Tag Archives: preseverance

What keeps you going?

Writing a book can be a long process. It’s easy to get discouraged or just plain bored before you reach “The End.”

For me, one of the big things that keeps me going is what Holly Lisle calls “candy bar” scenes:

First, let me define a “candy-bar” scene. It’s one that you’re just itching to write — something sweet enough that you can dangle it on a stick in front of yourself so that you can say, “When I’ve done these next three chapters, I’ll get to write that one.” . . .

Make sure your candy-bar scenes are spread out through the book, not all clumped together. Write down a single sentence for each of them. Don’t allow yourself to do anymore than that, or you’ll lose the impetus to move through the intervening scenes.

Holly Lisle also advises writing the ending first (so you have the goal in mind), writing about people you want to spend time with (because, hey, you’re going to be spending a lot of time with them in the writing process, and you want your readers to want to spend time with them, too), using an outline, and allowing yourself to be surprised. I’ve tried and loved all of those things except writing the ending first (meaning I haven’t tried it, though I might).

What do you think? How do you keep going until you reach “The End”?

Image by Emily Hoyer

A story of perseverance

I’m in an inspirational mood this week. (Or maybe I’m just procrastinating working on my latest round of revisions. I don’t know.)

Sometimes, we all get the “Am-I-crazies?”, as Nathan Bransford calls them. Publishing is a long slog, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s worth it to keep pounding away at that novel that no one might read.

Today we get a story, and it’s not about a writer. Once upon a time, there was a man who decided to become an actor. He did all the requisite things at the time: signed a contract with a studio for bit parts on television, pulled in a regular salary as an extra in mostly non-credited and non-speaking roles. After five years without any real progress, he learned a trade to support his family. But he wasn’t ready to give up on his dream.

His trade brought him into contact with up-and-coming directors—directors who gave him small,but good parts in their films. Each contact, and each role, probably felt like a big break, but after another five years, he was still mostly playing one-off characters who didn’t even warrant a last name on television shows. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up:

I realized early on that success was tied to not giving up. Most people in this business gave up and went on to other things. If you simply didn’t give up, you would outlast the people who came in on the bus with you.

After a decade of trying to make it, one of those up-and-coming directors hired him to read lines with other actors auditioning for parts in his next movie. Eventually, that director came to really like the way our hero interpreted one character in particular, and cast him in the role.

Yeah, the crew thought the film was a B-movie joke at best, some of the cast believed the film would fail, and even our hero thought the film was “weird.” The dialogue sucked (our hero helped improve it). The director didn’t like the style of the cinematographer—or, it seemed, the actors. Production and post-production problems pushed back the release by months. By all accounts, it looked like the movie wouldn’t do much for our hero’s career before it was finally released, 33 years ago yesterday.

You might have heard of the film. Our hero played a guy called Han Solo.

What do you think? What are you favorite inspirational stories or quotations?

quotation via The Ruby-Slippered Sisterhood

Photo by Joe Flood