Resistance Attacks Us at the End
I’m going to tell you a very sad story. You can probably guess it already.
I had a dear friend who had written the Major Work of his life. He had spent years on it. It was done. It was wonderful. It was everything he had sought for decades to achieve.
My friend had the manuscript in its mailing box, ready to send off to his agent. But he couldn’t make himself do it. Months went by.
His friends and family urged him, “Send it!” His agent pleaded with him. At one point I myself considered breaking into his house to steal the manuscript and send it off.
The sad, sad story is my friend died. The book never reached his agent, it never saw the light of publication.
The enemy is not outside us. It is not competitors in the real world or bad breaks or downturns in the economy. The enemy is ourselves.
Steve shows you the predictable Resistance points that every writer hits in a work-in-progress and then shows you how to deal with each one of these sticking points. This book shows you how to keep going with your work.
A short book about the writing of a first novel: for Steve, The Legend of Bagger Vance. Having failed with three earlier attempts at novels, here's how Steve finally succeeded.
NOBODY WANTS TO READ YOUR SH*T
Steve shares his "lessons learned" from the trenches of the five different writing careers—advertising, screenwriting, fiction, nonfiction, and self-help. This is tradecraft. An MFA in Writing in 197 pages.
Amateurs have amateur habits. Pros have pro habits. When we turn pro, we give up the comfortable life but we find our power. Steve answers the question, "How do we overcome Resistance?"
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Steve, thank you for sharing this sad story and for keeping us to our tasks. They only live who dare.
It occurred to me that “death” in this context doesn’t necessarily mean physical death. It could mean any intervention in your life that keeps you from “sending in the manuscript”. A very good cautionary tale.
É a pura verdade, Steve. Por que teimamos em tentar enganar o tempo, numa estranha falsa esperança que temos domínio sobre ele? Por que? Freud explica? A resistência à felicidade é um fenômeno horroroso!
Grato pela verdade.
Resistance is indeed all about our own shit. The obstacle is the way.
This is maddening.
And the world is less for it.
Having doubts about my story. That the stakes aren’t high enough. That the protagonist isnt proactive, which goes against the heros journey. But I want to write about real life, complicated, terribly flawed and confused people. Im sticking to what Ive got. Can write a modern Heracles in the next one.
I stand accused! 😞
I am so sorry my dear Steve. What he/she brought forth from the level of infinity is there though, maybe it can be saved by someone.
The point is that life isn’t for granted. When I finish the book, which at last moves forward again and towards the end, I wouldn’t like to not correct it approprietly first. On that one, what about if someone sees it and can’t see the gold in it, simply because it is not appropriately empowered by the power that I know I have to make it what it really can be? A shining star? I’m not talking about exaggeration though, I should beware of my own weights on that one. So the question is which is the best measure of sending the best you can but without delay. If there is some experience on that, please let me know.
Resistance will take everything if we let it.
Don’t let it.
Why can’t it be published posthumously?
I have a book ready to go. Just need finishing touches. But I won’t touch it.
Please give me that encouragement I need to get it out
It’s a game, Marvin. Get in there and push that thing across the finish line!
I don’t know if this will help anyone today, but here goes. A couple of days ago, I pulled out an essay I had put back into a folder. I thought it was crap. After rereading it, I thought well maybe with a few edits it has potential. I’m back to thinking it’s crap. I’m doing a few more edits and sending it anyway. So what if it fails. I did the best I had in me at this point.
Today, I received another rejection for a longer work of fiction, but yesterday I got a yes and publication of a short essay in an obscure local site. Who cares? I dared. That means more than anything. Wishing everyone out there a daring week.
I always imagined getting my first book reviewed by a big newspaper, and it happened. The review was brutal. I memorized it, thinking it could take the sting out of the “I can’t believe this happened” feeling. It didn’t work.
My husband’s patience was tested. Better equipped to solve problems than sit with feelings, he had difficulty understanding that the way to help was just to be there. My daughter was seven at the time and she was unmoved, as well. “You think that’s bad?” she exclaimed. “A girl in my class said the snacks you made taste like laundry soap. And she’s tasted laundry soap so she knows!” The child was punished — no snack privileges for a week. Ironically, my husband soothed this time. He wished he could take away the reviewer’s snack privileges, too.
A few months later a writing coach critiqued an essay I’d written about my feelings on Katie’s first day of kindergarten. She thought the piece was “remarkably depressing.” There’s no lesson learned, she added, no resolution to a problem. An essay should inspire, she continued, and this one didn’t.
There it was. Two independent sources. My writing sucked.
Or did it? Everyone else who read the kindergarten essay loved it. I was proud of it, and that hadn’t changed. I thanked the coach for her assessment, and submitted it to someone else that evening. Before long, the editor of Spirituality & Health magazine was on the phone, wanting to publish it. “It’s wonderful!” he said. “One of our editors read it and said, ‘You’re going to love this one’ — and she doesn’t even have kids.” The piece appeared that spring, a three-page spread complete with photos.
Then it clicked. What I’d been taught in sales training: SWSWSW. Some will, some won’t, so what.
I decided to keep reaching, regardless. To keep experimenting. And like a true journalist, reporting back on the results.
SWSWSW – That’s some heavy artillery for the Resistance fight.
I’m going to remember/use that!
SWSWSW, I will remember that. The laundry soap story gave me a chuckle. I’ll bet the snacks weren’t that bad. Kids, the toughest critics.😂
Thanks, Chuck and Jackie! I suddenly remember those snacks. Graham cracker sandwich cookies, with icing made from only powdered sugar and water. Obviously an acquired taste.
So very sorry to hear about your friend.
That is a very sad story!
You may not believe it, but this morning, while I was jogging, a phrase kept popping into my head: ‘Before it’s too late.’
You could’ve been talking about me except for the “he died” part.
The closer I get to success, the more intense is the fear, hopelessness, and self-loathing. The more I think of doing a final exit to end the misery.
Reading this post reminds me that this despondency comes from Resistance. That I can dismiss it and get on with my work.
Great blog. 🙂