It's been a year now since I've been writing fiction seriously, and I've decided to make a series of blog posts about the process and the experience. I'll be relating what I did and how it's worked for me so far.

One of the things I did early on was to set myself a clear goal. I know that can sound a little hokey, but I think it's important. Why? Because different goals call for different ways of approaching the task.

For many years, I'd been writing bits of stories on and off, for myself and for friends to read, with no thought to getting them published or widely distributed. (I had sent some stories to magazines in my teen years, but became discouraged and then distracted with career and family, and let the ambition go dormant.) This was fine for what it was, but I felt I wanted to take on something more now.

So what should the goal be? Simply being in print? Being distributed somehow (on the web, say)? Making money? Becoming famous? Becoming a best-selling writer? Receiving critical acclaim? Some of those are obviously more remote ambitions than others. Frankly, none of them felt quite right.

So I mulled it over, and settled on this: I want my fiction to be readily accessible to anyone who wants to read the sort of things I write.

Despite the fact that Internet marketing and easy self-publishing are opening new options for getting books to readers, this goal really implies professional, traditional publication. (See this post for a discussion of why self-published fiction doesn't make the cut for me, at least not yet.)

So, given my goal, it was clear that I would need to learn to write to professional standards and seek publication in professional markets. I already knew something about how to go about this from my younger days, and was surprised that things hadn't really changed that much. The same fantasy and science fiction magazines are still around, and they still accept unsolicited submissions the same way (i. e., they want stacks of paper that look like they came off your 1938 Smith-Corona typewriter). There were a couple differences, though: there are more markets now, including a number of professional-paying online magazines, and there are more opportunities for selling novels without selling short stories first. (It used to be an almost obligatory progression from magazines to books. That is no longer the case, although it's still probably more frequent than not.)

I decided to focus on short stories, for the simple reason that they represent less investment in time, and allow me to work on improving my craft by learning from previous attempts. I set a goal of producing one short story per month, a goal that I've essentially met. (I spent November doing NaNoWriMo and produced a 50,000-word novel draft). I have eleven short stories presently looking for publication. There are enough paying markets that I haven't had to retire any of them yet.

Having such a goal demands (a) writing a lot, and (b) submitting a lot.

Aspiring writers are often told to write every day. I don't find that necessary for myself. The important idea behind this advice is to write regularly, not just when you feel inspired. I write most evenings for an hour or so after dinner, and more on the weekends. I'll skip days if I'm between stories or if something comes up that needs my attention instead. But I have kept at it, as the output of stories shows. One of the things that made this discipline possible for me was getting away from the mindset of "waiting for inspiration". I don't need to wait for the next Lord of the Rings or Dune to come to me in a great vision in order to write. I just need the basic elements of theme, character, and conflict, and then develop them as best I can. It's often surprising, actually, how stories become richer in the telling. What may seem like a too-sparse kernel of story can work itself into something meaningful, if you have a little faith.

Submitting stories to professional markets takes an odd combination of ego and humility. You need enough confidence to toss your work into an extremely competitive arena, but enough detachment to accept the inevitable rejections without bitterness or frustration. For me, the trick is to remember that the readers for professional magazines are not school teachers; their role is not to evaluate your writing and give you a grade. Their job is just to reply to the hundreds of submissions they receive, while keeping half an eye open for the rare piece from an unknown writer that might actually happen to fill a need in their publication. It's a long shot, and a crap shoot. But keeping stories in circulation is the only way to create the opportunity for professional publication.

The lack of feedback on your work (form-letter rejections are the norm in the business) can mess with your mind if you let it. I have to resist the urge to magnify every tidbit of information or opinion about what makes a story salable. Sure, understanding the weak points in my writing is a necessary step to improvement, but I balance the self-criticism with frequent "reality checks" against stories and books that do make it into print, even without this or that magic ingredient. I try to stay centered on the basic commitment to write about people and subjects I care about. Given that core, I then try to make each piece as engaging and well-crafted as possible.

My writing is much better now than it was a year ago, and regular practice is a big part of the reason. It's been an important personal shift for me, too: I spent many years dabbling in unfinished, self-indulgent projects and resisted the discipline needed to actually get things done. Now I've embraced the discipline, the dedication, and the persistence, and I feel better for having done so.

I have no professional sales yet. The high points this year were being a finalist in the Writers of the Future contest (with only the second story I sent them) and making it out of the slush pile at Asimov's to get a personalized rejection letter from the editor. These are both "one chance in a hundred" kind of events, and I'm very excited to have gotten noticed in both these venues. I've read enough interviews with professional sf and fantasy writers to know that this is an excellent start for one year of work, and I'm encouraged to keep up the pace (or maybe even step it up a bit) for 2010.

In my next post, I'll talk about writing advice - where I've looked for it and how I've used it.