[Interview]: Jeffrey Cummins
Freeing yourself through Substack, being the creative type, and getting a reader's "Wow" reaction.
Welcome back to our Substack writer interview series! This is Interview #3 with
, a writer spanning the genres of fantasy, contemporary fiction, and paranormal/horror. You can find his author website here.Check out this page for a list of other interviews.
The connection can happen at almost any time once it’s been published, but you gotta make that first step: PUBLISH.
But if it stays in the scabbard it will run out of stories. It wasn’t made to stay in a scabbard. It was made to seek out stories. We are the sword. We are storytelling creatures.
Stories don’t like outlines, they want to outlive.
You should also remember your family obligations: they are the ones who will know you best and tell stories about you and have to pack up your books. Treat them good.
— Jeffrey Cummins
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What made you decide to post your pieces on Substack, as opposed to chasing literary magazines or other traditional publishing routes? What drew you to the platform? What’s been your experience so far? What are some things you wish Substack did differently?
JSC: I came to Substack to do a campaign: release a short story: a ghost tale every full moon. Substack was my second choice. First, I tried Kindle Villa through Amazon where I have two books published at. I thought it was a natural fit, people with Kindle Unlimited could download the stories or serial chapters and the authors would get paid for words read. But Amazon didn’t market the product and no one was buying and therefore, no one was reading. After two months, I was notified that Kindle Villa would stop taking submissions in December 2024 and close down on February 14th, 2025.
So, I needed a new platform to publish my stories on and one that wouldn’t shut down like Kindle Villa. I had heard of Substack through visiting realclearpolitics.com which is an aggregator for political op/eds, polls, and breaking news stories from all over the country and the world. I noticed that a few journalists were being published through Substack which I thought was another publication. After researching Substack, I found many types of writers and artists were publishing through the platform. I figured if journalists were having a heyday with getting their posts read for non-fiction then there would be room for fiction writers like myself.
The experience has been incredible in terms of finding readers, getting feedback, building a community where one can trade experience and advice and do some collaborations.
I am anxious for more audio reading features for Substack. Otherwise, I am still learning the ways of Substack.
RJR: I don’t remember how exactly I first heard of Substack; I think it just diffused through the ether until one day I woke up and knew what it was. I was motivated to start for the same reason as you: I wanted to take my writing seriously and send it out into the world, but I found the literary magazine dog-and-pony show to be too cumbersome and slow. So I came here and, like you, have been pleasantly surprised with the engagement and camaraderie on here, once I stuck with it for a few months.
JSC: This is a recurring theme I read among newer Substackers, so I don’t buy the complaint that there are not readers for fiction on Substack. One must keep trying and posting and putting up comments and notes and restacks.
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Do you have any tips for people starting out on Substack?
JSC: Edit your posts. Serialize the fiction between 5-12 pages. Non-fiction keep between 3-5 pages. Post longer pieces at least once a week or bi-monthly. Follow other writers so you don’t get your mailbox clogged with too many posts and you can look at the posts in your Substack feed. Make notes about things that come to mind or you feel you need to respond to, but keep the notes under a paragraph so it can be seen and people don’t have to click “more.” People read notes more than posts. Now, if you like something in a post or a note, “RESTACK” it, and use “Restack with a note.” People love getting noticed and having their posts/notes “restacked.” One of the great features of Sub“stack.” Start off with free content. Then when you have a project finished, move it to a paid section and use a table of contents. This is what I plan to do with my ghost stories once I’ve published them all and am ready to publish them in a digital and physical print collection on the usual platforms.
RJR: All great advice. I take the same approach with finding new writers—I’ll follow you at first and subscribe when I know I want to read as much of you as possible.
Putting a finished serial behind a paywall is common, as is putting the distant archive behind the paywall. I have mixed feelings about this, and honestly, I don’t ever see myself making my backlog of posts paid. To me it doesn’t mesh well with the goal of putting myself out there. Instead, I’m thinking of doing “Author Commentary” posts as paid, where I go into the backstory of how a story or poem came about and even showing early drafts. I also want to do a more or less yearly Analog Stories Volume 1,2,3… that compiles all my posts for the year, plus maybe highlighting some comments and including the paid author commentaries.
