Writing

Finding a New Comfort Zone

Most of you know me as a science fiction writer, while others have read my horror or fantasy work.  So my latest book launch might come as a bit of a surprise… but I’m happy to announce that today is launch day for Love & Death, a narrative composed of intertwined stories.

Love and Death by Gustavo Bondoni_3d

Innumerable experts talk about getting out of your comfort zone in order to grow, but I’ll take it one step further.  For a new book to be any good the writer needs to be confident in the genre they’re working in…

Fortunately, I’ve been a reader of literary works for as long as I’ve been a reader of genre work, and I found that writing something completely outside of my usual milieu was not so much a reinvention of my prose as it was akin to slipping out of shorts and into a suit and tie.

The result?  I’ll let you judge for yourself – below are purchase links for every conceivable e-delivery method (paperbacks are coming soon):

Amazon | B&N | Play Store | Apple Store

If you do pick it up, drop me a line – always delighted to hear if readers loved a book or if they hated it.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an award-winning novelist and short story writer from Argentina who also likes to blog about anything that catches his eye, mainly of a cultural nature… often not.

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Writing Life: Gustavo Bondoni’s Guide to Surviving Rejection

So, you’re a writer.  Congratulations.  And condolences.  While it’s one of the most rewarding things you can do with your life, it can also be extremely discouraging.  One of the daily realities of writers’ lives is that we deal with rejection all the time.  If you’re serious about writing, and your work is out there, you’ll need to learn how to deal with rejection on a daily basis.  More likely on a many-times-a-day basis.

What?  How can this be? I hear you asking Don’t you sell and sell and sell, all the time? What’s this about rejection?

Hmm.  Apparently I have to give away a dirty secret of the writing world, but first, I need you to do something for me: go look at a couple of writer’s blogs or websites.

Done?  Good.

You’ll probably have noticed that none of these people are mentioning rejection.

That’s because blogs and websites are the highlight reel.  Everyone gets to see our highlight reel, but we keep our blooper reels to ourselves (or maybe commiserate with other writers about it when no one else is listening).  We don’t tell you about our rejections because an image of success often breeds more success.

But behind those facades, rejections still happen; there’s too much talent competing for too few publication slots.  Something has to give.  That means that they happen a lot, and if you want to be a writer, you have to know that there will be some days when the rejections will grind you down to the bedrock.  Whether or not you continue as a writer depends on your capacity to ignore them and move on.

So, I will assume that your story is polished and all those other things everyone always blogs about and, without further ado, I give you my six secrets to surviving rejection:

1. Don’t pin all your hopes on a story that you’re sure will be your breakthrough.

It will most likely be rejected from the breakthrough market, not because it’s bad but because no matter what stage you’re at in your writing career, there are likely huge numbers of other talented writers who view that same market as their breakthrough.  That means that most times, things get rejected.

The hardest blow to get up from is usually the one that all your hopes were tied to.  The best way to avoid that is not to tie your hopes to any one response.  It’s hard to do, but it’s a critical survival skill.

 

2. Don’t pin your hopes on it, but send it to The New Yorker anyway.

It’s much better to be rejected than to wonder forever if they might have liked it if you hadn’t chickened out before sending it over.  This same thing goes for the dream literary agent.  Some people are making it through the door.  Why not you?

But don’t get your hopes too high!

 

3.  Write something else while you’re waiting.

The new story, the one you just finished writing, before you even edit it, is your new blue-eyed-boy.  It’s the bright star in your firmament and the apple of your eye.  I could go on with the clichés, but you get it.  Its shininess is what makes the rejection of something older seem less serious.

When you have something new to show, you can say: “So what if they hated the old crock I sent them two months ago?  Wait till they see this.”

 

4.  But if the old crock comes back with an email that contains the word “unfortunately” in it, get it back out there immediately.  It was once your blue-eyed boy, and if it’s good, it will sell.  If you trunk it, it won’t.

Besides, the act of sending it back out erases the rejection.  It becomes something to hope (without overdoing it, see point 1) will sell.

 

5. Celebrate everything.  For a good chunk of your writing career, rejection will make up the majority of your communication with the wider literary world.  So you need to raise a glass to anything that isn’t a rejection.

