Over the past two years, since my entering into this crazy fiction-writing world, I’ve noticed that many of my compatriots are often discouraged, depressed, worn out, or feeling hopeless about their writing. Serious devotion to writing as a calling and career seems to take quite the emotional toll. And two years has been enough time for me to experience this emotional stress firsthand.
What is interesting to me is that I come from an arts background in music. I did musical theater, got a BA in music, played my own music publicly in London, etc. And my experience with music and being a pre-professional musician was in no way as brutal as my experience now of being a pre-professional writer.
Please note this is not because I think writing is inherently harder than playing music. If anything, I think I have slightly more of a natural knack for writing than I do for music. And I don’t think being a professional musician, especially one who makes her entire income through performance, is any easier than being a professional writer who makes his entire income through writing fiction. But on the whole and in my own experience, being a pre-professional musician was easier than being a pre-professional writer.1 Here’s why:
1. Higher barrier to entry: Most American adults can sit down and write a sentence without having to practice first. But have you ever heard someone pick up a violin for the first time and draw the bow across the strings? If you haven’t, count yourself lucky because the results can be painful to the ear. This basic difference means that being an aspiring musician generates more respect than being an aspiring writer. It also weeds out most of the wannabe and non-serious musicians right out the gate, because to achieve even a basic level of musical competence requires non-trivial amounts of practice time. This is not so with writing.
2. Simple mentorship system: As a musician, it’s common to have a private teacher who will mentor you, give you tons of individual attention, and keep you on the straight and narrow in terms of continuing practice and improvement. Or you might even have several teachers for different instruments (for instance, at various times I’ve had private piano teachers, voice teachers, and composition teachers). A good teacher will keep you encouraged and inspired most of the time, and kick you in the ass when you really need it. There are many resources available for finding a teacher, and you pay a set fee for the privilege of study. This contrasts to finding a writing mentor, which I don’t know how to do and which has no set way to achieve. Interest one of the teachers at your workshop or your writing class, perhaps? But once the class ends, then what? There’s not a clearly defined business model for this as there is in music.
3. A more respected educational system: It is also common wisdom that a writer should major in something besides creative writing, and the opponents of the usefulness of an MFA in creative writing seem to be as numerous as the proponents. While I’m not arguing these points one way or another, it stands in marked contrast to music’s mentorship system (discussed above) and higher educational system. While if you’re doing certain kinds of music, a degree might not be necessary, most music programs help develop skills that will obviously come in handy later on, and musicians don’t tend to argue about their usefulness. This means if you know that you need to build skills as a musician, you can have the institutional support of a university music program while not constantly worrying that you might be wasting your money. I’m not saying there aren’t MFA programs that are fabulous, just that general opinion is mixed. And thank goodness for workshops like Clarion, Odyssey, and Taos Toolbox and organizations like SCBWI that take up some of the slack here. But workshops and organizations don’t generally offer the same consistency as a four-year program.
4. More emphasis on collaboration: As a musician, I had many opportunities to perform with various groups. I was taught how to work with other musicians and had group performance opportunities in choirs, musicals, and operas. Instrumentalists have orchestras, bands, and chamber music ensembles. And then there are jazz bands and ensembles and rock or pop bands. Finding other musicians to make music with tends to be pretty easy. Writing, on the other hand, is a fairly solitary experience, and while one could argue that the critique group is the equivalent of a band, a lot of critique groups don’t meet as often and/or aren’t working together as closely. The result of this can be a lack of deep working relationships.
5. Possibilities to practice art in the real world: Speaking of performance, not only did I have many opportunities, both during college and afterwards, but it was highly encouraged, even expected. A young and inexperienced musician went out and gigged, auditioned, joined a band, whatever. And if you weren’t paid for your efforts for awhile, well, that was the norm while building up your chops. Contrast this to writing, in which well-respected writers advise new writers not to submit to markets that pay less than five cents a word (the current “pro” rate). Leaving aside the absurdity that a couple of cents per word one way or another isn’t going to make a difference in quitting your day job anytime soon, this attitude means that new writers are actively discouraged from showing their work in public unless it can hit the bar and taste of the few pro markets. This in turn lowers motivation and increases both pressure to improve at unattainable rates of speed and accompanying feelings of futility and isolation. For the pre-professional artist, any recognition, however small, is powerful incentive to continue, and in writing, there just don’t seem to be as many of these opportunities.
