Remembering Why We Became Writers

As I’m working on my second nonfiction book about writing, one of the themes I keep returning to is authentic writing. As a writer, editor, and publisher, I feel as if authentic writing has been pushed aside in favor of writing as quickly as possible, publishing as quickly as possible, and selling as many books as possible.

There’s nothing wrong with writing or publishing quickly if that works for you. And certainly, most authors write with the intention of having our books read. It’s not even the quickness that concerns me. Some people write more quickly than others, that’s all.

I didn’t begin writing with high falutin’ dreams of massive book sales. I began writing for the love of writing. For the love of creating stories and sharing those stories with others. The big dreams–selling a million copies or creating a social media following (also of a million; it’s a nice, round number, after all)–came later.

What Is Authentic Writing?

There isn’t one definition of authentic writing. If you search for authentic writing, you’ll find several definitions, and each is a little different. English teachers think of authentic writing as assignments that are more meaningful to students than randomly assigned prompts. Some refer to authentic writing as writing that comes from true-life stories from the author.

I have my own view of authentic writing. When I refer to authentic writing, I mean writing that falls in line with my creative and personal beliefs.

Just as I’m working toward mindfulness in the rest of my day-to-day life, I’m working toward cultivating mindfulness as a writer.

Examples of Writing Authentically

Here are a couple of examples of authentic writing from my own experience. The first was when I was writing Her Dear & Loving Husband back in 2010 (seems like a lifetime ago now, I know). A beta reader reviewed an early draft of the novel, then known as The Vampire’s Wife, and she thought I needed to rewrite it. She disliked James Wentworth, the thoughtful English professor. She thought I should turn him into an alpha male, an attorney perhaps, who fights for women’s rights after what happened to his wife. She also thought I should turn the story into a romance.

To be fair, I did take a lot of advice from the beta reader. But I couldn’t bring myself to change James’ basic personality. I knew James in my very gut. He’s a bookish scholar despite his preternatural nature. Though my original idea for Her Dear & Loving Husband was for the story to be a paranormal romance, after I added the historical background of the Salem Witch Trials it became something else, something better–at least to me.

Another example was when I was writing That You Are Here, a sweet contemporary romance. I wrote the break-up scene as though it were a play, with the character names, stage direction, and dialogue centered on the page.

An editor thought I lost my mind for writing the scene that way. But the play scene felt artistically correct to me. When I saw it happening in my mind I pictured the two leads, Andrew and Mark, acting it out as if they were on the stage. Despite the editor’s concerns, I left the scene the way it was. I’ve never regretted that decision.

Sometimes, as writers we have to take chances. Worrying about the market, worrying about how readers will respond, and worrying about anything other than telling the very best story you can is a waste of time. Write your story the way you think it should be told.

Not one reader has complained about the play scene in That You Are Here. James Wentworth has become a book boyfriend for many readers. In fact, readers comment on his gentle nature in only positive ways.

Every time I have gone with my gut and written a book or a scene the way I feel it should be written, I have been rewarded. Not only did I remain true to my vision, but I have found readers who understand what I’m doing and appreciate that I’m willing to take chances in my writing.

Connecting Authentically To The Person I Want To Be

As I’m learning to focus on my breathing, as I practice mindfulness in my everyday life, I’ve realized that I haven’t been very clear about what I actually want from my writing career. As in, what is authentic for me.

A few years ago, I was obsessed with numbers. You name it, I checked it several times a day. Book sales, statistics on advertisements, and when I was into social media I’d constantly check my followers, shares, and likes. I read books about marketing and advertising, though the books repeat the same tips. I started looking at other writers and seeing how many books they sold and tried to figure out why I wasn’t selling as much. Was it my genre? Was I missing something in the marketing department? Could I…? Should I…? The list of things I thought I had to change was endless, and I felt terrible about myself every step of the way.

The thing I love most in the world, writing, became a stressful burden. I even started worrying that I wasn’t writing something that would sell. From the writer who wrote a play as a scene in a novel, I became paralyzed with fear that I was doing everything wrong.

I took a break from writing because I needed a serious rethink. I stopped everything. I put the two book projects I was working on aside. I stopped all marketing and publicity activities. I closed my social media accounts except for a Facebook page that I log into maybe once a week. I stopped checking my book sales. I went cold turkey.

I practiced mindfulness. I started meditating, sometimes by listening to guided meditations, sometimes by listening to meditation music and counting my breath. I began doing yoga again after letting it slide for too many months. I’ve learned some tips on dealing with ruminating thoughts, and the tips have been helpful.

In time, I realized that the mindfulness that I’ve been applying to my daily life had to apply to my writing too. I needed to stop listening to the cacophony of voices telling me how to write, when to write, what genres to write, how to publish, when to publish, and on, and on…

The most important thing I’ve learned is that I need to remain authentic to my vision of writing.

For example, I’m not a fast writer. In fact, by today’s standards, I’m pretty slow. For years, I was down on myself. I’d look at other authors who were publishing three, four, or five books a year and think that I should do the same and I’d beat myself up and say I wasn’t working hard enough. Finally, I can say it’s okay that I’m slow. It’s my process to kick an idea around before I commit myself to it.

I don’t want to focus on genre fiction like romance, science fiction, or mystery. By nature and preference, I’m a literary writer. Oh, but literary novels don’t sell, the gurus say. Literary fiction may not sell as well as genre fiction, but if I’m going to be authentic then I have to write what is in my heart.

Mainly, what I’ve learned is that I have to be honest about what I want from writing. I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to compare myself to anyone else. Comparison is never helpful. I don’t want to feel like my self-worth is tied to my book sales because I know that it isn’t. I learned that I had to stop looking at external sources for my value since I already have value just by showing up.

I write because I want to write. And that is the best reason of all.