I think there are a bunch of creative ways to make money with your writing on here, even if Substack’s tools don’t directly lead to that.
JSC: People are happy to share some of those ways, too. That’s what is good about being in the Community. You learn from others while you are doing your “thing.”
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I’ve heard it widely attributed to Leonardo Da Vinci that “Art is never finished, only abandoned.” What do you think of that? How do you know, or reasonably suspect, that a piece is “finished?”
JSC: For fiction, I follow the Story Arc Map: Introduction–Rising Action–Climax–Falling Action–Resolution. All things must come to an end, even our lives. As Jim Morrison suggested, we better have some interesting scenes and a fitting climax. If I “abandon” an idea, it will haunt me until it gets satisfaction. The trick is to figure out a way to bring the idea to fruition and some kind of pay-off. Often I start with a title or an image that suggests a title and then I ask, “What is that about?” “What is going on?” Then I write to discover: the beginning and then I write to the scenes I have peppered here and there and write to discover an ending. A sword doesn’t stay sheathed in a scabbard. It’s gonna get used and cut or stab something. It’s gonna sing as it drinks blood. Then it’s gonna tell its stories when it’s back in the scabbard. But if it stays in the scabbard it will run out of stories. It wasn’t made to stay in a scabbard. It was made to seek out stories. We are the sword. We are storytelling creatures. No one tells a joke and then stops before the punch line and walks away never to complete the joke. Well, if someone did, someone else would step in and complete the joke or retell it the way they want to. The only thing that is abandoned is destruction. Abaddon. Hesitation is another kind of death for art.
RJR: I follow essentially the same process. This happened to me with “The Gift of a Green Mood;” on a walk I saw clearly the image of a kid shoving another kid at a birthday party, and the story unfolded as I asked myself questions about how we got here, who these kids were, etc. That’s a good way of putting it: writing to discover. I definitely do this—even with a road map of the major points I want to hit in a story, I often surprise myself with the small details that pile up as you manifest the story in your head into the written word. It never fails to shock me, and I think it makes the story shine brighter. A lot of my “discovery writing” also happens on daily walks, where I’ll think through and play out various ways a scene could go until it feels right. It looks like a slower process this way, but if I do this usually the words come flowing after marinating the idea for a while.
JSC: One can outline, which is like making a map. But soonest or latest, one must draft, which is like travelling the route, and that is a whole different experience. Stories don’t like outlines, they want to outlive.
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For me, calling myself a writer was very much like a kind of religious reawakening: there were long drought periods in my life where I didn’t write at all, or only jotted down a few words here and there, while there were other periods, mostly in high school, where my writing work ethic was feverishly prolific. My joining Substack was essentially a declaration of my conversion, my acceptance that I am a writer and I need to do this. Have you had a similar experience? If so, what finally got you to start writing? If not, did you just fall into writing one day? What was that like?
JSC: I have written about my becoming a writer or musician or artist or whatever I am: a creative type. It started early with me. My parents and grandparents were readers, so I was surrounded by books. But the TV was my babysitter. I am a visual person so the TV shows and movies came alive. Even when I hear songs, I can see images as well as feel the rhythm. I wanted to tell stories from an early age, but since I was visual I tried drawing them out: I can’t draw a straight line to cut a straight line. So, at the age of ten I tried writing stories which were all derivatives of whatever movie I had just seen or whatever book I was reading. But it was a start. By age thirteen, I wanted to be in rock bands and write my own music. I started writing lyrics in high school and then songs with others in bands during college. I recorded original music and chased the dream of being in a famous rock and roll band all the way to Hollywood. But I found the lifestyle dangerous and very empty. So, I quit the party life and devoted my life to writing fiction at the age of thirty-five. I started with ghost stories (of which I will publish the first ghost story I wrote at age 35 this September). My music and lyrics cut down to the truth, so I had to get that same honesty in my writing. It’s been a journey I’m still on. The bottom line: I published my first book at age fifty-one thinking it was now or never. cont;nue
RJR: Man, I’ll be first in line to read that rock band memoir. I’m sure there are a bunch of juicy stories hidden in those memories.
