Accepting the Down Cycle of Writing

Source: Nasty case of writer's block creates the
most brilliant scientific paper ever.

I wrote here about how sometimes, I experience a down cycle with writing. It's not exactly writer's block, which implies you are desperately trying to write but nothing is coming. It's more like completely losing the will to write. Suddenly nothing seems interesting enough to write down, to share with the world or even just record in a journal for my own enjoyment. Suddenly the prospect of sitting with your laptop and a blank page sounds boring rather than exciting.

Most of the time, this feeling only lasts for a day. But to my horror, it can last for weeks or months at a time. This is the worst, because it makes me question if I'm really meant to be a writer if I can lose my passion for it for such a long time. Shouldn't I be obsessed with writing? Shouldn't I rather write than watch old episodes of Scrubs on Netflix?

Furthermore, I read way too many agent and writer blogs that talk about what is expected of writers these days. Agents don't just want to hear about the project you're pitching them. They want to know that you're already a good amount into writing a second book and have a great idea for a third. They want to know that you are hungry for a career, not just looking to make a profit from one measly book.

Hearing things like this is discouraging. First of all, knowing that very few writers get to actually quit their full-time jobs and just write, where would anyone find that kind of time? But people do it. People with full-time jobs AND kids. I am an unmarried mother of three plants that are constantly on the verge of death, and yet I can't imagine churning out that much material. And then I feel bad about it, like I'm destined for a dismal (or non-existent) career.

But at the Writers Meet Agents conference sponsored by the League of Vermont Writers, I met a guy who experiences the same thing. In fact, it took him five years to complete his manuscript, and he (like myself) still feels like it could use more work. (Hint, it can ALWAYS use more work). But rather than freak out and beat himself up and question his own credibility, he - get this - ACCEPTS it.


!


Yeah. When he doesn't feel like writing, when the thought of trying to write is akin to that of jamming a sharp pencil through his eyeball, he just doesn't. He thinks of it as part of his process. It's his brain telling him his batteries are drained and he needs some time to recharge his creativity.

I was floored.

It has recently come to my attention that I am very hard on myself. I balk at suggestions of this. After all, if I were hard on myself, wouldn't I be stick thin, working in a high powered career, with three published books under my belt?

Turns out no. Upon further investigation (basically what my therapist tells me), Type A-ish people like me are, consciously or unconsciously, severely critical of themselves to the point that if they are not perfect, they would rather do nothing than do something and not be the BEST at it. So when you receive criticism, or do something that doesn't live up to your own or someone else's high standards (bound to happen, as a human and not a robot), it can give us anxiety and drive us down into depression, which saps all your energy and drive, thus furthering the cycle.

So I'm learning this about myself, but only at the beginning stages, and I'm not at all sure how to stop it. But meeting this guy was like a giant fluorescent sign flashing "You're doing it again. Yeah, you, the one who refuses to give herself a break." And thinking of it in terms of my brain forcing me to recharge the batteries, rather than me losing my passion, is a much healthier way to approach it. I am simply not a person who can work from the moment they wake up to the moment they go to sleep. I needs me some down time. Why do you think I'm in no rush for a kid, the ultimate time suck?

Maybe the expectations of writers these days IS high. Maybe they ARE expected to pump out novels like hotcakes. Maybe the most successful ones DO. But does that mean I have to? Does that mean I'll never have a career in this? Does it have to be all or nothing?

No. It doesn't.

It is perhaps an inconvenience, a hinderence as far as how long it might take me to get published or my ability to make as much money as possible when I am. But at least for now, when I'm not being paid to do this and I'm not under deadline, it doesn't necessarily mean I'm a slacker either. And the fact that I always come back to it, that I've stuck with this book after going through several periods like this, should tell me that I can place a little faith in myself, and that it is something I'm passionate about even if it's not every second of every day.

