Hi, this is the Not a Real Writer podcast, where I talk about writing fiction and the self-doubts and imposter syndrome about writing fiction. I’m Melody Taylor and I’m not a real writer.
I’ve written nine urban fantasy novels and independently published five of them. I also have ADHD, anxiety, trauma, and have been in therapy for all of them.
All that to say, I’ve written some books and gotten some nice feedback and reviews on them, but I’m not writing full-time and starting to wonder if I ever will, and I definitely have a lot of thoughts about whether I’m any good. I’ve been trying for years to overcome this funk, and some days I definitely do better than others. I’m going to try and pass along some of my experiences and advice and practices that have been helpful to me. Expect a good bitch-fest about the stuff that’s been unhelpful, because better out than in, and toxic positivity can get stuffed.
I’m also a huge nerd for nuts and bolts and specific information about fiction writing. I can’t stand woo-woo “you just have to feel it” advice, so I’m going to try and pass along some good shit I’ve picked up over the years. Same rules apply, I will also be complaining about the bad advice I’ve heard. Considering I’m not a real writer, take it all with a grain of salt. But I’m learning fun stuff all the time, and I’m thrilled to be able to share it.
My writing friend James suggested I do a first episode on why I write, and I was thinking how I could combine that with some writing mechanics talk, and it hit me very quickly: themes. What they are, how to pick one, why you need one – and what they say about why we write.
So I’ll give you a quick origins story and what got me started down this delightful path to Hell.
I didn’t always love to read – that’s a whoooole other story I’ll probably tell later – but by the time I was seven or eight the fiction bug had bitten me and I was hooked. I read just about anything I could get my hands on, and was reading at a college level by the time I was in third grade. (That hasn’t done me as much good as it seemed like it would at the time.) (I also didn’t always have the best taste, but that’s how it is when you’re a kid and a sponge. Taste develops with experience, amiright?)
When I was around eleven or so, a friend gave me a short story she’d written. It was about a bunch of teenagers who are obsessed with the bygone days of hippies, listening to Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and wearing bellbottoms and saying “far out” a lot. They find a time machine disguised as a VW bus and go back to meet their rock idols. But the time machine malfunctions and Jimmy Page almost gets eaten by a T-rex.
I said, “I like it, but you can’t turn this in.” There were, after all, drugs and swears in the story. (Everyone knows hippies smoke pot, even me when I was eleven.)
My friend said, “It’s not for school, it’s just for fun.”
And I went, “What do you mean, for fun?”
She said, “I just wrote it for me, and for you, and maybe some of my other friends. It’s just a fun story.”
I said, “Holy shit, you can do that???”
She said, “Where do you think books come from?”
I had honestly assumed books appeared by magic. I was eleven. Where did I think anything came from? I can honestly tell you that even though my half-sister is part Native American, I had this bizarre belief that Indians were all long dead, and that idea persisted for . . . longer than it should have. Logic is not innate to the human mind.
I got better.
At any rate, after I read my friend’s story, I went home and immediately started writing stories of my own.
After doing that for about seven years, I started working at a coffee shop. One of my co-workers was going to school for an English degree, and she gave me a bunch of her craft textbooks she was finished with. I read every single one and realized that I actually knew fucking nothing about writing and doing it well. So I set about trying to learn as much as I could. I considered college and decided to skip it, since what I wanted was to write novels, not technical manuals, and I did not want to be saddled with tens of thousands of dollars of debt, which would necessitate writing technical manuals instead of novels. I have mixed feelings about that choice, which I will go on at length about at a later date.
Instead of college, I hit the library.
The thing about trying to learn about anything new is that there is this curve. I think there might be a name for it, but Google isn’t being helpful right now. When you first start to read up on a new subject, most of the information you find is new to you. Then after a while, only some of the information is new to you. Then, after a while longer, almost none of the information is new to you. That only took a couple years for me, honestly.
But there were these weird, tantalizing words that would get tossed around sometimes. Stuff that older, more experienced authors seemed to know about, like some secret hidden in-group, that us beginners couldn’t possibly be trusted with.
Words like “theme” and “plot structure” and “character arc” and “act.” They sounded important, but when I decided it was time for me, the not-a-beginner-anymore, to level up and start learning about these secret code words, I really couldn’t find much information on any of them. The writers I talked to could only acknowledge that yes, they had heard those words, too, and that I would have to do some research. So I tried. The few definitions I found were very squishy, very hand wavy “oh, you know.”
Well, no I fucking didn’t know, and it didn’t seem like anyone else did, either! Sure seemed like they were faking. And to a large degree, I discovered that yeah, they were.
Turns out, most everyone is faking most of the time. Even CEOs. Even world leaders. But especially writers.
This, by the way, is part of why I decided to try out a podcast of my own. I have ADHD, and my specific flavor of ADHD shares a ton of overlap symptoms with autism, and instructions need to be very clear and very specific or I will not understand what is being said or asked of me. I am frankly disgusted by the amount of hand waving and “it’s hard to describe” instruction in the writing world. We’re WRITERS! Can you put it into fucking words or can’t you, WRITER??