Sold a story? Agent asked to see your full MS?  Jump with joy!

Agent offered representation?  Faint… then jump with joy.

Got a story accepted to a non-paying market?  Celebrate it.  You will eventually move away from these, but it’s still an achievement.  They reject stories, too, and getting in is a sign that your writing is pretty good.

A book or magazine containing one of your stories was published?  Hooray!

Ditto a cover reveal!

Got a good review?  You’re buying the drinks today.

A bad review?  Celebrate anyway.  Reviewers don’t read just anything.  The fact that someone bothered to mention your work means you’re out there.

I think you get the point.

 

Bonus Advice, especially useful to those breaking in.

6. A rewrite request is something awesome.  Put it on top of your priority list.

Yes, I know you’re the second coming F.Scott Fitzgerald and the editor didn’t get the amazing artistry of your piece.  And yes, I know the rewrite they’re requesting will ruin the story.

You’re going to do the rewrite anyway.  The editor controls access to the market, and they knows their readers better than you do.  If you lose a sale because you didn’t want to do the rewrite… you’ve just made a career mistake and added another rejection to your list.  And the whole point here is to maximize the occurrence of everything that isn’t a rejection.

Besides, you’re not the second coming of F. Scott Fitzgerald.

 

 

Well, that’s my list.  Will it help you feel better about rejections?  Honestly?  Yeah, it does, but it won’t completely inoculate you against them.  You’ll still feel the sting, and sometimes, repeated application of that sting will grind you down.  When it does, the only thing that will save you is the quality of that bedrock I mentioned earlier.

The real writers, the ones that eventually work (or luck) their way into a career, are the ones that get up one more time than the literary world knocks them down.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist and short story writer.  His best-known work is Siege, which you can check out here.

Ice Station: Death – Launched. Thoughts on My First Horror Book.

I’m mostly known as a science fiction writer, and with good reason.  Of the seven books I’ve published, no less than five are SF (the remainder are a comic fantasy and a thriller), so creature horror is not necessarily something readers would associate me with.

Until now.

Ice-Station-Death-ebook-cover

Yes, it’s a creature book in the classic mold but updated to today’s world, a far cry from something like Outside or Siege.  It’s called Ice Station: Death, and you can buy the ebook here (will let everyone know when the paperback comes out).

So what was this experience like?  To put it simply, I had a blast.  Writing monsters isn’t as easy as it looks from the outside.  You need to research (your creatures need to be biologically viable and behave in believable ways), create a credible backstory for where they came from and how come no one noticed them before and also create characters that your readers will care about.  If your protagonists are wooden cutouts, it won’t make a difference to anyone if they’re in mortal peril.

In that sense, it’s a lot like writing SF, and very different from writing a mainstream book.  When you’re writing about things that aren’t real, or aren’t real yet, you actually have to be more careful of being exact than when you’re writing about real life–at least that’s been my experience.

It’s also nice to write a book where the tension has to come to a boil relatively early in the process and then not let off.  So the action is utterly relentless, and you never know who’s going to be left standing at the end of it…

Readers and reviewers will decide whether I succeeded in creating a good book or not but, as an author, I love this one, and hope everyone here will, too.

If you do read it, drop us a line here and let us know what you thought!

 

Interview with Christopher Schmitz, Author of Wolf of the Tesseract

We’ve got something a little different today, and hopefully the start of a new series here on Classically Educated: an author interview.  Joining us is Christopher Schmitz, author of Wolf of the Tesseract.

Christopher D Schmitz

CE: Tell us a bit about yourself outside of the writing world. Who is Christopher, what inspires him, what makes him tick.

CS: I’ve always been a storyteller (actually a reader, first) and love tabletop gaming. Besides reading comics, I also was a GM and did lots of RPG gaming for superhero games in high school and run gaming clubs for kids, locally, now as part of my youth work job (youth work is where my college degrees are.) I also enjoy music and have been known bring my bagpipes abroad (though I’m probably a better guitarist than I am piper).

 

CE: What drove you to begin writing?

