Well, forty-two, actually. I was eighteen when I decided to dedicate my life to writing, and I’m sixty now. This seemed like a good time to take a look back and pass along some of the most important things I’ve learned about writing and publishing over the course of my long career. I mean, I guess it’s long. Seems like I just started yesterday, but old people always say stuff like that, don’t they? The following items aren’t in any particular order. I wrote them as they came to me. If you’re a long-time reader of my blog, you may have encountered some of the following in previous posts, but hopefully most should be new to you.
· Take your writing
as far as you can. I
pass along this advice all the time. When I was nineteen and a college
undergrad, the teaching assistant who taught my composition class – Pam Doyle –
held end-of-the-course conferences with students. During my conference, she
said, “I urge you to take your writing as far as you can.” This is the best
writing advice I’ve ever received. Pam didn’t say “Publish a zillion books” or
“become a bestseller.” She told me to continue writing and growing as a writer.
And her advice was open-ended. It had no end point. I can continue taking my
writing as far as I can until they day I die (which is my plan!).
· I never argue with
people’s opinions about my work. I learned this from science fiction writer
Mike Resnick at an SF convention. He was talking about whether writers should
respond to reviewers, and his view of readers’ or critics’ reactions to his
work as “opinions” is exactly the right attitude. You can’t argue with an
opinion – it is what it is – so why bother? It also speaks to how we should take
reviews of our work, both the good and the bad. They’re just someone’s
opinions, not divine judgments from on high.
· Scene and Sequel. I first learned
about this technique from pro writers discussing it on convention panels thirty
or so years ago. They presented it as the technique to master if you
wanted to write publishable popular fiction. They said they’d learned it from a
how-to book by Dwight V. Swain called Techniques of the Selling Writing.
As soon as I could, I hauled ass to the closest bookstore, found a copy, bought
it, took it home, and devoured it. Rather than give you a short explanation of the
technique here, I’ll link to the Wikipedia entry that discusses it: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scene_and_sequel
· Listen to my
instincts. The
first story I sold to a professional-level market was “Mr. Punch,” which
appeared in the anthology Young Blood from Zebra Books in 1994.
This is the story I think of as the first true “Tim Waggoner” story, the first
of the surreal/nightmarish type of horror tales that I’ve become known for. The
ending was very abstract and symbolic, and when I read the story to my writers’
group, they advised me to make the ending clearer. I felt they were wrong, but
I tried anyway, but no matter how I tried to revise the ending, I knew my
original version was best. I submitted it to Young Blood, it was
accepted, and when it was published, it was well received by the horror
community. It made the Honorable Mention list in the Year’s Best Fantasy
Horror, too. I didn’t disregard all feedback after this experience, but it
taught me to pay attention when my inner author’s voice says, “Yeah, this story
is weird and messed-up, but that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
· Don’t tell people
how to view or enjoy my work. During an undergrad creative writing
class, I read aloud a chapter of a novel I was working on for feedback. The
book was a fantasy adventure featuring mythological gods ruling a Mad Max-type
wasteland. I was writing the book on two levels – one was as an adventure
story, but another was as a satire of adventure stories. I wanted the satire to
be very subtle, though. I read the chapter, which featured an action sequence.
Afterward, I explained the satirical aspect of the book, and one of the
students said, “Now I feel bad for enjoying it.” I realized then that it’s not
my place to tell people how to read or respond to my work. Stories are like
jokes. They should explain themselves in the telling. Sometimes in interviews
I’ll talk about the different layers of my stories, but in general, I write
them and then shut the hell up while readers read them.
· The Rule of Twelve.
Back
before the advent of a little-known fad called the Internet, we writers used to
get market information from print sources. Writer’s Digest Books’ annual Writers’
Market was the go-to source, and I’d buy a copy every year. The front of
the book always had articles on writing and submitting your work, most of which
I skimmed or ignored entirely, since they covered stuff I already knew. But one
year I ran across an article titled “The Rule of Twelve.” (I wish I could
remember who wrote it.) The author talked about how after one of her stories
got a couple rejections, she figured it was no good, put it away, and started
writing something new. I thought, “Hey, I do the same thing!” One day she
decided she was going to send her stories out until they sold, no matter how
long it took. She eventually discovered that her stories sold, on average, to
the twelfth market she tried. After employing this technique, she began selling
her stories regularly. I decided to try the same thing, and I sold my stories,
on average, to the ninth market I sent them. Eventually, I began selling
them on the first or second time out. What I love about The Rule of Twelve is
that it’s a way to codify persistence that doesn’t require any emotional effort,
so even if you’re depressed by a rejection, you know you’re supposed to keep
submitting your work, so you do. I advise all writers to give The Rule of
Twelve a try!