6. The stigma (or lack thereof) of indie artists: The indie music scene is vibrant, exciting, and most importantly, not overtly stigmatized. In fact, it’s hip to be an indie musician. Sure, you might have trouble paying your bills, but in return you get to make the music you want to make, thumb your nose at The Man, and live a musical life. Most other musicians will either be actively supportive or not care one way or another. Cutting your band’s own CD has gotten a lot easier with recent technology, and bands do it all the freaking time. Contrast this with the indie writer scene (otherwise known as self-publishing). You may have a hard time paying your bills this way too (or you may have an easier time if your name is J.A. Konrath), but regardless, other writers will sneer at you. I’m not kidding. The stigma against self publishing of any sort is incredibly strong. It’s so strong that a lot of established professional writers aren’t putting their backlists (the rights of which have reverted to them) up on all the electronic platforms. Now this might just be lack of business sense, lack of interest, or technophobia, but I find it very striking. To me, this doesn’t even count as real self publishing because the work has already been published with a publishing house and received the full traditional treatment. But I digress. Most writers I’ve met are firmly in the “traditional-publishing-deal-or-bust” camp, even though distribution channels and producing a final e-edition of a novel have gotten much easier with recent technology, just as producing CDs is now easier. The main effects of this attitude are less options for writers of all levels, not just the pre-professionals, and less emphasis on business innovation and experimentation with new business models. Meanwhile, there are already huge amounts of self-published material flooding the marketplace with no gatekeeper, and somehow readers seem to be surviving the onslaught just fine.
All this said, I’m incredibly grateful for the assistance I’ve received from the writing communities I belong to. My friendships and discussions with other writers have been some of the highest points of my writing life. If anything, this analysis shows how critical these communities and fellow writers truly are. But if nothing else, I hope this comparison between pre-professional musicians and writers will serve to illustrate the difficulty of the writing path, and encourage us to be supportive, patient, and kind to one another.
For those of us who are nonconformists, it can also act as a reminder that change may be coming, but change isn’t always such a terrible thing.
1 Note that I am most familiar with the speculative and YA communities in writing, and have at least passing familiarity with Classical, jazz, rock/pop, and musical theater in music. What I’m talking about may not hold true in other genres or styles.
The Practical Free Spirit 
Amy what are you holding? A can of worms? Wait what are you…?! NO! DON’T!!
Sigh. Too late.
It has been my experience that those who have paid their dues want everyone else that follows to pay the same, if not more. I’ve even done this myself in my own hobbies and interests. (This guy has level 189 blues and he wants in on our ICC run? Pfft. Learn To Pug, N00B.)
The big barrier to entry is a level of professionalism in the work. Until now, if you could get a publisher to say ‘I like this, so we’ll put money behind it,’ you had theoretically achieved a grade of quality considered ‘professional’. You’ve paid the dues.
But watch out! Here comes Amazon! Now you can take that first novel you’ve been working on for the last ten years and put it out there. Everyone will see your brilliance! The trouble (and this is where the pros take most of their issues) is that book is probably pretty bad. In fact, because you haven’t learned your art, you’re going to have a lot of mistakes, errors, and just poor quality. I’m with the traddies on this one, much like a pro artist would listen to the amateur screeches on a violin and reach for the earplugs.
As an aside, that’s another difference between writing and music. With music you know instantly if it’s well-played. With writing it can take a little longer. Thus, if you’re reading something without a publisher, READ THE FREE SAMPLE FIRST! If they don’t offer one, then flee. Hell, if the publisher doesn’t offer a sample you should flee. If you don’t know the author you’re taking a chance.
Back to it, where I break with the traddies is that I don’t think we should all pay those dues. If you’ve produced a work that is of professional grade, then you should make it available. A traditional publisher has you do a vast amount of the work anyway. Most of the editing is yours and most of the marketing is yours. Sure, they’ll set up your tour, but radio and tv promotions are between you and your agent. Facebook, twitter, and so on are similarly yours. They’ll do a cover for you, but that’s the easiest part. And they rarely give you something you want. For all that, they take a 52% royalty and give you 8 to 10. Whee?
I’m not sure the sneering will ever diminish. Not until you’re making a living off your self-published earnings, because the fact remains that a midlist traditionally-published author probably has a day job. If you can self-publish a good four to six quality works, you may find yourself in a position to quit yours. And I’d argue that publishing that many books and turning up the sales is paying all the dues you need.
