In my last newsletter, I talked about the pursuit of “guaranteed success” and improving your odds, even as, again, you can’t possibly control all elements.
Some of you may have decided “well, I’m going to lean in to all the things that will improve my odds… and do all of them!”
(You know who you are. I see you there!)
There is a small problem with that, however. Well, two not-so-small problems.
First: you will get overwhelmed.
Second: you will burn out.
Even if you could somehow do all the things, all at once, forever… you probably shouldn’t. And here’s why.
The danger in chasing “endless summer.”
Ages ago, there was a surfing documentary about two guys who were chasing “endless summer.” They basically moved from time zone to time zone, hemisphere to hemisphere, following the waves and avoiding the cold. (I mean, they could’ve just rented a house in San Diego and accomplished the same thing. But I digress.)
Basically, it was this herculean feat of logistics, where they did everything they could to negate winter and chase their dreams.
Which, sure, you could do.
If you had an equally endless budget.
And if you don’t mind, say, jet lag, or airports, or boats, or buses. If you’re okay carting your gear all over the world.
And if you no desire to have a permanent home base in your life.
Also… if you can avoid getting sick, or having any sort of emergencies jumping up, would probably be helpful.
Endless ANYTHING is not sustainable.
The problem with pursuing stasis — even success — is that life simply isn’t static. If nature shows us anything, it’s that life is basically cyclical.
Bad things are going to happen.
That said… good things are also going to happen.
So how do we apply that to our writing careers? Our writing practice?
Be a farmer, not a surfer.
By now, you should know I love analogies.
A farmer has a cycle to work with. There’s planting (spring), tending (summer), harvest (fall) and then evaluation/planning (winter.)
You don’t get two falls and then jump to a spring. Even if you could, your soil would eventually get stripped of all nutrients, and you wouldn’t be able to grow a thing.
Farmers work with the seasons.
Theoretically, you could build a greenhouse, with lights that mimic summer continually, or at least manipulate growing situations, and then pump the soil full of fertilizer to ensure massive crops. But again, like the surfers, there’s a price for that kind of pursuit. A price in resources: the sheer amount of electricity you’d need, and fertilizer, wouldn’t come cheap. And if one thing goes wrong, it all goes wrong.
For writers, there’s a price, too.
What does this mean for writers?
“Spring” is when you start. Pre-story work. Goal setting. This is where you “plant the seeds” for your quarter, or year, or simply your next manuscript.
“Summer” is when you do the writing, revising, draft work and craft work.
“Fall” is when you query or launch.
Winter is when you marinate on your other (future) stories, revisit your performance and look at where you’ll iterate, and most importantly, when you’ll rest. Because you will need rest. Our industry is not sustainable otherwise.
Does this mean you’re going tp spend one quarter planning, one quarter writing, etc.?
Not necessarily.
What it means is, you’re going to have fallow periods, time when you’re resting. It means there are times that you’re going to be more focused on marketing, and others when you’re more focused on writing. Just because you’re doing, say, backlist promoting while writing doesn’t mean you’re 100% on both. (In fact, mathematically, it’s impossible.) You will need to adjust and adapt, depending on the season your writing year is in.
That’s normal, and to be expected.
Assume that you’re going to have down periods. Make allowances for them.
Finally, look at how you can test what’s actually working for you and what isn’t — don’t assume that because someone (other successful author, or high-priced course, or even me!) tells you something, means it’s the best thing for you.
How do you decide what to do when?
Don’t try to do all the things all at once.
You don’t need a five year plan, or even an hour-by-hour three month plan. However, it is good to have some goals, or a vision… or, as I’ve written about earlier, your own personal GMC.
That will help you make choices as far as projects and promotion that will actually make a difference — and, ideally, something you can measure, so you can recognize progress.
Once you’ve got the plan, you pick the tactics. Let’s say you have a goal of selling x books in your launch month, and you’ve got a goal of finishing the next book that you may have on pre-order… and you want to grow your platform by y.
You pick the tactics you’re going to measure. LIMIT THESE TACTICS. Too many, and you’ll have no idea what worked and what didn’t (also, odds are good, something’s going to fall apart as you get exhausted.)
You then add in self-care. That needs to be a repeated, constant tactic.
We’ll discuss that in future newsletters, but for now, make sure that it’s a staple. Every week, if not every day.
Then, you execute the tactics. Get a buddy if you need it.
It sounds easier than it might seem in practice, but I promise, working with the seasons of your career as opposed to flooring it in pursuit of your goals a bit will ultimately help your writing career… well, grow!