Joanne Harris's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"
Ten Rules For Writers
These are the rules by which I live - as a writer, and as a human being.
1. Don't write to be a writer. Write because you want to write.
2. Get a proper desk chair. Your back will thank you for it.
3. Writing without reading is like cooking without eating. Do both. Understand both.
4. Some days the dream machine won't work. That doesn't mean it's broken.
5. Bad reviews make excellent cat litter. If necessary, adopt a cat.
6. Don't shit on people on your way up. You may to eat it on the way down.
7. Enjoy what you write. If you don't, who else will?
8. Don't follow trends. Set them.
9. Never forget to thank the people to whom you owe your success. No-one ever gets there alone.
10. There's no such thing as writer's block. There's only Life, reminding you that there's more to living than just writing books.
1. Don't write to be a writer. Write because you want to write.
2. Get a proper desk chair. Your back will thank you for it.
3. Writing without reading is like cooking without eating. Do both. Understand both.
4. Some days the dream machine won't work. That doesn't mean it's broken.
5. Bad reviews make excellent cat litter. If necessary, adopt a cat.
6. Don't shit on people on your way up. You may to eat it on the way down.
7. Enjoy what you write. If you don't, who else will?
8. Don't follow trends. Set them.
9. Never forget to thank the people to whom you owe your success. No-one ever gets there alone.
10. There's no such thing as writer's block. There's only Life, reminding you that there's more to living than just writing books.
On Amateurs, and Why I Love Them
Following the unexpected global response to my #TenThingsNotToSayToAWriter hashtag yesterday, I found myself involved in an equally interesting debate about what constitutes being a writer, and who exactly should be allowed to refer to themselves as such. The massive response to my hashtag suggests that there are many, many writers out there. Not all of them are published; not all of them want to be published. Some of them asked me if it was okay to think of themselves as writers if they’d never been published. Somebody even came to me and complained that I was encouraging amateur writers in delusions of grandeur.
This got me thinking about what it means to be a writer, and more specifically, what it means to be an amateur writer, as opposed to a professional. This was what I concluded.
If you write, then you are a writer. Some people need to give themselves permission to do the things they secretly want to do. There’s only one real difference between a writer and a non-writer. A writer writes. So first of all; write.
However, there’s a difference between coming out to yourself as a writer, and declaring it to the rest of the world. You may enjoy amateur dramatics, but you probably wouldn’t go to a showbiz party and tell people you’re an actress. You may be good at baking, and yet you wouldn’t claim to be a baker. So, how do you describe yourself if you’re not a professional?
I think it’s really time we reclaimed the much-maligned word “amateur.” It’s a French word, meaning “a lover of”, and for years it was worn as a badge of pride. Until recently, amateur sportsmen had a far greater status than professionals. Why? Because they had a choice. They were independent; free to indulge their passion for sport without having to answer to anyone.
Amateur status is not a comment on the quality of the work, or the effort that goes into it. Some amateurs are at least as talented and hard-working as professionals, if not more so. And in writing, as in sport, every professional starts off by being an amateur.
Basically, amateurs work for love; professionals work for money. And yes, some professionals love their job. But amateurs are willing to give up their time and to devote their energies freely to doing the thing they love the most. Amateurs work on passion alone, without having to make any concessions to the needs of bosses or the market. Amateurs have no timetable; they are not bound by rules or financial constraints. To be an amateur is to enjoy the art, or sport, or pastime, in its purest form, without any outside interference.
In fact, in some ways, to be a professional is less rewarding than retaining amateur status. It means having to give up independence, to give in to market forces, to submit to direction from others – even when you think those people don’t have your best interests at heart. It means accepting the fact that, to the people for whom you work, you will be a commodity, making money for the company, sometimes at the cost of pursuing your own ideas. You will no longer be free to write whatever you like, regardless of its marketability. Your work – your passion - will be at the mercy of bean-counters and market researchers.
It took me a long time to decide to give up my amateur status. I’d already had three books published by then, but although I’d been paid an advance for them, writing wasn’t my main source of income. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted it to be. I think I was afraid of losing my independence and my joy in the work. Eventually, I took the step, and although I don’t regret it, I sometimes miss being able to do whatever I wanted to do, without answering to anyone.