· Do an ego check
when dealing with editorial comments/changes. I haven’t been in
a writers’ group for close to thirty years now, and I don’t use beta readers. I
rely on my agent and my editors to give me feedback on my work. (I do
traditional publishing, so these are editors at publishing houses, not ones I
hire.) Since they’re professionals, I do my best to keep a tight rein on my
ego (or on my natural laziness when it comes to revision) when my initial
impulse is to say, “Screw you, it’s perfect the way it is!” Yeah, I know I said
“trust your instincts” earlier, but trust doesn’t mean ignore
feedback completely. If, after careful consideration, an editorial
suggestion doesn’t seem right to me, I’ll discuss it with an editor or my agent
and see what we can work out. But I work hard to truly consider suggestions
instead of dismissing them out of hand merely because I hate revising.
· “All American
writers are regionalists.” As an undergrad, I worked in my university’s Writing
Center, and a co-worker asked to read one of my short stories. I chose a
contemporary fantasy with a surreal/symbolic ending that was a precursor to
stories like “Mr. Punch.” My co-worker asked me where the story was set. I told
him I didn’t identify the setting beyond it being a lake with a campground
nearby. I wanted the setting to feel universal to readers. My friend said that
I had to precisely identify the setting because I was an American writer, and
“all American writers are regionalists.” I immediately recognized that he was
parroting something he’d learned in a lit class as if it was law. I told him it
didn’t matter exactly where the story was set. He read it, then said, “You were
right about the setting.” From this, I learned not to pay too much attention to
people when they try to tell me the “rules” of writing – especially rules they
learned from a college lit professor. Yes, there are techniques that tend to
work for most readers more often than not, but these are more customs than they
are rules. I tell students that there’s only one real rule in writing: You must
use marks on a page (or screen) to communicate ideas. Everything else is
situational based on your purpose and audience.
· Don’t compare
yourself to other writers. When I was in grad school, other students would talk
about wanting to write, but they always compared themselves to the writers they
were studying in their classes, feeling like they could never possibly measure
up to The Greats. And so they never wrote anything. Learning from other
writers is essential. I learn something from every writer whose work I read.
But if you compare your work to theirs, you’ll always find yourself
wanting. Run your own race, and don’t worry about who’s ahead of you or behind
you. We run the race because the race is good to run, because we have to
run it, we can’t imagine living without running it. The running is the
entire point of the race.
· Strength-Based
approach.
Years ago, I read an article in Writer’s Digest written by Isaac Asimov.
In it, he talked about how he was really good at plotting stories but sucked at
writing well-developed characters. Instead of wasting a lot of time trying to
get better at writing characters (which he doubted he’d ever improve much on),
he decided to focus on his main strength – plotting – and work to improve that
as much as possible. Many years later, this would become known as a strength-based
approach. You focus on maximizing your strengths while getting just okay at
areas you’re weak in. Some writers are strongest in plotting, some in style,
some in dialogue, some in research, some in humor, some in generating ideas
(this is me!), and so on. The more you lean into your strengths, the stronger –
and more competitive – your writing will become.
· Don’t keep your
distance from fans – unless you need to. In the mid-1990s, a friend of mine
named Ron Sarti sold a fantasy trilogy to Ace Books. We’d been going to SF
conventions for years, but once the first volume in his trilogy came out, I
felt uncomfortable seeing him talk to fans at cons as if – gasp! – they were equals.