CS: As a kid I always loved stories, and we got two TV stations if there was good weather, so I had to make up my own. In elementary school I wrote stories and even had a comic book I drew for classmates. I still have them. They were awful, but it was formative. I’ve always had an inner drive to create and self-identified as a story-teller. I grew up in the 1980s and had exposure to new and great stories of the era in comics, cartoons (He-Man and Thundercats!) and fiction was really coming into its own with new waves of fantasy and sci-fi.

 

CE: Which writers do you admire most? Are there any books you’d like to recommend to our readers (and for Classically Educated to review)?

CS: I’ve always been a Tolkien fiend, though I recognize that he’d probably never be published today with the changes to how we publish and consume stories nowadays. Recently I’ve gotten into Robert Jordan and Jim Butcher. I’m also a fan of Timothy Zahn and really like what James SA Corey is doing. Classically, I love Heinlen, Orwell, and have a soft spot for John Wyndham. I really think I need to put Herbert’s Dune on my list. Maybe I’ll eventually get around to it but I’ve only watched it as a movie and it’s probably a failing in me as a person.

 

CE: Tell us about your first publication – a lot of aspiring writers never make it that far, so inspiration is always welcome.

CS: I wanted to write in a shared universe—I was a Star Wars fiend for many years and had read every novel up through the Thrawn Duology. I even wrote most of a book (some of those elements were refurbished for my Dekker’s Dozen space opera series,) and it led me on a quest to discover how to get into the publishing world. In the early days of the internet companies still listed information on how to get in touch with them and I even got a hold of someone at Lucas’s companies who explained that writing in their shared universe was by invitation. I was nineteen at the time and she told me, “Successfully publish something original and get noticed—then people will come to you.” I started writing my original-concept fantasy series, The Kakos Realm. Of course, I did everything wrong to begin with and sketched out a 7 book story arc, writing mythopoeic notes like diet-tolkien. It was picked up by a small publisher that eventually sold to someone else who bought it to shutter the place. I got my rights back, wrote more, and released it as an indie title later. I learned a lot along the way and launched my blog several years ago with the express intent of sharing wisdom I gleaned from making wrong choices or getting good advice from fellow authors. Being an author is a long-term plan. It’s not something you can do to get rich, but every year I’ve done better than the last—and chiefly because I’m finding better and better resources to equip myself with.

Wolf of the Tesseract by Christopher Schmitz

CE: What inspired you to write Wolf of the Tesseract? Was it something you experienced? Something you read? A love of wolves?

CS: Wolf of the Tesseract is something I wrote specifically for the YA and up crowd. I wrote it as something of an homage to Madeleine L’Engle’s Wrinkle in Time series. Of course, I threw in healthy doses of tropes found in the Masters of the Universe and Thundercats era cartoons (both of which got short-lived post-2000 reboots that were amazing and were dropped in idiotic moves reminiscent of the Firefly cancellation.) Anyway, I also added lycan/werewolves to the mix; as a teen I played a lot of World of Darkness stuff and have always loved the themes. After the first book was picked up by a traditional publisher and then went indie when my contract expired and I also released a sequel and a prequel comic book which I bring to the many comic cons that I attend as a guest or vendor. People can get that comic book for free as a digital download (plus other books) by joining my mailing list.

 

Thanks Christopher! Hope some of our readers will check out your books and sign up for the mailing list.  It does sound like something the eclectic crowd here would enjoy!

Hope and Terror in the Aftermath

I always read the contributor copies of the publications where my stories appear (when they manage to successfully brave the postal system between the English-speaking world and Argentina, that is).  I don’t always read them immediately, though, as they go into the to-be-read pile, which is often biblical in scope.

into the ruins volume 7

So the Fall 2017 issue of Into the Ruins, which contains my tale “Anchored Down in Anchorage” has just cycled through.

When I read the guidelines prior to sending my story through, I remember thinking that a collection of stories set in the ruins of civilization would make for somewhat depressing reading, but the reality is that the magazine was actually a different from what I expected.

In the first place, half of the stories focused on the potential for adventure after the fall of civilization.  It might be worrying if you stop to think about it, but while reading, these tales are mainly entertaining.

The other half of the stories are, interestingly, of the type where humanity falls into its basest patterns… terrifying for different reasons.