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Tips on Pitching an Agent

Last week I told you about what it feels like to pitch an agent, including an over share on nervous poo'ing. Now, since I've done it once, I'm obviously the expert on it, so I thought I should give you a few tips to get you through this nerve wracking process.

Source

1. Relax.  This is the hardest one, but it's important. If you're visibly out of control nervous and can't handle your shit, the agent is going to feel uncomfortable and probably not be able to concentrate on what you're saying. Like I said, they expect a certain degree of nervousness. But don't say "Oh my God I'm sorry, I'm so nervous." You wouldn't say that at the beginning of a job interview, would you?
   
   Do whatever you can to relax the morning of (exercise, meditate, journal, cry), accept that you're going to feel a certain degree of nervousness in the minutes leading up to your scheduled time (maybe make sure you're near a bathroom about ten minutes before), and remember - in the end, it's just a conversation about your book, and the worst that can happen is they say they don't like it.
   
2. Prepare.  I think what helped me conquer my nerves in the week leading up to it, is I wrote out my pitch, read it out loud twice, tweaking it along the way, timing myself to make sure it wasn't more than 3 minutes (ideal is 2, but I'm a big mouth). Then I practiced it five or six times without looking at the sheet, intentionally not trying to memorize every single word. This practice not only helped me remember what I wanted to say, but it helped the pitch sound more conversational and gave me confidence in my ability to get all my points across.
   
3. But Don't Over Prepare.  Right before the pitch sessions began, one of the agents gave us a major piece of advice, "Don't just rattle off some memorized speech. It's not intriguing, and if you forget a word or a line, it is probably going to fluster you." I didn't actually write a pitch until the day before, because I knew I would have a couple hours to focus on it. But after I said it aloud about 8 times and was confident I would remember my points, I put it out of mind. For just the reason that the agent said. I didn't want to sound like a robot, I didn't want to be lost if I forgot a line. I knew there would be a live person in front of me, potentially reacting to things I was saying, so I wanted to allow for that.
   
4. Be Yourself.  Another valuable thing an agent said before the pitching fever began, "Remember that we're just people who really love books, and we want you to succeed just as much as you do." This really helped with the number one tip, but it also reminded me that your agent is your business partner, and you have to make sure they're a right fit for you just as much as you (and your writing) for them. So be genuine, don't do some crazy theatrical pitch if you wouldn't be comfortable adopting that into your persona. Just talk about your book a smidge more professionally than you would to a friend.
   
5. Don't Bring Anything.  Even if agents are interested in your work, they are not going to ask for your query letter, synopsis, or sample chapters right there and then. Most agents do everything electronically, and they do not want to figure out how to pack the bulk of your materials in their carry-on. If it makes you  feel more secure, bring a notebook and pen to have in front of you (I did this), but don't actually take notes. You don't have enough time, and if you can't remember the few things they're going to be able to tell you in the time you have.
   
6. Dress...well, I shockingly did NOT do research on this. I was more worried about what to wear so I wouldn't freeze to death in air conditioning all day. I decided to wear something that I felt was ME, because after all you're representing your book but also who you are. Normally for me this would mean a dress and bold jewelry, but because I didn't want to be cold I chose a pair of pants slightly nicer than jeans and a loose fitting top (with bold jewelry).
   
   The person sitting next to me had tattoo sleeves, and had read that you should dress like you're going to a job interview, so he had on a long collared shirt and dress pants, and he looked great and professional. I am actually glad I did not read what he read, because my interview outfit is a black wool shift dress with a boyfriend blazer, and I would have been waaaay overdressed. I think it's best to go with something that you feel comfortable in, that you would meet a friend for lunch in, that you WOULD NOT garden in. There. Find that outfit.
   
7. Stick to the basics. Here's a simple formula for how to pitch your book.  Always start with: "My book is [genre], it's called [title], and it's [word count]." Then, in one sentence, tell them what your book is about. Notice I didn't say tell them everything that happens. Tell them what it's about, your next sentences will say what happens.
   