So, let’s hear it for the amateurs. Be proud of your independence, your passion and your creativity. Just because you’re not being paid doesn’t mean you’re any less smart, appreciated or talented. Any job can earn money. (Besides, even professional writers are generally poorly-paid.) But it’s a rare and precious thing to find work that satisfies heart and soul. So if you love it, do it. Your devotion to the work matters more than the pay-check. That’s what makes you a writer; not the money you have in the bank, or what you tell people at parties. Be proud of what you have achieved – whether it’s for public consumption or something intensely private - and rejoice in your amateur status. You may not be getting paid, but you have something the professionals don’t. Enjoy it; appreciate it; learn from it. And don’t let anyone tell you that just because you’re not getting paid, the job isn’t paying you rewards. It is. So do it for love, first and foremost. And if one day you end up also doing it for money, then fine. But never, never stop working for love. And never sneer at those who do.
This got me thinking about what it means to be a writer, and more specifically, what it means to be an amateur writer, as opposed to a professional. This was what I concluded.
If you write, then you are a writer. Some people need to give themselves permission to do the things they secretly want to do. There’s only one real difference between a writer and a non-writer. A writer writes. So first of all; write.
However, there’s a difference between coming out to yourself as a writer, and declaring it to the rest of the world. You may enjoy amateur dramatics, but you probably wouldn’t go to a showbiz party and tell people you’re an actress. You may be good at baking, and yet you wouldn’t claim to be a baker. So, how do you describe yourself if you’re not a professional?
I think it’s really time we reclaimed the much-maligned word “amateur.” It’s a French word, meaning “a lover of”, and for years it was worn as a badge of pride. Until recently, amateur sportsmen had a far greater status than professionals. Why? Because they had a choice. They were independent; free to indulge their passion for sport without having to answer to anyone.
Amateur status is not a comment on the quality of the work, or the effort that goes into it. Some amateurs are at least as talented and hard-working as professionals, if not more so. And in writing, as in sport, every professional starts off by being an amateur.
Basically, amateurs work for love; professionals work for money. And yes, some professionals love their job. But amateurs are willing to give up their time and to devote their energies freely to doing the thing they love the most. Amateurs work on passion alone, without having to make any concessions to the needs of bosses or the market. Amateurs have no timetable; they are not bound by rules or financial constraints. To be an amateur is to enjoy the art, or sport, or pastime, in its purest form, without any outside interference.
In fact, in some ways, to be a professional is less rewarding than retaining amateur status. It means having to give up independence, to give in to market forces, to submit to direction from others – even when you think those people don’t have your best interests at heart. It means accepting the fact that, to the people for whom you work, you will be a commodity, making money for the company, sometimes at the cost of pursuing your own ideas. You will no longer be free to write whatever you like, regardless of its marketability. Your work – your passion - will be at the mercy of bean-counters and market researchers.
It took me a long time to decide to give up my amateur status. I’d already had three books published by then, but although I’d been paid an advance for them, writing wasn’t my main source of income. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted it to be. I think I was afraid of losing my independence and my joy in the work. Eventually, I took the step, and although I don’t regret it, I sometimes miss being able to do whatever I wanted to do, without answering to anyone.
So, let’s hear it for the amateurs. Be proud of your independence, your passion and your creativity. Just because you’re not being paid doesn’t mean you’re any less smart, appreciated or talented. Any job can earn money. (Besides, even professional writers are generally poorly-paid.) But it’s a rare and precious thing to find work that satisfies heart and soul. So if you love it, do it. Your devotion to the work matters more than the pay-check. That’s what makes you a writer; not the money you have in the bank, or what you tell people at parties. Be proud of what you have achieved – whether it’s for public consumption or something intensely private - and rejoice in your amateur status. You may not be getting paid, but you have something the professionals don’t. Enjoy it; appreciate it; learn from it. And don’t let anyone tell you that just because you’re not getting paid, the job isn’t paying you rewards. It is. So do it for love, first and foremost. And if one day you end up also doing it for money, then fine. But never, never stop working for love. And never sneer at those who do.
Why Authors are Ninjas...
Ever wanted to be an author? Don’t worry: you’re not alone. With the ranks of “aspiring authors” growing by the minute, with creative writing courses booming, and with “author” at the top of the list of the nation’s “ideal jobs”, it seems as if most of the population is desperate to join the ranks.
