So, You Want to Be a Writer

I see you standing in that winding queue with your suitcase propped against your leg. I know you’re eager to board the train to the land of published authors, but from the way you’re shuffling, I’d guess your feet are getting sore. I’ve come to ask you to step out of line, just for a moment. Join me at this wobbly metal table beneath the striped awning of a quaint imaginary coffee shop. I’ve ordered us each a drink. 

While you’re here, perhaps I can convince you to take a train to a different destination. One with less delays, hazards, and masked bandits. 

If you choose to ignore my pleas, then remember this: you brought it on yourself. 

“How did you know you were supposed to be a writer?” 

I’ve been asked this question before, and it’s a valid one because unlike other professions, it might seem like anyone can be a writer. I doubt Magic Johnson ever heard, “how did you know you were supposed to be a basketball player?” Isaac Newton’s mother may have been disappointed that he didn’t become a farmer, but his intellectual prowess clearly destined him for a career as a mathematician and physicist (though not as a teacher, we all have our shortcomings).

You may not be a savant or an athletic phenom or particularly attractive, but anyone can pick up a pencil and scribble down a few sentences. They may even have a great idea, and ideas are always the shiniest in their platonic form inside our heads. How hard could the execution be? There are, after all, millions of books on kindle unlimited. So, does that mean anyone can be a writer?  

The answer is yes—and no.  

To determine your chances of success, I have three questions for you. 

The first one is simple: Are you able to not write? Can you go days, or weeks, or—I can barely get the words out—months, without trying your hand at a scene? Do any of the other platforms in this train station look appealing? Accounting, perhaps, or Baking? I hear the weather in Dental Hygiene is always temperate. 

If the answer is no, if you get antsy when you go too long without writing, then perhaps you are a writer. That desire, written into your soul, shouldn’t be ignored. We worship a God of infinite interests, and we’ve all inherited our allotted portion. Thank God our longings aren’t all the same, or we might have missed out on cathedrals. Or microscopes. 

Before we go on, a small caveat for you to consider: Is your longing to write or is your longing to be a writer? Are you attracted to the idea of eager readers in your book-signing line? Is your desire to be famous, to have a seat at the table of literary prestige? Be honest with yourself, because if that’s your goal, then you’ve picked the wrong profession. Fame—if it comes to the writer—is a fickle god with a hollow stomach. Smash that idol before you set foot on the train.  

So, if you have the (right) desire, that’s good. On to my second question, and please drink your tea before it gets cold. 

This one is even more important: Are you able to keep going even when it’s hard? 

At the highest level of athletic performance are the men and women who aren’t just talented but who also won’t quit. They have grit. We understand that a professional basketball player has to put in a shocking number of practice hours, and yet many writers expect that the first manuscript they finish will be the one that gets published.

Writers can get caught up in this frenzy of instant gratification. They might be tempted to capitulate to the trend of fast fashion and start skipping steps.

I started writing seriously in 2011. I wrote two novels that I discarded before I wrote The Winter King in 2015. Then I got an agent, tried to sell it, couldn’t sell it, parted ways with my agent, sold it to Canon Press, and The Winter King finally came out in 2019. Eight years after I started writing seriously. My next book came out in 2021, although even that one I’d been working on for years leading up to its publication. The Second Greatest Thief is coming out in 2027 and is my first book with a New York publisher (16 years since I first started scribbling). I’ve also written several novels in between that may or may not make their way out in the world. That’s a lot of words and a lot of time I could have been doing something else with my life. 

Except that I couldn’t. 

And my last question—and I’ll make it quick because I heard the last call for boarding—is this: are you willing to strive for excellence?  

We live in a world of fast production and fast consumption. People want their favorite authors to crank out a new story at the same speed as Starbuck’s rotating drink schedule. Some readers don’t even care about the author behind the story; they want a particular hit delivered to their eyes and ears. Like Kaonashi from Spirited Away, they’re insatiable in their consumption. 

Writers can get caught up in this frenzy of instant gratification. They might be tempted to capitulate to the trend of fast fashion and start skipping steps. Forget waiting three—or ten—years to get this novel perfected, agented, and sold. They can put out a mediocre first draft in a few months and publish that. Perhaps they’ll even use AI to speed up the process. If a few people like it, their ego gets stroked (assuming they ignored my advice and smuggled the fickle god on board the train). 

Here is what you must remember: Writing—like all art—is supposed to be a struggle. I have yet to read a craft book from any of the greats and seen the phrase, “it wasn’t really that hard.” Part of the joy of reading a truly exceptional piece of literature is marveling at the craftsmanship. As you read, you are bearing witness to the fact that this was made by a human, another image-bearer, who fought to give the world something great. 

In the Camperdown MFA Program, we really are interested in the struggle, because if your focus is on cheap and immediate gratification, then you’re not thinking like a Christian. Cathedrals weren’t built in a day, and neither should novels. I tell my students not to settle for a bland line or a cliché phrase, because this is the secret: “Do you see a man skillful in his work? He will stand before kings.” 

If your goal is to be skillful, to work with grit at your God-given desires, then you will reap the reward. Keep your eyes fixed on the work, not the reward, and receive with thankfulness the harvest. 

If I haven’t scared you off yet; if you can show me your hands stained with ink and your bloodshot eyes and the long line of discarded papers in your rearview mirror and still say, “I want to do this,” then please, get back in line. 

I hoped you would be undeterred, so I asked them to hold your spot.

Apply to the MFA in Creative Writing today: https://www.camperdownmfa.com/

P.S.: I can hear the outrage already: “What do you have against self-publishing??” to which I would say: nothing, so long as it’s excellent.