Forgot to add one thing: Those traditionals that refuse to publish their backlist? I believe that’s short-sighted and poor business sense. The work is done. The books are finished. There is no reason at all for them to be unavailable.
Or do they prefer readers go to Half-Price books and pick up their backlist at a quarter of the cover cost? I mean, there’s royalties in that, right? Right??
Oh wait! 😉
I suppose it can be hard to find the time, but yes, it seems worth the effort to make your backlist available.
Yeah, I know it’s a can of worms. But it sure is an *interesting* one.
I disagree that you know instantly if music is well-played. New musicians usually know if they’ve played some wrong notes, sure, but particularly in singing (my main area of expertise), it can be hard to tell how good you are. That’s why having teachers and performance opportunities can be so helpful.
This is a problem for writers as well. How do you as a writer know for sure that you’ve produced a work of professional grade as opposed to the bad books you’ve seen on Amazon? We can talk business models until we’re blue in the face and yet, this basic question still remains. Perhaps you are right and the proof is in the sales.
I suppose that with indie bands, for them to make any kind of name at all or build a fan base, they have to be good enough to gig around and provide mp3 samples that people like. But I found there were more opportunities to gig around than there are to publish — and if you don’t like to write short stories (or your strength just really lies in novels), even less chance.
“This is a problem for writers as well. How do you as a writer know for sure that you’ve produced a work of professional grade as opposed to the bad books you’ve seen on Amazon? We can talk business models until we’re blue in the face and yet, this basic question still remains. Perhaps you are right and the proof is in the sales.”
I completely agree! As an author, it’s difficult to tell whether your writing meets a particular caliber. It’s even more difficult to tell whether its reception is caused by a lack of quality writing or simply personal taste in tone/style/voice.
I really don’t think sales is a good metric, though. All sales proves is that you’ve done a good job with marketing.
I agree that it’s very difficult to judge your own work. A trusted group of first and second readers are absolutely essential for any would-be self-publisher. And I don’t mean friends and family. You need others in your field. People who can say more than just ‘I didn’t like this part’ or ‘I didn’t get this.’ They need to say ‘your narrative is getting lost here’ or ‘the main character’s voice is unclear’.
Christie, I see your point on the sales discussion. Twilight is a marketing masterpiece. And yet, Dan Brown’s latest work is nothing near the success of DaVinci Code. Simply, the quality isn’t there, but the publisher spent buckets on the marketing. I would say that marketing will only get you so far, and quality will get you new readers and keep old ones coming back for new work.
So Dan Brown’s latest work is the literary equivalent of an Edsel? 😉
Continued sales and a dedicated fan base might be a good indicator that the marketing wasn’t all hype. But what metric should we use for those who have no sales due to poor marketing or visibility?
I have a friend of mine who published online a novel recently, while writing it. He gave away the first chapter, got some subscribers, and took their comments into consideration when rewriting. He’s going to self-publish the novel very soon. I think it’s a great way for people whose work might not quite there yet to have a bit of an audience. It’s like doing a webcomic that starts out crappy and gets better as the author learns in front of people. I don’t think it would work for people who have to go back and forth in their manuscripts a lot, or who write sporadically. I wonder though if most of us who write sporadically do so because of lack of connection to others. I know I write more frequently now that I have a crew.
I think connection can be one thing that motivates us. I don’t think it’s the only thing though, as I’ve been able to crank out my novels without expectation of an audience.
I think the barrier to entry for writing has been imposed at the level of ‘professionally published or not’. Sure, anyone can write something, but not everyone can get a company to publish it–and even less for professional rates. So a lot of writers used to the traditional publishing system see that as the determination of what makes a ‘good writer’. It’s a terribly damaging metric, though, because it requires new writers to submit stuff to faceless companies, and guess at the reception of their work, until they eventually publish many years later–which only guarantees that they have passed the barrier to entry, but not that they’ll make a living as a writer in the future. It’s also a counter-productive metric because it ties the identity of professional writers to a dying system.
And yet, for some reason I want to be professional published nonetheless. I guess I just want them to want me? Le sigh.
Well, there are things about being professionally published that work well. And there are things that work less well. But it’s not surprising to want traditional recognition for your efforts. 🙂
Amy,
This was very well thought out. Thank you.
I too have wondered how one goes about getting mentored, because I could sure use that. I’m beginning to suspect that you have to be perceived by some established writer to be a wunderkind to get mentored.
