“Here is the secret to writing,” I sometimes imagine saying. Granted, I most often imagine saying it in response to total strangers who tweet (spam-style, to every person even vaguely related to publishing they can locate), or cold call the office, demanding to know “How do I get published?” or “How do I become a New York Times bestselling author?” or some similar question about publishing insta-fame. Often it feels that the unspoken expectation is not only a magic bullet of an answer, but also one that arrives in fewer than 140 characters AND, preferably, with a bajillion-dollar contract attached, please-and-thank-you. And these, I confess, are the moments when I begin to imagine putting a firm tongue in cheek and offering the secret to writing…perhaps for only three or four low-low installments of $29.99. . . .
Back-up career?
But here is the thing: there’s no easy secret to writing, or to publishing success. I tell you this knowing it now means you’ll never pay me even a single monthly installment, but that’s okay. I’d rather that the world be full of good writers.
Yet as a world—especially as an ever-more-connected literary world—I think we’re perhaps all getting increasingly tangled in an accidental belief that there are secrets that worked for other books and writers, ones that will surely work for us too, if only we figure out the precise formula. None of us are quite sure what that formula is just yet, of course. But more and more, we suspect, it has something to do with some combination of Facebook fan pages/Twitter followers/Youtube celebrity/Amazon reviews/Hours lost on Pinterest/Indie publishing fame/Featured blog tours/Dynamic Pricing/Tumblr mastery/Website building/Playlist creating/Witty blog posts/5-star reviews on Goodreads/Postcard mailings/Book tours/A-hundred-and-one other exhaustive attempts to make the rest of the world, literary and otherwise, look-look-look at us, and our books.
Probably the secret formula looks something like this, but I don’t speak math.
And here’s the next thing: all of those tools truly can do good, potentially even great things for your writing career. I’m not saying you should eschew them. In fact, as an editor, I first discovered some of the authors I now publish and/or have under contract at HarperCollins via a variety of online homes, from blogs to writering forums to Twitter. And maybe even more importantly, I’ve discovered some of the biggest advocates of books I know online, too—some of them I’ve never even met in person and yet daily, these teachers and librarians and booksellers work to put my authors’ and illustrators’ books into the hands of young readers, to connect exactly the right book and the right reader to form the kind of book-reader bond that lasts across an entire lifespan.
So writing books is good. And finding ways to market and promote your books is good, too. Each of those things could be a post all its own (and probably is, via someone else here at WriteOnCon, in fact), but they’re not what I came here to talk about. Because there’s a third critical element to writing, one that balances out the other parts in a critical way. And I think it’s sometimes forgotten amidst the aspects of publishing that make media headlines or that are more quickly-gratifying, like insane productivity and the rapid-treadmill pace of getting more-more-more books into the market to satisfy fans, or the insta-hit of attention/sense of accomplishment that social media marketing can provides, whether or not any lasting effects follow that quick burst of satisfaction.
I don’t know everything about publishing, but after nearly a decade of working in it, I do feel pretty confident in saying this: if there IS a secret to writing, I am increasingly convinced that it has something to do with an author’s development of his/her craft. Ahead of all the other so-called, or so-imagined, secrets . . . craft.
What do I mean by “craft”? Well, there are some stunning definitions that delve into it here in excellent, articulate ways: some of them talking about wordcraft, others talking about the creation of physical objects of art, but all thoughtful and provocative. In much simpler terms, I’d sum CRAFT up as the work of writing, word by careful word—of shaping ideas into well-told stories, of transforming imaginings into narratives, of bringing characters and setting and plot, and all the other tools that belong to a writer, to a crossroads, where the reader may find something meaningful and true in their convergence—and as the deliberate way in which you chose to explore the story you’re telling.
Here is why thinking about craft matters: because it demands a consciousness, an active awareness, about YOURSELF as a creator. Craft isn’t about luck, or about the vagaries of the market, or about something as fleeting as a tweet or a blog post. It isn’t about sales or reviews or all the other things that distract from the pure value of the creative act itself. It’s something more solid and certain than any of those things, as solid and sure as hard work. And that work becomes a brick-like foundation that you can build on as often as you allow yourself to—a place from which to strive toward the writer you hope to be, while measuring the writer you’ve been, and challenging the writer you are today. Focusing on craft makes you ask and answer the hard questions of yourself : Are you growing as a writer? Is each character or plot or setting that you write more masterful, on some level, than those that came before it? Are you setting yourself new challenges (and meeting them?) with every book you write? Are you learning from your failures, instead of letting them limit or define you? Because, yes, a publisher can publish your books well. An editor can help you bring out the best in your work. Readers can embrace your stories. But only YOU can make yourself a stronger writer, a better writer, a writer whose craft demands the attention of everyone who comes to the work after you complete it.
