beATTITUDES: ASPIRATION to INSPIRATION

by Leigh Lundin

TheMysteryPlace.com is the web site of Ellery Queen and Alfred Hitchcock, and within it resides a section called the Readers Forum, which just as easily have been called the Writers Forum.

One of the posts asked the question, When should a writer give up? In the thread that accompanies the question, a number of writers offer opinions and suggestions, required reading for the new writer.

The asker was a guy named Yoshinori Todo, who goes by Josh, a Europeanization of his first name. His questions were sincere and he asked them with a humble self-awareness. Moreover, he gave a sense that he was listening, really listening to advice and criticism, which every writer needs to embrace.

Any editor will tell you his fiction will live or die on its own merits. I haven’t read any Josh Yoshinori Todo stories, but I liked his attitude and engaging style. Moreover, he’s nearing that magical ten year mark that seems to he a watershed moment when good writers become readable and, eventually, publishable.

The way he handled himself in the forum made me think some day soon Yoshinori will be published. In the belief that his experience might translate from aspiring writer to inspiring writers, I asked him if he’d like to distill his attitude and what he’d learned into an article, which became the following…

Thoughts of a Still Unpublished Writer

by Yoshinori Todo

Titanic director James Cameron once said, “The most important thing if you’re an aspiring filmmaker is to get rid of the ‘aspiring’ … you shoot it, you put your name on it, you’re a filmmaker.”

I love that quote. It doesn’t matter whether you’re an aspiring filmmaker, actor, musician, fashion model, writer, or serial killer, your objective is to get rid of the “aspiring.” You succeed, and you are the happiest person on the block. You could walk on air.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Yoshinori Todo. I’m a Japanese-American who finds myself in Vienna, Austria. (don’t ask me why). I am 26 years old, my friends call me Josh, and my favorite authors include Agatha Christie and Stephen King. I am an aspiring writer. In fact, I have always wanted to be a writer, specifically fiction writer, specifically popular fiction writer. I want to make people feel. I can’t explain this obsession, except that it has something to do with escape, as likely as not.

Let me be frank. I am still an unpublished writer. No shame in that, you might say, as long as you keep working on improving your craft, keep sending those stories out, persevere. But after ten years of submitting without seeing any of my work in print, I have come to a realization. No, not that I would be better off not writing (that wouldn’t occur to me even if I woke up one day blind), but that I am still an unpublished writer because, until very recently, I was an amateur who wasn’t ready to be published. It’s that simple.

Of course, some of you might be itching to point out that I’m still an amateur since I’m still unpublished (and you might be right), but the truth of the matter is, nowadays I feel like I am getting close, and it’s not just an unfounded feeling anymore, the way it used to be. You see, nowadays I have proof to back it up, as well. The personal notes from the editors are one thing, the pin-point light at the end of the tunnel. They range in tone from kindly encouraging to teasingly apologetic and beat the hell out of form rejection letters which always seem to start with a slightly demoralizing “Dear contributor.”

Those personal notes have started accumulating mysteriously over past the couple of years, and some of them are from top markets, always a good sign. Another, maybe more telling fact is that when I go over one of my more recent creations, I don’t feel like sticking my head in the sand anymore– with embarrassment, you understand. Instead, I might see minor weaknesses in structure or plot that need to be fixed, but at the same time I see how they can be fixed, and on good days even how they can be used to their own advantage. The essence of the story is there, and I get it. Get off on it, really. And I want other people to get it, too, want that more than anything. And finally—maybe the most important thing and the mark of any aspiring true professional—nowadays I do realize that I have yet a lot to learn.

Yes. I remind myself: I have a lot to learn.

My favorite daydream: In twenty years, should I find myself a professional author with a hint of gray at the temples and think back on my struggling years in between autograph sessions or morning show appearances, I will take a minute to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and whisper to myself: Look at this. Look at all this madness. And yet, I have yet a lot to learn.

Like I said, I’m stuck in Vienna, so I have few connections to the publishing world (actually I have none). So shooting the breeze with established authors on the Readers’ Forum at themysteryplace.com has been helpful in keeping me focused and motivated. Especially James Lincoln Warren, James A. Ritchie, John Betancourt, David Zeltserman, Jon L. Breen, Jane Locke, Dick Stodghill, and Bill Sundling have been very generous in their advice and encouragement; in fact, if you’re wondering what an unknown and unpublished writer is doing hogging valuable space generally reserved for proven authors, let me just say that Leigh Lundin was kind enough—or perhaps pitied me enough—to ask me to contribute an article. This is the result, and I hope you like it. So, anyway, thanks a lot. A mention of your names and your most outstanding works (along with your pets, if you like) on the acknowledgement page of my first half dozen books is guaranteed!

Now I feel like I have to make it, just so I can acknowledge you. Well, thanks for that, too!

A note on rejection: I used to think that the most disheartening kind is when you’re told there’s no place for your work—not just once, but over and over again. I mean, you sweat blood to craft this perfect little gem which, you feel certain, is destined to touch the hearts of millions and possibly change the world a little, but you’re unable to offer it to the public because … what? There’s no place? I mean, come on! (“It’s their loss, not mine!” he screamed, before he was bundled off in a straitjacket, never to be seen again.)

That’s what makes this business so much like a lottery, I would think then. Except it’s not true. This ain’t a lottery, not by a long chalk, not even when you’re just starting out. For, like JLW says, “there is almost always a place for really well-told stories.” So if several editors tell you there’s no place for your work, chances are said work didn’t qualify as a really well-told story. Maybe a well-told one or a plain old mediocre one, but not a really well-told story, which is in a class of its own. Because if it had been that, it would’ve been easier to place. Make sense? In other words, in this business luck does play a part, but the good news is you can “control” your own luck. And even if it takes me another twenty years or forty or sixty, that’s what I intend to do.

The reward, if you have success as a filmmaker, actor, musician, fashion model, or writer, can be tremendous, so it makes perfect sense that, for most, it’s a long and hard way to the top. That’s why keeping the reward in mind can sometimes do wonders to your motivation. That, and—if you’re lucky—the support and encouragement of others who have already made it.