by Theresa Garee | Jul 15, 2020 | Blog
Follow the teachings, not the teacher.
Recently, another public figure many thought was beyond reproach proved herself to be human. This happened to be a well-respected, best-selling author. I admit to being stunned myself.
But why are we surprised?
If you put something (or someone) on a pedestal, rest assured it will eventually fall. It will either be knocked off, pulled down, or take a tremendous swan dive off on its own.
Eventually, gravity always wins.
In her memoir, The Great Failure, Natalie Goldberg wrote about the sexual misconduct of her beloved Zen teacher, Katagiri Roshi. While she lamented his shortcomings and lost followers for making it public, she did not lose faith in the Zen he taught. In fact, she went on to become a Zen priest herself.
People may disappoint you. They may break your heart.
But you know what won’t fail you? The teachings.
And you know what won’t fall? Principles.
We can love our teachers, see them as human, admire their wisdom and effort.
And when one of them crosses a line, we don’t need to throw out all the principles because of their wrong step. What they have taught is not lost even though they may be.
Trust the principles.
Follow the teachings, not the teacher.
People may fail you. Principles will not.
by Theresa Garee | Nov 3, 2017 | Blog
“Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfills the same function as pain in the human body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things.” – Winston Churchill
I’ve spent the past two years collecting rejection letters from agents and publishers. If I were to print them, I’d have a fistful.
The generic “this isn’t right for our list” letters don’t bother me. Even the ones that say “memoirs don’t sell” don’t get under my skin. But when a letter is more specific and there’s some possibility the agent or editor could be on the right track, I get twitchy. And that’s what I need to attend to. The more twitchy I get, the more likely they are on to something.
I choose to believe that the vast majority of people in the publishing industry work there because they love the written word. But they are also bombarded by so many submissions that they have to make a quick decision based on their gut and their experience in the market. Do they miss from time to time? Of course! Remember Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? It received 121 rejections before going on to become a best-seller. But more often than not, since editors and agents work in the field, they know what they are talking about.
My job is to not let this feedback derail me. My biggest critic is myself. As a child, I may have internalized my perfectionist father or a teacher with biting words, but now that I’m an adult, it’s my voice I have to deal with. My job is to listen, thank the voice for trying to help me, because that’s what it thinks it is doing, and figure out if there’s any truth it it.
It’s very similar to what I do with an agent or editor’s specific response. I thank the person for the feedback and for taking time to respond. Few editors and agents reply at all. When one takes the time to write something more than “it’s not what we’re looking for,” I thank them. Then I let my emotions simmer and let the feedback sit.
While I’m waiting for my jets to cool, I do something else. I might read someone else’s work and offer feedback. I might submit to other agents or publishers who only want a proposal, a query, or a few chapters. That way, if I decide to revise, I’m sending parts that won’t be changed later. Or I enter contests that have upcoming deadlines so I won’t miss an opportunity. I stay busy.
Once I’m calmer, I look again. Is there truth in the feedback? If so, how can I incorporate it? I try to see the critic as a friend. I’m not alone in this endeavor. There are helpers all along the way.
by Theresa Garee | Jun 3, 2010 | Blog
“Love has its own time, its own season, and its own reasons for coming and going. You cannot bribe it or coerce it or reason it into staying. You can only embrace it when it arrives and give it away when it comes to you.” – Kent Nerburn
Write Now Newsletter offers classes, writing groups and other opportunities to learn from and commune with writers. But when is it time to take a class and when is it time to stay home and write? When do we need to hear something new or to hear someone remind us of things we had forgotten? When do we need silence, long walks with the dog, and each of our own voices telling us where to push forward and when to pull back? I ask myself these questions often.
The rhythm of my class taking and time spent with other writers varies. I’ve enjoyed attending classes with many instructors. It’s a pleasure to meet new writers and share time with a professional who’s living the life I hope to live. At other times I don’t need yet another voice telling me how to write or giving me tips on how to get the writing done. It’s a balance. I look inside and see. Is it time to be inspired by someone else or do I need to inspire myself?
Right now I’m taking two on-line classes. I download the self-paced lessons and read them. I post questions on-line for others to answer. And, I do the work. When I’m finished, I go back on-line and let everyone know how I’m doing. Because these courses require actual work on the manuscript, it feels like I’m splitting the difference.
How do you balance taking classes with the pen to paper or fingers to keyboard work of putting words on the page? If you’d like, please leave a comment below.