This. In a nutshell.
Improving your craft isn’t sexy. There aren’t measurable metrics for it. People probably won’t ooh and ahh when you say, “Today, before I started my next novel, I spent three hours studying effective uses of setting to convey theme,” or “This month, I read two middle grade books out loud, so I could pay attention to the connection between language and voice as I work on my latest project,” or “Today I wrote a single sentence, or a single paragraph, or a single line, and it served narrative and emotional and thematic and symbolic weight, all at once.” Your agent can’t quote “hours spent on craft” in a pitch letter about your book the way s/he can with Twitter followers or monthly blog hits.
But all that’s okay. Because strong craft? It speaks for itself. It wows its readers. It elevates a story to something even greater than itself. Craft is like meditation, or prayer, or exercising. It’s mostly silent, and somewhat hidden, and deeply personal. Few people will notice that you’re working on it unless you tell them. But your self will be enriched by it, and your work will be strengthened by it. It’s a set of expectations that you can set for yourself, and if others (agents or publishers or booksellers or educators or critics or readers) eventually notice it, too, well, that’s well-earned gravy. Attention to craft is like the best possible kind of creative gift that you can give to yourself . . . that just might also help develop your career, too.
Craft. It’s a lot like this.
When you look up “craft” in the dictionary, it tells you that the synonym is art. Writers are artists. Publishing is the commercial side of that artistry, the business side. And it is an important aspect of artistry—the means by which art is shared with art-appreciators, or in this case, readers. But though much of it will always be outside of your control, it will eat up the whole of your brain alive if you let it, tweet by tweet, worry by worry, comparison by comparison, Amazon ranking by Amazon ranking. Which is no good at all, because when your brain is consumed by things outside your control, your art-making almost always suffers. The creative side of art, though, is YOURS. It is the part that is entirely within your control, and that knowledge, in a way, can temporarily set you free from so many other stresses of the publishing process. If you are going to become consumed by anything, become consumed by a yearning to excel at your craft, to working your way toward becoming a master craftsman, one whose art is putting words on paper in a way entirely unlike what anyone has ever done before. Hone your craft, recognizing that is the essential thing, the invisible thing; that it is art, at its essence.
I’m not, alas, saying that I know where or how you will find time to work so deeply; writers’ lives are stretched thinner and thinner—as are everyone’s these days, I suspect—between so many things that vie for attention. But here’s the thing (the last thing): consider all the time you spend learning the newest technological trick, be it Pinterest, or Tumblr, or Twitter. One day, so many of these sites will be like MySpace is now, a few years past its height. Vacant. Uninhabited. Devoid of meaning, no matter how much time you may have once invested in it. The world moves on from the momentary; but often art endures. And so we must remind ourselves that marketing and promotion should serve the art we make, the craft of writing itself, instead of the other way around.
Time spent on developing craft won’t ever go away. You will always be that much better of a writer because of it. Three weeks, five months, nine years from now . . . you will still be a better writer than you once were, because of the ways you pushed and stretched and grew as a writer. And that’s the secret, I think: paid out like a monthly/weekly/daily sort of dividend to ourselves, rather than to some secret-holder outside of us—the knowledge that craft sharpens the ability and instinct that drives us to write in the first place. That it is often the secret strength that supports the stories that endure, and that supports their creators, too. That craft is art in action; essential to creative sustenance, but often invisible, even to those who will admire its results. That craft is a place of important work, and deep worth, to dwell in as a writer.
Looking for practical tips on honing your craft as a writer? Visit Molly O’Neill’s blog, or share your own thoughts on craft in the comments below.