    A good formula that I picked up from the League of Vermont Writers to tell someone what your book is about is to fill in the blanks. "My book is about [main character's name], a [2 or 3 word description] who wants more than anything to [the MC's goal], but can't because [the obstacle the MC has to overcome].
   
   For example, in my novel, the MC quits her job and goes to Australia, she struggles to find herself, she gets caught up in a romantic triangle, and in the end she finds herself and ends up with one of the guys. But that's just what happens. My "what it's about" sentence is "My book is about Maggie, a young woman right out of college, who desperately wants to be a free-spirited world traveler, but her her overachieving, Type A personality keeps getting in her way." It doesn't follow the formula exactly, but I think it works.
   
   Now you only have a few sentences to outline the rest of what happens, so choose the points wisely. Introduce only the major characters in the book through describing what is happening. Remember your last sentence should be about what happens in the end. This is not a book jacket or teaser. They want to know how it ends so they get a sense of the story, the lesson, the way you've wrapped the tale up (because that determines a lot about what kind of book it is).
   
   AND you want to give them any credentials that you have. If you've published before, or if the book is non-fiction and you have a particular expertise on the subject you're writing, etc. In my case, since a bulk of the book takes place in a foreign country, I thought they should know that I actually did quit my job and travel around Australia on my own, so they know that I actually have the experience to back up my writing and I didn't just write about what I think Australia would be like.
   
8. Be realistic.  Agents responses can range from, "I don't think that will sell," to "Sure, send me a query, I can't promise anything" to "That sounds great, send me a partial." Or, in the case of one guy I met who basically floated out of the room, "That sounds fantastic. Send me the full manuscript." That very rarely happens, so it felt like someone I knew won the lottery. I was SO excited for him for like an hour, but on the drive home I kinda hated him a little.
   
   This is going to sound pessimistic, and it totally goes against the law of attraction, but going into it I just looked at it like strength training - you won't see immediate results, but you're building the muscle. I told myself that the agent would probably not be interested, but at least I would get that experience under my belt, gain some confidence in the process, and maybe get some valuable feedback and learn what agents' concerns might be. Oh yeah, and get a few blog posts out of it.
   
9. Ask a Question or Two.  As I said above, it's a lot like an interview. Ask informed questions, NOT "what agency do you work for?" that's insulting because it shows you didn't bother to do any research on the agent. More like "what percentage of your list is [your genre]?" I personally did not get to this step, as we didn't have the time. If I were to do it over again, I would have trimmed my pitch a bit to allow for at least one or two questions, to show the agent I had done my research and that I'm serious about a career in writing.

There are TONS of articles out there about pitching agents. So many that I'm not even going to link to them because any Google search will turn them up. Just try not to read TOO many, because you'll start to get conflicting advice and then your head will hurt too much to come up with a good pitch!

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My Experiencing Pitching an Agent

Last time I spoke about all the reasons I felt like going to a writer's conference was an experience every writer should have. Although it ended up being about much more, my main reason for attending was to pitch an agent in person, an opportunity that writers in Vermont don't get very often.


All week long I agonized over these ten minutes that I was going to get in front of this agent. I did research on the agent, what genres she represented, any interviews she's given, any posts about what she's like in a pitch session. The woman I chose is relatively new in the business, so there wasn't a lot to go on.

I researched HOW to do a pitch, spent hours honing in on the major points on which I needed to touch, practiced saying it out loud, tweaking words to sound more conversational, timing myself to see how long I was droning on for, slashing words left and right to make it shorter. Finally I felt good about my little blurb. I memorized the POINTS I wanted to make but not a word for word pitch, because I wanted to sound personable rather than like a scripted commercial for my book.



For some reason, at the beginning of the conference I wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be. I actually felt relaxed and confident enough to engage in writery conversation with the other attendees, and I was still able to pay attention to the presenters.

It wasn't until about 10 minutes before that the butterflies woke up.