So these stories, though set in a world after global warming takes its toll, are not about the catastrophe (even though every single one of them uses global warming and rising sea levels as its starting point as opposed to some other kind of calamity).  The post-civilization world is just a setting to explore the ins and outs of the characters immersed therein.

My favorite was “The Cupertinians” by Damian Macrae, which might best be described as a morally ambiguous romp in the Indiana Jones style.  Wonderful.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist and short story writer.  His latest novel is entitled Timeless, and you can check it out here.

Being Bad at Middles

writer at work

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I’m more of a hunter-type personality than a farmer.  This isn’t ideal for living in modern society, but isn’t completely unworkable…  It does, however, have some interesting side effects, one of which I’d like to share, as it definitely has to do with my writing process.

That side effect is being bad at middles.

I’ve always been fascinated by people who love process, in much the way that one is fascinated by gruesome traffic accidents or unusually large insects.  It’s an awful, awful thing, but you just can’t turn your eyes away.  In my case the reason for that is that I don’t understand it.  I love the rush of a new project, delight in the sense of something just about to finish… but have no passion whatsoever for the nuts and bolts of what happens in the middle.  I push forward to the best of my ability, but rely on whatever talent I might have, and the planning I did in the first throes of new-book enthusiasm to get me through at a hopefully high level.

In the middle of something, I often look around and see friends enthusing about their passion for rewrites or for tweaking their hyper-detailed outline for the hundredth time before starting the actual writing and I scratch my head and wonder how they can keep the enthusiasm alive for long enough to actually finish a book.

Honestly, experience tells me that many of them don’t and most books are sacrificed on the altar of perfectionism before anyone can even see their imperfections.

But some of them do get written, and polished, and edited and published.  I find that wonderful, in the sense that it fills me with wonder.  I know I would never have the follow through; I would drown in the mire in the middle.

I’m like that with everything, whether it be a project for work or a book I’m reading–but it seems particularly applicable to writing.  Generally, my enthusiasm for any given piece of work is lowest right in the middle.

I’ve developed a number of strategies to cope.  I often have more than one piece of writing going on at the same time, or I write something really short that I can get finished when the enthusiasm is still upon me.

Another way to cope is to borrow joy across different aspects.  Perhaps a few hundred words on a bogged writing project can be spurred on by the promise of reading the final fifty pages of my book in progress later on… or of starting a new drawing.  Small highs from other walks of life can spur things on.

Of course, nothing renews enthusiasm in writing like a sale… but that’s not something I can control.

Does my method always work?

No.

On those occasions, you need to fall back on that old staple: sheer bloody-mindedness.  It’s gotten me through more fallow periods than I can count.  It does have the downside that you may despise the words you’re putting down, but I’ve found that coming back a couple of weeks later will improve that text immeasurably… even if you don’t change a single letter of it.

Anyway, that’s how I do it.  Your own mileage, as always, will probably differ wildly.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist whose latest novel is a thriller entitled “Timeless”.  You can check it out here.

 

 

Writing 2018 – The Year in Review

So, another year nearly done.  This is the last weekday of 2018, so I suppose it’s time to take stock of the year writing-wise.

Yes, there were a number of story sales (more than thirty), and publications (also more than thirty), so I won’t be doing an itemized list (that way lies utter readerly boredom).  Instead, I wanted to touch on the highlights.

Perhaps the most important thing that happened this year was that I had my most successful year ever on the short story front.  I earned more money from writing those in 2018 than any other year – and even though it’s nearly impossible to make a living writing shorts, it’s nice to see those story sales piling up and the pay increasing.

But that’s probably not what I’ll remember most about this year. in my mind, 2018 will likely go down as the year of the contest.  Though I didn’t actually win any of them, I made huge strides in some major places.  To begin with, I was a finalist in the Jim Baen Memorial Award, one of the two biggest SF contests out there.  That was a remarkable start to a good run.

The next contest was the James White award and, again, I did better than ever: second place and a special Judges’ commendation.  Special Commendation are as rare as hen’s teeth–less than a handful have been awarded in the contests decades of existence.  Huge for me…

Finally, I discovered something called the Wyrm’s Gauntlet, an elimination-round competition with nice cash prizes for all the finalists.  I made it to the final round and finished second… which was utterly cool!  This was the most fun I’ve ever had in a writing competition, as well as the most stress as I awaited the result of each subsequent round.

