The other day I was scrolling through my
Facebook feed when I came across a post from my friend Taylor Grant. Taylor
wrote about how practicing non-attachment has worked for him in his life and
career, so I decided to look into the concept some more. (You can check out Taylor
and his work here: http://www.taylorgrant.com/).
For years, I’d thought I basically understood the idea of non-attachment. I believed
it was a Buddhist concept (which could also be applied to other religions, and
probably to Jedi Knights as well) which describes how attachment to worldly things
is the ultimate cause of suffering. I imagined that adherents to this belief
needed to cut themselves off from the world and live like monks, without emotional
attachments to anything, including other humans. But Taylor wrote about how
many people (myself included) mistake the concept as calling for complete and
total detachment from everything. It’s about working with intent, Taylor said
(in other words, working toward a goal), but without having any attachment to (or
expectation of) a specific result or outcome – and the reason for this is because
you can’t reliably control or guarantee a specific result or outcome. If you
don’t get the result you wanted – say, your novel wasn’t a bestseller and
award-winner despite all your hard work and hopes – that leads to disappointment,
which can metastasize into more negative emotions. Instead of being attached to
a specific outcome, you need to be open to whatever happens, accepting and, if
possible, appreciating that outcome. So your book wasn’t a bestseller and
award-winner, but you wrote the book you wanted, you think it’s a good book,
and you’ve received some emails from readers saying it changed their life. You focus
on accepting the outcomes which did occur, not obsessing over the ones which
didn’t.
I surfed the Web for a bit, reading some
articles on non-attachment, and as I did, I came to realize that (assuming I
understand the concept better now) I’ve been practicing it for a while in my
life and career without knowing it. Yay me, right? Except I also realized I’ve
been practicing it only in certain areas of my life and career, and not
in others. And the areas in which I don’t practice it are the ones that – get
ready for a shocker – I’m dissatisfied with, if not unhappy or downright
miserable. I spent some time thinking about this, and after a while, I thought it
would make a good blog topic – but only if I focused on the way non-attachment has
(and hasn’t) worked in my career, and how you might make it work for you. (After
all, the blog is called Writing in the Dark, not Overall Life Lessons from Some
Random Asshole Named Tim in the Dark.)
First up – ways non-attachment works for
me professionally, as both a writer and teacher of writing.
·
In teaching. I’ve taught college writing courses for
thirty years, twenty of those years as a fulltime tenured professor. I teach composition
as well as creative writing, and I was a faculty mentor in a low-residency MFA
program for nine years. I learned a long time ago not to be overly concerned
with how students perform in my classes. (The administration at my school,
which like all school administrations, are focused on MEASURABLE OUTCOMES and
SUCCESS RATES, and they would hate to hear me talk about non-attachment
to results.) I don’t mean that I don’t care if my students succeed. I do
everything I can to help make success possible for them. But I know I can’t control
whether or not they succeed. I can’t make students work hard, I can’t make them
want to learn, achieve, and grow. And it would be arrogant of me to believe
that every student should share my definition of success. I want to help
students succeed, but I’m not personally attached to their success. I try to be
open to whatever outcomes occur with my students and appreciate them for what
they are without letting my ego be affected one way or another. One student
might be thrilled to get a final course grade of D because it’s the highest
grade he or she’s ever received in a writing class. Another might get an A and
demonstrate professional-level writing skills, and while they enjoy writing, it
will never be a focus for them. These students got something they wanted
from the class, and that’s what matters. My colleagues often speak of how calm
I am, and while some of that is probably due to my basic nature as a person, I’m
sure much of it has to do with my non-attachment to specific outcomes regarding
my teaching.
·
When I compose writing. I don’t worry
about achieving specific outcomes when I write. I do have goals, of course. I
want to express my ideas and thoughts as clearly as possible, I want them to be
entertaining, and I try to make my writing the best it can be as I create it. I
try to be open to whatever happens, though, and if new ideas pop up and I like
them, I incorporate them. If what I wrote doesn’t seem to work, I delete it and
try again. I remain in the moment while writing, and usually don’t do a lot of
second guessing as I put words down on the page. I’m open to however the
writing turns out. I don’t have preconceived notions of how it should
turn out. I still have doubts, worries, concerns, and fears as I write, but I’ve
learned to not turn up the volume on those voices. I do this by focusing on the
story and only the story as I write. I enter into a kind of daydream, a
sort of trance, or – and this goes with the blog topic – a kind of meditative state,
and I remain there while I write. I might make a few changes as I go, simple
things like rephrasing a sentence or, as I mentioned earlier, trying out a new
idea to see what happens. “Let’s see what happens” could almost be my writing
mantra.
·
When I think (or don’t think) about my audience. This is especially
helpful when I write tie-in novels. If I stopped to worry about what fans of
properties like Supernatural or Alien might think of the novels I
write about their beloved characters and worlds, I’d be paralyzed and never put
down a single word. I know there is no way I can ever please all the fans, so I
don’t try. I try to write the best Supernatural, Alien, or whatever
novel I can, without being attached to a specific outcome – like a tie-in that
all fans of the property will hail as a masterpiece. Expecting such an
impossible outcome would not only be folly, I’m sure it would make me so
self-conscious during the drafting process that, if I completed the book, it
would be terrible. This non-attachment to outcomes also helps me write sequels
to books. It prevents me from worrying too much about living up to the expectations
that readers of the previous books might have.
