Advertisments

Much Ado About Publishing

Nagging But Lovely

by Nina L. Diamond

“I’ve gotta go home and write my column,” I told a friend we’ll call Mr. Should Be Writing. “I’m on deadline – it’s due tomorrow.”

He looked a little worried for me. Writers’ deadlines always make other people very nervous.

“How much do you have to write?” he asked. I could see the concern in his eyes.

“At least 750 words, but my column is often twice as long as that, or more,” I told him.

“Can you use only very short words?” he joked.

I told him that I could write “the” 750 times, and my editor would be amused, but that my creative freedom at the magazine stops short of calling that my column and turning it in.

Mr. Should Be Writing loves books and reads constantly. His father read to him, and when he was little more than a toddler, before he learned his ABCs and learned to read, he used to make big scribbles on paper and pretend he was writing. When he told me that, I melted. I could sense how much he still wanted to write.

Although he was an English literature major in college, he didn’t make writing his profession, he says, because he thought he didn’t write quickly enough. He took a lot of time crafting his sentences and editing them. He says that even now it takes longer than he’d like when he writes an e-mail to a friend. He takes great care with his words. He re-writes and edits.

I told him that wasn’t a reason not to write and get published. I told him that unless someone wants to be a print or broadcast reporter writing breaking news every day, writing isn’t about speed, that it isn’t a race.

I’m not sure he believed me.

Contrary to what teachers or many of the people who publish how-to books about writing may tell you, there are as many ways to write as there are writers.

You have to meet professional standards and meet your deadlines. Aside from that, there are no rules.

You don’t have to write every day. You don’t have to write at the speed of light. And, because, as the old saying goes, “writing is rewriting,” you don’t have to be a “One Draft Wonder.”

Most importantly, you do have to get the hell out of your own way.

Don’t let anyone else stop you, either.

If you want to write, then write.

As a journalist, in interviews and conversations, I get out what’s locked up inside of people. As an editor and writing coach, I do the same thing by helping writers unlock themselves.

It’s the writer’s baby, and it’s gotta come out.

I’m the midwife: It’s my job to help the writer give birth to what’s growing inside. Giving birth – even to ideas and sentences – can be intimidating, scary, and painful. As the midwife, I’m there to create a safe environment, talk the writer through the birthing process, and make it as painless as possible.

When I played midwife to her book, one author described the process by writing that I coaxed her, and helped her “to bring out memories that were buried” in her heart, and that I showed her “how to take the essence and give it words.”

Another author wrote, "You understood me and what I wanted to say...you fought for me (and sometimes with me) so that this book could be born."

Of course, to do this properly, like a midwife attending to an actual birth of an actual baby, I have to be relentless. Fortunately, this is not a problem for me. And I’m relentless in a nice way. Another author (who has become a dear friend) described my role as “nagging, but lovely.” He thought I might be offended, but I was quite flattered. My “nagging” helped prevent him from committing professional suicide and led to a happy ending, so it was more than worth it.

I play midwife not only during the pre-writing and writing processes, but also when a writer is dealing with agents, editors, and publishers, as well as when it’s time for an author to promote a published book. That means I get to be nagging, but lovely from the time a book (or an article or any other kind of writing) is just an idea in a writer’s or author’s head to when the finished product is published.

I do my best to be as amusing as possible when being nagging, but lovely is required. Fortunately, midwifing is only about 10% nagging. And I know exactly what it feels like to be nagged by lovely me. After all, I play midwife to myself, too, so I nag me when I have to.

When I believe that writers have good stuff inside that needs to come out, I don’t give up on them, even when they may want to give up on themselves. Sorry, but as every midwife will tell you, the baby has to come out. You can’t just leave it in there. And, then, once it’s out, you have to raise it – that means pitching it for publication, then promoting it if it’s a book.

So, my friend, Mr. Should Be Writing, and everyone else out there like you, it’s time to start breathing and pushing. As every mother will tell you, the baby’s arrival made the birthing process more than worthwhile. And besides, I’ve never heard of a writer who needed an epidural.

Consider yourself nagged. In oh, so lovely a way, of course.

* * * * *

Read Nina's previous Much Ado About Publishing column, Feeding Frank McCourt

* * * * *

Nina L. Diamond is a journalist, essayist, and the author of Voices of Truth: Conversations with Scientists, Thinkers & Healers. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including Omni, The Los Angeles Times Magazine, The Chicago Tribune, and The Miami Herald.

Ms. Diamond was a writer and performer on Pandemonium, the National Public Radio (NPR) satirical humor program, for its entire run in Miami and select markets nationwide from 1984-1998. As an editor, she works frequently with other authors and journalists on both fiction and non-fiction.

---