Do you ever get frustrated or overwhelmed while writing, revising, or querying novels?
Yeah…me too.
It bothers me to no end when I can’t solve a plot hole, or when the scene that’s been in my head FOREVER looks like a hot pile of garbage on the page, or when I hear about my very talented friends and their exceptionally well-written books receiving yet another query rejection.
Sometimes I shudder when I look back over my early attempts at novel writing. Hell, most times I shudder when I look at my most recent attempts. Ha! Sometimes I feel hopeless. That I’m just one person, and one story, up against a big old machine that doesn’t care about me or what I write.
Now, it’s not that those feelings are invalid, but they do lack perspective.
When We Measure Our Writing by Outcomes
When I find myself sitting with those icky feelings, it's often because I’ve decided to measure the worth of my writing solely by what I’m producing or achieving, and I've forgotten that much of what I’m aiming for is outside my control. It also means I’m discounting or overlooking the benefits writing gives me, whether or not the work finds a reader.
What Writing Gives Us Beyond the Finished Book
Writing a novel is about more than reaching a specific end point: a finished novel, a published book, a trad deal.
Writing forces us to self-examine, to think about what we value, what scares us, fascinates us, what we’d be willing to help our best friend dig a hole for. It teaches us to problem-solve and practice thinking critically, to become more tolerant of uncertainty, not knowing how things will turn out for a character or how we will connect dots to make a particular plot point resonate.
Through writing, we become more patient and resilient; we learn to experience disappointment without abandoning what’s important to us. We understand that progress isn’t always linear, and perseverance is required to make something meaningful.
Above all, writing helps us learn how to trust ourselves.
When I step back and remember how much intrinsic meaning writing gives me, it’s a lot easier to tolerate not being exactly where I want to be.
So maybe if you're frustrated, overwhelmed, or feeling disheartened, slow down and do a bit of reflection.
What has writing your novels given you that you wouldn't trade away, even if you never published the story you're working on?
Here’s a gentle challenge for both of us:
Set a timer for 10 minutes and free write about what you get from your writing. Maybe try a messy mind-map or whatever mode of expression you feel drawn to.
After I did mine, nothing really changed—except my perspective… and that was everything.