Why? It can’t be money. According to figures recently released by the Society of Authors, the average income for a professional author is about £11,000 a year, and dropping all the time. That’s well below the minimum wage, and frankly, there are easier ways of staying poor and frustrated.
Nor can it be about respect, given that authors are widely undervalued, taken for granted and misunderstood – that is, if they’re not being plagiarized, pirated, exploited or otherwise ripped off by people who don’t quite believe that what they do counts as work.
So what is it about writing for a living that makes people go all starry-eyed? It’s very simple, really. Some people write because they love writing. These people would probably keep on writing whether or not they were published. If you are one of these people, then there is nothing I can say to put you off, or to make you see sense. Join the club. Pull up a chair. Maybe have a cup of tea.
Then there are the people who write because they want to be writers. These people have a particular idea about what being a writer entails. It’s a highly romanticized idea, filled with dangerous nonsense. My advice to these people is: if the idea of being a writer is more important and attractive to you than actually writing, then run. Run like the wind. Maybe take up a hobby.
See, here’s the thing. Being an author is a bit like being a ninja. You don’t get to be a successful ninja if all you really want is to be seen to be a ninja. Being a ninja is a covert activity. Ninjas don’t go around going: “LOOK AT ME, DUDE, I’M A NINJA!” They just get on with being ninjas, and no-one is any the wiser.
Now you’re probably thinking that my analogy is pretty tenuous. But authors and ninjas have something else in common. Both have become creatures of legend. Both have been exoticized beyond reason or possibility. Ask a kid what a ninja does and they’ll probably say something about throwing stars, powers of invisibility or hanging out with turtles. Ask an adult what an author does, and unless they’re in the book trade, they will probably trot out something equally far from the truth – except that instead of ninja throwing stars, they’ll be talking about movie options, launches, festivals and book prizes. Because that’s what we tend to do with things we don’t have direct experience of: we take the things we like the sound of and build them into fantasies. And although there’s nothing remotely wrong with people having fantasies, if those fantasies turn into stereotypes that harm or diminish others, or cause us to have false expectations that will lead to disillusionment, then we have a problem.
So, here are some myths about authors, stripped of all their silly romance. Besides, I personally like to believe that the real thing is better anyway…
1. Authors are Different to Normal People.
Wrong. There is no “author type.” Authors come in pretty much all the same types that any other people do – except that they write books. And yes, they’re just as weird, normal, honest, lazy, strong, clever, brave, foolish, weak, obsessive, boring (insert any adjective here) as the rest of humankind. Othering isn’t cool. Don’t do it with authors.
2. Real Authors Create Art – it Isn’t Really a Job to Them.
Er… yeah. Yes it is. That’s just a myth invented by cheapskates who don’t want to pay authors for the work they do.
3. Anyone Can Be An Author.
No they can’t: just as not everyone can be a doctor, or a marathon runner, or a ballerina, or a politician, or a monk, or a footballer, or an undertaker, or a taxidermist, or that guy who taste-tests Haribo. (also see: Everyone Should Write a Book. Why on earth should they want to?)
4. Authors Should Suffer For Their Art.
Nope. Try breaking your ankle; see if it makes you better at your job.
5. Authors Are Somehow Better, Finer, Nobler Individuals Through Their Art.
Wrong. All of them still fart in bed; have bad days; screw up. You’re doing them no favours by assuming they’re superhuman.
6. Authors Enjoy Their Job All The Time. Wrong. No job is all roses. Sometimes being a writer can be frustrating, dull, or depressing. We mostly keep on going in spite of those things, not because of them.
7. Authors Are Intellectuals.
Wrong. Some are; some not. But an academic background is by no means a guarantee of success as an author.
8. Authors are Part of a Special, Secret Author Club, a Bit Like The Freemasons, But More Literary.
A persistent myth among unpublished writers, this one presupposes that authors get published via a secret handshake, or sinister Old Boy network, rather than a publisher’s hope that they’ll make money for them. Needless to say, it isn’t true.
9. You Get to Be an Author By Believing In Yourself.
Sadly, not. It sometimes helps, but persistence and self-belief alone are no guarantee of success. Sometimes, and for a variety of possible reasons, you never get where you want to be. This is no reason not to try, however.
10. Being an Author Makes You Somehow Better Than Other People.
Wrong. And if you think it does, you’re probably a bit of a dick.
