what I love

A reader recently asked how I became a writer so this is going to be my rambling attempt to answer that.
The short answer is: “I failed….a lot.”
And if anyone ever asked me advice on how to become a writer, that’s the advice I would give… “Fail….a lot.”
But that’s probably not the answer anyone wants to hear.
I wanted to be a writer from the time I was a young child. If the assignment in class was to draw a picture, I’d write a short story or poem instead. (Not surprisingly, this means I have no artistic talent. One of my goals for the year is to learn to draw. So far I’m failing. A lot.)
I kept on writing.
There were times when I thought my way “in” was through non-fiction, so I spent years writing magazine articles, essays and website content. Eventually I decided it was more fun to make things up. I tried my hand at short stories and flash fiction, but they weren’t the best fit for me.
(Do you see the line of failures I’d been racking up?)
I found a class at a local theater and tried my hand at screenwriting.  I really, really loved that because I could use my strengths of plotting and dialogue. I wrote a number of scripts.  I was part of a critique group. I placed well in some contests. I had an agent. I optioned a couple of screenplays. One of my works was workshopped.
But I wasn’t in the right place/situation in my life to break into Hollywood.
Another failure.
Eventually I turned to novel writing. While I was able to carry many lessons I’d learned forward, like everything else, it required learning a new skill set. I wrote books. I attended conferences. I had critique partners.
I sent more than one hundred queries before I landed my first agent.  Unfortunately she wasn’t able to sell that book.  (This failure REALLY hurt.)  So I pitched her, face-to-face, the idea for what would become CONFESSIONS OF A SLIGHTLY NEUROTIC HITWOMAN. To say that she looked appalled by my idea of a hitwoman with a heart of gold who can talk to animals, is an understatement.
Since I didn’t feel like she was invested in my vision, I left her. (And hey, because I’m stubborn and believed in myself, I eventually sold that first book on my own. So please know that failure isn’t fatal, sometimes it’s just a matter of timing and having the stars align. It also helps to have a flexible idea of what you consider “success” to be.)
It took another hundred queries or so to land my second agent, who sold both Confessions and Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman. (See the Q is for Query post.)
They basically failed too, in that they did not find an audience. (But see N is for Neurotic to see how THAT all panned out.)
So basically my advice for writers is to be willing to fail often. It’s painful, but it’s part of the process.
And don’t disregard the value of being stubborn and believing in your work. If I hadn’t been extremely passionate about Maggie and the gang, I wouldn’t have gone into self-publishing and I wouldn’t currently be working on the twentieth Confessions story.