My Big Surprise
By Rhonda Leverett
Do you love it when fate hurtles a curve ball across the home plate of your somewhat predictable life? The Harper's Ferry, Virginia workshop I attended in June turned out to be just such an event for me.
Picture fifteen over-eager writers arriving at a cobwebby (oops, I mean historical) hotel for a workshop, each bearing a near complete manuscript and itching to pitch. Watch their smiles change to looks of bewilderment as they are told, one-by-one, in front of the entire group, that their pitches suck and require either major reconstructive surgery or death. Feed this group continental breakfasts and sandwiches and hole them up in the hotel's basement for eight hours a day for one week and what do you get? (In all fairness, the basement was quite pleasant, with windows and a balcony overlooking the Potomac River.)
Although the sudden death of my pitch was frightful to behold, I found myself in good company. Each determined participant, except one woman (the workshop leader adored that her story included a diabetic cat) shuffled together and took blows as a team. I like group huddles, so that was nice.
By the end of day two, I discovered that delivering my several-times-rewritten pitch was at first survivable and then enjoyable. The whole group improved in attitude as pitch control came easier. I met helpful, generous agents and the author of the book which evolved to the movie, "Bruce Almighty." I visited a winery and found the Meritage to be my favorite. I learned more about craft and marketing than I could carry home in a bucket.
But the most delightful discovery for me is what I caught, as opposed to what was taught.
Three things I must pass on to my friends:
1.
Writer, know thyself. Trust thyself. Love and honor your talent and the projects you choose. Never write to the market (I'm talking book-length works here, not shorter freelance stuff) Write what you would rather die than not write and write it true and real and however your heart alone dictates. Did you choose this path so you could say what you think publishers want to hear? Did you really? If your writing is driven by the desire for lots of money and fame, become a famous, rich something else, not a writer, please. The world doesn't need more soulless drivel.
2.
Understand that you are not your writing and writing is not your life. Here's where I have to eat crow, because of a talk I gave a few months ago about my life being ordered around my full-time writing career. I learned that the process of getting a book-length work out into the world is even longer and slower than I suspected, and I already new this was no quick deal. Think slow--like dark, drawn molasses slow. What I'm trying to say is, settle in. Kick off your shoes, pull up a chair next to the fire, and prepare for a long winter's night--if you plan to finish your worthwhile, book-length project, that is. As this long night progresses, life goes on. So keep writing, but also do other stuff, OK? Lest you lose heart, lest your family turn from you, your friends forget you, and you get old one day with nothing to show except the beloved work which you sacrificed everything and everyone else for.
3.
Play nice and help your neighbor. In kindergarten I was the official shoe-tier for a class of five year old shoe-lace manglers. In high school math, and college chemistry, good things came back to me. I was the one the teacher referred to when he told the non-math-phobic students, "Help your neighbor." Payback was great. I miraculously pulled off A's, knowing I hadn't done it alone. My dear lone wolf writer--you won't get there alone. I swear it's true. None of us who love and cherish our solitude so dearly will truly succeed without the rest of the pack. Might as well start critiquing other's work now, because you'll need help one day, promise. I hope you listen and that your payback is divine.
Okay, so I've said my piece, got it out, feel much, much better. I took all of you to West Virginia with me, in my heart, and I couldn't very well come home without sharing what you and I learned while we were there. Thanks for listening, wonderful writers and great people. Love you much.
Rhonda