Why? It can’t be money. According to figures recently released by the Society of Authors, the average income for a professional author is about £11,000 a year, and dropping all the time. That’s well below the minimum wage, and frankly, there are easier ways of staying poor and frustrated.
Nor can it be about respect, given that authors are widely undervalued, taken for granted and misunderstood – that is, if they’re not being plagiarized, pirated, exploited or otherwise ripped off by people who don’t quite believe that what they do counts as work.
So what is it about writing for a living that makes people go all starry-eyed? It’s very simple, really. Some people write because they love writing. These people would probably keep on writing whether or not they were published. If you are one of these people, then there is nothing I can say to put you off, or to make you see sense. Join the club. Pull up a chair. Maybe have a cup of tea.
Then there are the people who write because they want to be writers. These people have a particular idea about what being a writer entails. It’s a highly romanticized idea, filled with dangerous nonsense. My advice to these people is: if the idea of being a writer is more important and attractive to you than actually writing, then run. Run like the wind. Maybe take up a hobby.
See, here’s the thing. Being an author is a bit like being a ninja. You don’t get to be a successful ninja if all you really want is to be seen to be a ninja. Being a ninja is a covert activity. Ninjas don’t go around going: “LOOK AT ME, DUDE, I’M A NINJA!” They just get on with being ninjas, and no-one is any the wiser.
Now you’re probably thinking that my analogy is pretty tenuous. But authors and ninjas have something else in common. Both have become creatures of legend. Both have been exoticized beyond reason or possibility. Ask a kid what a ninja does and they’ll probably say something about throwing stars, powers of invisibility or hanging out with turtles. Ask an adult what an author does, and unless they’re in the book trade, they will probably trot out something equally far from the truth – except that instead of ninja throwing stars, they’ll be talking about movie options, launches, festivals and book prizes. Because that’s what we tend to do with things we don’t have direct experience of: we take the things we like the sound of and build them into fantasies. And although there’s nothing remotely wrong with people having fantasies, if those fantasies turn into stereotypes that harm or diminish others, or cause us to have false expectations that will lead to disillusionment, then we have a problem.
So, here are some myths about authors, stripped of all their silly romance. Besides, I personally like to believe that the real thing is better anyway…
1. Authors are Different to Normal People.
Wrong. There is no “author type.” Authors come in pretty much all the same types that any other people do – except that they write books. And yes, they’re just as weird, normal, honest, lazy, strong, clever, brave, foolish, weak, obsessive, boring (insert any adjective here) as the rest of humankind. Othering isn’t cool. Don’t do it with authors.
2. Real Authors Create Art – it Isn’t Really a Job to Them.
Er… yeah. Yes it is. That’s just a myth invented by cheapskates who don’t want to pay authors for the work they do.
3. Anyone Can Be An Author.
No they can’t: just as not everyone can be a doctor, or a marathon runner, or a ballerina, or a politician, or a monk, or a footballer, or an undertaker, or a taxidermist, or that guy who taste-tests Haribo. (also see: Everyone Should Write a Book. Why on earth should they want to?)
4. Authors Should Suffer For Their Art.
Nope. Try breaking your ankle; see if it makes you better at your job.
5. Authors Are Somehow Better, Finer, Nobler Individuals Through Their Art.
Wrong. All of them still fart in bed; have bad days; screw up. You’re doing them no favours by assuming they’re superhuman.
6. Authors Enjoy Their Job All The Time. Wrong. No job is all roses. Sometimes being a writer can be frustrating, dull, or depressing. We mostly keep on going in spite of those things, not because of them.
7. Authors Are Intellectuals.
Wrong. Some are; some not. But an academic background is by no means a guarantee of success as an author.
8. Authors are Part of a Special, Secret Author Club, a Bit Like The Freemasons, But More Literary.
A persistent myth among unpublished writers, this one presupposes that authors get published via a secret handshake, or sinister Old Boy network, rather than a publisher’s hope that they’ll make money for them. Needless to say, it isn’t true.
9. You Get to Be an Author By Believing In Yourself.
Sadly, not. It sometimes helps, but persistence and self-belief alone are no guarantee of success. Sometimes, and for a variety of possible reasons, you never get where you want to be. This is no reason not to try, however.
10. Being an Author Makes You Somehow Better Than Other People.
Wrong. And if you think it does, you’re probably a bit of a dick.
