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  One of the great benefits of writing so much is that you begin to reflect on your writing in so many different ways. You understand what creative approaches work for you, what times of day are best for your writing—and then you think more about your writing because you’re doing it so much. It’s become a dominant part of your life. You grow ravenous to learn more, and you run a fever as you plumb the depths of your prose. By noticing your writing more keenly and reflecting on it with more depth, you’ll make it better.

  Achieving mastery through practice doesn’t mean you’ll become a best-selling author or a genius who will go down in the annals of history so much as it means you’ve achieved your proverbial black belt of writing. Some might not even arrive at the mythological level of mastery, but one’s enjoyment in an activity improves in proportion to the effort invested in it. Also, keep in mind that writing well is so challenging that it might be said that one never truly masters it—we’re writing and rewriting ad infinitum. Every story, every novel is its own fresh challenge.

  TRY THIS

  PRACTICE DELIBERATELY

  Logging thousands of hours of practice sounds like a dispiriting grind, a forced march, but it doesn’t have to be. It can be a process of deepening your knowledge and thereby deepening your enjoyment. Reflect on how you can make your practice more deliberate and meaningful.

  52

  WHAT IS “SUCCESS”?

  The question of what success is might be the most important question you can ask yourself as a writer and as a person.

  We live in a culture obsessed with success in so many forms, whether it’s money, status, or beauty. Is success getting a book published, becoming a best-selling author, hanging out with other best-selling authors, and being invited to speak at fancy conferences? Adulation from friends and family? Thousands of social media followers? Or the money that comes from a best-selling book and all the spa treatments and clothes you can buy as a result?

  All of that is great, why not? But are those the reasons you picked up a pen the first time to write? After a good writing session, are such things the payoff that make it all worth it?

  I believe that living in reverence of our imaginations is the best way to preserve the essence of our being. Our art provides our spirit with a plenitude that can’t be found in any other way. Even though we know that whatever we write will never be quite as ideal as the words we’ve imagined, the effort of trying to capture what it is to be sentient weaves its way into every breath of our lives. We want to feel heard, we want to touch others, and we want to make something remarkable. Seizing our creativity for its own sake brings on an immediacy, a resplendency, and the urgency of our own possibility.

  I know a writer who frequently compares her book sales to another. She monitors other people’s Twitter followers. She gets upset when others are invited to a conference and she’s not. We all have egos, of course. We all want to be loved. But when I hear her talk, I sometimes wonder why she writes. She has an agent, an editor, a book deal, but I wonder if somewhere along the way she lost track of the gift of it all—the gift she has to write a story, the gift she can give others through her story.

  We write to hear ourselves, and in hearing ourselves, to save ourselves.

  “It is the talent which is not in use that is lost or atrophies, and to bestow one of our creations is the surest way to invoke the next,” writes Lewis Hyde in The Gift. Hyde cites the story of Hermes, who invented the first musical instrument, the lyre, and gave it his brother, Apollo, who then was inspired to invent the pipes. One creation spawns another. Being an artist goes beyond the work of art you create. It will flow into your life and influence how you treat people, the way you love, the way you taste food, the way you stare up at the sky, the way you vote, the way you drive, the way you wash your dishes. Seriously.

  Still, is writing a novel useful, many a person has asked? Does writing, creativity, have a practical end?

  I wonder if the best things in the world have been achieved in disregard of a notion of usefulness. When people have set out to climb mountains, sail across seas, or fly a plane around the world, I think curiosity drove them as much as gaining anything of measurable value. To be moved by the compulsion to make and explore, to move just for the pure restless sake of moving, without tallying up any costs of consequences, so often leads somewhere.

  How are we to decide what the standards of utility should be when it comes to creative pursuits? The arts are increasingly seen as dispensable luxuries, but if we narrow the openings for our curiosity by arguing that it’s impractical, financially unrewarding, risky, then the motivation to engage in creative behavior is easily extinguished. The conventional notions of success can dim the voltage of our ideas, water down the fragrant broth of our thoughts. When an impulse of curiosity strikes, it’s best to follow it with a passion that moves forward in disregard of destiny or consequences. Others might consider you a fool, but one person’s passion is always unintelligible to others.

  Our potency is defined by our ability to hear a story’s cries, no matter how faint. If we don’t write that story, our blood becomes anemic, our eyes fade to listlessness, our spirit atrophies. Our stories yearn only for their own freedom, and when we give them that freedom, they give us a sacred liberty. We must find nourishment within the work itself, not through any approbation or celebration others deem to grant us.

