The 7 Secrets of the Prolific Writer's Block (15 page)

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Ginny Wiehardt, “Writers’ Rooms: Spaces for Urban Writers,” About.com Fiction Writing section (blog), n.d. (fictionwriting.about.com/od/startingtowrite/tp/urbanspaces.htm).

A
truly supportive family supports you not just with words, but actions. When you articulate your writing-related needs—be they for time, space, privacy, or a new computer—they do their best to help. Someone who says he supports your writing but still expects you to handle all the housework, cooking, childcare, etc., is not being supportive. Nor is someone who expects you to sacrifice your writing to a rigorous day job when the household could function, albeit perhaps less luxuriously, with you working an easier one that pays less.

It’s
your
job, however, to articulate your needs. Too many writers don’t, either because they are conflicted about their writing (Section 6.5) or assume they’ll get no help. (There could also obviously be larger family issues.) Nearly every writer I know who has asked family, friends, bosses, or others for help, however, has gotten it, and often in excess of what they expected. Lots of times, people are eager to help us, but don’t know how until we tell them.

One of the most important things writers can do for themselves is ask for help.
Not only is the result often beneficent, but the act itself is empowering, regardless of the outcome. I love it when I get an email from someone asking to talk over a difficult problem and then, shortly afterwards, another saying, “Never mind, I figured it out.” The very act of asking for help, which probably entailed overcoming some shame and guilt, empowered the asker enough to enable problem solving.

The wrong way to ask for help is to say, “You guys are all slobs, and I’m sick of it! From now on everyone cleans!” The right way is to involve all interested parties in
cooperative problem solving
, which I discuss in Section 4.11.

Some people have the unfortunate habit of showing love and support via criticism or nagging (e.g., “Did you write today?” asked over and over). This, obviously, is also not helpful. If someone you know does that, tell them (1) how grateful you are for their support, (2) how their communication style is affecting you, and (3) what
specifically
they could say or do to provide better support. They will probably be grateful.

If your family is unsupportive, family therapy might help, or individual therapy might help you cope. If these don’t work, you will probably need to minimize contact with your family. Some writers move thousands of miles away from unsupportive families (often to communities more generally supportive of their identities and goals), and/or cut off all contact. Some divorce unsupportive spouses. These steps might sound draconian, but prolific writers (and other successful people) won’t hesitate to employ them as a last resort because they clearly see the consequences—to not just their writing but their life—of passivity in the face of oppression. They won’t tolerate it, and neither should you.

M
entors are so vital that the presence or lack of them will probably determine your success. If I see someone who is well-mentored, I can assume he is integrated into a productive and professional community, is able to ask for help, and is able to take advice, all of which point to a successful outcome for his efforts. If I see someone who is under-mentored, conversely, I assume he is isolated, unable to ask for help, and/or unable to follow advice, and I am less optimistic. In fact, I’ve never met anyone underproductive who wasn’t also under-mentored.

A mentor is either a writer whose success you wish to emulate (“success” defined, as always, according to your own values), or someone who can teach you a specific important skill, such as compassionate objectivity, networking, or organizing a book tour. You want mentors not just for your professional life, but your personal life, including for marriage, parenting, aging, health and fitness, personal finance, property ownership, and community work.

Along with information, wisdom, and perspective, mentors also provide vital contacts. Many writers get traditionally published after a mentor says, “I love your current work—is it okay if I send it to my editor?”

Underproductive people tend to believe mentors are few and far between, but the truth is they’re everywhere:

Most of us reflexively turn to more successful people as mentors, but our “lateral” colleagues and subordinates also have much to teach us.

We tend to look toward older people as mentors, but mentors come in all ages. Some of my most important mentors are half my age, and even small children can mentor joyful, nonperfectionist creativity.

And we tend to look at humans as mentors, but nonhumans can be great mentors. I learn relational skills and pure joy from my dogs every day.
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Even a plant or a rock could be a mentor, I guess, because in the end it’s less about who the mentor is and more about how open you are to learning and insight. The world is filled with lessons.

Avoid perfectionist, harsh, or capricious mentors no matter how brilliant, important, connected, or otherwise potentially beneficial: the risk of toxic rejection is too great (Section 7.3). At most, seek out such a person for a few answers to specific questions, be prepared for possible mistreatment, and be prepared to flee at the earliest sign of it.

The easiest way to find mentors (the adult, human, professional kind) is to participate in organizations filled with them, such as these:

The
local chapters of professional groups
such as Romance Writers of America, Science Fiction Writers of America, or Mystery Writers of America. I’m partial to these because they tend to be not only focused on professional development and publication but welcoming of newcomers and beginners. You’ll also meet financially successful writers, which is always enlightening and inspiring.

Even if you don’t see your work as fitting entirely within a genre, if it’s got strong romance, science fiction, or mystery elements, try attending a meeting.

Community writing programs or centers,
such as Boston’s Grub Street Writers, the New York Writers Workshop, or Minneapolis’ The Loft. These can be great, too, for the same reasons as the professional groups, and they typically serve a wider range of writers.

Colleges and universities
often host writing workshops that are open to the public, as do some
literary landmarks
. (See B.J. Welborn’s book
Traveling Literary America
for a list of the latter in the United States.)

In the absence of the above options, contact a local writer whom you admire and ask if there’s an informal
local or regional writers group
you could join. Or ask at a local bookstore.

You can also find mentors at:

Content groups.
If you write on a specific topic, such as anatomy, architecture, or apes, there are probably professional organizations or hobbyist groups that meet locally on it.

