Moving Toward the Mountain

I’ve been thinking about goals lately and about what I want out of my writing career. I’ll tell you that, personally, I know quite a few writers. I count many as friends. Some of them you’ve never heard of, and some of them I’m fairly positive you have. Most of these people are working at different levels in their career. Writing their first book. Writing their twentieth. Looking for an agent. Looking for a film deal. Looking for the internal fortitude to take the next step, whatever that may be.

Wherever we are, we’re all working and creating and taking the same journey, though in completely different ways. We’re all working toward our personal goals.

I’ve talked here before about Neil Gaiman’s exceptional commencement address to the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. Honestly, if you are a creative person of any kind, you need to watch or read it here. In that speech, Gaiman talked about how he saw his goals as a writer.

“Something that worked for me was imagining that where I wanted to be – an author, primarily of fiction, making good books, making good comics and supporting myself through my words – was a mountain. A distant mountain. My goal.”

I don’t think that you need to write down a detailed list of what you want to accomplish as a writer or an artist. You certainly may if that is what motivates you, but if you’re like me, you may not have specific goals, only general ones:

• I want to tell stories.
• I want to write better every day.
• I want to be able to pay my rent and buy groceries.
• I don’t want to be bored.

Being a writer is my mountain. My goal. And as I continue on in this very busy, very noisy world, I have to ask myself, “How I am going to get there?”

“And I knew that as long as I kept walking towards the mountain I would be all right. And when I truly was not sure what to do, I could stop, and think about whether it was taking me towards or away from the mountain.”

Is the next step you’re considering going to take you closer to your personal mountain? Or further? It’s very easy to be distracted. There are personal and family obligations that are not optional. But there are many, many social or professional obligations that are. How much time to you spend reading blogs? How much time do you spend on social networks? How much time do you spend studying about writing when you could be actually writing?

“I said no to editorial jobs on magazines, proper jobs that would have paid proper money because I knew that, attractive though they were, for me they would have been walking away from the mountain. And if those job offers had come along earlier I might have taken them, because they still would have been closer to the mountain than I was at the time.”

See, for a long time, I spent many hours a day trolling through the internet, reading excellent blogs or journals, finding those writers who had been on this publishing journey before me. I was learning. I was gleaning the information from this source and that experience. I had a list of sites that I checked, some of them daily, so that I could keep up with current publishing news. At that point in my journey, those things moved me toward my mountain.

Then, I published my first book. And most of those sites told me that I needed to maintain this blog presence or build that audience or promote in that community. And I did some of that. And those efforts (with varying success) moved me closer to the mountain.

So, I published my second book. (And it was no less nerve-wracking than the first.) And then I published my third and my fourth and my fifth. And through those months, I learned that, when things got too distracting, too overwhelming, or simply too complicated, I turned back to advice I heard from this man when I first started my journey: Focus on writing the next thing.

Because writing more will always lead me closer to the mountain. Though I took a degree in English, I never studied creative writing formally. Like Gaiman, “I learned to write by writing.” So how do I get better? I write more. And I keep writing.

Soon, I found that I wasn’t reading as many blogs or websites or journals because… they were no longer moving me toward my mountain. In my own body of work, I struggle with the idea of going back and re-editing my first book, A Hidden Fire. There are things about it that I know could be improved and, as an independent author, I could update the file easily. It’s tempting for my own ego, but I’m not sure whether it moves me toward the mountain or is just a distraction. (I’m still debating this, by the way, so feel free to weigh in with your comments.)

In conclusion, ask yourself today: Are the steps I’m taking in my journey moving me closer to that mountain? Or are they a side trip? A distraction? And don’t be afraid to say yes, but I’m going to do it anyway. Some people prefer a more meandering path, and that’s your prerogative. If you’re smart and observant, you’ll learn things either way.

But don’t stray for too long. Keep moving toward your personal mountain. Keep working. Keep learning. Mostly, keep writing or creating. Gaiman said it better than me:

“And now go, and make interesting mistakes, make amazing mistakes, make glorious and fantastic mistakes. Break rules. Leave the world more interesting for your being here. Make good art.”

“Tell your story walking”

“tell a lie sometimes, tell the truth

when it suits you, and when you’ve lost your way

tell a story.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about storytelling lately. Not just writing. Storytelling. Humans have been telling stories as long as we’ve been able to talk. We wrote them on walls. We drew them in sand and dust. It’s part of how our brains work, a vital part of the human situation which I’ve talked about in the past. Stories inform. Transmit vital knowledge, morality, and cultural tradition. We tell them. We write them. We sing them. We draw them.

In a very real sense, all art is a story. “A picture is worth a thousand words.” What about a sculpture? A symphony? It’s all part of the ongoing conversation that we take part in as members of the human race.

Why am I talking about this? I think, because of my move and other big changes in my life, I’m struggling with how to tell my stories now. When everything in your life has been upended, you need to find a new normal. A new way of doing things. Make new patterns. Tell new stories.

A friend linked me to Neil Gaiman’s wonderful commencement address at Philidelphia’s University of Art last week. Here’s what the storyteller had to say:

“When things get tough, this is what you should do: Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician — make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by a mutated boa constrictor — make good art. IRS on your trail — make good art. Cat exploded — make good art. Someone on the Internet thinks what you’re doing is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before — make good art.”

Make good art. Tell good stories. Tell them in new ways you haven’t tried before. Tell them even when you don’t really feel like it. Because there is a beauty even in the attempt.

And if you’re the amazing songwriter, Deb Talan (what? you’ve never heard of Deb Talan? Get thee to iTunes!) tell your story in a song.

Tell Your Story Walking

Tell it to the judge, man.

Tell it to your motherless reflection.

In a sock and one shoe

after the great defection

he said, “tell a lie sometimes, tell the truth

when it suits you, and when you’ve lost your way

tell a story.”

Tell your story, tell it, tell it.

Tell your story to anyone who’ll listen.

Tell your story, don’t stop talking

just tell your story walking.

Listing through Carol Gardens

on the way to Cobble Hill

I stopped by a psychic’s dusty, wilted windowsill.

Forgot what she told me, mostly

but I remember one thing she said

“You may slip and call some lousy fuck your friend

but in the end you’ll come out even

then, tell your story.”

And it’s a sorry, frightful thing

when you want to cry, but you can’t keep from laughing.

Outside the church that’s so quiet it dares you to shout

you put a hand to your mouth to stop the rain.

You do a St. Vitus dance, to the sky you raise your voice.

This is your chance, you have no choice

you tell your story.