process what it actually meant. My wife was smiling with anticipation, “How many?” she asked.

At first I couldn’t speak. I suppressed the tears pooling in my eyes. “Seven,” I heard myself say.

“Seven thousand?” she asked excitedly.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

She reached for the paper. “Maybe it’s counted in hundreds?”

I let her take the order form and I slumped down on the floor. I stared at the 5000 copies of book one and two we had pre-printed, wondering how I was going to pay rent that month. And for the very first time in my life, I hated comic books.

With no money to continue and no way to sell the books we had, I watched my dream wither and die before me.

About a month later Andromeda sent us information on the big comic book convention in Toronto. Over 500,000 people were promised to attend. It cost $600 to sign up as a vender, not counting travel and accommodations. To be honest, the thought of packing $10,000 worth of comics in my car and driving to Toronto was terrifying. I had never driven more than a hundred kilometers away from home before, let alone a city as large as Toronto. I wasn’t even sure my old car could make the 4000km round trip.

But we decided to try it. So we sent off the fee and on a chilly October afternoon I set out alone for Toronto. I pulled away waving to my wife and baby with high hopes. To this day I only remember being more afraid one other time—and that was to come about 12 hours later.

I drove through the night. With only $80 in my pocket I couldn’t afford a hotel. It was about 2:30am. I had been driving for hours. Then I struck a piece a metal on the road, just outside Quebec City. I pulled off the highway and got out to see that I had two flat tires. It’s hard to describe how I felt in that moment. Terrified doesn’t quite do it justice.

With no phone and the little cash I had in my pocket I started walking. To where, I had no idea. Exhausted and cold, I came upon a convenience store about an hour later. After a long night and having to spend most of my money I was back on the road just before dawn.

I had a lot of time to think as I drove along the St. Lawrence. I felt alone and lost. I had no idea what was waiting for me in Toronto but I was way past imagining anything good. Where was the kid who loved superheroes and comic books? The kid who thought nothing could ever get in the way of finding his dream? I looked in the mirror and couldn’t see him.

I arrived at the convention later the next day. I’d like to say that this is the part of the story where everything changed. When the redemption moment happened and the hero digs deep and finds his passion once more and becomes the bestselling comic book author he had always dreamed of.

But as the title suggests, this is a cautionary tale of what fear can do to our dreams, how it can crush passion—if you let it.

By the time I got to the convention center my energy was so poor that I didn’t even appreciate where I was. All my life I had dreamed of being at a convention just like the one I was at. Some of the biggest comic book writers and artists were just a few tables down from me. And yet, I didn’t even introduce myself. I never left my table. I worked hard to encourage people to notice my book, but few did. I spent most of the convention watching the crowd pass by my table. When the weekend was over I had sold nothing—not one book. I packed up and I drove home feeling more crushed than ever.

The next week after that I went to the bank to close my business account for good. It was one of the most painful things I have ever done. It was like admitting for once and for all that my dream of becoming a comic book writer was finally over.

Though those times were rough, the years have dulled the pain and I am able to look back at them with a new sense of appreciation. The lessons I learned were invaluable.

Today my passion for writing has changed and evolved because of those hard times. I’ve learned (once more) to write for the joy of it and for myself. As I write this I am just finishing my first novel. It is an accomplishment I would have never been able to do without the above events. They are a part of who I am; they shaped my outlook and my understanding of passion and how to protect it.

That being said I think, just maybe, if I could open up one of my old comic books and pull a time machine from its pages I’d take a trip back to 1987 to visit a boy still full of passion and hope. He’d probably have a comic in his hand and a smile on his face.

I’d whisper these words of advice to that boy…

1) Focus on what you want, not on what you don’t.

2) Fear only exists by your own creation.

3) Take a minute, slow down to appreciate and enjoy.

4) Never worry about what other people might think about your dream.

5) Remember that it’s all about the journey, not the destination.

6) Never tell anyone about your dream until you make it happen.