6 Lame Writer Excuses (and 6 Reality Checks)

I just got off the phone with a young intern who is working on a blog post about how new writers get started and get to break into publishing.

“What do you think is the single biggest barrier to getting published?” She asked.

“Yourself,” I said.

Silence. Then, “Em ... can you explain?”

So I did.

Years of teaching creative writing—plus all my own stalled writer projects--have taught me that we writers are our own worst enemies. We give far too much air time to the “no” voices, to the lame excuses in our own heads. Too often, we let those “no” statements pass for actual truths, and let them stand between us and a finished story, essay or book.  

Here Are 6 Lame Writer Excuses and 6 Corresponding Realty Checks

1.     Everyone knows that writing is an insider's game, and I don’t know anybody “in the biz.”   

Reality:  Who is this “everyone” we’re talking about here? Research the top ten most respected authors in the world today. Think they all had a parent/uncle/sister in the publishing business? Think again. Good writers are born and made—as in, self-made as in, drawers and drawers of drafted or discarded pieces sitting right alongside their award-winning works.

{C}2.     {C}I just haven’t led a very exciting life. So I’ve nothing to say.

Reality: Gee, I hope you kept the store receipt for that “poor-little-me” T-shirt you bought, ‘cos it’s time to return it for a cash refund. About 100 years ago, my secondary school English teacher in Ireland once told us this story about two dogs, Rover and Spot.  Rover just sat in his home-town kennel all day watching the world go by and thinking about what he’d seen and heard.  Spot, on the other hand, trotted off to actually see the world, racing from country to country and continent to continent, barely stopping long enough to chow down some kibbles and drink some fresh water. “Who actually knew more about our world?” My  teacher asked.  Answer: It’s not about where we've been or what we've seen or experienced, but how we have observed and processed our life experiences in our minds and hearts. 

3.     I heard that every publication gets hundreds, even thousands of submissions per issue. So why on earth would they choose mine?

Reality: This is true. But they also publish a number of pieces per issue. So if you have taken the time to really polish your work, why shouldn’t one of those pieces be yours? It’s also important to research and pitch the publishers that are a good fit both for your writing and for where you’re at in your career.  I think publishing isn’t so much a numbers game as a roll-up-your-sleeves-and-research game.

 4.     I put my whole heart into my writing, so I know an editor's rejection would crush me and my creativity.

Reality: Writing for publication is not like getting omitted from the 1st-grade birthday party list. There’s little or nothing personal about it. Here’s a tip: The day you get that editor's rejection, make sure you review, fix and resubmit that same piece to another publication within 24 hours.  If nothing else, it will make you feel that you’re managing a career and a life that’s ultimately yours, not anyone else’s.

5.     How can I take time for writing and getting published when I have so many commitments and people in my life who need me?

Reality:  Imagine your obituary notice in the newspaper. No, seriously. Bear with me here. Is being a loyal employee and a devoted mother/son/partner on there? Great.  But if you would like to also be remembered and celebrated as someone who contributed to the human dialogue, who wrote in a way that inspired the rest of us to empathize with others,  then you must commit to your writing—even for 10 minutes per day. It will make you a better employee and family member--and make for a cracking good obituary.

6.     I just don’t have that kind of courage. I’m not a brave person.

Reality: Ahem. Look, I hate to break up your little humble-pie party here, but you are very courageous.  Think of all the things you have mastered, overcome and faced in your life to date. Write a list. Writing for a half-hour per day—or every other day? Sending work out to editors? Pulllleease. Put away the pie slice. Pick up your laptop. This humble pie party is well over.