Yes, now or never—my life’s motto has become: “Don’t wait around for other people to give you permission to go after your dreams.” And today is a better time to start than tomorrow.
JSC: My rock and roll memoir is in bits and pieces in a few other stories: the tail end of it appears in my Christmas book, Ex-Mas Song. My students want to hear my music and like it and I’m like “Where were you twenty years ago?” When my students ask me if I miss being in bands, the answer is “No, I was a jerk. I wanted to be famous, but a few times I could have ended up dead. Then I realized there would have be no difference. It’s an empty lifestyle.”
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Do you have any rituals you swear by in your writing process? Whether that’s methods for coming up with ideas, or getting yourself actually in the chair and writing? I don’t think the development of any story is typical, but are there common patterns to the process from the germ of an idea to a finished piece of writing, or anything in between?
JSC: Environment: morning at the large kitchen table with plenty of natural light. I use rock and roll music (classic rock, hard rock, progressive rock) to help me focus. I can write without it, but the rhythm inspires me. And I try to find bands and songs to fit the piece I’m writing as a background or soundtrack.
Idea: They come to me when I’m relaxed and not expecting it. I’ll be doing something physical and my mind is disengaged: walking, mowing, or driving. An image comes into my head of some kind of action being done by someone. There might be another related image or maybe two. These fall into the Rising Action or near the Climax or maybe in the Falling Action. I never see the beginning or the ending first. I got to write it out to discover those parts. My latest project: a steam balloon adventure in a post-apocalyptic world came just that way.
Or sometimes, I like to make lists of titles that come to me. This is how I got the title for Leftwich Blues/Elfwitch Rules. The title came first. I thought: “What could that be about?” Then I saw an image of elfwitch bringing into twins into another world. Then I thought what if the elfwitch imprisoned one twin and the other had to rescue the other and also help liberate oppressed people in this other world. I sat on that idea from 2005 when I started writing ghost stories as an adult writer. The Leftwiches have the blues because the Elfwitch is trying to rule. A few years after I published another truth hit me: the title is an anagram: Leftwich versus Elfwitch.
I sketch and note until I’ve got enough to start. I instinctively know when something will work better as a short story versus a novel. It depends on how many questions need to be answered or how big the story or journey becomes.
PROCESS: REVISION. I revise as I draft. For instance, I stopped half way through the latest book about the steam balloon journey at a slow spot that wasn’t working right. Then after I revised it and got it going forward, I came up with a few other character points that needed to be addressed. So, back to the beginning I went for the character tweaking, a polish, and minor revising. This is one story that I have all the major points and characters mapped out and a good idea of where and how it will end, though, sometimes characters or the Muse points you elsewhere.
It will take me weeks or a month on a short story and years on a book. I revise and tweak until I get it to a satisfactory ending and may be a million miles away from the initial idea or germ. But it will not be abandoned. Ideas are eternal. They are in no hurry.
RJR: Music is also heavily intertwined with writing for me. I have songs for specific sections I’m writing and pairing the section and the song gives you an easy way to trigger thinking about that section or story. Like Pavlov’s dogs. I know when I hear the song I’m contemplating the story, even if I don’t consciously notice that. It’s a good way to get me out of a rut.
It’s interesting the ideas that come out of an idle mind released of its usual tension.
And I agree, so much of writing is developing that intuition of what would work, how long a story will be, etc. The only way to develop that intuition is through practice.
JSC: I don’t work well under stress. Relaxation=freeeeeeeedom. Intuition is everything.
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Is there anything in the works that you’re comfortable sharing as a tease? Tell me what you can about it, but I’m also curious if writing this was a walk in the park or a prolonged, one-sided boxing match.
JSC: I don’t divulge much about on-going projects, but I did share with you the basic premise of my latest project: the steam balloon adventure in a post-apocalyptic setting. Most of it has come easy, but it is hard to find the time as I am an educator and have a family and other obligations. Sometimes it’s a boxing match when you get stuck. But getting stuck is fun and nothing to worry about. What’s worse is not being honest with your story and character and writing drivel, boring crap. Ideas want you to be uncomfortable, struggle, and listen: then you can let it all come out.
