Viable Paradise XV Postmortem
I’m back from Viable Paradise. The experience altered me physically: I have a black eye, and that’s probably the least interesting thing I got out of the experience.
I’m afraid I can’t talk about it without being either raw or emotional, or possibly both. This is the sort of entry that I would usually reserve for embarrassed, locked livejournaling, but perhaps it will help someone else to share it–in a practical sense, I hope that it will convince other writers to apply for the workshop. In a broader sense, I hope it will help someone grapple with their own feelings of inadequacy.
Because I’ve often felt inadequate. You might wonder why. After all, I’ve spearheaded writing groups and websites. I’ve nabbed a terrific agent, had a few short story acceptances, even made my first money from writing–$2, from Spaceports & Spidersilk for a flash piece. But while my career marched forward, closer and closer than ever before to the goal I set for myself two years ago to be a fulltime, working writer by the age of thirty-five, I also didn’t feel any different inside. I still felt like the same, know-it-all kid I was in high school. Confidence was just a lot of bluster. I was faking it, big time.
The funny thing about Viable Paradise was that I learned how many other students were faking it, too. You’d think that in a group of almost thirty writers who all feel like imposters, maybe these feelings of inadequacy would be reflected in our writing. But actually the other students there were incredibly talented. Solid prose, killer ideas, a deep passion for story. And yet I don’t think I met one person who could take a compliment. Praising someone’s writing netted an “Oh, no,” or a forced smile or an excuse about bad endings or whatever.
When I went to Viable Paradise, I couldn’t take a compliment either. Uncle Jim MacDonald told me I was writing pro-level prose–prose that could be successful with mainstream crossover audiences. He told me to aim high and to go for the markets that pay the most. And I squirmed in my seat and felt sure that I wasn’t worthy of all this.
But it happened again and again. And then Steve Gould gave a lecture about all the ways that writers drive themselves crazy, moving goalposts, depending on external validation before they can ever consider themselves “real” writers. The truth began to sink in. I am a real writer. I work hard. I’m talented. All this hemming and hawing means that I’ve robbed myself of the rewards of my work.
I learned a lot of solid, practical stuff at VPXV: how to pitch a story in two sentences, how to invent a story that works in two days, how to handle exposition and infodump, and a metric shit-ton of stuff about the history of publishing. But I expected to learn at Viable Paradise. What I didn’t expect was this: permission.
On Friday, Jim MacDonald took me to the post office to mail my stories out to high paying, prestigious markets. I wasn’t afraid because I respected him, and he believed in me. Sherwood Smith told me that when I did this, I needed to begin to think of myself as a professional–a real writer. I’d be returning to my life as someone who believed in myself. My fears and inadequacies weren’t real. They were normal, sure–as writers, we all feel them, and it helped me to see to what extent this is true. But I need to stop letting these feelings stop me from feeling other things, too. Namely pride.
This is what the workshop (more than my MFA, more than my time spent blogging, more than getting an agent, even) gave me. I also made friends–true friends, friends who already threaten to drag me to cons and send me their [wonderful, rich] work. I also felt supported by the wonderful faculty and staff. I also got my first black eye. But what I was really given was permission–permission to believe in myself, to let this writing thing be real. Now that I have the confidence to move forward, I can’t wait to see what the writer’s life might bring.
Phoebe
Phoebe is a 20-something writer who lives in New York State with her husband and cat. She is a dork, not a geek or a nerd.
Her debut novel, Starglass, will be released from Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers in Summer 2013.
20 comments
This is awesome, Phoebe. And I can 100% relate. I think, as writers, there's a sort of unwritten rule that we're SUPPOSED to feel some level of inadequacy or self-loathing. That anyone who doesn't is a big-headed hack who thinks they're better than everyone. Which is not at all fair. We CAN take pride in our work and feel secure in our writer status without being unrealistic about our capabilities or our willingness to continue learning.
It's hard when we hear the same thing over and over: "Listen to the criticism, ignore the praise. Ignore the praise. Ignore the praise. Ignore it because you can't learn from it." And while on some level it IS true that we learn more through criticism, that doesn't mean that the praise is always unfounded. Sometimes we deserve it. No, we DO deserve it. Because we work hard and we study hard and we write well. And that's okay.
That anyone who doesn't is a big-headed hack who thinks they're better than everyone. Which is not at all fair.
It's a difficult valance, isn't it? Demure from praise and you look ungracious. Accept it, and you risk looking the same.
As for everything you said: hell. Yeah.
Brilliant post! You sucked me in with the black eye hook and kept me reading through the whole post. You know, just like a REAL author. Just like YOU.
Dare to be proud of yourself and confident in what you bring. The sky is yours.
Cyndi
Thank you.
I have scheduling clearance for November!! We Must Go. : : ~ DRAG ~::
Awesome post – more soon.
Looking into it!! Will let you know!!
Awesome, pro-level writing.
Also, I know I have the same feelings on my own. Even if I won a MacArthur Genius Award I'd be thinking about how they must've just not been able to find anyone better this year.
I'm happy that you got so much from VP (except, maybe, for the black eye). Again, awesome
Yeah, exactly. We're silly to trash our own accomplishments like that, all in search of the next brass ring.
I am so incredibly proud of you, your writing, and that super hardcore-lookin' shiner.
<3
That is all.
Hey, good for you, grappling with this and making good progress! It will come up again – it always does – but each time it gets easier to recognize the Monster Voice for what it is: a liar and a fraud.
Because this is THE struggle, right? The agon. It's not just writers, it's humans. We all hear the Monster (I call mine Grendel!) telling us we suck so much, and we don't deserve love or goodness or success. You've already achieved some victory over this beastie because you DO write. So many people never even get that far; Grendel won't let them.
When you see the beastie, you punch it in its ugly face. And when you feel you can't, remember that you have a whole battalion of old soldiers behind you, who have fought this fight, who are happy to lend a hand.
WORD, Ms. Hartman. Word.
I went to a residency in 2008 (Blue Mountain Center) and had a similar experience – being surrounded by writers, artists, sculptors – all of whom simply assumed that the work I was doing was interesting and that I was interested in their work and it was all incredibly collegial and supportive.
AMAZING that you had such a great time. Keep kicking ass.
Its amazing, isn’t it? Being around arty people rocks.
[...] finally just about caught up on my post-VP television viewing (except for Terra Nova, which I’m considering dropping, because man, that [...]
Finally got around to reading this properly.
Very nice and well said.
Permission.
Thank you for sharing this. It gives those of us not quite there yet hope that it's normal not to take compliments well and to doubt ourselves.
Thank you.
You're very welcome.
*waves* Welcome to the tribe!
VPX had more students than usual, and I got involved in an argument about which one of us was the charity admission (I said it was me because I pulled the can-only-travel-this-year card)
Aww, charity schmarity. All VP grads are pure awesome in my experience–why *wouldn’t* the faculty want to hang out with us?!