Community groups.
If you’re active in a community organization, be alert to potential mentors, especially in areas related to marketing, sales, and accounting (Chapter 8). A basic tenet of networking is that you never know whom someone knows, so be alert to the possibility that someone in your group has a contact in media or another helpful field.

Only join groups that are welcoming, professionally run (i.e., focused on goals, even if the main goal is not publication), and compassionately objective. When you find one, participate actively. Joining the membership committee, organizing an event, or writing for the newsletter are all terrific ways to meet potential mentors.

Don’t join groups that are cliquish or unwelcoming, or where writers are sorted into “castes” (e.g., published versus non-published). The best groups are egalitarian, with the more successful writers recognizing that they’re on the same basic path as the less successful ones, only somewhat further ahead. Also avoid groups that are perfectionist or competitive. Remember that remaining in a bad group for even a short while can undermine you.

Online groups can be fantastic, but they are no substitute for joining an in-person group. Many prolific writers travel fifty or more miles to their local group’s monthly meetings, which gives you an idea of how much they value them.

Special note for graduate students:
Because universities often fail to deliver on their mentorship promises (see Appendix), and because they can be such hotbeds of hypercompetitiveness and perfectionism, some students supplement their schooling with participation in one of the groups I just listed. That’s a fantastic idea.

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Here’s another dog-as-mentor story: Dana Jennings, “Life Lessons from the Family Dog,” Well (
New York Times
blog) , March 31, 2009 (well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/03/31/life-lessons-from-the-family-dog/).

D
on’t be shy. Remember that, in general, people love to give advice and support, even to strangers. (In the classic
How to Win Friends and Influence People
, Dale Carnegie says that our deepest need is to feel important.) Savvy people also know that mentoring is one of the best ways to develop their own skills and strengths, and many also feel a moral imperative to “give back” for mentoring and other assistance they themselves received.

At the same time, mentors tend to be busy people who get asked for help a lot, sometimes by people who are not serious or focused. When approaching a potential mentor, therefore, make sure he knows you are one of the serious ones by making a focused, personalized and time-bounded request, such as:
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“I loved your biography of Cervantes, and especially your emphasis on his intellectual influences. I’m working on a novel on the life of Lope de Vega and am having trouble sorting out his religious and other influences. Would it be okay if I called you about this? I just need five or ten minutes of your time.”

Note that the asker does not ask the listener to “be my mentor.” What you’re asking for is a favor, not a relationship; if the relationship is destined to develop, it will. (In fact, you may never need to use the word “mentor.”)

When calling or meeting with a mentor, be prompt, prepared, and professional. Your conversation will be a kind of audition, during which the mentor will be deciding whether to continue the relationship beyond this interaction. If you’re professional, he probably will want it to continue.

Don’t go past the agreed-on time—although if the mentor is enjoying the conversation he might, which is fine. In your discussion, focus on problem-solving as opposed to how frustrated or miserable the problem is making you feel. (Save that part of the discussion for your friends and critique partners; see next section.) And sometime during the discussion, be sure to ask, “Do you know anyone else who could advise me on this?” This will help you build your mentor network. Also:

Send a thank-you note.
Thank-you notes are not just polite; they’re a powerful affirmation to your mentor and a powerful reminder of your professionalism. They take only a few minutes to write, so I’m constantly amazed at how many people neglect them. (Saying a quick “thank you” at the end of a conversation is NOT enough.) An email is fine, although a paper note is classy. (One of Carolyn See’s chief recommendations in
Making a Literary Life
is to get some professional stationery and use it to write “charming notes” to people with whom you want to be in professional contact.)

Stay in touch.
If you contact your mentors only when you need help they will feel used. Instead, contact them every few months just to let them know how things are going, and especially to share good news. Don’t forget to ask how they are doing!

Reciprocate.
Mentors appreciate, and often expect, return value. It can be hard to see what you can offer a more successful mentor, but most appreciate receiving useful articles or other information, or offers of help when their own schedule gets crowded.

And, finally…

Mentor!
Yes, YOU should be a mentor. First, because it’s good to give back, and second, because mentoring fosters your own growth and success.

Think you don’t know enough to be a mentor? Think again: I’ve never met anyone who didn’t have valuable wisdom or experience to impart.

Learn to recognize mentor relationships that aren’t working.
This could either be because the person isn’t a competent mentor, or the two of you aren’t a good fit. In his review of Tom Grimes’s
Mentor
,
New York Times
reviewer Dwight Garner opined that the “blind allegiance and bursting enthusiasm” of Grimes’s mentor Frank Conroy “probably hurt more than helped,”
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and I agree. Based on Grimes’s account, Conroy also apparently failed to maintain healthy boundaries with his student/protégé, so that their relationship devolved first into an uneasy form of friendship, and then a father/son dynamic in which Grimes felt a “crippling dependency.” It is irresponsible for a teacher to encourage that kind of dynamic, since, dependency issues aside, it also often short circuits learning and career development—which is exactly what happened to Grimes. Contrast his experience with Jay Cantor’s as a student of Bernard Malamud at Harvard: “It wasn’t love at first sight, mostly because he wasn’t looking for love from us, but for admiration and understanding, and even then, only in small doses that wouldn’t knock a person off balance.” (From
Mentors, Muses & Monsters
, edited by Elizabeth Benedict.)

Sometimes mentor relationships just go stale, or a protégé outgrows a mentor. These situations aren’t anyone’s fault, or even anything to feel bad about: people do grow and change, after all. Hopefully, you’ll be able to gradually evolve the “mentor” into a “colleague” with whom you will remain productively in touch.