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In my writing critique group, the Tampa Writer’s Alliance, I once submitted an early draft of what became “A lost young man with enormous wings.” One critic in that group said she thought the protagonist was suffering from some supernatural, explosive flatulence—a reading so bizarre and out of left field for me (though, I could see how she might have come to that interpretation) it was impossible for me to hide my shock. Have you ever had a reader give your work a reaction or interpretation that was unexpected or surprising? Or, maybe gave you a new perspective on your own piece?
JSC: There have been two different kinds of reactions that stick with me.
One: the reader didn’t like the story, wasn’t committed to it, and didn’t buy how the Elfwitch took the twins into the “Other world.” He said, it was just a cave. I told him it was a portal and that how the action was described and that many ancient cultures thought caves led to the “Underworld.” He went back and read the passage and came back and apologized, “I am so sorry. I see now what you mean.” I stood my ground because I knew the story and what I had intended. I had succeeded in describing it, but I can’t help it if a reader won’t buy it.
TWO: a reader nailed what I was after in a short story about time travel: what if someone goes back in time and tries to keep Jesus from dying on the cross, but what if another person goes back to the same moment to make sure Jesus does die on the cross? It’s a prompt I found on language is a virus dot com. The prompt has the theme and the conflict, all one has to do is write it out and see how it turns out. The reader totally understood my intentions, my description (which he did say had some “purple prose”--guilty!), my theme, and my resolution. He gave one of the best reviews of one of my pieces here on Substack.
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Do you have a trusted person you run your stories by before you post them? For me, it’s my wife. What’s been your experience with this person?
JSC: My mom has been my main reader. But I also use a few fellow co-workers who are English teachers. They give thumbs up or thumbs down feedback (hardly ever thumbs down, just once or twice). The best feedback is when I can make my mom cry or get my co-workers to write “WOW!”
RJR: Yes, I’m the same way. My favorite reader reaction is a dumbstruck “Wow.” I live for that.
JSC: Amen.
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Whether in a workshop or social setting, do you interact with writers outside of Substack? What about writing conferences? If so, do you notice a difference in your encounters with Substackers compared to writers out “in the wild?”
JSC: I took Creative Writing classes in college. Which is going to be the background for my newest project that I want to serialize on Substack once I’m finished with a draft of the steam balloon adventure. When I was in bands, all my friends were in bands, that got to be a limited audience. Being a teacher, I am surrounded by READERS. Much more interesting than “writers.” Kids tell me about books all the time or they ask me about mine or about writing. That is fun. Because it’s honest.
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I must admit, I was a bit underwhelmed when I first posted on Substack. I had it in my head that posting a story would be like submitting my dissertation for approval all over again, and it would be like that every time I posted something. (I still feel this on some level—I don’t think it’ll ever fully go away—but it’s gotten easier with each post.) And once the story was submitted I’d get a bunch of people telling me how horrible or derivative or degenerate my stories were. But instead, at first I got no responses; when I started getting engagement, I found them to be essentially universally positive. What was it like for you both before and after you courageously posted your first piece on Substack? Did you notice any immediate changes in yourself from it? How do you feel about posting now?
JSC: No response until I started to get subscribers and followers. My mom is not my main reader of Substack. Mostly they are other writers maybe seven to ten dedicated readers. Half just read and never “like” or leave a comment. The other half “Like” my posts. Once in a while (about once a month) I get a really good comment or feedback. No changes to the ghost stories since they were ready to go before I came to Substack. But I have done some prompt writing which garnered excellent feedback. And some other writers’ non-fiction posts gave me an idea: visual action near the rising action which I’m turning into a serial for Substack.
RJR: The lurkers always surprise me. I can tell from the view stats that I have a ton of silent readers, compared to those who like/comment/etc., and I think this is a common theme here.
The mot surprising lurk for me was seeing
mention my post “Fiction on Substack.” I had no idea it was even on their radar, let alone that they actually read the thing, until they mentioned me in a note1.So you never know who’s reading, and that’s exciting.
