Why Writing Fiction Can Feel Frightening, And Why That Shouldn’t Stop You

I’m going to make a bold assertion: writers feel more attached to their works of fiction than they do to their non-fiction.

My in-depth study of this has been conducted, data has been analysed and I can now reveal the results. I am pleased to be able to let you that the sample size for this study consists of a statistically sound one person (me). This is further backed up by completely unbiased observation of somewhere in the region of a few hundred others, my kids, the kids and adults I have taught in creative writing classes, and the people with whom I’ve participated in creative writing groups, be they at degree level, on on-line forums or at “let’s sit about and talk about writing while we share a bottle of wine” level.

I could be totally wrong, but googling it didn’t produce a single article to verify or disprove my hypothesis, so for now I’m sticking to my opinion. My kids don’t tend to storm off in huff when I suggest adding more detail to the essay they’ve written on Leonardo da Vinci, nor do they fling up their hands, scattering papers, saying as they storm away that I am horrible and they are never going to write anything ever again.

Actually, what I’ve just written is fiction, because they don’t really do all that when I suggest changes to fiction either; a tut and sigh, and roll of eye usually suffice. However, a for couple of years I was in the interesting position of teaching a creative writing class that included my own children. (They asked me to start it.) I noticed a particular touchiness in one of my girls whenever we looked at her work. The result is I’ve learned to be liberal with praise and careful how I make suggestions, and it got me thinking about why fiction writing seems more personal.

All of us contain a mix of emotions, thoughts, memories and beliefs. Some of these we are happy with, maybe even proud of, but if we think particular emotions or thoughts are wrong we will resist and suppress them. Writing fiction then becomes an outlet where we can give our villain the attributes we don’t want to see in ourselves. But because we have exposed ourselves, if someone criticises our fiction efforts, it can feel as if they are criticising us.

When I was studying for an MA in Creative Writing, it was required to write a commentary on one’s own writing process. To aid this, I kept a writing journal, noting thoughts and feelings about writing. I began to notice that at times it felt frightening to delve deeply into the aspects of some characters needed to bring them to life. Luckily I had read Natalie Goldberg’s book Writing Down The Bones, in which she advises that if something feels scary we should dive right in because that is where powerful, energetic writing comes from.

The outcome was that I went from being criticised by fellow students for creating a one-dimensional bad guy and by tutors for making changes to please those fellow students, to being commended on my insights into the writing process and getting a distinction for my MA.

That stereo-typed bad-guy had by then gained a mentally ill mother, a domineering grandfather and absent father, all of which explained, but did not excuse, his behaviour. By the end of the dissertation I could also see that my bad-guy was what the psychiatrist, Carl Jung, referred to as “the shadow”. He represented the repressed elements of me; he was the anger and the thoughts that, at the time, I believed I shouldn’t have.

Unless we writers are willing to dig deep, our characters will be one-dimensional stereotypes; but digging deep may leave us feeling exposed and vulnerable, and any negative criticism of our fiction is more likely to hurt. This is not a reason to avoid fiction or to avoid creating characters of depth. Far from it; as my experience above shows, the rewards for digging deep are great. The benefits don’t stop with your writing: the process can help you become a more rounded character too. A few examples of what I’ve heard people call themselves are: "a forgetful old codger," "totally scatty,” or, "an organised person."

Are any of those descriptions who these people are, or are these simply aspects that can be found in any of us? It’s interesting to look through Hubpages profiles and see how many people introduce themselves by saying: “I am a mother/writer/senior citizen/teacher.” (I just checked my own profile, because I couldn’t remember what I’d written, and was relieved to see that I didn’t do this, but I did define the main character in my novel as a ‘teacher and writer.’) Facing the fear as you go deeply into your characters will help you get to know yourself better.

Another other reason criticism of fiction can feel personal is because it takes more of our time. I’ve never dashed off a short story in a morning, posted it on-line and then been told how wonderful it is, but I’ve had that experience a few times with non-fiction, both on Hubpages and in blogging. Fiction writing, for me at least, takes many times longer. There is the initial idea, the writing, the rewriting, the rewriting, the rewriting – and did I mention the rewriting? The two short stories I’ve uploaded to Hubpages have been previously published in truly tiny small- press journals (not on-line so no duplicate content!) and yet I still tweaked both of them again before I hit the “publish” button.

Ironically I think it’s the fear of our writing not being good enough that often leads to poor quality fiction. When running classes I’ve noticed that it’s usually those writers whose work most needs editing who are reluctant to do it. Instead they will say, “I know I’m not very good,” or something similar – and then send the story to a competition in the hope it will magically improve while it’s in the post. Many years ago I organised a project to promote women’s writing in the city where I then lived. The project culminated in the publication of an anthology. One woman, who came to weekly creative writing classes I ran, submitted two pieces of fiction. Both were weak, and I knew the selection panel would reject them. I also knew that she had a strong story that she had not submitted. When I asked her why, she replied that she couldn’t bear if it was rejected. I persuaded her to submit it, and as I expected it was chosen to be in the anthology and the others weren’t. I should also add that this woman was a retired journalist!

Creating powerful fiction takes time and skill, and like any skill it requires an apprenticeship. Too many people who start fiction projects with great enthusiasm get disheartened when those first attempts don’t live up to expectations. Instead of working to improve they give up.

One girl in my children’s writing class felt despondent whenever anyone suggested changes to her work, and was ready to abandon the story she’d been working on for weeks. Then I showed her a page of my own writing, filled with scribbled out sentences and added in notes. Within minutes she was writing again. One day my daughter who, as I mentioned before, could easily get discouraged, was fretting over work for school. It was a piece of writing to which the teacher wanted some changes, and my daughter felt resistant. I tried to explain that the fact the teacher had written, “Good work,” meant she liked it, and that it could be even better with the suggested changes. My daughter still didn’t want to do it. I showed her comments people had made about one of my stories on an on-line writers’ group. My daughter declared the commentators mean, and I assured her that while at first I hadn’t liked some of the comments I could see their merit and now knew how to make the changes that had previously eluded me. My daughter sat down and finished her school-work.

If you have a story you started and abandoned, I can’t show you my scribbles or the comments my daughter thought were mean, but I can remind you of something one of my favourite writers on writing says. This writer is Anne Lamott, and in her book Bird by Bird, she says that all good writing begins with terrible first drafts. Realising that set me free to write. It can do the same for you.

I can’t see my own ads, or any ads on Hubpages, but from what other writers have said there is good chance an ad may appear on this page for the following company:

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Please do not click on this ad, instead read this hub by lmmartin to see why not:

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