And I also agree that the internet (and mobile phones that allow you to check your email) are evil.

The only other thing I would add is to remember that writing is hard work and that you’ll probably hate it sometimes — but persistence is worth it!

As for the labels ‘emerging’ and ‘aspiring’, I have no idea where I fit in. I try not to think about it too much… but thanks for mentioning the distinction — it may come in handy when I’m looking at grants.

Estelle, this is essentially what I was doing in the past working on my laptop with no internet connection. But I’m still always venturing over to my computer to check my email and because of this I don’t get completely in the zone, especially when all that seems to be coming through my inbox is bad news. I think it would work well for an established writer, but as an aspiring writer, it’s de-motivating and distracting.

It’s the only way to get better at writing I suspect, to write every chance you get. It actually sounds too simple, doesn’t it? But it helps me (I hope) keep improving.

American writer Wells Tower has a fiction desk and a non-fiction desk — the fiction one doesn’t have an internet connection.

But yes, I am a little annoyed with the capitalist paradigm of the publishing world. Lately I feel like it’s almost as if journals are publishing the same people over and over because so and so journal had so and so write for them and so we should have them in our journal etc etc. Nobody is willing to take a punt. I guess I’ve come to realise that what I’m waiting for as an aspiring writer is someone to take a punt on me. Anyway, I’ll keep going until someone does.

Underlying what you’re saying is a question of recognition, not a designation. As we move along our courses, develop and evolve as writers, at what point can we rightly call ourselves Writers and Authors? Sometimes that’s a psychological question and there are writers who still find that an elusive proposition even after having published a few books. Some might feel comfortable calling themselves that even when they’ve published nothing. So there’s probably two parts to recognition, how we see ourselves and how the world sees us.

That ‘expect to fail’ attitude is not possible of course, (otherwise we wouldn’t submit) but it’s certainly a safer attitude than the hope that everyone, everywhere, will always love what we commit to paper. Both extremes sound foolish, but I think most writers fluctuate from one end of that spectrum to the other. It’s difficult to find your way to the reality between those extremes.

I think that what often messes up our own valuing system is the prevailing capitalist paradigm, which throws a kind of business viability model into our minds. Asking us to determine our motivation, commitment and success through charted achievement criteria. At the other end of that spectrum is the entirely abstract sense that whatever we write is great as long as we’re writing. The difficult space between is what we all negotiate for ourselves. Aspiring, emerging or established are probably just points on the compass for that daily journey.

14. The industry takes advantage of aspiring writers. This is a part of life. Accept it and move on, but don’t enter competitions where they ask for money if you have no money. You won’t win anyway.

3. I dunno about this kind of attitude. It seems like it’s one tenuous step away from just not bothering to submit at all. Unless if by expecting your work to be rejected, your placing the responsibility of that rejection wholly on the editor/judge rather than your ability. Then I guess that lets you have the egotism that all writers require. d:

8. I’ve always suspected this! It’s kind of a result of judges being human. I mean, I know I go through periods of disliking a band or author or artist, and then suddenly I’ll turn around and be amazed. Why didn’t I see this before? Judges have periodic tastes as well, methinks.

I whole-heartedly agree with ‘zz’ above with regards to the ‘talking not doing’ thing. Talkign shop with otehr writers is aewsome, and it can help you get excited and motivated. But do it too much and you risk becoming one of those people that like to talk about being a writer more than doing the requisite deed of, y’know, putting words on paper. Walk the walk before talking the talk, yo.

As someone who still very much considers himself a hobby writer, I wish I hadn’t shown so much of my stuff to people. If there was one thing I could go back and change it would be to keep a lot of the awful, ill-thought-through pieces I’ve written to myself. Not every experimental/edgy/transgressive masterpiece is actually that! D: Perhaps a soft limit of 5% would be appropriate?