JSC: And it may be an older post that a reader stumbles over and gives you feedback on. It would be no different than someone checking your book at the library, finding it an used book store, etc. The connection can happen at almost any time once it’s been published, but you gotta make that first step: PUBLISH.
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Are there any themes or ideas or techniques, even, in your work that you (maybe secretly) wish more readers would recognize? And more broadly, how do you feel about the interaction between a reader and a writer in understanding or making meaning of a piece? Do you think author intent has a role to play?
JSC: Author intent=TONE. And it is a part that is very important, maybe 50% for me now. When I was younger, I responded to music and stories that captivated me and I tried to emulate them. I love stories that are almost pure myth or pure story: Star Wars, Treasure Island, The Running Man, Le Morte De’Arthur, The Odyssey. But I couldn’t write like that too well. My own voice now is older and cynical, but still sees the magical and expects the miraculous–even moreso than my younger self.
My critics, and rightly so, will tell you I don’t hide my themes. I hit people over the head with my themes. Life is short and the time people give their attention to anything is even shorter. No time to hide my theme. No time to pull punches. I’ve been accused of not being subtle, but what I’ve never been accused of is sloppy, shoddy description or not handing metaphors or themes deftly or boring uninteresting characters. It is what it is. And I am who I am.
My stories have themes no doubt. They are in full bloom or might have some other subtle context. I want the reader to be fulfilled on many levels: entertainment, enthusiasm, and enlightenment, maybe even evangelism. I want them to think and feel and discover and reflect.
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(12) The other day I posted a Note about how a Tame Impala song (“Let It Happen”) feels like a drug-induced kind of experience for me under the right circumstances. I said it set my brain ablaze like a wild forest fire and had me dreaming aloud. Music does that to me. Do you have any ritual like listening to music that gets the inspiration flowing?
JSC: The best of Tame Impala will do that to me, too. I listen to 1960’s-1980’s music mostly and there is a lot of the “psychedelia” experience involved. I’ve done psychedelics (which I don’t anymore with my sobriety), so the “best” of my fiction tries to capture that kind of stimulus. It gets to the “mythological” and symbolic and metaphoric of the basement of the universe. I want my writing to be as much like this as possible as often as possible. “Magical”, inspiring, “psychedelic”, spiritual, parable-like. Cutting to the point of sundering soul and spirit.
RJR: You’re the second writer (in a row!) to mention psychedelics. Maybe I should get on that bandwagon (just kidding, Mama).
JSC: I’m not proud of having done them. I sometimes think they opened a door that can never be closed. But some of the effects can be achieved through other means: sensory deprivation, fasting, meditation, or extreme isolation. It’s the mind coming out of the brain, literally.
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Harold Bloom was a (controversial but brilliant) literary critic who most famously put out his “agon” theory of literature—the idea that authors struggle to surpass the skill of those past writers who’ve influenced them and the culture at large. He calls this the “anxiety of influence.” For me, I can understand how he could argue this: I waffle between inspiration and doomsday jealousy when I read a writer I’m especially in awe of. As a writer yourself, what do you think of this (summary of the) idea? How do you think the writers you enjoy influence or directly affect your own work and process, if at all?
JSC: Faulkner spoke about some of this in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech and I’ve heard him say that being inspired by who has come before also puts in a writer the desire to beat the “old master” at the game: to better your influences and masters.
Everything at all times is an influence for good, bad, and the ugly. Have confidence in your passion and your voice and what sticks with you and your Muse will help shape your material from out of your own mythos (which has plenty of universal archetypes) mixed with your own personal experience.
No one can see exactly how you see so write and tell us what you see.
Jealousy is different than being inspired. I’m not jealous about Shakespeare or Poe. They inspire me. Also, I write about them, so now they’ve become my characters! I might be jealous of the exposure other writers get, but I don’t want to pander to trying to please others just to be popular for an hour, a day, a week, a year, and then have the fans turn on me because I wasn’t being honest and lied to them. I have to answer to God and to the Muse giving me the inspiration, not to others who may be looking for something I am not offering.