But I digress.
I found myself attending a workshop at the Loft in Minneapolis with another writer friend. It was a throw-away workshop for me, something to fill a gap while my friend went to another one I didn’t want to go to. It was called “Finding the Theme of Your Novel.” I hoped there might be a good definition on offer.
There was not.
However, for not being able to actually define a theme, the workshop was very well put on, and after a bunch of free-writing and memory and sensory exercises, the theme of my current work in progress was in fact revealed. And once I knew how to find it, I began to be able to spot the themes in not only other works, but my own subsequent novels.
Let me go ahead and link up my origin story with my theme mechanics talk right now. I would like to offer you a clear definition of what a theme is. Clearer. I’m going to draw heavily from The Story Grid here, largely because they offer clear, precise definitions and instructions for writerly things, which is something that has been missing from my fiction writing study for a looong time.
Your theme is why you write a story in the first place. It’s what you have to say. I once had it described to me as “your idea.” That’s very vague, and can mean several different things, many of which are not your theme, but it’s also not totally inaccurate.
That wasn’t great. Let me try to clarify a little better:
Your theme is the main problem that your characters are dealing with. Not the plot. The plot is the overt problem, theme is the subverted problem, the thing they have to learn or change or see or understand in order to follow the plot through to the end. It’s the deeper, secret message that you slip in underneath the entertainment factor. It’s a thing that you think is wrong with the world, that you think would make everything better if it were different. It’s a thing that happened to you or that you think about that you want to explore and find out more about, or explain to someone else through the metaphor of your story. It can be very small and personal, or it can be huge and involve all of society, or both. It is NOT a “moral,” though it can bear a passing resemblance to one. Morals are often things that “everyone” knows are right; themes are things that maybe no one thinks about, or no one thinks is right, or only you think is right, or that you think is wrong.
For example: the theme I found for my WIP during the workshop was “The world is not a safe place and no one will save you.”
Not exactly a Bible story moral, there.
When I was in second grade, I caught some kids who had cornered a smaller girl between them. They were pushing her back and forth, poking her, and making fun of her name. She was crying. I ran to find our teacher, but when I told her what was happening she looked at me and asked “Melody, are you tattling?” I tried to explain further, that no, they were bullying, and she pinched her mouth, told me it sure sounded like I was tattling, and went back to what she was doing. In that moment, I realized that when the grown-ups said “Go get help!” that it was lip service. There wasn’t actually any help to be had. The grown-ups did not actually care if you were in danger or being hurt. You were on your own.
This might not have had such an effect on me, but every time before and after that I was in scared or in danger or actually being hurt, there was, in fact, no help to be had but what I could provide for myself.
It was the eighties, they thought they were teaching us independence. Jacob Wetterling hadn’t been kidnapped yet. And even after he was, it had way more of an effect on us kids than it did on the adults of the time. They told us, “Don’t get into cars with strangers!” I didn’t find out until adulthood that the poor kid was taken at gunpoint. The whole affair was made to seem (to me, anyway) like it was his own fault for not being cautious enough.
Have I mentioned I’m in trauma therapy?
Anyway, I wrote a book about it. But with ghosts and psychics because I like that sort of thing. And I did not realize when I started the book that it was about my own traumatic moment in my childhood. That came up in the workshop.
Rather than give you a rundown of the whole plot, let me condense it by saying this: My theme was drawn from my own life, and can be summed up by the sentences: “The world is not a safe place, and no one will save you. But there are people who care, and who can offer support while you learn how to save yourself.”
Can you see how that theme might matter a whole lot to me, personally? Can you see why I almost couldn’t help myself writing it into my book?
Every story needs a theme. When I first started writing, I was like, “I just want to tell fun stories that make people happy.” It wasn’t until later that I realized that all the stories that I really like have some sort of deeper theme, meaning, or message; and that the more the theme spoke to me, the more I liked the story. I also realized that even “fun stories that make people happy” have themes. Often lighter themes, like working together or finding success through perseverance, but themes nonetheless.
I also realized that trying to let the theme come through on its own can work, but it’s better to start a new book with your theme already figured out. I actually find it’s a little easier to come up with an idea for a story once I have a theme I want to talk about. The characters and the conflicts sort of start to build themselves around the idea I want to explore.
According to “Save the Cat! Writes a Novel,” there are 10 themes that get used over and over in various iterations: 1. Forgiveness, of self or others; 2. Love, of self, family, friends, or romance; 3. Acceptance, of self, circumstances, or reality; 4. Faith, in self, in others, in the world, in God; 5. Fear, and overcoming it; 6. Trust, of self, of others, of the unknown; 7. Survival, or will to live; 8. Selflessness, sacrifice, altruism, heroism, overcoming greed; 9. Responsibility, duty, standing up for a cause, accepting destiny; 10. Redemption, atonement, accepting blame, remorse, salvation.