I have heard of the wunderkind thing working out, too, but of course that’s not something that I the writer can control in any way.
Of course I automatically think of lessons as a solution since that was my old business. 🙂
Really interesting thoughts, Amy.
One thing I’ve often wondered is whether writing attitudes are the same across all genres. I have the impression that RWA is far more supportive of newbies, for example, and that MFA programs are more respected among mainstream writers.
Re: mentorship programs. They may be less standard in writing because the possibilities for scamming are so much higher. My first violin teacher wasn’t exceptional, but he was qualified to teach me the basics: that much was obvious because he could make a song come out of the instrument and I couldn’t. With writing, it’s harder for a newbie to distinguish a competent teacher from a hack.
(On the other hand, perhaps the unintended side effect of Writer Beware’s diligent efforts on behalf of writers is that we’re instantly suspicious of anyone who takes money to evaluate a new author’s work.)
I’ve heard similar things about the RWA, and I’ve also heard that some literary mags have a preference for publishing works by writers with MFAs, while Christie points out below that genre is often discouraged in academic MFA environments.
I agree with you that finding a writing teacher/mentor is not as codified as finding a music teacher. And with so many scams out there, it behooves all writers to be careful. If I were personally looking for a writing mentor, I’d be looking very closely at their publishing credits — and the speculative world is small enough that I’d also feel better if I’d heard of them. However, I question whether it would be so bad to pay for “writing lessons” if one felt they were truly helpful. Writing classes and workshops seem to be okay to pay for, so why not lessons? Maybe they’ve been tried and they’re not as effective? It’s interesting to think about.
In my experience as an editor for literary and fiction magazines, I’ve never seen myself or any of my fellow editors display a preference for authors with MFAs.
There actually was one author who we were pretty frustrated with because she routinely submitted 20 or 30 poems while our submission limit was 5. She’d submit them in batches of 10 throughout our submission period. The poems themselves were ok, though by no means exceptional. The first batch was rejected, as was the second. At some point, we actually took the time to read through her bio, where she listed an MFA and several literary awards. The MFA didn’t make us any more likely to publish her poetry.
My friend Christie Fremon had an excellent comment that she made over on my Facebook, so I wanted to add it to the discussion here:
“Great work summing this all up and presenting it so clearly. It’s great to have someone point out all of these obstacles, and discussing how they impact authors who are trying to break into the industry.
The only thing I noted, comparing the music and writing, is that I seem to recall that “genre” writing and “indie/pop” music tend to receive the same treatment in academies…. There wasn’t a single teacher in my university who didn’t sneer at genre writing; and a friend of mine who majored in music had a similar experience with any of her music projects that were deemed “pop” or “indie.””
I think/hope writing is going to change with new publication models. Mass publication is a high barrier and means marketibility more than quality (you need the first, but not necessarily the second).
What we’ve always lacked is a way to make less marketable books (including that 45,000 word deal) widely available and widely reviewed. I don’t prefer ebooks to traditional books, but easily becoming available on review-oriented sites is a huge change. Having 1000 sales at a buck a copy (30 cent royalty) isn’t much money (and isn’t an option now I think), but it’s concrete feedback of how well you’re doing.
Unfortunately I think music is always going to be easier. There’s a market for local bands, so if you’re one of the better bands in town you’ll play somewhere. With books, you’re always competing with the best in the world.
Thanks, Ian, for bringing up the geographic aspect of local bands and the local music scene. I’d thought of it when brainstorming for this essay but ultimately forgot to include it, and I think it’s a solid point and another huge difference between writing and music.
There is a local writing scene here where I live, but it seems to mostly consist of other writers, whereas in my experience most local music scenes involve a lot of fans who aren’t also active performing musicians.
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Good article. I’m a full time writer and my partner is a professional dancer.
One of the main problems with writing, I find, is that it requires much more of its audience than just about any art. If you’re a musician or performer and you invite people to your show you’re only asking them to commit to a couple of hours. People can listen to a CD or a song in the background. You can look at a painting or photograph and immediately grasp it. But asking someone to read a novel is a major commitment on their part, and so it is much harder to find a casual audience. That is one of the isolating things about writing. You want to feel as though your book is a gift, like playing a song for someone, but you realize that you’re asking a busy person to devote a lot of time and mental energy, and they may not consider that to be a gift at all.
Reblogged this on Janr Ssor and commented:
Do new writers have or need support groups like musicians?