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I’m interested in your educational background when it comes to the craft of writing. Generally, how did you go about teaching yourself how to write when you started? Are there things you do or read to help you “keep up your chops” at writing? Have you ever done any formal schooling to train as a writer? (I have not; the closest I ever got were two literature electives in undergrad.) What kinds of things give you a strong and reliable signal that you’re progressing in a way that satisfies you in your refining of the craft, if any? Of course, you could endlessly practice; but what are some signs that you’re doing more than simply spinning your wheels forever?
JSC: In some regards, we are all students who can learn. We learn by experience and by failure and by example. In some regards, many of us have an innate ability to create and tell stories. In some regards, our inner spirit is in tune with the Almighty Muse and sends us dreams, images, and nightmares. If we stay true to all this we will succeed in our mission and passion: telling a story, our story to the eternal story-telling God and His Universe.
I took some Creative Writing courses in college. They even had a class or two at my high school. The best learning is by doing: writing and reading.
I started writing fiction when I was ten. It was awful derivative emulative copies. I started writing song lyrics soon after and that was different, I was honest. You start by emulating. But you need to be ambitious and adventurous in finding your voice. My parents were my first readers and, naturally, my first critics. My mom is honest and encouraging; my dad is more brutal and sets his expectations.
I don’t feel like I’m “spinning my wheels” because I try not to repeat myself. Each idea is more of a separate genre, though my overall concerns of answering BIG QUESTIONS does pop up in a lot of my writing. I can be adventurous and am prepared to break my own set “rules” from time to time. The “Why?” sometimes becomes “Why not?” More and more, I find myself harkening to Ray Bradbury’s advice: “Write about what you love and write about what you hate.” Substack sometimes gives me ideas to “respond” to as in “what I would do with that idea is this…”
Most of my stories and books have gotten a little criticism, some of which is honest (meaning it is true and I am guilty of the criticism, but so what?) and some of which is misguided via the reviewer’s own biases, but mostly I have received strong positive feedback, especially on Substack. That is one way to know you are on the right track. Forever trying to reach for the “brass ring” around the carousel which was invented for the knight on horse to speak a ring with his wooden lance. In other words, “Hit the Mark” and show mastery.
Take chances, live with glorious failures, listen to the Muse; cont;nue, repeat until you run out of breath.
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I try my best not to pressure my brain into forging a brand new story from the clear blue sky. I like to let ideas simmer, slow cook, percolate for a while, until I feel like I have enough to start putting pen to paper. Over time I’ve learned how to fine-tune the feeling so I don’t get stuck in the trap of endlessly ruminating on a story without ever writing anything down. But in general, I have a slow process, and I’ve come to enjoy it that way. I think of story ideas as like photos that bloom into my brain over time, with details becoming clearer as I stare at and contemplate the story over and over again. How do you come up with new story ideas? How do you know, when you get an idea, that it’s worth pursuing further? Have you ever had any story ideas you felt were “flops”—those resistant to your natural process—or in general you felt were going nowhere? What do you do, if anything, with those ideas that seem to drag their feet?
JSC: Good ideas stay the course because good ideas transcend time. Good ideas generate both feeling and a desire to pursue the image to the next feeling and image: “What is that about?” and “Why is that happening?” If it is from “out of the blue” or from a dream or something that has repeatedly come up and refuses to go away then it is worth pursuing. If it involves anger or hate or mean-spirited parody it might end up thin or not worth pursuing. There is a place for all of that in some stories or in scenes or character development, but to base an idea or style on it seems pretty thin. It would be like reading a joke book or a mean rant.
I start files with notes and scenes. The better ideas get more seeds and take root. It may take a while, especially if it’s going to be a full length book idea. I used to make title lists and use that to generate projects. Now I do sketches and notes of ideas and keep adding. Then I make a “Master To Do” list for projects. I’ve got way more to do than what may be left of my life. Ain’t that a shame?
RJR: I agree with you on the thin kinds of writing. I think writing of the more ranting style is more for attention; it may reflect how you really feel, and in the moment it may feel great and garner a good amount of attention. But I think the writing that lasts is that from honesty, understanding, and love.