  We write so that we can speak back to the world. We write to assert our presence. We write to try to narrow the chasm between what we see and feel and connect with another. We write to penetrate into the unseen worlds around us and explore different possibilities of life. We write because we’ll feel empty if we don’t. We write because we’ve witnessed something that others need to hear about. We write to serve the story that is calling us. We write because in this world of data collection and data analysis, we know there’s a poetic truth of life that matters more. We write to hear ourselves, and in hearing ourselves, to save ourselves.

  Every story creates the writer to write it. Life and art easily wind themselves into one, so your writing should give substance to your sense of self. The world is always offering us new whorls of materials, new streams of sources. We’re constantly being given the magical opportunity to make and remake ourselves with the aid of a story’s lens to see the world through. It doesn’t matter if no one in the world wants that story. It only matters that we want it.

  We must perform. We must imagine. We must be.

  Write.

  TRY THIS

  BE SUCCESSFUL

  Define what success is to you. Be successful in your own eyes.

  in review

  YOU ARE A CREATOR. CREATE.

  But you knew that already, didn’t you?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book wouldn’t have been possible without the magnanimous wizard of creativity, Chris Baty, who invited me to join the rollicking creative revolution of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) years ago. Chris has provided wise support, invaluable encouragement, and enthusiastic prods over the years, and my life and notions of creativity have been dramatically enhanced by this amazing gift of the imagination he created.

  Working at NaNoWriMo isn’t just a job; it’s a creative experience. I’m deeply thankful for NaNoWriMo’s legions of bold writers, teachers, and librarians, who form the most generous writing community I’ve ever encountered. NaNoWriMo participants have inspired me by their stories of challenges and breakthroughs, made me laugh with the whimsicality they bring to the arduous task of writing a novel, and nourished my spirit with their can-do chutzpah. I wish I could single out individual writers, but the list would run into the thousands.

  I’ve also benefitted greatly from working every day with a fantastically imaginative group of people, the NaNoWriMo staff—Tavia Stewart-Streit, Chris Angotti, Rebecca Stern, Shelby Gibbs, Tim Kim, Jezra Lickter, Dave Beck, Sarah Mackey, Heather Dudley, Marya Brennan, Wesley Sueker, Katharine Gripp, Paige Knorr, Lindsey Grant, Dan Duvall, Rob
Diaz, the NaNoWriMo board, the NaNoWriMo Writers Board, and the many gung-ho interns who have blown wind in the sails of NaNoWriMo each year. Each day of work becomes a creative conversation unto itself.

  I’ve learned that no book is ever written just by its author, so huzzahs to my super-heroic book team, who shepherded this book from the first word to the final one. A special thanks to Lindsay Edgecombe, who helped shape the idea for this book into a tight proposal and then expertly guided it through the publishing process with her thoughtful attention and sagacious feedback. I now know what the definition of a good agent is. Likewise, my editor Wynn Rankin provided spirited guidance and imaginative approaches to help me focus on the reader’s needs at every step of the way. His buoyant encouragement breathes through each word. Lia Brown helped fine tune and tighten my prose, and Lizzie Vaughan brought artistic flare to illustrate the book’s personality with a catchy cover. April Whitney and Brittany Boughter’s savvy ideas helped build a wider conversation around the ideas in this book and reach the readers who would most benefit from it. I’m also thankful to Poets & Writers, Writers Digest, and the NonBi-nary Review, where portions of these essays originally appeared.

  I’ve learned the value of building a creative community over the years, and how it’s a never-ending well of inspiration and support. I can’t thank all of the writers, artists, and musicians who have bestowed their knowledge and spirit, but I want to single out my compadres at my other ventures. My partners Lynn Mundell and Beret Olsen at 100 Word Story (100wordstory.org) are wonderful collaborators who have made small stories into big things through their artistry, dedication, and innovative insights. I’ve been infused with so much creative energy through my partners with the Flash Fiction Collective reading series, Jane Ciabattari, Meg Pokrass, Kirstin Chen, and the many amazing authors who have read their work with us. My script-writing partner, Laura Albert, has taught me that there’s always a deeper layer to every story and to always push the boundaries.

  I neglected to include one crucial chapter in this book: I didn’t write a chapter on how having a supportive family provides a magnificent boost of creative power. I don’t have enough words to thank my mother and father, Hugh and Everil Faulkner, who could have doubted me way back when I first became a writer or chided me to hang it up during the early years when I had few prospects, but they not only didn’t say a negative word, they urged me onward and gave me the fuel of their belief. They made the world a creative place for me from the beginning, and I’ve benefitted more than I could ever know by the safety net they tied together to catch me if I fell. Every writer should have such good fortune.

