the carousel

around and around and around we go

I’m not very good at celebrating my accomplishments.

In fact, I am probably one of the worst people to be asked, “Hey Phil Simms, you just won the Super Bowl, what are you going to do now?”

The answer should be, “I’m going to Walt Disney World!”¹

But I would probably waffle for a moment, list all the deadlines I still have, and then worry about taking time off—any time off—to pause and reflect on the things I’ve accomplished. I don’t do much to celebrate them, if we’re being honest. Oh, I sold a book? I should treat myself to dinner, buy a bottle of wine, or at least some fresh flowers—but all my brain can do is think of the next step.

Instead of, “I should celebrate my hard work!”

My brain goes, “So I sold a book, now I have to edit it, go through copyedits, pass pages, figure out my next book—nevermind the social media posts I’ve neglected on. The IG messages sitting in my inbox. The emails I should probably get to…”

And so I go off and do more work instead.

I’m trying to get better at that, but in the back of my mind, I know this is just a coping mechanism my brain has decided to use. I’ve met quite a few readers who think that The Dead Romantics was my first novel — it wasn’t. Geekerella wasn’t even my first novel back in 2017. I’ve been published since 2013, and the decade has taught me a lot.

Most importantly, I think, it’s taught me that my success is now, not forever. That sometimes I’ll be Clara Bow for a second.

And then I’ll wait for years trying to find another foothold, scrambling as I try not to freefall down the cliff.

courtney summers

posted about this—quite beautifully, as she always does—in a post a bit ago. If you have the time (and the heart), it’s a solemn and hopeful read.

patience

And it made me think.

There is so much that stays the same in this industry, so much that is rinse, repeat, over and over. I’ve stared at countless first words of first drafts, wondering if they're good enough. I’ve written countless last words of final drafts, knowing they are perfect. (Okay, maybe not countless, but you get the vibe.)

Even the questions on tour are often ones I’ve heard before—and questions that I still love to answer. Each and every time.

However, there is one that, recently, I’ve changed my answer to:

“What is your best writing advice?”

Best is—at best (ha)—subjective.

At worst, best claims to be definitive.

Thanks to my early (teenaged) obsession with authors’ careers and the industry of publishing, I knew from the outset that every book is different, and so is every process. For instance, I learned how to write in the fanfic community. I started with one-shots and vignettes (also called “drabbles”), and slowly built my own way of winding through a story. What might be the best writing advice for one person might be the worst for another.

“Write every day.” (No.)

“Keep a journal with you.” (Who has the space for that in their free bookish tote bag from BEA five years ago?) (Rest in Peace, BEA, you were awful but we loved you anyway.)

“Always know your ending.” (Only if you don’t mind spoilers.) (I don’t, but some authors do. You do you!)

“Write to the market.” (And arrive two years late.)

“Ignore the market.” (And never understand what current readers love.)

“Have a routine.” (That you immediately break, and then feel like a failure because you can’t keep a schedule to save your life.)

“Always finish a writing session in the middle of a sentence.” (Unless you’ve got a goldfish memory.)

“Never finish a writing session in the middle of a sentence.” (If you’re boring.) (Kidding.) (Maybe.)

“Writing toward tropes is lazy.” (Sure, if you hate fun.)

“Reinventing tropes is tiring.” (Yeah, if you’re uninspired.)

And on, and on, and on…

I’ve heard a hundred different pieces of writing advice. Some I’ve taken to heart and others I’ve laughed at heartily and taken out with the trash. Your mileage with advice will always vary, but there is one piece that I’ve taken to telling everyone who asks. It’s the only piece of writing advice that I still find true after a decade in this industry. It the only piece of advice that I still follow myself.

I hope I can follow it forever.

It’s simple, and yet it becomes increasingly harder the longer you’re in this industry.

It’s this:

Keep a little piece of writing just for you.

What I mean is—keep a story private. Just one, that’s all you need. Keep it so close to your chest that you won’t ever publish it or make (or want to make) any money from it. Keep it just for you in the purest sense of the word.

Capitalism is cruel to the creative arts, and crueler to you when your well runs dry.

Keep it secret and safe—because that story becomes a tonic of joy and a cure for that old friend Burnout.

For me, that story is a fanfic. It’s my little oasis away from the author, Ashley Poston, and her career. I will never tell you my username. I’ll never tell you what I write or where you can find it. (And if you know me there or have found me, please keep that knowledge safe and quiet.)

I keep that joy close to my chest, tucked in a little alcove beside my heart, because sometimes I need to be reminded of why I love to write. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t need that reminder, and sure, I’m positive some people will scoff at even needing a reminder of why I write, and why I love it, but the world isn’t perfect and neither am I. The business of publishing is beautiful, and at the same time, it’s cruel and calculating. I’ve never felt smaller than when I was at an imprint where my books were little more than set dressing.

It was hard to write then. (It’s hard to write now for different reasons, but I think I’ll sit on those feelings for a little while longer.)

And trust me when I tell you I’ve heard every platitude and opinion about true writers, and how true writers should feel…

“You shouldn’t need reminders of why you write.” (Because we never get burned out, right?)

“If you truly love the craft, you’ll never work a day in your life.” (Because we have to love every part of this industry unquestioningly.)

“Well, if you’re so unhappy, there’s a million other jobs you can do instead.” (And a million other jobs to feel unhappy in, I’m sure.)

And maybe if I didn’t really just love telling stories and spinning yarns, then I’d have listened to that little imposter voice years ago.

I’ve always been writing, I’ve always wanted to write. It’s what I’m good at, what I like doing. And throughout my career, one thing was always certain: I could open up my word doc with my fanfic, and I could get lost for a few hours in a story without any real-life stakes, where it was just me and the threads of a plot and a few hurt/comfort scenes thrown in there just for fun.

And when I’m there, I remember exactly that: the fun of it.

The reason I started writing in the first place. The joy in the moments when I figure out a scene and when I read it back to myself, the words are so good they sing. The giddiness of dialogue volleying back and forth with snarky aplomb. The purply prose of lingering a little too long on the color of someone’s eyes, the quirk of their lips. It’s so hard to explain that feeling, this sort of effervescent vibration that trills through me.

Fuck, I just really love spinning yarns.

And it’s that kind of emotion—that realization—that keeps me writing and moving forward. And it’s the one piece of advice that might actually be definitive in this industry.

Protect your joy. Keep it close. Just one thing, one small story, that you can braid and rebraid over and over again in the quiet parts of this career, to remind you of why you started—

And to encourage you to never stop.

So, I guess I’ll take my own advice. I’m gonna go write a little fanfic as a little treat to myself. A little celebration. And then get back to work, and write another love story, pushing myself ahead, always ahead, because what if this is the best it’ll get? what if this is me at my zenith? what if the only way through is down?

And publishing will just keep turning with us on it, through our highs and our lows, around and around and around.

And there’s something beautiful in that, too, the way this writing career tends to move. For everything that feels new, we still arrive back to the same moments again, the same feelings, the same anxieties and stresses and joys, and again and again—

No matter how many new books I write or how many times I change genres or author photos or publishers, I’ll always return to the eve of a book release with that same knot in my stomach.

It’s the same for my friends in this industry, too.

Write, edit, repeat.

Like a carousel, we go around.

It’s good to cling to some joy while we’re on the ride.

---

If you liked this post, help me feed my cats! Check out The Seven Year Slip if you haven’t already — the ebook is on sale for $1.99! By grabthar’s hammer, what a deal!

1. I realize not everyone knows this commercial, so here it is!