·
When I revise. Since I don’t have a specific expectation
for how a novel or story will turn out, I don’t obsess over revision, constantly
reworking material because it will never be good enough. And when I get editorial
suggestions for revision, I may grumble at first, but ultimately my ego calms
down, and I make them (as long as I agree with them, of course). Because I’m
not attached to a specific idea of a Perfect Novel, I’m open to what the final
product might become.
·
When it comes to awards. I’ve only gotten
better at this since I’ve won a couple for my writing and teaching. It’s a hell
of a lot easier (at least for me) not to be attached to a specific outcome when
I’ve already achieved a specific outcome. (Not that I don’t want to keep
achieving it, of course. It just doesn’t feel like a driving need to me anymore).
Okay, those are
the writing areas where I do non-attachment pretty well. Here are some areas where, to put it mildly, I could use a little improvement.
·
When it comes to the number of reviews I get on Amazon
or GoodReads.
When I have a new book come out, I check the book’s listing on Amazon and
GoodReads obsessively for days, sometimes weeks, waiting for reviews to roll
in. (No one ever seems to review anything on Barnes and Noble’s site, so I don’t
concern myself with it much.) A lot of writers won’t look at reader reviews,
but I always do. I want to see what readers thought of the book, see if it did
what I hoped it would as a piece of art, see what I can learn that might help
make me a better writer. I don’t care as much about the number of positive vs
negative reviews, but I think that’s because I’ve been fortunate in that my
books tend to get mostly positive reactions from readers. But I can never
understand why one of my books might only get a few reviews while another will
get three times as many. I expect my tie-in books to get more reviews because the
properties have a large fanbase, but I don’t understand why a tie-in written
about the same property by another author gets more reviews than one of mine. I
sometimes check out self-published authors’ books, and many of them have a
shitload of reviews, and I don’t know why. I know some authors used to buy
reviews from various providers, but I’m under the impression Amazon has started
cracking down on that practice. I’ve heard Amazon also removes reviews from
people that authors are connected to on social media. And I’ve heard self-published
writers can temporarily lower the price of a book in order to sell more and get
more reviews. But even knowing these things, I still am disappointed when one
of my books doesn’t get many reviews. It doesn’t eat me up, and I don’t let it
get me too down, but I am definitely attached to a specific outcome here: achieving
many reviews on Amazon and GoodReads. It’s an outcome I have absolutely no
control over, and one I’ve been working on becoming less attached to even
before reading Taylor’s post. Now I’m going to work even harder at it.
·
When it comes to reviews by reviewers. I’ve published almost
fifty novels along with seven collections of short stories. I’ve never had a
book reviewed in Fangoria, only one reviewed in Rue Morgue (and
that was Ghost Trackers, a book I wrote “with” the stars of the TV
series Ghost Hunters on SyFy). I’ve had books reviewed in Publisher’s
Weekly, but it’s been a while. I check these publications for reviews after
one of my books is released, and I do Google searches to see if I can find
reviews online. I’m looking to learn the same thing from these reviews as I am
from readers’ reviews, but I’m also looking for something more: a check to see
where I’m at in my career at that moment. Do I have enough of a “name” that my
books are getting reviewed? Am I less of a “name” if they aren’t? What
standing, if any, do I have in the field of horror? As with the lack of reader
reviews, the lack of response by reviewers doesn’t depress me overmuch, but it
is disappointing when it happens. I’m definitely attached to a specific outcome
here: that my books will be widely reviewed (or at least more widely than they
are now). And beyond hoping my publishers send out review copies and sending
them out myself, there’s nothing I can do to make this outcome happen. I should
be more accepting that a book will get the reviews it gets and move on to
writing the next thing.
·
When I see lists of writers. The Twenty Scariest
Books of The Year! Fifteen Modern Masters of the Horror Novel! Lists like these
pop up all the time, and I’m almost never on them. Although when someone starts
a list topic like these on Facebook, sometimes someone is kind enough to mention
me, but not always. Again, I look at lists like these as barometers of my
career, and it’s always disappointing not to be on them. (The end-of-the-year
best lists will start coming out any day, and I’m not looking forward to seeing
those appear since my books are almost never on them.) Again, I’m attached to a
specific outcome and disappointed when it doesn’t happen.
·
When it comes to having a bigger, more impactful, more
lucrative career. I
had a therapist once tell me that I was “hell-bent for growth,” and I suppose I
am. But while I can control my own growth as a person, I can’t control the
growth of my career. I can work toward that growth, but specific results
aren’t guaranteed. Larger advances. Other writers listing my work as an
influence on their own. Movie and TV adaptations of my novels and stories. The lack
of growth in my career – maybe plateauing would be a better word at this point
in my life – is something that gnaws at me now and again. Focusing on my inner
growth as a writer produces positive mental and emotional results for me.