This was a subconscious thing on my part, and it took me a while to figure it
out. I’d seen so many pros keep their distance from fans over the years that
I’d come to view this as professional behavior. Since Ron had reached pro
level, he should’ve acted like a pro, right? Once I understood where this
feeling came from, I got over it quickly. Sure, some writers might –
consciously or subconsciously – think they’re better than fans, but I think
more writers are simply introverts that aren’t comfortable interacting with a
lot of people at events, and so they keep to themselves or go hide in the bar
or their hotel room when they need some alone time. Other writers are so famous
that they’d be mobbed by fans wherever they went at a con, so they need to keep
their distance to avoid getting overwhelmed. I’m an introvert, but I don’t go
to cons to stay away from people. If I wanted to do that, I’d stay home. When
I’m at a con, I always try to remember how Ron behaved, as if there was nothing
separating him from the fans, because, of course, there wasn’t. We’re all
people, gathered to celebrate something we love – writing and reading.
· Editors work for
the publisher, not for writers. Editors work with writers. Business-wise,
editors are not your friend. They always represent the company’s interests, not
yours. (This is less true for small-press editors who often are the
company.) Artistically, they can be your friend, and they can be your friend
outside of business matters (like when hanging out at a con). I’ve had book editors
lie to me about advances (“This really is as much as we can offer right now”)
when I know they’ve given higher advances to other writers. You can choose to
have an adversarial relationship with editors and assume they’re always out to
screw you, but that’s not true, and it’s certainly not helpful. I think it’s
best to go into a relationship with an editor knowing the business and artistic
aspects of it are two different – and often mutually exclusive – things.
· Write with a close
identification with a character’s point of view. Movies and
videogames can deliver images and sound. But only fiction can put people into
the heads of characters, allowing them to experience the story more deeply and
intimately. Too many beginning writers write as if they’re passive audience
members watching their story play out on a screen before them. Write your
stories as if you are the character living them, so you can give readers the
same experience.
· Family and friends
won’t become readers if they aren’t already. Your family and friends may be
proud of you and talk up your writing to people whenever they get a chance. But
that doesn’t mean they’ll read everything – or even anything – you write.
People don’t change their reading tastes if they love you, and they don’t
suddenly become readers if they aren’t readers already. I once gave my sister a
copy of one of my earliest novels. During a visit to her place, I found it
lying on the kitchen floor next to the cat food bowl. Gary A. Braunbeck once
told me of visiting a relative’s house to find them using one of his books to
help prop up their coffee table. I don’t offer to give family members copies of
my book anymore, and they never ask. I don’t resent them for it, though.
· You’ll never be an
“expert.” Years
back (seems like I’m starting most of these items with that sort of phrase), I
saw a writer who’d gotten her first small-press book contract suddenly start
giving everyone advice on the Horror Writers’ Association’s members-only
message board. She’d never given out any advice before, but once she’d
signed a contract, she acted as if she was the expert on all matters
related to writing and publishing. Who knows? Maybe she was just so excited to
finally land a deal that she was eager to interact with people. Maybe it gave
her the confidence to share ideas about writing that she’d previously kept to
herself. But I always think of her whenever I’m tempted to believe that I Know
It All. I’ll never learn everything there is to learn about writing and
publishing as long as I live. My goal is to learn as much as I possibly can
before I die. Plus, it’s always useful to keep a beginner’s mind. That’s how we
stay excited about our craft as the years go by, and that’s how we grow.
· I can’t tell who
will “make it” as a writer. I can recognize when someone demonstrates writing
talent and ability, and I can tell when they have a natural feel for storytelling.
But I have no way of knowing how hard they’re willing to work to develop their
skills, and if they’ll be mentally tough enough to keep going despite all the
obstacles and setbacks they’ll encounter. Someone whose writing doesn’t look
very promising today can work their ass off for years and become a skilled
professional. Someone else with a shit-ton of natural talent may not do a damn
thing with it throughout their life. There’s simply no way for me to know.
· You’re going to
get your heart broken, probably multiple times. Rejections, deals
that fall through, bad reviews (or worse, complete indifference from readers),
being nominated for awards and not winning, never appearing on the
end-of-the-year best lists, never having your work selected for Best-Of
anthologies, never getting film and TV options on your work, seeing writers
younger than you being catapulted to financial success and critical acclaim
while you’re still struggling all these years later . . . There’s a reason why
you need thick, adamantium-tough skin to be a writer. You’ll have lots of
positive experiences, too, but you need to make peace with the fact that
sometimes you’re going to hurt, and maybe hurt bad. In this way, a writing
career is like life itself. You need to find a way to take a hit – sometimes an
extremely hard one – and keep going.