JSC: A writer must be honest with their MUSE and the idea and theme. Don’t hold back: good, bad, or ugly. Especially, the ugly. That’s where growth comes from. That’s where the honesty strikes hard: with the ugly.
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I sometimes can’t help but feel overwhelmed by Substack. There are many great writers on here, each prolific in such a way that my “Saved” tab is essentially useless now. In my less confident moments, I feel this nihilistic sense of overwhelm about my work getting drowned out by all the others. But then I think about Candide and his closing remarks in his book to “cultivate your garden,” a battle cry of faith in the process of doing good work and being patient with the results. To not try to swallow the whole world in one bite. Assuming I haven’t just now thrown you into an existential panic, has this feeling ever come down and breathed down your neck? If so, what do you think about it, or maybe how do you combat the feeling of overwhelm as a writer?
JSC: I take the Adamic approach. Adam was the first poet and got to name all the creatures and flowers, etc. He did through EXPERIENCE and Observation. Why can’t you or me or anyone? There are seven plus billion people on this Earth and probably at least a hundred billion have already come and kicked the bucket. We are all story-telling creatures. We want to hear stories. We want to tell stories. We think we are the heroes in a story–our own–and that it’s the greatest story ever.
Tell your story. Share your experience. Don’t let anyone else tell you what you can or cannot think or do or say or feel. Write it out. Live it out. Shout it out. For me, that means giving God the glory since He is the Author.
I am cutting back on subscribing and just following now. There’s way more than I could ever read in a day or a week and try to keep my own quotas. We write to write because we want to or because we must or both. “We are merely players, performers and portrayers. Each another’s audience outside the gilded cage” as Neil Peart wrote and Geddy Lee sang.
I make time to re-read my favorite books. I make time to read some new books. I make time to research authors’ and artists’ lives. I have music as a big interest which feeds into my writing and probably vice versa. Make your life rich and make it so you have to answer to just two people: between you and God. Critics are not worth losing sleep over as neither are your fears.
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Have you noticed anything about your writing life that has crept in to other parts of your life? As an example, I have definitely felt emotional benefits to getting my thoughts down on paper; I’ve also noticed that my developing a writing routine is a habit that has bled into my maintenance of a gym routine, something I’ve struggled with for a while. My writing habit has also made me more conscious and protective of my free time, now that I’m hyperaware of how much time it really times to put good effort in your work. In general, do you feel like writing has affected other parts of your life, whether positively like in my case or negatively?
JSC: Good point: having a quota (which should be workable according to the time you have available on a given day). Got an hour? Try 750 words. And so forth. Drafting would be a straight word count. Revising would be have the words changed and any new words counted in. Editing would be the number of pages you covered. And having a deadline: a month or two for short stories; six months or a year or two years for the stages in a novel length project. Be consistent. Be productive. Don’t waste time worrying or stressing. You can always write about something.
But you need a balance. This summer I’ve taken two small trips and have had a lot of housework and yard work that need to be done. Plus, I’m trying to do a mortgage refi which takes hours and hours. You should also take time for breaks outside: walk, hike, swim, wade, or drive. You should also remember your family obligations: they are the ones who will know you best and tell stories about you and have to pack up your books. Treat them good.
I can understand about feeling overwhelmed. I am on summer break. I’ve got about 50 days until school starts but I’ve got one short story project going on, one revising/finishing a draft of my next book, notes and potential draft of another book for a serial next year, story posting on Substack and formatting those stories into a book out for this fall; and book promos on the older two books and I just put up a new website. Plus church music, my music, work obligations, and personal responsibilities and family obligations.
I think I just took a breath.
I just took another breath.
One day at a time. Moment to moment. Breath by breath.
At least I’m not bored and doing drugs like I used to. Praise to God for that. He is good.
cont;nue
Thanks for reading this interview with
! Here are a few posts you can peruse to get to know him better:
If you’re interested in participating in this interview series, feel free to email me at rjr.analog.stories@gmail.com.
Cheers,
-Ricky
For more from Analog Stories, check out this Table of Contents.
Feel free to email me at rjr.analog.stories@gmail.com.
Forgive the red-faced humble-brag; the example is the most recent and the most dramatic.