You Lookin' at Me?

Do you want to make money, have a million followers, or be recognized for the quality of your writing? Creativity expert Julia Cameron believes that every writer must identify their "True North". True North is the outcome that would bring you real satisfaction with your work.

If you can't name your personal True North, it's hard to set goals that will lead you in the right direction. Some creative people write great stories but are frustrated by the fact that they can't earn a decent living and have to hold down many jobs. Others sell their work, but feel like they have to stoop to the low tide of the market to earn any dough. Then you have the unusual predicament of a hugely successful author like Stephenie Meyer. The final book in the Twilight saga sold 1.3 million copies in the first 24 hours after its release. But Meyer believes that today she could write a much better version of Twilight -- because now she's developed a true sense of craft. Though she says she's got mature stories to tell, Meyer says can't write when she feels people looking over her shoulder.

Yikes! After selling more than 70 million copies of the Twilight books, finding the creative solitude that feeds her True North must be nearly impossible. Meyer says that even her mother tries to tell her what she should be writing. Still, she knows that get to the heart of the matter, she's got to put distance between herself and the rest of the world.

Those mystical moments when creative ideas are born can be thrilling. Last Thursday, I took my coffee down by our stream. The sun hadn't risen above the trees but the weather was already steamy. Early morning felt like a dream my brain forgot to end. Then I got this sensation that I wasn't writing alone. I turned my head and saw I had a follower. He had horns, lean legs, and a white tail. Maybe he was just thirsty, but I think that deer was trying to find his way into my plot. Can't find peace and quiet anywhere!

The Long March to Success: Rachel Simon

Many folks think that writing careers are launched by a random bolt from the sky. But most are the product of ceaseless work. The tale of Rachel Simon, a friend whose book "The Story of Beautiful Girl" recently made the New York Times Bestseller list, offers an antidote to the magical thinking that surrounds the writing industry.

When I met Rachel, we were both in our first post-college jobs. I wasn't sure what to do with my English degree. Journalism didn't seem attractive, but I still wanted to write. Rachel was not a journalist, but she had a clear vision of the kind of writer she wanted to become. She never let the drudgery of her day job keep her from working on stories. Over time, her strong work ethic and well-defined goals helped her get a story selected for "consideration" by a literary journal. During an entire year of waiting, Rachel's story got lost and was eventually rejected by the publication. Infuriated, Rachel's anger pushed her into entering a story contest -- which she won. When she went to accept her award, she took copies of her story to hand out at the event and used the opportunity to meet professionals in the industry.

Guided once more by her goals, Rachel worked to sell her first book, before she even had an agent. After winning a contract, she did whatever it took to sell more books and make people pay attention to her writing. Her publicity events were funny and fearless and she never backed down from the endless challenge of getting people to notice (and buy!) her work.

When her second book of fiction did not set the world on fire, Rachel had to work through a long period of self-doubt. Ultimately, her instincts led her away from fiction and into memoir. This brave decision was a key choice that transformed her view of herself and her family. It also showed her she had the power to tell many kinds of stories. Riding the Bus with My Sister was translated into a host of languages and made into a TV movie.

Though the success of the memoir opened a new path for her, Rachel still taught writing as a part-time college professor. Then, after years of teaching, her position got cut during a budget blood-bath. Grieving this sudden loss, Rachel turned the termination of her job into raw material for her next work. The Story of Beautiful Girl has now pushed Rachel into the national fiction limelight. Her book was recently highlighted by Jennifer Weiner on Good Morning America as one of this year's great summer reads.

If Rachel's path teaches anything, it is that successful writing careers rest on a foundation built from tremendous discipline and the ability to rebound from disappointment. She works with diligence and wisdom whether she's helping students, meeting her writing schedule, or throwing a party.

Becoming a good writer requires us to become the best version of ourselves and that often means turning away from more seductive pleasures. Rachel says, "The most valuable tool in a writer's toolbox is the word no." Say no, she says, to anything that distracts you from your writing. This advice reminds me of the motto on a statue in the Annenberg School where Rachel and I worked at our first jobs. The bust of Moses Louis Annenberg reminded everyone that, "Sacrifice is necessary for achievement." Yes, Moses, it certainly is.