· Some people will
glom onto you as their private unpaid teacher. Some beginning
writers seek out pros to attach themselves to in order to get free feedback and
career advice. I’m not talking about people who ask you a few questions every
now and then, or who ask if you’ll read a short story or a novel chapter for
feedback. I’m talking about needy, almost desperate people who want you to give
them everything all the time. Of course, you can choose to help whoever you
want, however much you want. At this point in my career, if I said I’d read
people’s work for free, I’d have so many takers that I’d never get to do
anything but read and critique others’ writing. I teach creative writing at my
college, and I volunteer as a mentor in the Horror Writers Association
mentorship program. Otherwise, I do my best to protect my writing time. If I
didn’t, I wouldn’t have any.
· Some people will
use you as a stepping stone. Some new writers befriend you for a time
until they can move on to another writer who’s farther up the ladder of success
than you are. Afterward, they may never interact with you again in any way.
It’s like you no longer exist to them. Some may say hi if they see you at a
con, but they won’t spend any time with you. It’s funny to watch them on social
media as they comment on a writer’s posts and give them shout-outs and praise
their work until they latch onto a bigger writer. It would be easy to become
jaded and cynical and assume every new writer who approaches you only wants to
use you. I get that. I choose to believe that any writers who approach me are
genuinely interested in getting to know me, and if they eventually toss me
aside without a second thought as they move on to someone they consider a
bigger, more useful writer, I try not to let it bother me. I’m sad for
them because this kind of career climbing in the writing world rarely, if ever,
works. You don’t become a better writer by cynically using other people. And you
end up with a reputation as a career climber without having built a true
network of friends and colleagues. You end up alone, and usually no better off
career-wise than where you started.
· More writing is (often)
the solution to writing problems. Life circumstances aside – illness,
depression, new baby, new job, recovering from surgery, etc. – I think writers’
block is really writing avoidance. There’s some reason why you don’t
want to – or are afraid to – work on a piece of writing. The solution is to
write anyway (even if it’s on a different project) and to keep writing until
everything starts flowing smoothly again. Sometimes I’ll have students who say
they write better under pressure. I tell them this is an illusion. “You write
better because you’re actually writing. You breathe better when you breathe,
you eat better when you eat, you sleep better when you sleep. It’s the same
thing. You’re writing better because you’re finally writing.”
· You will never
stop doubting yourself. Get to work anyway. This one doesn’t need much
elaboration. There will not come a magical day when all the negative thoughts
about yourself and your writing disappear forever. Just don’t let those
thoughts stop you. As I always tell students, “Remember: Those dark voices always
lie. They may speak, but you don’t have to listen to what they say.”
· Write the stories
only you can tell. I
read an article by Dean Koontz in Writers’ Digest some years ago
(there’s that phrase again!) in which he said the only thing writers really
have to sell – or perhaps, the best thing they have to sell – is their
unique vision. He used himself as an example. He started out writing
run-of-the-mill science fiction novels, but he eventually shifted to writing
his combo of horror/suspense/science fiction, and that’s when he started to
have significant success in his career. It’s a simple transition to make. We
all start out by imitating our favorite writer or by trying to figure out
what’s most marketable and producing that. And trying to figure out your
“unique vision” isn’t easy. It takes time, experimentation, exploration, and
self-reflection. And it helps if you’ve gotten enough feedback on your work to
start to get an idea of what elements readers particularly enjoy or respond
most strongly to. I can write a lot of different things, but I’ve had the most
success with my weird-ass horror novels, my action/character/humor- oriented
urban fantasy, my media tie-in books, and my nonfiction books about writing
horror. But it took time and my trying different types of writing to get there.
· It’s all worth it.
Every
sacrifice I’ve made for my writing, every hardship I’ve had to deal with, every
obstacle I’ve had to overcome, everything I had to learn, and every way I had
to grow (sometimes painfully) for my writing has been worth it.
· The most important
thing to give a hero. I learned this from SF legend Lois McMaster Bujold, a
couple decades ago when we were in the same writing group. “What’s the most
important thing to give a hero? Pockets.” This is one of the wisest pieces of
writing advice I’ve ever received.
These aren’t all the lessons I’ve learned
in forty-two years, of course. I actually had a number of other items on my
original list for this blog entry, but it was getting so long, I trimmed it down.
But these are some of the most important, and the ones that I hope will
be most useful to you.