I’ve lingered over that list many, many times, and I can’t think of a single story that has a theme that can’t be put into one of these categories. My example theme is a bit of a mix of a few of these: acceptance of circumstances, faith in self and others, overcoming fear. I promise, though, that’s 100% okay too. It’s important that writers not be afraid to mix n’ match to create new stuff. Something else I’ll surely talk about at length here. You don’t have to choose from this list like it’s a menu; it’s just breaking down the core things that humans find value in and want to tell stories about.
As I said before: What’s something that you think is really wrong with the world? Something that would be a whole lot better if it changed? What do you see people struggling with that you want to help them understand? It can be big or it can be small.
I personally believe that all change starts with individual people, and that learning to believe in ourselves and be mentally healthy, happy humans will lead to a better, happier society. I want to tell people stories that help them to see that. There’s plenty of work to do in that arena.
Now, since I know so much about themes and picking a good one and how they’re the backbone of a story and why a novelist writes in the first place, let me tell you how many books I sold today: none.
On a bad day, that depresses me deeply. I truly don’t think I’ll ever make a living as an author. I used to think it could be anyone, why not me? I used to think that if I worked hard, success would automatically find me. Now, I’m not so sure about any of that. I’ve got a head full of knowledge from decades of studying stories, and no book career. Will my work yet pay off? I mean, I’m not dead yet, so I dunno.
So I talked about how I got started, I talked about themes and hopefully gave you some good information. Now I’ll talk about how I cope with the self-doubts. But, I’m also not a fount of confidence and savvy, either, so take this advice with a grain of salt too.
First of all, all the coaches and therapists I know or follow do say that they also still suffer from self-doubts and imposter syndrome. They just know they can deal with it, and don’t let it bog them down too badly before they respond to it. I try to remember this a lot. Having imposter syndrome doesn’t mean you’re actually no good, and it doesn’t mean you aren’t even a good enough human to just believe in yourself. It’s just something that happens, because once a brain gets into a rut, it’s hard to get it out. Several psych books I’ve read say that “neurons that fire together, wire together,” and when I repeated that to my shrink, she said it along with me. You have to keep moving your thoughts off that beaten, easy-to-take path in your brain, and it just takes practice and time and may never fully be finished work. It does, in my experience, get easier.
My first piece of advice here is to not try and repeat positive affirmations to yourself. If you’re anything like me, or have a human brain, you probably tried telling yourself you’re doing great, and still felt rotten. That’s because despite what CEOs say, re-framing your thoughts doesn’t work unless you believe the re-frame. Saying you “get” to go to work instead of “have” to go to work only makes you feel better if you truly believe it’s a privilege and opportunity. If you don’t, you just feel like you’re lying to yourself.
Same with “I’m a good writer.” If that’s not something you can believe, it ain’t sticking. You gotta start small, like, “well, I like to write, so there’s no reason to not do it.” Or even, “who’s it fucking hurting?” As small and only slightly less horrible as it has to be in order for you to believe it. Try a few phrases out in your mind, see what makes you feel better, stick with that. Then, once you’ve worn a new groove in your brain with your new phrase, you can try stepping up to something like, “I’m pretty okay at this. Even if I’m no Stephen King, at least I don’t suck.” You have to go at it in increments, and pay attention to how each step feels. If you can’t believe what you’re selling, try something new. That’s how you break a rut in the brain.
Alas, there can be a lot of ruts to break. And it can be hard to know what the deepest one is to tackle. Keep at it.
On my better days, I remember that writing isn’t about the money, it’s about the work. The drive to do this. The need to tell stories. The desire to do some good in the world, and to add to what helped me so much as a sad weird kid who didn’t fit in anywhere. I may have to do something else to make money to put food on my table, but I still get to write, and that’s my true life’s work.
Today is a bit of a down day. I’m working a job I don’t hate but don’t love that has nothing to do with writing, and I don’t want to do this forever, but I kind of might have to. I hate getting up early in the morning, but every job that pays decent starts at 8 a.m. I’ve done the starving artist thing and I’m over it. I’m re-editing my first novel because I’ve learned so much between when I put it out and now, and I’m getting a little flack for doing so. Should I abandon it and move on? Or should I polish the fuck out of that book and push it like Salt N Peppah? I just don’t know. (Although since writing the script for this episode, I find that a lot of self-published authors have re-polished their first book for the same reason, and that at least makes me feel like I have some ammunition for my nay-saying thoughts. Whether I’m right or wrong, I want to, and I’m not odd for that.)
I will leave you with my final thought on this: be compassionate with yourself. You wouldn’t say that shit in your head to a five-year-old, would you? Don’t say it to yourself. I’ll try to remember. You, too.
So remember, just because you’re down, don’t stop writing. Take a break if you need it, but don’t quit. Thanks for listening.