Malakiad-Gustavo-Bondoni-Cover

Novels were not neglected, but the cards fell differently this year, and I published no Science Fiction books.  The Malakiad, released in March, is a comic fantasy set in ancient Greece, while Timeless is a thriller.  Both are books I really love.

Timeless

In this regard, 2019 looks to be a good year for books.  I already have a couple on the schedule (a horror book and a literary collection of linked shorts), and there are three more under consideration with various publishers who’ve expressed interest in them – we’ll see how that pans out, but I’m optimistic that at least a couple of those will be bought.

All in all, a great year, and something to build on in 2019.  So this is me signing off until next year…

Happy new year, everyone!

 

Of Fun in Your Fiction

Revelation Space Alastair Reynolds

Tuesday’s post got me thinking about the kind of stuff I most enjoy reading.  A correct answer to the question “what is your favorite kind of book?” is a complex beast and probably depends on a myriad of factors – everything from my mood to the kind of novel I’m working at at the moment of answering the question.

Probably the kind of writing I enjoy most is the quintessentially British humor of authors like Wodehouse, Pratchett or Douglas Adams.  But I’ve read almost everything they’ve written, so that initial flash of wonder at their brilliance is no longer available.

On the other hand, I often enjoy a good dose of the classics, especially some of the 20th century greats (I especially recommend The Great Gatsby and The Remains of the Day).

Other days, I love nonfiction in various forms.

But if I had to be specific about one particular type of genre, I’d say I enjoy space opera and medieval-style fantasy.

Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks

The fantasy is easy to explain.  Lord of the Rings is the benchmark there, and many of the doorstop series that began in the 1970s through 1990s followed the template.  They eschewed social questions to focus on the eternal battle between good and evil… and are all the better for it (Terry Brooks is probably the prototypical exponent of this, but Feist, Jordan and Eddings–before he became impossibly annoying–were good, too).  Escapist stuff, with little in the way of moral grey areas and absolutely no message fiction.  It’s lovely to read stuff in which politics are absent–I can always look at my Facebook feed if I happen to miss that (hint: not likely!).

Dune-Frank Herbert (1965) First_edition

Space Opera falls into a similar space, at least at novel and series length.  By its very nature, the subgenre deals with worlds so transformed by technology that current modes of thought and moral discussions are irrelevant.  This has the effect of making even the political considerations–and, as seen in the Dune series, politics can be used effectively–interesting, as opposed to yawn-inducing.

And it’s only in space opera that writer’s imaginations are fully unleashed.  The technology is so far from today’s stuff that it bends society and even what it means to be human beyond recognition.  If fantasy is escapist, then this takes escape to the next level.

Unfortunately, both genres (like everything else) are subject to the whims of fashion… and fashion is currently dictating two things:

  1. Medieval fantasy is wrong because the social and political structures necessary to make it believable (feudal class structure and a society where men do most of the fighting) are very much not in vogue today.
  2. It is compulsory for science fiction to focus on the next fifty to one hundred years.  And they must be shown as grim because capitalism will destroy us, and global warming will destroy us.

My only problem with the above is that those trends forget that SF became popular because, on one side, it was fun, and on the other, it presented ideas that caused people to say “wow”.

Fortunately, some writers have ignored the dictates above and are still writing about a post-Earth human future.  The old sense of wonder, more mature, more jaded and much more knowing, is still alive in these works.

I really don’t think yet another post-apocalyptic society based on egalitarian political thinking is going to create much of a sense of anything.  Ennui, maybe.  Extreme boredom, perhaps.

But nothing else.

As a genre, we really need to bring the fun back.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist whose best space opera is probably Siege.  You can check it out here.

The Reasons We Write – Yet Another Take

Writer at a Typewriter

I’ve mused in many articles about the reasons anyone would do something as completely barking mad as writing… and I’m not the only one.  Analysis of the writerly life can be delightfully variable, as witnessed by the fat that everyone has a different take.  Isaac Asimov used to consider writers as a species of supermen, an activity not everyone was cut out for.  He even had fun with it, saying (and I paraphrase from memory) that if, as was extremely likely, you couldn’t make it as a writer, you could be president of the United States (this was written back in the era when that was probably the world’s most respected job).