Molly O’Neill is an Editor at Katherine Tegen Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Children’s Books. She edits both literary and commercial projects—everything from picture books to middle grade to young adult novels. She seeks vivid stories, original voices, and manuscripts with a strong sense of place—in short, the kind of books that keep readers thinking and imagining, long after the last page. Books that she’s acquired as an editor include Veronica Roth’s #1 New York Times bestselling DIVERGENT trilogy; the YA sci-fi INSIGNIA trilogy by S. J. Kincaid; Nola Buck and Sarah Jane Wright’s picture book A CHRISTMAS GOODNIGHT; Bobbie Pyron’s award-winning middle grade A DOG’S WAY HOME; and the forthcoming middle grade DESTINY, REWRITTEN, by Kathryn Fitzmaurice.
Molly’s been in children’s books for nearly a decade: before becoming an editor (her absolute dream job!), she worked on the Marketing/Publicity side of the industry, first at Clarion Books and then at HarperCollins. She blogs about editing, publishing, art, and life at www.10blockwalk.blogspot.com and tweets at @molly_oneill.
I got chills just reading this post, and I can’t even begin to tell you how inspiring this was. It’s often challenging to find a balance between writing and blogging and tweeting and that crazy thing called life, but this post is a beautiful reminder that one of the most important parts of publishing is the writing CRAFT. Not the blogging, not Pintrest or Facebook. Not the social platform or the Amazon top whatever. It’s the WRITING.
Thank you for this.
Time spent reading this has done exactly what you wished for all of us. Made me stop and feel the moment–remember why I began writing in the first place, and yes, made me want to be a better writer. Thank you.
Thank you for the inspiration – and bringing the Veronica Roth series to the market! I thought about them for days afterward – craft.
WOW. What an excellent, relevant post. I’ve never seen CRAFT explained so well before. Thank you for your wisdom.
Beautifully done ;o)
Fantastic article!
I needed that. Thanks for sharing your wisdom.
Thanks. This was a kind and inspiring kick in the pants, which I needed.
Standing ovation from NC! Craft counts…even if it isn’t sexy! Going to feature this link on my blog. Thanks, Ms. O’Neill.
Beautiful. I printing your quote “The creative side of art, though, is YOURS.” and putting it on my wall. If it were possible to tattoo it on the insides of my eyelids, I probably would.
YES! Thank you for this. Truly inspiring!
It’s so true: honing one’s craft is vitally important! Every single class I take, as well as every book I read, on writing remind me of that. My two critique groups pound it into me too. I mean “pound” in a good way.
I wish it were Twitter/Tumblr/Pinterest/etc that was distracting me from working on refining my craft; it’s more like canning veggies/sewing/knitting/drawing. Oh, and a couple of things called kids. I ask for extra Time every year for my birthday and I never get it.
Thank you for the humorous take on why craft is important! I’ll send my first installment of $29.99 tomorrow…
Best post ever.
Thank you for this. I teach English in a public high school and continually offer my students many of the ideas in your post. And yet, as a writer myself, I feel continually compelled to move away from this work on craft. I feel pressure to research and seek out publishing opportunities… to read and respond to the blogs and tweets of agents and editors just as you said. To be present online. Meta-moment: I could be working on craft right now.
Like so many, I have precious little time to devote to writing and now that I have (recently) entered the publishing race, so to speak, that time is leaking away online. In my deepest soul I know that publishing doesn’t matter. Story-telling is what I love. Craft. Meaning. Connection. But it seems foolish not to try to be published…and to try my best…but trying seems to mean sacrificing some of that precious time I could spend on craft. Ah well. We march on. Thanks again for the opportunity to reflect and best wishes to you.
Wonderful post. Making your craft better changed your writing, your enthusiasm for your writing and in the end your willing to try new things, harder things to get better at the craft of writing. Great post!
My intention was to copy the funny, witty parts that I loved and paste them in here! Obviously no one would want me to re-post the entire thing – not only did I thoroughly enjoy this post – I could not agree more!! Well that and I just stalked your blog and discovered you edited one of my favorite new books!!! Thanks for the advice – and the laughs!
Reading this inspired new hope. I don’t know about other writers, but I often think I have to keep writing every single day. Finish something, start something else. I actually felt guilty these last two weeks for taking time to read a bunch of novels. Guilty! Now I know I was just working on my craft. Thank you so much for this. It is quite fitting for where I am in this journey.
For me it has always been about the writing, but once I got serious about publication I got caught up in the whole social media circus as well. Thank you for the reminder. I needed it.
(((Molly))) I heart you. I so needed to hear this. What you wrote is my truth. I label myself a writer, but what I really am is a crafter, a magic maker. That you see and stand strong in that beauty and purpose is not only inspirational, it’s life affirming. Your authors, all the generations of their readers, and we here are sincerely blessed to have you as guardian.
