Writer’s Bling Block: How Your First Recognition Can Kill Your Writing
By: Freya Galvin-Green
Tags: Marketing, Creativity, Tips, Money, Writing

Photo by Jp Valery on Unsplash

With the exception of the great composers, Leonardo da Vinci, and Michelangelo, an artist’s talent is not often immediately seen. They have to start from the ground up — no, the basement. They have to pound the pavement whether they be a painter, singer, dancer, actor, or in this case, a writer.

We’ve all been there, the burgeoning excitement as you open an envelope, hoping that maybe, just maybe there is an acceptance rather than a rejection slip inside. Unless you’re like Stephen King who posted such slips all over his writing wall — you, the writers who are reading this, are no doubt familiar with that disappointment.

But I’m not here to talk about that.

I’m here to talk about the paralyzing pressure that takes over after the sea of disappointment gives way to the one pearl of hope: An acceptance letter, perhaps accompanied by a fat wad of cash depending on where you publish. Life is good! You, the amazing connoisseur of the pen and keyboard, have finally achieved the impossible! You have been paid for your writing! If Johnny Depp proposed to you on top of the London Eye, it wouldn’t even compare to how self-satisfied you are now! You spit out words, and somebody paid for them! You are a Queen, a King, a demigod of scribes! You are amazing! You are on your way! You are —

now under 10,000 metric tons of pressure to write something just as good, immediately.

You start off being generous to yourself, that’s how the deterioration begins.

“I feel like writing about this, and if these people liked that one piece, they ought to like this one.”

Or you can sometimes be a victim of the cocky approach.

“That last piece flowed so easily. I can do it again whenever I want. I’ve got some money put away now — I can rest and maybe go watch some Netflix.”

You do watch Netflix, but you can’t seem to relax as the newly published jitters are vibrating in your veins like a thousand bees. That paycheck is burning a hole in your pocket, but no, you have to save it. Maybe you just got lucky. You don’t know where your next big hit is coming from.

You tear yourself away from your celebratory cookie dough and The Walking Dead, envisioning your career crawling toward you, lifeless and taunting like one of the many zombies on screen. You can’t stand it anymore. This check is not a guarantee. You must keep writing to ensure you’re not a fluke.

Again, your generosity continues to be aimed towards yourself. You write what you want to write, and what you are passionate about. You publish one after the other, earning meager amounts, but at least it’s something. There is a tick in the back of your brain, like the annoying crocodile from Peter Pan:

“What if that was it? What if that was luck?”

Immediately you toss out your passion projects, convinced that nobody is going to go for them, as you analyze statistics, and what genre makes your voice strongest. Forget what you’re feeling passionate about, the things you are passionate about right now are making a name for yourself, not to mention money. The demographics become more and more confusing as you try and think of what is trending and relatable — your personal take on current events. Be snarky. Be truthful. Be funny. Be funnier. You pander to what you believe the masses want, with no success, barely having enough to take care of your Disney + addiction — ahem, subscription.

Without knowing it, you’ve turned yourself into an Idea devoid hack. You don’t know what to write. When you do write, barely anyone gives a crap. You don’t even give a crap. The subject matter no longer matters — just the voracious drive of sustainability. The need for recognition and recompense chokes out creativity.

If any of the above relates to you, I’m going to give you a word of advice that is going to make every little ambitious bone in your body scream in terror.

Take a break.

“But if I take a break, how will I earn — ”

Stop right there. You’re missing the point. Almost anybody who writes doesn’t write with the intention of becoming the next Nora Roberts or J. K. Rowling. They write for enjoyment. They write for release. And then they realize they’re good at it and that it might help somebody else too. If you get caught up in the publishing aspect of it, oftentimes you will lose the very thing that made you publishable in the first place. Be true to your writing and be patient. Good prompts come to those who wait.