A more modern take on writing would be more like “O woe, writing sucks” (and then the person who wrote that profound thought goes on to whine about how they never get anything published).

My own take is somewhere along the middle path.  While I accept that writing can be a grind, it also brings about great rewards.  There are few feelings comparable to holding a book that contains something you wrote in it, if it’s there on merit (I have no clue how vanity publishing or self-publishing feels, as I’ve not really had experience there – for all I know, it’s awesome).  The daily grind of rejection, on the other hand, is a very effective counterweight.

In my own case, the balance falls on the side of “keep writing”, so that’s what I do… but I often wonder if there isn’t another component: hope of immortality.

Before I look into the immortality game when it comes to writing, I wanted to say that I, personally, believe that all art is motivated, at least a little bit, by that dream of being remembered after you’re gone.  Whether it be a commercially successful film director making a film to cement his critical reputation as opposed to raking in the dollars at the box office or a small child giving you a drawing (and crying if you happen to lay it on a table for a second), artists want one thing: to be remembered.  Yes, approval at the time of creation and presentation is important, but it’s the legacy that matters more.

It’s deeply ingrained.  A small child probably doesn’t have too much of a fixation on death or a true understanding of the stark fact that, someday, he will no longer be around, but even so, the instinct to live on through a piece of art is there.

And, from the Lascaux Paintings to Moby Dick, that hope is sometimes fulfilled…  more often, it isn’t, but the lightning in a bottle can happen.

Moby Dick - Herman Melville

I mention Moby Dick because, in literature, period popularity doesn’t necessarily track to immortality.  Melville died believing Moby Dick was another failure in a career filled with them.  Also believing he was a failure on the day he died was F.Scott Fitzgerald.  And Poe, of course.  Emily Dickinson’s poetry was, for the most part, discovered after her death (only about a dozen of her 1800 poems saw the light while she lived).  Lovecraft and Howard are two men that the SFF genre anointed well after they were gone.

Of course, critical reevaluation and fame aren’t necessarily the rule.  For every rediscovered author or poet who joins the canon once safely buried, there are ten that are universally accepted to be creating literary history as they write, a million who will never be recognized at all and a thousand whose bestsellers are no longer read by anyone (an amazingly interesting read is this page of bestsellers from a hundred years ago).

But writers who were establishing themselves forever were sometimes easy to spot.  Dickens was writing history and everyone knew it.  Harper Lee cemented her position in the pantheon and retired (well, mainly… let’s pretend Watchman never happened).  Then there was Joyce, who established not only his reputation, but will, now and forever, define modernist literature.

But those are classic writers.  Much more important to those writing today is the question: “So what about MY writing?”

Short answer?  No one knows.  Stephen King might be the next Dickens, a man whose work was wildly popular in its day and had staying power as the best reflection of an era, or he might be completely forgotten.  The same could happen with the writers on the other end of the commercial spectrum (although it’s more likely that they will be forgotten, as there are less people around that would remember them).

Me?  I always have this image of a scholar in 500 years or so coming across a brittle anthology containing one of my stories, a precious relic of the final days of print, and writing a misguided book-length dissertation on the way my characters reflect my subconscious manifestations of my desire to retire to a monastic existence on Ceres.

If that, or anything equivalent, ever happens, my work shall be done.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is a novelist and short story writer whose latest book is called Timeless.  The theme of why authors write is also explored in that one… although the motivations are very different than what he cites above, proving, once again, that you can’t trust writers to keep the same idea in their heads for more than a few weeks.  Timeless can be purchased here.

Writing Ennui and the Finished Novel

 

Siege

Fiction writing, as has been mentioned nearly everywhere, is not a particularly happy profession.  It almost seems like the writers who aren’t busy actually killing themselves are writing about it constantly.

Yes, there are undoubted perks.  Having a story accepted for publication by a traditional publisher–one with a slushpile and gatekeeper editors–is an incredible feeling, one that I’ve not found anywhere else.  When a random reader you’ve never met enjoys the story and comments or writes a review–or drops you a note–is another beautiful sensation.  Most important, perhaps is the ability to reach strangers with your ideas.