Focusing too much on the outer growth of my career, especially when I have very
specific and uncontrollable benchmarks for measuring that growth? Not so much.
·
When a work of mine I think is brilliant is ignored. This is a minor
one for me, but sometimes I’ll write something which I think is really good, maybe
something that achieves an artistic effect that I think is pretty special, and
when I send it out into the world, all I hear are crickets. When this happens,
it has a small impact on me, and I can move on. Maybe it’s because I’ve
developed a thick skin from receiving so many rejections early in my career. I
still get them now, just not as many and not as often. I don’t know. But writers
being upset that the world doesn’t recognize our genius is definitely being too
attached to a specific outcome.
·
When I try to recapture, replicate, live up to, or surpass
past successes. As
I said earlier, I usually do okay with non-attachment when it comes to the
process of writing. But after my novella The Men Upstairs was nominated
for a Shirley Jackson Award, I was very conscious of trying to repeat that
success – in terms of artistic quality, not in terms of expecting to be
nominated for the Jackson Award again – when I wrote my novella Deep Like the
River. I struggled writing it, fought to keep from being overly self-conscious
during the process of creating it. I managed, and the result was one of the
stories I’m most proud of. I thought it was so good that people would rave about
it and that there was a good chance of it getting nominated for an award of some
kind. Mostly crickets again. (Although I got some lovely blurbs from writers I
admire, and that meant a lot to me.) I’ve tried to recreate past successes,
attempting to create new versions of series the original publishers canceled
and which I couldn’t find a new publisher for. So far, I haven’t succeeded with
these reimagined series. Once again, I’m tied to a specific outcome when I attempt
this, and once again, it’s one I can’t control.
·
When I compare my work to someone else’s. I’m sure all
writers do this, but whenever I read something, I can’t help comparing the
writer’s techniques to mine, and I usually find mine wanting, even if that
writer’s work is also inspiring to me and gives me ideas for techniques to
attempt in my own stories later. I think “I could never write anything like
this no matter how hard and how long I tried.” And every time I think this, I’m
right. I can only produce my work, not someone else’s. Still, when I read something
really, really good, it makes me think – even if only for a moment – that I
should give up writing altogether. Learning by comparison is good. Faulting
myself for not being able to produce the exact same kind of writing as another
person isn’t.
So what does all
this mean for me? Besides providing a list of specific areas for me to work on
when it comes to non-attachment, writing this article has shown me that while I
do fairly well at non-attachment to specific outcomes during the process
of writing, I have some work to do when it comes to practicing non-attachment in
the career aspects of writing. Again, non-attachment doesn’t mean I
shouldn’t care about my career or work toward clear career goals. It means I
shouldn’t be so attached to specific career outcomes. I need to learn to be
more open to whatever outcomes might occur and learn to appreciate them for
what they are, not feel bad because of what they aren’t.
Try practicing non-attachment
in your writing, in both process and career aspects, and see what it does for
you. It might not come to you easily or quickly. Remember, they call it practice
for a reason. Do your best, keep writing, keep learning, keep growing.
And don’t check
those goddamned Amazon reviews so often. (I’m looking at you, Waggoner.)
DEPARTMENT OF SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION
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Alien: Prototype Out Now~
My Alien novel for
Titan Books, Alien: Prototype, came out this week. It’s available as a mass-market paperback, a
trade paperback, an ebook, and an audiobook.
So far,
reviewers seem to like it! Dread Central calls the book "An exciting new
addition to the line-up, both for fans of previous books and those looking to
discover this extended world.” And Amy Walker (aka Amazing Amy) says, "Waggoner...
has managed to create one of the most interesting and uniquely creative
variations of the Xenomorph I've ever seen... the perfect novel for any Alien fans."
If you’d
like to purchase a copy of my latest magnum opus, here are some linky links:
Mass-Market
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Alien-Prototype-Tim-Waggoner/dp/1789090911/ref=tmm_mmp_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1564019410&sr=1-1
Trade
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Alien-Prototype-Tim-Waggoner/dp/1789092191/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=
The Forever House is Up for
Preorder!
The Forever
House is due out in March. You can order it from Amazon (although the link
for the ebook isn’t up yet.) You can order all the versions – hardback,
paperback, and ebook – at the Flame Tree Press site. An audio version should be
available eventually. Here’s a synopsis:
In Rockridge, Ohio, a sinister family
moves into a sleepy cul de sac. The Eldreds feed on the negative emotions of
humans, creating nightmarish realms within their house to entrap their prey.
Neighbors are lured into the Eldreds’ home and faced with challenges designed
to heighten their darkest emotions so their inhuman captors can feed and feed
well. If the humans are to have any hope of survival, they’ll have to learn to
overcome their prejudices and resentments toward one another and work together.
But which will prove more deadly in the end, the Eldreds . . . or each other?
Flame Tree Press (all versions)
Amazon
Que sera, sera, as they say. But, on the other hand, if I were in your shoes I'm sure I'd be quite attached to the financial income that comes from publication and unable to just let it go.
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