On The Giving Of Advice

February 4th, 2010

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When I announced to my parents I was going to art school my father tried to advise me against it. ‘There is no nobility in poverty,’ he said, ‘it just makes you bitter.’ I accused him of not ‘understanding’. He just sighed and returned to his book. I ran off and slammed a door or something and then I wondered, ‘why is he talking about poverty when I was talking about art school?’ I discovered the answer a few years down the track. Now my own children come to the dinner table, sit quietly, turn to me and say, ‘Mother, what advice do you have for us as we make our way through this life?’

Just kidding.

At this point I am reminded of an experience I had in America when, attempting to take an isolated road through a national park in a car with no snow chains, I was advised not to by the park ranger. ‘But can I?’ was my response. He repeated, ‘Maam, I am advising you not to drive any further.’ I nearly said, ‘Listen mate, just a yes or no answer,’ then I realised he was covering himself. If I did attempt the crossing, and was frozen in, I could not sue him or the park. It was an American thing.

I take this approach with my children, I caution and advise, and in return I am informed they know everything and would I please stop annoying them. My response? I say ‘When you are in the cancer ward/alcoholics unit/emergency/divorce court/police lock up/maximum security prison/dead end job/dole queue just remember I advised you and thus you cannot blame me.’

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Advice is rarely heeded, but as I emerge into the ‘emerging author’ category, people ask me what advice do I have for aspiring writers. Tough question if you take it seriously and pretend people will take any notice. My experiences during my fledgling writing career are particular to me, with a few universals one can pick up anywhere with a bit of research. However there is one nugget I would like to share, one I heard from the lips of a commissioning editor at a forum and one that has stuck with me.

As a writer, think carefully about whether you want to be published by a mainstream commercial publishing house or not. If it’s the latter these days there are plenty of avenues for self-publishing in either book form, on the Internet or through other independent ventures.

It’s really good advice. Get it clear in your mind before you even start and you’ll save yourself a lot of grief. I know some brilliant writers who are very realistic about the size of their readership and prefer to pursue the independent route, and I know others who spend every moment banging on the publishers door and you know that door is never going to open for them because what they have written will not sell in today’s market. And this is before you get to issues of talent or quality. The history of milk bottles told in verse is not ever going to cut it.

Do your research. This is imperative. Find out what is on the shelves, find out what people are reading and why. Then take this knowledge and think about it. Is it the direction you want to take? Would your book easily stand with those already in the bookshops, is it better, does it take the genre and shift it slightly? Taking a professional, commercial approach does not mean leaving your soul or your imagination out. It means thinking about your readers, it means having a thorough understanding of the conventions of the genre you choose to write in – not being a slave to them, maybe even subtly undermining them - but knowing how the classics in your area have been crafted is vital.

If you just want to write what you want to write and expect readers will clamour to read it, you could be in for disappointment. You can’t blame the agents or publishers for this. Publishing is a business, not a charity, not a subsidised outlet for experimental writing and not a storehouse for oral history.

This is my advice. Go forth and ignore it.

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