Here's what ran through my head in those ten minutes:

Ohmygod ten minutes until I completely embarrass myself and get laughed out of the room. No, don't think that way, she's just a person, she's only a person, she's just one fucking person. She'll probably say it's stupid, no she won't say it's stupid, that would be mean. What if she's mean? Ohmygod the nervous poos are coming. Nope, I'm good. Well, maybe I should just go anyway so I'm not thinking about poo while I'm pitching my novel. Oh God what if she thinks the premise of my book is poo? No, she won't think that. It's awesome. Right? Whatever. Oh shit the line is long. It's okay it's just a nervous poo, it doesn't really need to happen. Back to the table. What time is it? 10:53. 7 minutes to go? Jesus that was the longest three minutes of my life. Maybe I should start a conversation with someone to distract me. No, I shouldn't do that because you know me, I get to talking and BAM, it's 11:04 and I'm late for my pitch and I've wasted the $25 I paid...or I guess it's more like whatever 40% of $25 because I'll have only missed four minutes. 10% of $25 is $2.50 times 4 is...$10! $10! I guess wasting $10 wouldn't be so bad...but that's not the point, the POINT is I can't show up late to my pitch, it would look terrible and the agent wouldn't even LISTEN to my poo pitch because she'd be so pissed I was late...because really how hard is it to be on time when you're two feet away from the room you're supposed to be in? Maybe I should doodle...one flower petal, two flower petals...I'm actually pretty impressed with myself for bringing that hanging plant back to life, it was on it's last legs and I saved it...what time is it now? 10:55, UGH. Maybe you should read over your pitch - NO don't do that they said they didn't want something rehearsed and robotic. Maybe some more doodling. One petal, two petals...damnit my hands are shaking, how do I stop my hands from shaking?Oh screw it, I'll just go stand near the pitching room with all the other nervous writers.


You can lie to yourself if you want, but if you've ever done a pitch, you know this is EXACTLY what goes through your mind. INCluding the nervous poo thing. Why do you think the line was so long?

But I'm going to let you in on a HUGE secret:


It's really not that big of a deal.

Whaaaaat? you say. I mean, OF COURSE it's a huge deal, these 10 minutes could potentially change your life, the entire course of your career. You want to impress them, and you know you only have a precious few minutes that fall after all the other precious few minutes taken up by dozens of writers before you. But when it's all boiled down, it's a conversation with another human being about the premise and basic outline of your novel. Agents expect you to be nervous, they expect you to stumble a little bit over your words, and they do not expecting some grand performance swinging in and out on a trapeze.

Before the pitch, I was worried that since my schpiel only took 3 minutes, what if she didn't have any comments or feedback and the rest of the 10 minutes were filled up with dead air? Knowing me and my need to fill up awkward silences with any kind of noise, I would probably start spewing off random thoughts like the above plant resuscitation and the nervous poos.

But I didn't have to worry about that.

I sat down, exchanged a brief nicety, told her the name, genre, and word count of my book and just launched. When I was done, she said "well, there are definitely some things you mentioned that sound interesting to me..."

[Inner happy dance]

"...But I do have some concerns." [Not as huge of a stomach drop as I expected it. I mean, it would have been suspicious if she didn't have some concerns. I have some concerns about it and I wrote and tweaked the GD thing for two and a half years.]

She told me her concerns and I was actually able to assuage two out of three of them. At some point in there, someone said we were at the 2 minutes left mark, which completely blew my mind because I felt like it was only 35 seconds since I sat down. The way it was left was, "You can certainly send me something, I can't promise anything but I'm interested to see more."

And then I left.

So, it wasn't like I wow'ed her to the point where she was ready to represent me, (which I seriously doubt has ever happened, because you don't have time for the agent to actually READ your writing, which is why it's so weird), but she didn't tell me, "No, I'm not interested" either. I consider that a:

Stay tuned for next week when I give some tips on how to make your pitch a great success, too!

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