  Likewise, my wife Heather has been writing by my side and feeding a probing, ribald, expansive creative conversation for years now. The art of juggling work, an infinite number of kids’ soccer games, homework, and orthodontist appointments with the writing life is awkward and trying, but I’m blessed to have a partner who helps me catch the dropped plates and stitch together the fraying ends of a frantic life and make it a beautiful thing (or so we hope). Fortunately, it’s not all frantic, though. I conjured much of this book through the creativity lessons I learned from Jules and Simone, who give me the gift of seeing the freshness of life through their eyes each day and remind me of the value of making art just for art’s sake.

  And then there’s Buster, my dog, who joined me each morning at 5 a.m. and served as both a lap dog and a lap desk. He was with me nearly every word of the way, a warm and steady taskmaster who always knew the exact time we should get up and go for a walk.

  WHERE DO YOU NEED HELP?

  The writing life is full of myriad challenges. Sometimes you have difficulty putting the first word on the page. Other times it can seem as if the whole world is just against you, whether it’s having a messy house or not having enough time to write. Use this self-diagnosis tool to address your immediate need.

  STARTING A NEW PROJECT?

  How Do You Create?

  16

  Finding Your Muse

  21

  Be a Beginner

  25

  Getting Ideas: A Writing Rorschach Test

  48

  Take a Story Field Trip

  135

  NEED TO GO DEEPER, TAKE BIGGER RISKS?

  Embrace Vulnerability

  108

  Fail Often . . . Fail Better

  114

  Creativity as an Act of Defiance

  118

  Say, “Yes, and . . .”: The Secrets of Improv

  149

  Be Deluded . . . Be Grand

  166

  Trusting in The Absurd

  184

  Writing with a Persona

  205

  GETTING THE WRITING DONE

  Make Your Creativity into a Routine

  30

  Goal + Deadline = Magic

  34

  Building a Creative Community

  52

  On Finding Creative Flow

  144

  Say, “Yes, and . . .”: The Secrets of Improv

  149

  An Exercise in Extreme Writing

  158

  Logging the Hours: Mastery Equals Perseverance

  236

  MAKING LEMONS INTO LEMONADE

  Embrace Constraints

  39

  Accept the Mess

  89

  Pull Yourself Out of the Comparison Trap

  93

  Put Your Life Struggles in Perspective

  98

  Make Irritants into a Symphony

  220

  FEELING STUCK?

  Getting Ideas: A Writing Rorschach Test

  48

  Say, “Yes, and . . .”: The Secrets of Improv

  149

  Make Your Inner Editor Work for You

  84

  Take a Story Field Trip

  135

  Think Fast to Outpace Writer’s Block

  154

  Cavort . . . Wander . . . Play

  70

  On Finding Creative Flow

  144

  Trusting in The Absurd

  184

  NOURISHING YOUR MUSE

  The Art of Boredom

  43

  Sleep, Sleeplessness, and Creativity

  162

  Nurturing Awe through Darkness, Solitude, and Silence

  169

  New Experiences = New Thoughts

  174

  The Art of Melancholy

  196

  Thank Your Muse

  201

  Vanquishing Fear with Curiosity

  232

  Move Differently to Think Differently

  188

  RIDDLED BY CREATIVE DOUBTS?

  You Don’t Need Permission to Be a Creator

  12

  Overcoming Creativity Wounds

  79

  Make Your Inner Editor Work for You

  84

  Treating Impostor Syndrome

  103

  Be Deluded . . . Be Grand

  166

  Persisting through Rejection

  210

  Vanquishing Fear with Curiosity

  232

  GETTING A LITTLE HELP FROM YOUR FRIENDS

  Building a Creative Community

  52

  An Artistic Apprenticeship

  56

  Getting Feedback

  60

  Artistic Thievery, or the Art of Remixing

  130

  EXPLORING YOUR STORYTELLING TOOLS

  Using Your Life in Your Story

  74

  Artistic Thievery, or the Art of Remixing

  130

  Looking through Your Character Kaleidoscope

  139

  Channel Your Super Heroic Observational Powers

  65

  Writing with a Persona

  205

  Specialize (but Not Too Much)

  192

  SHAPING YOUR CREATIVE IDENTITY
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  An Artistic Apprenticeship

  56

  Treating Impostor Syndrome

  103

  You Are What You Wear

  123

  Where You Work Matters

  126

  How Do You Create?

  16

  The Magical Sprites of Creativity: Distractions

  179

  Know Thyself

  215

  MAINTAINING MOMENTUM

  On Finding Creative Flow

  144

  Say, “Yes, and . . .”: The Secrets of Improv

  149

  Think Fast to Outpace Writer’s Block

  154

  An Exercise in Extreme Writing

  158

  Persisting through Rejection

  210

  Make Your Inner Editor Work for You

  84

  NEED HELP WITH THE FINAL PUSH?