Now go learn more lessons, and when the
time comes, pass them on.
DEPARTMENT OF SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION
The Atrocity Engine is Unleashed Upon the World!
My
horror/urban fantasy novel, The Atrocity Engine, was released this week,
and so far, the reviews have been overwhelmingly positive. It’s the first
volume in the Custodians of the Cosmos series, and the other two – Book of
Madness and The Desolation War – will be released on July 30th
and October 30th respectively.
Creatures
from dark dimensions infesting your home? Demonic beings trying to drive you
insane? Alien gods attempting to destroy your universe?
Just
call Maintenance.
This
underpaid and overworked secret organization is dedicated to battling forces
that seek to speed up Entropy and hasten the Omniverse’s inevitable death.
Neal
Hudson is a twenty-year veteran of Maintenance. A surveyor who drives through
the streets of Ash Creek, Ohio constantly scanning for the deadly energy known
as Corruption. Since the death of his previous partner, Neal prefers to work
alone, and he’s not happy when he’s assigned to mentor a rookie.
But
they better learn to get along fast.
The
Multitude, a group of godlike beings who seek to increase Entropy at every
opportunity, are creating an Atrocity Engine. This foul magical device can
destroy the Earth, and they don’t care how many innocent lives it takes to
build it. (Spoiler alert: It’s a lot!)
Just
another day on the job. . .
“Waggoner
offers a fresh variation on the trope of a covert agency combating evil in his
blood-drenched Custodians of the Cosmos series opener.” – Publishers Weekly
“This
gripping dark fantasy boasts an indelible cast and an unwavering pace.” – Kirkus
Reviews
"THE
ATROCITY ENGINE is a wild ride full of entertaining scenarios and scary
monsters!" – Booklist
“THE
ATROCITY ENGINE is a kick-ass cross-genre thrill ride of a novel!”– Jonathan
Maberry, NY Times bestselling author of CAVE 13 and NECROTEK
"This
is edge-of-your-seat Horror Fantasy. It's as if Stephen King wrote MEN IN
BLACK!" —Scott Sigler, #1 NYT Bestselling author of EARTHCORE
“Fast-paced,
cleverly thought-through, and deeply unnerving in all the right places—urban
horror fantasy with a decidedly creepy difference. Don't read it in the dark!”
– Diane Duane, New York Times bestselling author of TALES OF THE FIVE:
THE LIBRARIAN
Amazon Hardcover: https://www.amazon.com/Atrocity-Engine-Tim-Waggoner/dp/1949890899/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1699124447&sr=1-2
B&N
Hardcover:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/book/1144299910?ean=9781949890891
New
Short Story Collection Up for Preorder
My eighth short story collection, Old Monsters Never
Die, will be coming out from Winding Road Stories on May 28th.
It collects stories I wrote from 2017 to 2019.
From the mind of four-time Bram Stoker Award winner
Tim Waggoner comes 18 provocative tales of terror that explore the darkest
corners of the human mind. This comprehensive collection concludes with an
unforgettable metafictional story on what it takes to be a horror writer. With
this carefully curated selection of short stories. discover why no matter how
much we try, in our deepest subconscious, Old Monsters Never Die.
“Tim Waggoner is easily one of today’s best horror
writers.” – Jonathan Maberry
“His style is very unique — evocative enough to stand
quietly with Charles Grant but visceral enough to punch with Richard Laymon.” –
Brian Keene
B&N Paperback: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/old-monsters-never-die-tim-waggoner/1145455344?ean=9781960724205
SCHEDULED APPEARANCES
StokerCon 2024. May 30th to
June 2nd. San Diego, California.
In Your Write Mind. June 27th
to June 30th. Greensburg, Pennsylvania.
IGW Genre Con. August 17th
and August 18th. Huntington, West Virginia.
WHERE TO FIND ME ONLINE
- Newsletter Sign-Up: https://timwaggoner.com/contact.htm
- Website: www.timwaggoner.com
- Amazon Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Tim-Waggoner/author/B001JP0XFM?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true
- Blog: http://writinginthedarktw.blogspot.com/
- YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/timwaggonerswritinginthedark
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tim.waggoner.9
- Instagram: tim.waggoner.scribe
- Threads: @tim.waggoner.scribe@threads.net
