I may be late to the game but what I understand on a profound level is that one gets what one needs—although it might be after the game is over.
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, my MO is to leap long before I look. I get an idea and I’m barrelling down the road without a map or GPS. Last week, I put out a podcast about my experiences writing a novel. Not because I’m some sort of expert or guide—I mean, come on, this book took two years to write and nearly ten more to get published—but because I hope my experience might entertain or give heart to disheartened writers.
I recorded it about ten times, which was a feat in itself since the recording platforms I tried—Quicktime and the Substack recording tool—didn’t allow for pauses, so it had to be done in one swoop. (I know, I know, there are better programs and I’ll use them next time.) Finally, I got through the whole thing, and after listening to a few minutes of it, was satisfied with the quality. I didn’t listen all the way through because frankly listening to my own voice had gotten tiresome. Thanks to Mary McIntyre, a generous subscriber to my newsletter, I discovered that the final three minutes of the recording are garbled beyond comprehension. Sigh. This surprised me since for Christmas my son gave me a state-of-the-art Blue microphone. I was under the impression I was good to go.
After sending that podcast out only a few days after a written post, I received several unsubscribes. Ouch. I can’t say I blame them. I’d be annoyed, too.
This is a long lead-up to my initial statement about getting what one needs. I watched a webinar with the amazing Allison K Williams on The Writers’ Bridge and got me an education. She hosted freelance marketing and brand strategist Steven Knezovich and Jeannine Ouellette for an engaging and enlightening conversation about all things newsletter. Substack, Flodesk, and Mailchimp were discussed in detail. What they offer and how to use them.
It appears that for my intentions at least, I’m on the right platform. That was a relief.
The suggestions they offered weren’t completely novel. Newsletters are meant to be informative, helpful, useful, entertaining, and not blatantly self-promoting. Also, personable, generous, and relatable.
I highly recommend The Writers’ Bridge – what a treasure trove. They ended with a question someone had about TikTok. My son has been telling me that’s the way to go. And one of the presenters on The Writers’ Bridge said her following had blown up there. On the other hand, it’s all over the news now how TikTok has been hacked or users have been hacked or they will track you all the way to the toilet.
It’s a jungle out there.
Perhaps I’ve been too much about me and who cares, right? What have I to offer?
Every day for nearly three years I posted a writing prompt on Instagram—videos and pictures intended to inspire. Let’s just say my friends were kind enough to like some of them. The truth is there are dozens and dozens of writers posting writing prompts—on IG, Substack, etc. Just Google writing prompts and you will be flooded with ideas.
So what’s the answer? More writing prompts? Flash prose? Poems? Stories about my process? Pictures of my cats?
I want to offer encouragement, inspiration, support, and even a little entertainment—things to uplift and engage. Be yourself, the panel advised. Show them yourself. What is deeply personal usually resonates on a universal level.
It’s a bit of a conundrum, really, because interviews generally centre around a writer’s process. People want to know how you did the thing. I suppose that’s the gift—unwrapping the not-so-secret secrets to reveal what’s under all that brilliance. How it becomes about the writing while inviting the reader or listener into the writer’s world.
And no more podcasts until I get the audio sorted out.
More about how one gets what one needs
I read a terrific post on Substack called Submitting with Salt by Shelby Raebeck on Lit Mag News. It was both heartening and disheartening. All about rejections and what they mean or don’t mean. And how subjective they are. I felt seen.
And then I got this:
It’s been fairly standard for some time now—generous, complimentary… rejections. And once every so often my inbox receives an email that begins with, “Congratulations…” And not always because I’ve won a Walmart gift card.
The wonderful news is that many of those who gather on screen in my Write Your Way In workshops have had much shinier experiences. Barbara Krasner has been nominated for four Pushcart prizes, her novels in verse have garnered some prestigious awards, and Katharine Cristiani has published a chapbook and had several poems published in various literary journals. Two others have received substantial grants for their works in progress. These successes lift my heart almost (almost) as high as if they were my own.
So take heart and keep sending out your work. There are shafts of light in the dark tunnel of the submission process. That’s what I tell myself and. it seems to work.
I’d love to hear about your triumphs and your soft landings.
Deepam, there is much to take away from this post. You are younger than me, and quite a while ago I experienced "writer fatigue." The new online game of marketing strategies seemed overwhelming to me. I always admired your constant dedication to the craft of writing. I know more about you now, and I like what I know. You are sincere. You are honest. I relate to your triumphs and your disappointments (but on a lesser scale because I never put myself out there as you have done.) You make me want to write--and that' ain't for nothing because there are a lot of people out there like me. I'm always interested in what you have to say about your writing journey. I applaud your courage. In a world where everyone seems to think they are writers, you stand out above others. I'm happy for your successes and the accomplishments you achieve because you don't give up. I recall an evening with a WCDR-sponsored book launch in Pickering where you'd won top recognition for your story. You read the story to the audience. I wondered why I don't think like you. Why I can't translate my thoughts on the page like you do. I apologize for the "love-fest" but I think you need to know this because I can feel you doubting yourself. Never.