Word Ethics

Most people who thrive as writers have built their success on three qualities:1) Skill, 2) Luck, and 3) Work ethic. It's an equation that can be rebalanced in a few ways. If you are incredibly skillful, like Scott Fitzgerald, you might need less luck. And if you're really lucky, like "Twilight" author Stephenie Meyer, skill may not be the key. But even lucky, talented authors can't survive without a disciplined approach to the page.

Many young people want to be writers but they absorb their ideas about the field from images in movies and publicity media. Some actually believe that all published writers get the beach house, prepaid. This is a hilarious notion for those of us struggling to meet deadlines while we wait for our freelance checks to roll in. Apart from writing, most authors have to maintain teaching jobs or speaker schedules to keep their financial boat afloat. Last week I taught writing workshops to students in Philadelphia and raced home to write after nightfall. Yet even some of my most sensible clients seem to think my address is Easy Street USA -- maybe that's why my checks arrive late.

Writers don't get paid holidays and they finance their vacations with 60 hour work weeks before and after each break. When I have a three day weekend, like last week, I usually have to write at night to make up for lost time. But I'd still do this job even if I never got another day off. I started writing stories and journals when I was a kid in primary school. If I have to go a day without writing, it's only because I'm forced into it. Sure it's a bit of a compulsion, but it's the only way I know how to stay limber and hit every deadline -- and it's a common practice with most writers I've known. Even Stephen King, who could survive 300 years without selling another book, keeps a rigorous writing schedule because his personality will tolerate no less.

A long time ago, I saw a diagram for helping teens choose a career. In the middle, it said: "Do what you love". This message was surrounded by concentric rings which explained that: a) doing what you love, helps you define who you are and develop your true talents, and b) developing your true talents helps you become the person you were meant to be. So if you think you are the kind of person meant to obsess over words from morning 'til night, and cool your heels 'til your financial payoff arrives, a writer's life may be just for you. You can write on the porch in summer and on the couch when it snows. Just be prepared to do a lot of scribbling before you get the beach house. It comes with a nice view and a hefty mortgage.

Next week: A true tale of how a phenomenal work ethic built a path to the New York Times Bestseller list.

Fireworks in the Library

Conflict lies at the heart of every revolution. It set things off in 1776 and rocks our politics today. Great writers also embrace conflict as a tool to move society forward. Authors like Edna O' Brien chafed at the injustices promoted by organized religion and sexist norms. Though her books are revered today, they once served as fuel for library bonfires.

People with a strong creative impulse often find themselves at odds with society. O'Brien felt suffocated by a religious education and poured her discontent into The Country Girls, a tale of independent girls who resisted the constrictions forced on Irish women. Her work -- which advocated birth control -- was banned, burned and belittled before it catapulted her to the top of the literary heap.

Practically every work O'Brien wrote was censored by the Irish government under the Censorship of Publications Act of 1929. The authorities found her stories to be "indecent or obscene". But she later won a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Irish Book Awards in Dublin, as well as the Los Angeles Times Book Prize.

It's a quiet day today, but a writer can find the seeds of conflict anywhere. There are firecrackers shaking the forest while mountain laurels explode across the hills. Tonight, those rowdy fireflies will be back and the fireworks will start again. So much rebellion, so much material, right here in our woods.

Writing Idols Revived: Midnight in Paris

Once upon a time a bunch of clever people settled near the Seine seeking new ways to write, draw, and explain the world. Their work earned them big prizes and a perpetual glow that still enchants aspiring artists. Books like The Great Gatsby and The Sun also Rises ensured that hordes of college students would dream of writing in French cafes. Then, just when you think the magic of Jazz Age literature had been dispelled by reality (and Reality TV), Woody Allen leaps in to revive it with his film Midnight in Paris.

Seeing this film sent me back to books that have launched a million writing careers. Though Fitzgerald always charmed me most, it was Gertrude Stein who brought Picasso, Hemingway, and the rest of that creative gang together. It takes work to find the core of her stories, and the rewards have not always seemed to justify the effort. But Midnight in Paris reminded me that the enigmatic quality of her writing was a reflection of her strong, quirky personality -- and that's what drew genius artists to Stein's salons.

This paragraph from The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas illustrates the oblique charm of her writing: "As I was saying, Fernande, who was then living wih Picasso and had been with him a long time that is to say they were all twenty-four years olds at that time but they had been together a long time, Fernande was the first wife of a genius I sat with and she was not the least amusing. We talked hats. Fernande had two subjects hats and perfumes. This first days we talked hats. She liked hats, she had the true french feeling about a hat, if a hat did nto provoke some witticism from a man on the street the hat was not a success. Later on once in Montmartre she and I were walking together. She had on a large yellow hat and I had on a much smaller blue one. As we were walking along a workman stopped and called out, there go the sun and the moon shining together. Ah, said Fernande to me with a radiant smile, you see our hats are a success."