Unfortunately, the highs are offset by a number of lows.  The first and perhaps most clichéd, is rejection.  All writers get rejections except for those whose name sells by itself.  If a publication rejects something sent to them by Stephen King, all of the accountants will immediately resign.  Some established writers get few rejections… but most writers get lots and lots of them, all the time.

Timeless

But that’s not all.  So your story or novel ran the gauntlet, convinced an editor and a publisher and saw the light… the reviews might not be as good as you hoped for: the words ‘imbecilic’, ‘moronic’ and ‘stupid’ are bandied around quite lightly in the Amazon review areas.  So is the term ‘semi-literate’.  Worse, sometimes the reviewer really doesn’t like it.

And then there’s the feeling that your novel has launched to widespread indifference…  They don’t like it. They don’t hate it.  Hell, did anyone even buy this thing?

Worst of all is the fact that these things don’t come in neat packets.  They arrive in bunches.  I can virtually guarantee that just when you’re sitting in a bar drowning the unhappiness of a particularly vitriolic review in Publisher’s Weekly under a few gallons of alcohol, you will glance at your phone to find a rejection of your very best story, the one you’d pinned all your hopes on, sitting in your inbox.

And did we mention writer’s block and stories with endings that don’t come together and deadlines and watching others get publishing contracts that you’d cheerfully kill for?  It can become a bit of a grind.

Malakiad-Gustavo-Bondoni-Cover

Nevertheless, most writers will tell you they love writing.  Hell, I’ll do it for them: I love writing.  I do.  Maybe not the rejections or the nutso reviewers with an ax to grind, but telling stories is one of the greatest activities you can be a part of.

In my own case, I’m fine with most of the above.  Rejections are a part of the game… everyone and his kid brother wants to be a writer.  A lot of them are sending stories out.  Slushpiles everywhere are overrun.

So what?  I’m selling regularly, so I know that a rejection only means that story is one step closer to finding a home.  Good to get it out of the way.  Rejections hurt, but then I get to send the story back out, and depression is replaced by renewed hope.

 

And bad reviews?  In my mind, they mean that my stuff is getting read a little more widely than just my close circle (they never give bad reviews because they know that a bad review will mean that I will visit them in the middle of the night and throw tarantulas on them while they sleep).  It’s a good thing – and you can often learn from a good shellacking.

There’s one thing, though, that really gets to me: finishing a novel.

Writing ‘The End’ is a moment that should be cause for celebration.  And yes, there’s a sense of accomplishment but… it’s not the same kind of happy dance that accompanies a sale, more of a ‘whew, glad that’s done’ kind of moment.  Writing a novel is not a light-hearted lark.  It’s hard work and you feel a lot of relief when it’s done.

And if you’re like me, you are burdened with the awful knowledge that editing a novel is as fun as being hit by a train.

Outside

For whatever reason, after a novel gets done, I fall into a few weeks of utter ennui, in which hitting wordcounts is a struggle and every rejection hurts more than it should.  It’s the only time when I find myself seriously asking myself… is it worth it?  Why do I even try?  There are a bazillion writers out there, and only a handful will ever become critical and commercial successes.  It would be a better use of my time to play the lottery.

It’s this time when one seriously considers things like going back to work for a corporation–it’s both less stressful and less publicly humiliating–, robbing a bank–how hard or dangerous can that be, really?–or moving to some underdeveloped island nation and putting a marijuana kiosk on the beach.

It’s a sense of ennui that I don’t have when I finish short stories.  There’s always another short project to attack, another deadline coming up.  But novels?  Every.  Single. Time.

Perhaps, to steal the oldest, most hackneyed metaphor ever, writing a novel is exactly like running a marathon.  It takes so much out of you that you need a certain amount of time to recover, and while you do, you feel about as frisky as a squirrel who just got flattened by an eighteen-wheeler.

Anyway, I finished my latest book about a month ago.  This is the first week since then that I’ve felt like life has meaning.

I should probably stick to the short stuff.

Or maybe rob a bank.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist and short story writer.  His latest book, Timeless, is a modern day thriller that takes place along the beautiful Greek coast.