Thank you
It’s so hard, and kind of scary, you know, learning about social media and advertising and all these things that help with your book. They can never REPLACE your book, and with all this social media writers spend less time on their books. Hehe, I actually should shut my laptop right now, but I got my word count in and this post was definitely worth it 
Rachelle Gardner said something like 10% of your time as a writer should be spent in social media, and 90% in actual writing. I’m not sure if reading blogs and things like Write On Con count as social media, but if it does, I’m WAY off that 10% goal. But I think learning about the craft and reading books count as writing, so I might not be that bad. But it is something to think about, and something I reallllyyyyy need to learn.
Thank you SO much for this awesome post, and sorry for this long reply! I think I might print out this post and post it near my writing place…. I feel I really need to concentrate on this and stop feeling scared whenever I slack in my social media.
Thank you so much!
THIS post. THIS post is exactly what I needed to be reminded of as I am going through revisions.
“a place from which to strive toward the writer you hope to be, while measuring the writer you’ve been, and challenging the writer you are today.”: I should make a poster and carry it with me in the train as I write.
Thank you so much!
“If you are going to become consumed by anything, become consumed by a yearning to excel at your craft.”
“Time spent on developing craft won’t ever go away. You will always be that much better of a writer because of it.”
This post has so much wisdom – thank you!
Thanks so much for sharing your great advice. You are so right that honing our craft is so important. It’s much more important than all the social networking we do. It’s how we write better stories and it’s the one thing we can control in the whole publishing process. Thanks for putting our focus in the right place.
This is a wonderful piece that every author should read, despite the genre in which they write. Thank you!
Truly. Brilliant. Just tweeted. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Molly!!!!! I consider myself incredibly fortunate to be with Harpercollins. You and the other editors there are simply amazing. (I’m debuting my YA Fall 2013 with the Barbara Lalicki team.
)
AMAZING. We’re all bowing to you . . . because you’ve given us the most enduring advice.
What an awesome post! LOVE this:
” If you are going to become consumed by anything, become consumed by a yearning to excel at your craft, to working your way toward becoming a master craftsman, one whose art is putting words on paper in a way entirely unlike what anyone has ever done before.”
Very awesome advice. Thank you, Molly.
Wonderful. Inspiring. I’m sharing this with all my writer-ly peeps. Thank you so much for the post.
I can’t even tell you how badly I needed this today. I’m just starting the querying stage for my novel, and its good to be reminded that it takes hard work but that’s okay. Just keep working and things will turn out. Thank you so much for this! Now, off to work on my craft…
Sarah Allen
(my creative writing blog)
Such an amazing post.
Great advice.
Now scheduling in “time to work on craft” as an essential writing exercise!
Excellent post! Thank you so much for sharing your advice, Molly.
This is one of my favorite posts so far at Write On Con!
I absolutely loved your post. You have captured the reason why I write and expressed far more eloquently than I can…yet. Thank you.
Laugh out loud hilarious! I will never feel guilty about working on my craft project ever again! Thank you so much!
If Elana Johnson says this is the ONE presentation from this year’s WriteOnCon everyone should read, then you’ve done extremely well! Not only is it good advice, but it demystifies a lot of illusions first-time writers might have about this game.
As for not speaking math, your graphic reminded me of one of my favorite Far Side cartoons:
http://avionod.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/then-a-miracle-happens.gif
– Tom
Beautiful. Thank you for the inspiration.
This made me tear up–yes, something one CAN control in this process-Craft! Love this post. All I do, in spare moments, is work on my craft, at the expense of playing on twitter. Thank you.
What a fantastic, well-crafted post!
This is exactly what I needed to hear. In the midst of tweeting and “liking” someone and commenting on people’s posts so that they will comment on mine, I sometimes forget that I’m not a writer if I don’t write and continue to learn. Thanks for a great message and super inspiration!
Sorry but I ignore social media a lot. It seems noisy to
me somehow. Brain clutter. But! I feel guilty about not
doing networking and promo and and and.
I think the point of developing your craft is developing
your heart, your awareness, your curiosity and then struggling
to find ways to connect that to kids’ lives to enrich them.
So I spend a lot of time staring at the tide coming in!
ooops….
at least it didn’t tweet back.