That's a heap of words. Yet, when you get to the end, there is a sense that the phrases describe more than a moment. It's a long paragraph leading a tour of cultural history. Nevertheless, you may not want to eat that many words at each meal.

It good to go back to read those authors who were your first idols. It makes you recall what you love about writing -- whether it's content or style or just the rhythm that propels great stories. I think I may also go back to see that Woody Allen movie again. He has put a new coat of paint on a cherished illusion.

Advice from Masters

All around me, the garden is in some ecstatic state that makes things grow fast. But gray skies make me feel lazy. The late John Leonard, my beloved college writing teacher, told me that laziness is a writer's biggest problem. Starting pieces you never finish, he warned, is the scourge of the profession. Since he'd published a few novels and been editor of the New York Times Book Review, he knew a thing or two about the rewards of perseverance.

Persistence is clearly a trait that drives success in this business. It may even matter more than talent, since many talented people give up before they get published -- and lots of mediocre writers end up in print. A recent computer crash taught me something about the limits of my own ability to persevere. One afternoon the laptop I'd been using for two years went dead -- just dead -- without warning. I was in the middle of a high profile assignment with a no-nonsense deadline. The project had to be finished, so I went to work on an old, injured IBM. It was once a great machine but had developed electrical problems that allowed me to type only when I held down the left corner of the keyboard. It's not a very comfortable arrangement, but I managed to complete the work on time.

Later when I had a chance to scroll through files on the old laptop, I found a couple of stories I'd written two years earlier but never edited. One had a special place in my heart because it was written in honor of a friend who'd lost his life. The discovery made me think about John Leonard's advice and the many great pieces I'd seen friends write but never finish.

It's really never too late to go back to a story you care about. Like certain books, some can lose their appeal when you hit a wall. But if you go back to them, it's possible to rediscover the magic that drew you to the tale in the first place. When I need inspiration for writing, my garden at Pennsyl Pointe always helps me find it. Last fall I put a leafless hibiscus in the ground without expecting much. The winter was cruel and I wrapped the roots of the plant to protect it. All through March and April it just looked like the grey stick you see in the background of this photo. Then suddenly, in early May, it pushed out a green shoot. For the past week it's been growing at least an inch every 48 hours. Now it's got real Jack-in-the-Beanstalk propulsion. It's quite possible that those old abandoned stories conceal the same kind of surprising potential.

The Vision Thing

Some people look at a field of rubble and see the end of civilization, while others say, "Hmm, nice spot for a garden." One of the perks of my writing business is that I often work with visionary people. It's exciting to help someone massage an idea until it's got the right shape and dimensions. My job is getting that vision on paper so we can transform it into reality.

The "visionary" trait is not universally distributed. People who have it are often very creative and most are a bit headstrong. Stubbornness is an important quality when you're trying to launch a new project -- whether it's a book or a skyscraper. Many obstacles can arise when moving an idea from the stage of foggy inception to real life. The architect of a good idea has to be at least a little pushy to move things from phase to phase.

A few weeks ago I had a chance to chat over coffee with a long-time client who has founded several organizations and created some gorgeous city parks and buildings. We both agreed that you can usually sense when some innovative idea will work or not. If your vision has true value, pieces start to come together in ways you hadn't anticipated to make it even more interesting than you originally thought. Doomed ideas seem to keep getting hung up on the rapids. No matter how hard you work to solve problems, no amount of effort can revive them. This guideline is one I use to help decide whether to keep writing something or look for a new angle that finds traction in my imagination and allies in the real world.

This week, while working on a new book project, even the research process really fascinated me. As lists of facts coalesced, I began to see more value and complexity in the concept. When momentum grows, so does commitment. This is what makes writing a true adventure. It's like living in an Eden of ideas.

The photo here, by the way, is not a picture of our Pocono garden. It's a shot of the Libertylands garden in Philadelphia. Those gorgeous flowers were planted on the site of an abandoned tannery where roses were once just a dream. Moral of the story is: plant a paragraph today if you want a bouquet of chapters tomorrow.